#tolya | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeanbie · 10 months

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SHARKBAIT ★ masterlist.

pairing: tolya x reader

warnings: long distance relationships, set after s2 | wc: 6.9k

note: i'm pining over tolya right now. also i know a loooot of fans view tolya as aroace so hopefully this reaches the right audience (and if the show runners or leigh ever confirm this then pls tell me)!!

⏤ Tolya can go months without seeing your face, but he can make out your shape in the darkness of the ship when you steal your visits, fleeing when the sun begins to light up the decks.

Tolya knew what it meant to long, to pine, to wonder and yearn for something you couldn't have. He saw it a thousand times with his poems, between the lines and in each stanza where a romance formed with metaphors and analogies; he saw it in his crew as they busied themselves across an unsteady ocean, searching for purpose and meaning in the vastness of blue and brown. He even saw it in his sister and passing maidens, in his captain and his need to be seen as something more than an amplifier, and he saw it in his own life- with his faith and his resilience, with his own novice works of poetry tucked into journals in his bunk, and in the whispers of silence between the two of you whenever he saw you again, and especially in the stretches of days where he didn't see you at all.

On board the Volkvolny, for what felt like years on end, Tolya had nothing but time to become familiar with what it meant to long. He'd stare out across the expanse of the sea, outlining your body in the clouds as they dipped below the horizon, in the waves rippling under the ship as it sailed away from Os Kervo to Kerch. Sometimes he thought he could make out your shape in the darkness of his bunk, a thin ghostly outline come to haunt him in his sleep, to torment his dreams. Often he woke up to a fading outline of body just to the side of his hammock, remembering that you weren't there, and wouldn't be for some time.

He supposed that he was lucky to be on this ship, with the world at his hands. There were days where he was so caught up in the passion of his work, alongside his never-faltering faith, that he didn't have time to think of you, instead only stumbling into your body through dreams, where you came to him as easily as the sea to the shore. Today hadn't been one of those days, and he feared that the crew on board the Volkvolny knew it too well.

It started off with his last nightmare. Taking steps together on a shoreline that looked like it belonged to a dip of earth in Shu Han, Tolya met you on the sands, his hand slotted into your own as he followed behind you, stepping into your sunken footprints. Tolya had been inches from your mouth before he was ripped away with the sound of horns and laughter, drops of water leaking through the deck overhead. Work was demanding his consciousness, and the image of you remained only on his eyelids as he groaned, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He'd gone about his day relatively normally after that, or about as normally as he could stomach it. Tamar had seen the worst of his mood- she watched him heave himself up the stairs to the deck with a frown deep on his face, an ache at the corner of his lips tugging down. The front he performed of happiness did little to arouse his crewmates, although they joined the spectacle, letting him think he was giving a performance of a lifetime.

For a while, his mood had settled. He'd only counted seeing you in hallucinations maybe three times, but he'd stopped counting after the third, and couldn't be sure if his mind was allowing him to stick with three for the sake of his own sanity. He'd spotted you in the twist of water under the bowsprit, once in the ripple of the sails and again in the clouds. After the third, his mood was so sour that he opted to be silent for the day's voyage. People never thought they'd miss the sound of his poetry until he took his pitiful vows of silence.

Saints, how he missed you. Each time you were gone, Tolya regretted every second of silence between the two of you, every time he passed up the chance to tell you how much he loved you. And each time you were here, back with him in his arms, he couldn't seem to find the words. You weren't part of the crew on voyage with the Volkvolny, although you were never not welcome as far as Sturmhond was concerned. It was just that you preferred being on land, seeking out thrills and leads and injustice, trying to piece together the gaps in your history. Tolya knew that was what held you to the Crows, and what Inej often said was your lifeline away from him. Still, Tolya yearned for the days you were back with him, however short and fleeting. Months could pass at sea and when he saw you again, it would be like no time had passed at all.

