XIII / This is Everything I Didn't Say

Six Years Ago.

Os Alta.

A difference between Ravka and home ━ no, not home, but Fjerda because Ravka is her home now, Vera reminds herself ━ is that it's warmer here. Winters are still long but so much shorter than what she's used to.

She never thought it'd be something she would miss one day.

But now here she is and the way the wind is blowing around her without the bite of cold she is so used to, makes it feel almost unnatural to her. Like something is missing in some integral part of the world.

Most days, Vera tries not to think too hard about that.

This is where she belongs now, Vera has to tell herself over and over ever since she arrived in Os Alta and the Darkling brought her to the Little Palace. This is where I belong. They do not hunt me here. They welcome me here. They will never tie me to a pyre, they will never hunt me with pitchforks. I am accepted here. I am at home here. I will never have to run here, never have to fear a neighbor for what he might do when he discovers what I am.

It's only been a few weeks since she arrived in the Ravkan capital. So maybe, if she tells herself this over and over again it might one day be true to the instincts lodged deep in her bones. Maybe, one day her brain will understand what it tells itself, too.

Now, Vera is sitting in the gardens, one the edge of a fountain that's softly gurgling water that Vera supposes might be freezing cold to anyone but her. To her, it'll probably be lukewarm. Like everything about this place.

Not that she'll test that theory. Besides ━ it isn't like the ice and biting winds and snow and cold used to even bother her. If you grew up with a thing that caused others who did not discomfort but to you it was just ordinary life; did it never cause you discomfort or was the discomfort just something you believed normal?

Vera really has no idea. All she knows is that to her, everything just feels... too warm. It's likely only her imagination making her believe it, but she has no idea what to do about it.

Most people would probably be ecstatic to finally be out of the freezing hole that's Fjerda. Vera always believed she would be, too. But she just isn't.

She just misses it. Even if in Fjerda, all that awaited her were pyres and death sentences and hate. An early death. Forced into life-long submission from the moment she was born to the moment she died by fathers, brothers, sons, husbands, kings. Fjerda isn't kind and it isn't easy.

Much like Vera herself.

She shouldn't miss it. But she still does.

With a soft sigh, Vera takes another bite from the lemon cake she'd brought with her, her eyes still fixed on the sky around the sunset she can just make out. By now, the sun has dipped below the hedges around her but she can still see the way the sky is bleeding oranges and reds and pinks.

She'd always done this with Livia back before she'd left. They'd sat at the balcony or a window or in the gardens and had watched the sun set below the horizon with small cakes, or any other sort of food. There'd been less sweet cakes, sometimes apple cakes, but sweet rolls and Selma and they'd always taken some and eaten it together while watching the darkness grow around them until they'd had to come back inside. Eventually, they'd allowed Willa into their little ritual. Before he'd been too old, according to their father, Vaugn had sat with them, too. And sometimes when he had visited during his training as Drüskelle.

Their father had always frowned upon that. He'd called Vaugn weak and had accused him of catering to the whims and feeble moods of females and girls. He'd told him he was teaching them insolence and hubris from a young age and that would be something a husband would one day not tolerate in his wife. He'd told Vaugn to focus on his training as Drüskelle so that he'd bring his family pride instead of appearing weak by spending so much time with his sisters.

Vaugn had only whispered under his breath, how does it make me weak if family's important to me and I show them?

It'd been their mother they'd learned that little lesson from and not their father. Their father had thought it weakness and Claes Kvalheim did not accept weakness in his bloodline and house.

He'd always been more proud of his eldest child, his son and heir, than the rest of his offspring.

Sometimes, Vera thought that the only reason her father had send Vaugn to the Drüskelle was less to bring honor to his family with his occupation but so that he wouldn't have to deal with him and could focus all his attention on Einar since Vera and her sisters had been their mother's responsibility and not his. Einar had always been the most like their father anyways. He'd nodded and agreed and listened tirelessly until he had become a miniature version of their father.

Somewhere in the gardens near her, steps are moving closer and Vera snaps out of her thoughts, her attention honing onto the sound, trying to push down the deep-seated instinct of panic that she is still outside, utterly alone and unattended, despite the fact that it's getting dark fast around her, back down.

