commandership | (no subject)

And I am better suited to direct answers.

[ — says the woman who hasn't quite given one. then again, sentimentality does them no favors. ]

Then mostly the latter.

Fear not, I won't require your services every night.

[He's sure she's found other things to occupy her evenings. What he isn't sure of is how to feel when his mind tries to fill in those dark gaps with glimpses of imagined trysts. Once — a year ago, before he ever came here — a small foolish part of him almost believed it could be possible, if laughably improbable, that she might see him as something more than a king to serve or even a friend to lean into as they marched endlessly forward.

But now, the distance she's kept makes it sharply clear that it might as well be impossible.]

No different than your usual need for my services, then.

[ how fortunate for me, she does not say, that you only call upon me when starkov can't stand to look at your face. ]

I don't fear anything, Lantsov. Though I do have one greater concern.
My babysitting services do not, and will not, include a clean-up of whatever mess you're currently making.
It seems no matter where we are, I continue to be dragged into them.

[Uncanny, how cutting her words can be even through a screen.]

I expected nothing of the sort. Nor will I burden you with the messy details of my personal affairs.

[Fear might not be the right word, but he's certainly leery against her judgment.]

I can, however, cook breakfast for you in exchange.

Consider myself already burdened.
Being targeted because of your lie was a new experience I have no interest in repeating.

[ an experience that, as it happens, not even the indulgence of breakfast can soften. ]

If I didn't know better, I would suspect this was attempt to keep me overnight.
I would have thought you would have a fawning, soft-hearted tryst to come unshackling you in the mornings and kiss it better.

Edited 2022-02-02 03:22 (UTC)

I know that looking for sympathy from you is like wringing water from a rock. I didn't message you hoping for gentle words.

But I have come to expect that when I request your help, you answer. You may be free of your obligations to Ravka here. Our titles may be useless trinkets. You may be perpetually disappointed in me, or annoyed with me, or whatever it is that keeps you away. Regardless, I count you among my friends.

As it happens, I have willing candidates enough to be my keeper a few nights a week.

[Though, only Matt could accurately be described as a "fawning, soft-hearted tryst"...]

I won't force you to take up an unnecessary burden.

Why I stay away should be obvious enough. You have no need for me here, as you've just reminded us both.

[ i have nothing to offer you now, she does not say. why do you continue to fool us into believing there is? ravka had woven them together in crisis, in duty — but that thread seems ragged when there is nothing to offer but her company. as though she could ever be well-suited to this new peace, this new life. everywhere she grows, thorns follow. ]

Don't mistake that for an attempt at self-pity. It's simply a truth you and I both know well.

I swore to carry your burdens the moment I became your general. That has not changed.
Make a request and I will come, but do not throw me scraps.

Edited 2022-02-02 06:03 (UTC)

[For a second, he hangs on the precipice of dismissing her. Fine then. He'll keep his so-called scraps. But the thought of allowing this wall between them to endure — perhaps to stand taller — pauses his thumbs over the keys. Finally, he settles on a simple truth:]

Just because I have no duties to assign you, it doesn't mean I have no need for you.

Time will tell.
You've taken to this life well. I'm not suited for it.

[ time will tell — if what he says is truth, and not the pinings of nikolai's romanticism. if there's more to this tenuous connection between them than an alliance forged in conflict and war, two enduring souls brought together to build a country from ash.

it's doubtful that they would have ever tolerated another's company otherwise. still. she stares at her screen, considering, and then — ]

Enough of that. You know sentiment gives me indigestion, Lantsov.

[ like all unsightly things, time to sweep that strange vulnerability beneath the rug. ]

Stock up on that breakfast tea I like. I'll bring spare sheets for the guest room as a precaution, in case your thread count isn't up to my standards.

[You've taken to this life well. It might be a barb, but it's also the truth. The restlessness that stirred him in the early days faded as he found ways to occupy himself — as he found that, unfettered from the crown, he was free to pursue his own interests. Free to be his own man and not a figure publicly owned.

Could he ever have even a fraction of that freedom in the country he's devoted himself to?]

Tea ✅

And not the awful kind in those little bags. Since you apparently need to be reassured that my excellent taste hasn't faltered. The sheets in my guestroom are as soft as clouds, I'll have you know.

[After a moment, he can't help but add:]

What will you do with yourself if we ever manage to build lasting peace and stability in Ravka?

I've seen your updated wardrobe.

[ she doesn't examine why her mind has clung to that observation, of all counters she could come up with. it prickles, all the same — as though it's another piece of evidence in her vault, another display of how he's transformed from the king she had known in ways that go beyond thread-deep. a change that had occurred without her to witness it, some emergence from the cocoon that had trapped him in its ravkan casing.

a metamorphosis into what he truly wants to be, without ravka's chains barring him. ( isn't she, by that measure, just another shackle fastening him to an undesirable life? )

she lets her statement sit in their back-and-forth, uncharacteristically stalling. finally: ]

There is no such thing as lasting peace.
Ravka is an unruly toddler at best. Don't expect it to grow out of its tantrums so soon.
My plans for retirement will have to wait a handful of centuries.

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