Kerch loomed in the distance. From the crow's nest, he was told that through the spyglass, the oblong shapes of Ketterdam ports could be seen, the buildings packed together tightly and the smoke rising in the air, thick and dark like fires were blooming in the streets. It would be about two days of sailing, if the winds kept up, but if they were lucky, they might arrive ahead of schedule. Tolya couldn't count the moments quick enough- two days would be agonising until he saw you again.

"Yeesh. I kinda miss your poetry right now." Tamar crept up from behind Tolya on the hull of the ship. Not far from where Tolya was standing, with his elbows holding his body up on the side of the beams, was Jacob's ladder, hitting the side of the vessel with irritating small clicks.

Tolya glanced at her, a smile naturally falling into place. As foul as his mood might have been, there was always room in his heart for his sister. "That's something I'll never hear you say again."

His sister grinned. "I'm serious! Go on, give me something?"

Tolya replied with quiet laughter, and Tamar did the same. The twins shared their laughter for a moment before finishing in silence, and Tamar stole a glance as her brother cast his gaze to the water, curving like ribbons around the underbelly of the ship.

"Missing her?" she asked softly.

Tolya rolled his eyes, but saying nothing was as good as admitting it.

"You know," Tamar continued, spinning so her back was pressed against the beams, "you could always just ask her to come with you." She gestured to the prow, "come with us."

"She wouldn't want to do that," Tolya said, shaking his head.

"Oh, so you asked her already?"

"Well— no."

"Then how'd you know?"

Tolya sighed, twisting his head. He knew that you were as good as a Crow— although not exactly affiliated in whatever Kaz did or did not do, anybody who knew you knew that you did work for Kaz that filled the gap Inej made on the quest to find her brother. Even before that, you'd told Tolya that Kaz occasionally found himself asking for your help with requests that extended outside of his immediate access. You had been of some help to him finding the name of the slaver ships and traders, of which the Volkvolny was sailing back to Kerch to deliver rescued shipment (one lacking Inej's brother in tow, and the slaver who sold them).

Your place was on land, on high ground. A bird could fly at sea, yes, but he feared you'd grow restless with little purpose on the ship. Everybody had a place and a role—he knew that simply being there for him wouldn't be a good enough reason for you to abandon whatever work you had unfinished on dry land, which is why he'd never asked you to come in the first place.

Tolya turned to face Tamar, eyeing her side-profile as she meticulously assessed the state of the ship. Many crewmates were down below, rifling through Shu poker cards and coins and sharing ghost stories with cups of ale and wine.

"Have you ever been so scared of losing something good?" he asked suddenly, making Tamar look back at him.

"All the time," she replied.

Tolya dared a glance back at the ocean, relieved that he didn't find you there. "Every time I see her again, it's like magic. Bigger and grander than any kind of Saint-like act. She becomes the most important thing in the room." He blinked. "I don't want that feeling to go away."

Tamar tilted her head, as if to say, 'Go on'. There was a comfort in their twinnish bond, but even with that, Tolya struggled to find the words. Writing poetry was easy—every embarrassing thought could be passed off as fictional prose, but in a conversation it wasn't quite as easy to put on a façade. At the best of times, Tolya was as cool as a sea-cucumber, with an easy going air that put people at ease. Just another performance of a lifetime, but he didn't have to pretend sometimes when he was with his sister.

"We're just very different," Tolya said cautiously, almost like he didn't believe it were true as he said it. "I'm worried she might grow too used to me. Might get restless."

"Bored, you mean?" Tamar interrupted. When Tolya said nothing, she threw herself into extended conversation, "Brother, she adores you. That kind of love is special. And if she didn't love you more when you were doing what you do best- as in, meandering around this beast with your poetry and stupid jokes-" He looked at her with a rising smile- "-then you'd be better off for it."

His stomach churned. He didn't want to be better off without you.

"Besides," Tamar offered her last words of comfort before pushing herself up and away from him, "there are thousands of men and women in the world for her to see each passing day, and yet she still falls into those arms of yours when we arrive in Ketterdam. If she can love you from a hundred miles away, then I think she'll manage loving you and your quirks on the open sea."