Then, she notices that the footsteps are more quiet than those of someone just taking a regular stroll; they're also not as heavy as the steps and sounds the palace guards are making. Someone is trying to get into the palace grounds without being discovered.

Vera is not sure if that's much better than the alternative.

After a moment, a figure about her size slips into the small clearing and Vera's shoulders relax a bit when she recognizes a boy around her age walk closer to her, then come to an abrupt stop when he sees her.

For a long moment, the two stare at each other. Then, Vera finishes the last of the lemon cake before she jumps off the edge of the fountain, the boy's hazel eyes fixed on her as he walks over to her.

"I'm Nikolai," The boy says as he comes to a stop in front of her and holds out his hand. Vera draws up an eyebrow, eyeing his hand and then him again. It doesn't surprise her, she's seen the Prince a handful of times in the few weeks she's been here. The only thing that piques her curiosity about him is the fact that he's all on his own right now and no guards are shadowing him the way they usually were supposed to.

Ignoring his hand Vera stares at him. She's met enough royals in her life to be unimpressed by the title. She also has heard about the nickname he's been given ━ sobachka. They're the wolf girl and the puppy and she can't help but notice the irony of it all.

With a frown, the boy lets his hand sink back to his side. "That's rude." He points out and the girl's eyebrows draw up a little further.

One of the corners of her lips curls up and he's pretty sure he's amusing her.

Just because he was being nice.

He's seen her a few times before, Nikolai thinks. She hasn't been here for long and he knows that a few of the people have been talking about her. He's heard that the Darkling had picked her up on his way back to Os Alta after nearly running her over with his coach, but that might just have been a rumor.

What he knows with one look at her isn't a rumor is that she's from Fjerda. Her eyes are a pale, sharp blue that remind him of glaciers and frozen rivers and the pale, near-white golden hue of her hair is something he isn't sure he has ever seen before except from people from the North.

She's also tall for her age, and to his equal dismay and delight he notices that she's taller than him.

"What's your ━" he starts but is cut off when he hears the conversation of guards coming closer and he pauses, listening. They're coming this way and if he doesn't leave soon he's too far out in the open to go undetected.

The girl notices it, too and gives him a grin. "You should get back before your little walk gets you into trouble."

"I don't get caught." Nikolai points out and puffs out his chest in pride. He doesn't mention that it's not true at all. He can already see Vasily standing in his room before his mind and cringes inwardly.

The girl watches him in a way that makes him feel like she isn't a girl at all. Not even an Inferni that might be able to roast him alive. It feels more like she's one of the legendary wolves from Fjerda. They're holy animals in the country, and he thinks that perhaps he can understand the notion a bit better now that he looks at her.

She tilts her head, listening to the voices for a moment before she replies. "I don't believe you. You probably get into trouble all the time and I bet that you'll get caught sneaking back inside."

I probably will be, Nikolai thinks but doesn't say. Instead, he shrugs.

"You could give me a kiss for good luck," the Prince replies, a sheepish grin on his lips.

For a moment, Vera stares at him. Then she laughs.

He blinks at her, dumbfounded. He might've been insulted at the fact that this fourteen-year-old girl is laughing at him, a prince, which is something he doesn't think has ever happened, if he hadn't been so... enamored. He thinks her laugh might be the prettiest laugh he's ever heard.

She isn't even sure why she is laughing. It feels a little crazed, and mostly nervous, bubbling up in her before she can stop it. There's definitely a furious blush creeping up her cheeks that she really hopes is hidden by the dark around them.

But, somehow, his comment just seems ridiculous. Kissing isn't something Vera's familiar with. Her parents never showed each other any affection. It's wholly foreign to her, like a language she has heard but has never been taught. And this prince just suggesting it like it is no big deal... it seems surreal to her.

Eventually she notices that he's just standing there, staring at her. She has no idea if he's angry or not, but it makes her at least give an effort to stop.

His mouth opens and closes for a moment before he says, "I wasn't joking."

Vera only shakes her head at him. Sending a last look at Nikolai Lantsov, Vera walks past the prince and down the path towards the Little Palace, not looking back once.