There was an insufferable ache in Tolya's chest whenever he thought back to his conversation with Tamar.

He'd busied himself the next day, throwing himself into heavy work around the ship as it sailed nearer to the coastline. His crewmates were thankful to see him in reasonably good spirits— Sturmhond had been particularly put off by his lack of comedic timing the day before, and had tried to think back to his own experiences with Alina back in Ravka, putting the pieces together in his own time— but they knew it was bought time with Tolya's pleasantries. Tolya wouldn't be at ease until they docked and only then could his mind be put at ease. It was always the days before returning to Ketterdam where Tolya seemed at his darkest, and it had happened enough times that they should all be used to it, but the sight of his downturned face never got any easier to process.

Night ensued, the moon casting a fickle light to the ocean as it lulled to a cool and calm tempo. The winds were kind tonight, not carrying the wind in an angry gust, and the waves were short and fluid. No storms hid behind thick flurries of clouds, and the creatures below whipped their fins and tails in harmony— no trouble would come tonight, he thought, and glad of it.

Tolya lay in his hammock, staring at the wooden boards above his head. Around him, his crew slept in peaceful slumbers, and to the far side of the room he could see the auburn light of Sturmhond's—now Mal, now that the charade was over— little black lamp sheltered next to a book he'd inherited with his title, now reading to fall asleep. Tolya sighed, his gaze back above.

The glow of light to his left allowed room for your shape to slowly appear, just an outline that got more hazy in his memory as the months went by. He gulped, the lump in his throat hard and sour tasting, and he closed his eyes quickly to throw away the image of you. Yet you remained, imprinted on his eyelids, smiling as he found sleep to take him away into the night.

When he awoke, he could hear the caw of gulls and loud voices beyond the ship, louder than what he knew his crew to be capable of. Tolya stirred for a moment before coming to his senses, his eyes honing in on the same spot he'd last seen you in above his slumbering form. The forecastle was bathed with yellow light, with the sun at an angle pouring down through the hatch to the upper deck, and as he awoke, Tolya could smell the distinct scent of crab hooks and wet moss, the lingering scent of oil and sewage and copper. Strange, he thought.

Balancing on the hammock, Tolya raised himself with his elbow and stole a glance around the forecastle. Two men lay snoring, too drunk the night before, and he noticed a third figure at the foot of his hammock, their back to him but hiding nothing about their identity. His heart lurched, he baulked, and the hammock twisted beneath him with a sudden jolt and his body was sent to the floor with a thud and a grunt.

"Easy, sharkbait."

Tolya's head whipped up quickly, the click in his neck aching. It was you- Y/N, his beloved Y/N, dressed in a blue coat that looked like Mal's. Underneath you wore a dark brown shirt tucked into your trousers—today the attire was more casual, for when you were at work you wore black and black alone. Inej told him it was to blend in with the night, but Tolya reckoned it was also because it flattered you.

You smiled at him warmly, laughing when he didn't move from the floor.

"Come on. Don't tell me after a few months you've forgotten this face?"

Tolya's mouth opened and closed. "What—no! How could I—wait, is that Mal's coat?"

He heard your laugh again as you drew near, pulling his bicep to pick him up off the floor. You were more than capable of pulling his weight, but you still found fun in pretending you couldn't. Tolya rose from the floor, both of his salt-soaked hands gently wrapping around your wrists as he faced you. A smile dawned on his lips as he drank in the image of you; fully fleshed out, solid, real, not a figment of his desperate imagination.

"I saw him up top," you told him. "He looks good as Sturmhond, right? I was almost charmed." You said it with a grin that made Tolya think otherwise, and you shuffled closer towards his torso, the action welcomed as his grip fastened slightly around your arms.

"Charmed enough to take his clothes?" Tolya asked. He knew that there would never be anything there with Mal—Saints, everybody knew that. Mal was too busy having his own mental quarrels with Alina to entertain the thought of somebody else, and well, you seemed perfectly content being charmed by a different captain below deck, smiling at you with sleep still hanging in his eyes.

"I always did look good in blue," you said.