"I'll see you around, then!" Nikolai calls after her. The girl doesn't reply. She doesn't even deign him a look over her shoulder and he finds he can't even think about that. Not when her laughter still rings in his ears like a melody by the Saints themselves. She might be the prettiest girl he's ever met and everything from the vicious glint in her hard, glacier-blue eyes to the way she reminds him of a wolf living amongst sheep ━ it all makes her even more pretty.

And he didn't even ask for her name.

━━━━━

Four Years Ago.

Os Alta.

The gardens are silent as Nikolai makes his way back to the Grand Palace, trying to avoid any dead leaves or branches that might give him away. He's so deep in thought of trying not to get caught by the palace guards that he doesn't even notice he's being watched while he precariously steps into free spaces of grass.

"Now that's a pretty dance," a familiar voice comes and Nikolai nearly jumps out of his skin, only barely suppressing a yelp.

He spins around to find Vera lounging on one of the stone fountains, spinning a knife in her left hand.

Somehow that little fact does not surprise him at all.

"Saints," Nikolai chokes out, trying to sound normal. "Make a sound next time."

Vera's lips tug into a small grin. "Maybe you just have to pay more attention to your surroundings, Sobachka." She pauses, waving at the ground littered with leaves and branches. It's then that Nikolai notices that it's the exact same stop she'd been in two years ago. The same fountain, the same way he had taken through the garden. Vera Alekson sitting in the dark, all alone. The same place they'd first met in. "But I do commend you for the effort you just put in it."

Nikolai gives her a look she can't quite read. "Glad you liked it."

For a moment it almost looks like she is actually smiling. Then, Vera slips off the edge of the fountain, the knife vanishing back to where she usually keeps it beneath her kefta in one smooth motion.

"So," Vera says eventually as she makes her way over to him, feeling a little out of place. She isn't really used to... direct conversation all that much if she's being honest. There's this Heartrender, Fedyor, who's a bit older than her, that she's been ending up sitting next to during meals more and more in the past weeks during his leave from what Vera thinks to remember is his second mission in the Second Army and he seems nice enough. But still, the only time she's actually talking to others is when she has to during her lessons.

They're just all not Liv. It just... doesn't feel right spending time and talking with them the way it did with her twin.

"You're leaving tomorrow." Vera finishes and Nikolai nods.

"I am." He hadn't been sure she'd even heard about it. She'd certainly never given him any she had.

Nikolai thinks that Vera might be glancing away, biting her lip, but that can't be right. It's gotta be some trick of the night, just his imagination running wild... right?

She looks back at him, her glacier eyes meeting his hazel ones. "One last party to see Os Alta off?" Vera says, sound half joking as she motions him up and down once.

Nikolai gives her a shrug. "I figured I'd say this city a good, old farewell in case I never see her again."

He sounds like he's joking but Vera can see it's mostly just bravado. He really is afraid he'll never see this stupid, ugly landmark of a city again.

Maybe it's that thought that gives her the mad courage to step in front of him and into his personal space.

For a moment, the two look at each other. Then, Vera leans forward to him. He's taller than her now, so she has to rise on her tiptoes to do so, but she stretches herself and gives him a kiss. It's more a quick press of her lips against his but she can feel the heat creeping up her cheeks anyways.

"For good luck," she says when she lowers the heels of her feet back to the ground.

Nikolai blinks. He looks utterly gobsmacked for a moment. Then, he gives her a slow smile and leans towards her until their faces are only inches apart. "That wasn't a kiss." He says, his breath fanning against her skin.

"I think it was," Vera huffs indignantly.

Not that she'd know. It isn't like she had any previous kisses to compare it to. And she didn't exactly grow up around many people kissing. Her parents never did. Neither did most of the other couples around her in Fjerda. It's more common here, in the Little Palace, but still she doesn't really know enough people to see many kissing other than in passing them.

"Okay." Nikolai admits, and his grin widens a little. "But it wasn't a real one."

Vera scowls at him. Why did she even bother ━

Nikolai cups her cheeks, tugging gently as he pulls her against his chest. "This is a real kiss." He whispers before their lips touch again.

And now Vera feels like she is the one gobsmacked.

When he finally lets her go, Vera stares at him and Nikolai thinks this might be the first time he has ever seen her truly speechless - not because she simply chooses to stay silent but because she actually cannot process the events of the past minute.