Tolya hummed. "Yeah."

Falling into a silence, Tolya's eyes flickered across your face, soaking up the sight of you, making a mental note of what had changed while he'd been away. Not much, he found, bar a few scratches across your left cheek flanking down to your chin, and a greenish bruise under your eye. He frowned, moving his hand to ghost his fingers across the painted skin. Meanwhile, you did the same, observing changes in his appearance, concluding every detail: the richer tan across his skin, the stubbly pricks of hair around his jawline and the appearance of a new mark under his right nostril. Drunk on the image of him, you fixed your eyes back on his, surprised to see him already looking.

"What're you doing down here anyway, sharkbait?" you asked. Your voice was lower, quieter and softer, but he knew it had nothing to do with a shift in mood. Instead, you were just simply close enough for him to hear you without strain, close enough to hear you whisper, to hear you breathing.

Tolya offered a boyish smile. "You know."

"Had a long night?"

"Terribly long."

"What, enjoying someone's company til sunrise?" you teased, entertaining what could be signs of an insecurity in the bilge of your belly. Tolya pretended to ignore it, yet his heart sank nonetheless.

"Come on, you know me better than that," he laughed, bringing you in closer to him. Tolya nestled his nose against yours, moving it across your face to your cheekbone and closing you in with his arms around your shoulders. He sighed, comfortable. He'd missed this, the way your body felt against his, the way your arms felt around him. Saints, he'd missed this. Tolya took in a breath, his nose above your ear. "I've missed you."

Tolya heard a hum near his sternum, rumbling with a small vibration. It made his body bristle slightly but he warmed to your touch, his arms tightening around you.

"Me too, moi sol ye tselai," you replied, feeling his nose twitch as a smile grew on his face.

For a moment you stayed like that, entangled in the quiet of the forecastle. Tolya didn't waste a single second of it, not after the torment he'd given himself just hours before. After some time, Tolya felt you wiggling in his arms and he relaxed, opening the distance between you as he leaned back to look at your face. You looked back at him with a smile, head angled up to marvel at him, and Tolya's eyes shifted into crescent moons as he brought his head down to kiss you.

His one hand cradled the side of your face, the other at the back of your neck, and you made no resists to his advancements. Tolya kissed you deeply, lost in the familiar taste of your lips, sweet like the breakfast you must have ate before coming down here. He felt you kiss him back, the pressures combined, your hands up around his wrists. Your head leaned back slightly, his dominance slightly more assertive, as he captured your lips once, twice, thrice, never allowing a minute of rest.

When he did pull back, he was met with your widened eyes, shining in the light, and you bit down on your bottom lip to try and refrain from a smile. He saw it anyway, kissing you once more in a swift gesture and bringing himself back in what he thought was a commendable act of self restraint.

"I take it we are in Ketterdam," he asked, more of like a statement. It had to be true, since you were here. Unless he was dreaming, which he had a sinking feeling that he could be, perhaps trapped in a powerful lucid dream, some kind of sleep paralysis that had him smooching something akin to a squid on the prow. Unlikely, but not impossible, given his mood these days.

"How else would I be here?" you replied with a gentle laugh.

He held you by your waist as you turned, observing the forecastle he sometimes called home. Tolya freed his grasp with reluctance, holding your fingers til the last second and he fell forward a few steps trying to grab you back. You moved around the hammocks, ducking under a lamp with a feigned interest in the bunks. Tolya didn't like to use his heartrending on you, but he could hear your hammering heartbeat even without using his talents. He smiled in private, watching you with adoration.

"I arrived here as soon as you docked," you explained, still looking around. Tolya hummed with interest, leaning his weight against a support beam. "I was having breakfast with Nina when Jesper told me that your Volkvolny was coming to the harbour. I finished, paid and came here as fast as I could. You didn't meet me at the deck, but it was so early, I figured you'd be sleeping. I greeted your crew, shook hands with your new captain, hugged Tamar, stole a coat and then came down here." You smiled, spinning back to look at him. Your bravado was complete. "To answer your question—yes. Welcome back to Ketterdam."

Tolya loved when you launched into explanations like this. He had a series of entries in a journal you shared where you'd given full detailed accounts of your adventures, but the ink never did justice to the words as you said them. Tolya's grin widened.

"Kaz wanted to speak with you, too," you added, stepping back towards him and stretching out your hand. Tolya's stomach churned again when he took it with his own, feeling the small blisters across your skin from all your ropework and midnight affairs as an unofficial Crow. Like his own, actually, littered with chafes and burns from the ropes to the masts, sea salted splits across his hands whenever he got too heavy handed around the deck or in other ports.

"Let's go up, then."

You led the way, all the way to the stairs where Tolya enjoyed watching you ascend before following. It'd been a minute, he'd take whatever he could to feel like everything was good again. Once he stepped up out of the dappled light of the forecastle, he cringed in the brightness of the sun. It was never very bright in Ketterdam, but anything was brighter than the lamplight below. The harbour was alive with noise and merchants. He never missed the smell of Ketterdam, although he admitted that it was a stench that one really did grow accustomed to, as it were with any foreign harbour.

From the deck, he could see the stretch of sea behind him and back ahead, a small cluster of faces across the way. He knew them all already, each by both name and face, and he stepped towards his sister-in-command with you close in tow. His body shivered when your hands smoothed around his middle to manoeuvre around him and Tolya watched you meet your hip with Inej's. Tolya spared another hungry glance at you and then looked back at Kaz expectantly, as he launched into an explanation on affairs in Ketterdam.

The Volkvolny would stay in Ketterdam just shy of a day, giving Tolya more anxiety than it did comfort. There wouldn't be enough time for him to remind you of how much he missed you, and there was certainly no privacy for him to put it into actions instead of words. But business needed to be swift, that was if they wanted a good chance at catching the ships that both you and Kaz felt could hold the secrets to Inej's brothers' whereabouts. The Crow Club was magnificent, but no place for a love-filled reunion, and he couldn't see either of you feeling particularly romantic in the streets. With the Volkvolny being groomed for their next sail, Tolya resorted to holding you close at all times, with meaningful stares and listening with colourful interest about your life over a table in the club, while Kaz oversaw his business and friends reunited once more. Tolya ate up what he could learn about your life during the three months he was at sea.

You had been working with Kaz to crack down harder on slavery leads, finding nothing much about your own family and little to nothing about anybody else's. Inej had been given a much narrower list of names thanks to your good work on the streets, and Tolya heard from Jesper that you'd been a useful asset to the Crow's, although always declined the hospitality of their affiliation for some reason. Meanwhile Tolya offered what he thought might interest you the most about his time away; battles against rough waves, giant squids and krakens lurching from below, sharks and dolphins scratching the surface of the water with their fins chased by swirling serpents; funny tales from travellers in different ports, a retelling of Mal's first night getting drunk at sea.

Tolya thought, as you mused and laughed opposite him at the table with your friends and found-family, that you were most beautiful when you were off guard. As he stared at you, he felt his heart tug once more. In just a few hours, there'd be nothing left to look at, just shadows in the dark, voices in the wind mimicked by sirens as they fondled the underbelly of the boat, enticing deaf ears to the water as the crew grumbled and sang over their call. The thought of leaving you made him feel sick.

He briefly thought about what Tamar had said. It was true that Tolya had never asked you to join him at sea, but he was pretty sure he knew what the answer would be. There would always be something keeping you here, keeping you both apart.

"How long this time?" you asked, when you both managed to steal some time alone to walk along the dark streets of Ketterdam. With Rollins in prison and with Kaz taking command of a smidge of the barrel, you figured it would be safe out here. Besides, Tolya was tall enough to tower over even Fjerdans, and that was no easy feat. Anyone dumb enough to pick a fight with a man his size could break a few bones trying, even if you both knew that out of the two of you, you had more practice taking down the big guys.

Tolya dipped his head. "If we're lucky, then a month or so." He paused, thinking, "You said that list you gave to Inej was accurate, right?"