It's the realization that she's unconsciously grabbed the collar of his coat in a near steel-like grip, holding him against her during the kiss without even realizing what she was doing that hits Vera over the head, again, and allows her to uncurl her fingers, let go of him and step away.

Vera isn't entirely sure where to go from here. She hadn't thought farther than her kiss, that first quick kiss she'd given Nikolai that now felt like a mocking to call a kiss. She'd imagined turning around and marching away before Nikolai had a chance to react and make her deeply regret the choices that had led her into the garden tonight. She hadn't expected ... this.

When she takes a step away from the prince, she finds that Nikolai is still watching her. Vera feels a little dazed, a little like her mind is moving slower than the world around her.

She hadn't thought kisses could feel like this. She'd always imagined them uncomfortable and wet and slobby. It'd always eluded her how people could find them nice. She'd certainly never seen the appeal before.

Now, she does see it better.

Nikolai is still watching her and now, she finally notices the blush that starting to creep up her cheeks. And the panic that makes her feel like her blood pressure is rising into dangerous heights.

Get out get out get out, a voice in her head chants. It's the same voice she'd had as a child, when she had first discovered her Grisha powers became more and more unpredictable. When she'd seen those pyres that day. When she'd first grasped the concept of the Heartwood and what it would mean for her. When she'd set their home on fire that day two years ago.

It's an old, deep-seated instinct that has festered and taken root inside her. And now, it is screaming at her again.

"I..." Vera blinks, trailing off. "Right."

It's the small grin on Nikolai's lips that looks entirely too proud of himself that grounds her again and Vera scowls slightly.

But even now, she can't muster her usual contempt and venom and isolation. She just wants to kiss him again, to be in his arms again.

It's that realization more than anything else that terrifies her.

Because he's sunshine and lovely and he's a prince and he is leaving. And Vera...

At last, Vera's demeanor shutters closed off again, the walls slipping in place, and the turmoil in her dies off. Even if it hurts.

Vera straightens. "Be careful out there, sobachka. The monsters lingering in the shadows eat little pups for fun." She says and Nikolai isn't quite sure if it's concern, a warning or a thinly veiled threat, but Vera offers no further words. She only turns and leaves the gardens.

Nikolai is looking after her for a long while.

"I will," he says at last. "And I will see you again, Vera Alekson. That's a promise."

Even if it's just in his dreams.

━━━━━

Present Day.

The Bone Road.

By the time Vera joins the rest of the crew and grisha on deck, silence has fallen on the ship and the sails were being trimmed on one of Sturmhond's commands.

"A ship, moi soverenyi," Ivan says as she reaches the group, pointing to the small spot on the horizon to their south.

Vera squints into the direction, but she can barely make out its existence, much less any details. The mist around them has grown heavier over the past days, writhing and moving and creeping closer and closer like a living thing in a way that doesn't sit quite right with Vera. She just can't quite figure out why. It also eliminated any chances she had to gain any knowledge about the ship in the distance.

The Darkling turns to Sturmhond ━ no, not Sturmhond, Vera reminds herself. Nikolai Lantsov parading around under the Darkling's nose because apparently the idiot had a massive ego that made him feel invincible.

If she's right about her hunch, that is.

Vera hopes she's fucking wrong.

"Probably fishermen. We'll keep an eye on her just in case."

Vera's eyes narrow on him as the longboats were prepared, the captain's men climbing on board before they began rowing out into the waters. Vera might not be as well versed in Ravkan legends and folktales, but she knew all the Fjerdan ones. And she knew what people were saying about the Bone Road. She'd like to see the fisherman insane enough to brave the Bone Road. Only very few, very experienced sailors took on the trip. Not just any fishermen.

For a split second Sturmhond eyes meet her's, but whatever she is looking for, whatever confirmation she's trying to find, she can't grasp it. All she has to go on are her instincts.

Vera isn't entirely sure she likes those odds.

"Two points off the starboard row!" Someone calls out and Vera turns to the location.

The moment she sees the back breach the waves, she goes very still.

They'd had myths about what the Ravkans called ice dragon, or sea dragon, or Rusalye. Different names, different legends, but the same creature beneath them.