"I think so. Every lead I had took me right back to those three names," you replied. Inej had flinched at the sight of them, meaning your hunch was accurate enough to give Tolya the hope of coming back soon.

"If the winds are kind, and the journey is good, we can be back before it starts getting cold here," Tolya said, almost like he was making a wish at a well or a plea to a Saint. "Without any luck on our side, it could be longer..."

You frown, looking over at Tolya and tightening your grasp on his hand. "We'll manage."

"I hope so, milaya," Tolya said, kissing the back of your hand.

Once you both reached a bright streetlight, you turned to face him. "Do you think it will ever end?"

Tolya paused. "What do you mean?"

"As in…this search. Once you find Inej's brother, what comes next?" you ask. You turn away slightly, Tolya's gaze tight on your movements. "Suppose you'll go sailing to wherever next, right? Or…will you stay a while?"

Tolya knew what you were asking, obvious in what you didn't say. There had been countless times where Tolya had imagined himself throwing his life on the Volkvolny away just to be with you, to retire with you to some peaceful town with no worries, nothing at all but peace gifted by Alina tearing down the fold and enough money and shelter to settle down, explore the world, fall deeper in love. But the Volkvolny was his life, his meaning when he didn't fall into his faith. You were his love, his beloved, but neither one could expect the other to give up their identity to be somebody they weren't.

"I'm not sure," Tolya said truthfully. "And yourself? You're so busy with Kaz here, you may well be a Crow by the next time I see you. Your work seems to spring up like fleas."

Your mouth tilted downwards. He was right. Tolya was the love of your life but there would always be the issue of work. Without your demand with the Crows, what were you? Nothing but a shadow skulking around the city, tailing crooks, locating slaves? You supposed you could be more—you'd thought about it a few times, getting up and going with Tolya wherever he asked you to go. But those were dreams, frightening dreams you weren't sure Tolya saw eye to eye with. His voyages felt to you like escapes.

"Well—" Tolya broke through the silence, using his index finger to pick up your head by your chin. When your eyes met, he smiled warmly, kissing you. "Whatever comes next, I'll be there waiting for you."

Tamar stood beside Kaz and Mal as Tolya heaved himself up the ramp and onto the ship. You were close behind, shadowing his steps, cautious about even a step of distance. Tamar sighed loudly, and Kaz looked over at her and followed her gaze.

"What is it?" he asked. Kaz thought he already knew, but it didn't hurt to be sure.

"Oh, a lovers parting," she said dramatically.

Mal smiled, not quite reaching his eyes. "If they're trying to be subtle about things, they're doing a terrible job."

Kaz observed the couple. Kaz knew you well enough to respect you, perhaps even call you a friend, and he had no obvious qualms with Tolya. He'd never forget his loyalty before Alina tore down the fold, and had no concerns about him being a weakness to who might just be his next Crow. He stared at the back of Inej's head for a second too long as she helped someone heave some shipment to a different compartment of the ship, and then he looked back to Tolya and yourself with a funny feeling twist in his stomach.

"Why grovel?" Kaz asked. "Y/N can leave at any time if she wishes."

Tamar glanced over quickly, as if the news was surprising to her. "She's not working?"

"Her work is done," Kaz said plainly. Tamar and Mal's look of confusion made him twitch with slight annoyance, but he otherwise elaborated on what they didn't know: "I told Y/N to find leads on the slavers. She supplied the list of three and now you will be on your way to locate them. Her task has been completed, and she is free to go."

"Yeesh," Tamar said, "way to make her sound expendable."

"Everybody is."

Kaz looked back at Tolya, holding you in his arms. "I have Nina on a lead already. Until I have something for Y/N to do, she is free to do whatever she pleases." He added as an afterthought, "After all, she's not under my employment."

Hm. Tamar and Mal exchanged a look, but said nothing.

"Will you be here? When we come back?" Tolya asked you. From afar, he could sense his sister's lingering gaze, and he spared a look, alarmed when he saw her, Mal and Kaz watching the pair of you.