Vera had never given it much consideration that they could be true; the only time she'd wondered and philosophized about them had been when she was in that home near Djerholm, dreaming about another world where her life had been different. Full or adventure, and freedom and without fearing her own father might drag her onto a pyre.

She'd imagined all sorts of different lives, and had thought about the wonders she might see.

But she had never actually believed she would.

Vera thinks of Alina, of the Stag.

Maybe she should re-evaluate her beliefs. Djel had never helped her, had never sent her anything she could interpret as a divine hand moving to carry out divine will. Not really, anyways. She'd once thought she could find him in the Darkling, in the man who'd saved her those years ago. But now she is starting to think she might be wrong.

But this... Vera's eyes wander to where Alina is standing next to Mal as the sailors begin their advance on the sea dragon. The Sun Summoner, the Stag, Rusalye. Miracles and myths right in front of her, living and breathing and real.

And still, even as the thought enters her head, something inside her balks at the idea and she knows, in her very bones, she will never forsake her own gods, her own faith for the Ravkan saints and their relics.

It's as the sailors struggle with the sea dragon that Vera notices it. Not the way the mist had begun shrouding them in; not even leaving them enough line of sight to see the end of the whaler, but the small footsteps. Only noticeable if you listened for them. She can tell that the grisha standing at the railing, still focused on the sea dragon, doesn't even notice. It might even just be her imagination but... but Vera's instincts tell her it isn't. This feels different. Like in the Fold, there's danger breathing down her neck.

Vera tilts her head, listening closer. The steps are so unnoticeable, they have to be from Sturmhond's crew. Nobody else knows the sea and ships enough to move so silently on this boat. Certainly none of the Grisha.

A frown forms between her eyebrows but it's the other sound that comes to her ears, a song so haunting and heartbroken and desperate it might've broken Vera's heart if she hadn't already thought it broken beyond repair, that makes her turn back to the sea.

The harpoons have found their mark, Vera notices and it feels like grief. There is so much unmeasurable sadness watching a legend die, Vera can barely stand the sight of it all. Of watching them take down the sea dragon. It was still fighting, but it's dying all the same. Slowly, surely.

Vera wants to close her eyes to block it all out, but forces herself not to. She owes the sea dragon this much. She owes it to bear witness to his demise, to not look away from the pain they have brought upon it.

"Nets!" Sturmhond calls out and a moment later, a series of thunks sound to her ears and Vera remembers the movement in the crew she'd noticed.

This time, she isn't the only one.

"Clear the mist," the Darkling's voice commands. "We're losing the longboat."

When the squallers have cleared the mist, Vera isn't surprised to find the whaler's crew gone.

What does surprise her, however, is the fact that the ship from earlier is now next to the whaler, grappling hooks connecting it to the whaler's railing.

It's flying a familiar flag Vera had seen on pictures and reports before; a red dog on a teal field and below it, on a second flag, the Ravkan double eagle. Sturmhond's ship.

The next moment, one of them lets out a howl like a wolf, although Vera can't quite make out where it came from and then they throw themselves over the railing, storming for the Grisha.

"To me, hounds!" Sturmhond's voice calls out and then he's there, too, a saber in his hand, running towards his crew. His entire crew — the ones who'd sailed with them and the ones who'd just arrived.

Vera watches the men descend on the Darkling and his Grisha and she does not move to help him.

She does not stop Tamar and Tolya from grabbing Alina and freeing Mal, either.

She only stands there, feeling nothing; no sympathy, no pity, no want to step into the fight.

Vera lets her eyes wander back to the sea and to the longboat rowing Rusalye not towards the whaler, but towards the second ship. For a moment, she thinks her pale, blue eyes meet the creature's red ones, full of wrath and grief. Just like hers.

It's those eyes that force her to move again.

Legends of all kinds are dying. And Vera will make sure that one of them finds his demise in this age, too.

AUTHOR'S NOTE
suprise!!! witching hour is my (new) nano 2021 project!!! so lets hope i keep the momentum up ahh 😭✋

originally this was supposed to include the entire attack on the whaler but it turned out to already be over 4k words so I did the cut between chapters sooner than expected so sorry if the ending feels odd that's why💀

obligatory ✨bad meme content bc that's how i cope✨:

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