"Most likely," you said. You followed his gaze and nodded your head in their direction, Tolya leading you by the waist back to the step-down where Kaz stood at the top, like a bouncer guarding the way. Tolya greeted each one with a glance and a smile before looking back at you.

There wasn't enough time this time around. Tolya's heart wrenched as he looked at you, trying to remember every detail before he had to leave. Their stops in Ketterdam were never very long, but how he longed for a day more by your side, simply one more hour in your company. The thought of leaving you made his throat harden, tears springing behind his eyes. A blink would surely set them free, but he knew the ways to keep them hidden until he was safe in the darkness, not until you came to him in a premonition like a sick joke.

Tamar and Mal—Sturmhond, now he was back on the wood of the ship— gave a look to Kaz in farewell and stepped around the back of you to move further on the deck. Tolya's heart quickened and you watched them go with a rapid look, glancing back at Tolya with twinkling eyes, twinkles he knew were tears and not reflections of light.

"None of that," he said quietly, with a small smile and he reached out to cup your face. Tolya guided you close for a kiss, and a bell rang from somewhere in the harbour and his heart leaped to his throat. He tugged you closer, kissing you harder. Kaz looked away, fixated on Inej but giving you at least the luxury of some privacy. Tolya lost himself in your kiss, his fingertips brushing your hairline and he swore he could taste the salt of your tears between his lips. Tolya pulled away from you slightly, his eyes slightly wide and breath raspy and all of a sudden: "Come with me."

There was a beat of silence.

If other crewmates heard, they didn't give much away. Kaz had torn his eyes from Inej in a painful defeat, with no option but to assess the lovers before him, and truth be told, Tamar and Sturmhond never stopped watching. Tolya didn't allow the silence to kill his courage. If he didn't say it now, he never would.

"I love you," Tolya said. "I love you so much—eya fyela chi, hm? And I know that your heart is here, with the city and the Crows and your life but, Saints, Y/N I see you in my dreams, I see you in the water and the sky and hear you in the ocean breeze. When I close my eyes, I see you in flashes. You have bewitched me, you are in my soul. I love you. Whenever we are apart, it's like a torment." He gulped. He sounded a lot like some of the amateur poetry he wrote when he felt lonely, poetry he sometimes recited to his crew if he got drunk enough. "So, please, please come with me. See the ocean, go across the sea. Be with me, stay with me—come with me."

His eyes searched your face for a sign, something—anything. You blinked, bewildered, holding his hands as they cupped your face.

"But…" you began to shake your head, and his heart sank deeper, "but my work…"

You spared a glance to Kaz. He could act like he hadn't been listening, but it wouldn't do anybody any good. You were almost startled to see him already observing you.

"I don't need you," Kaz said simply. "I just owe you a debt."

"But, the slaves—"

"You did your job," he repeated. "So you're free to go."

Tolya was just as surprised as you were. He looked at Kaz with round eyes and met yours in a simultaneous turn. He wasn't quite sure what to say about any of it. Was Kaz telling you to go? Was he giving you permission, saying go, leave, or were you now useless to the Crows? Was it only because he had asked? Maybe you didn't want to leave.

"Am I fired?" you asked dumbly.

For a moment, you could have sworn you saw a flicker of a smirk on Kaz's face. "I expect your contract will need renewing upon your arrival. There are many things to do in Ketterdam, just not now. Not for you, at least."

You blinked. Processing his words felt like an eternity—you were free to go. Kaz had made it clear that you'd still have a life on shore when you arrived, if you even left in the first place. Marvelling at the thought, you looked back at Tolya. Travelling the oceans with him; being in his arms each night, getting to know the parts of him reserved to his crew, his faith and his poetry and his talents on the deck, seeing what caused the scars on his hands, what caused the creases in his skin; what he ate and drank, what he wore on different days, how his hair fell in the mornings when it wasn't fastened out of his face. All of that for the taking, and you just had to say the words.

Tolya's face didn't waver, giving nothing away as you said nothing to him. For a while, he thought he knew what you'd say. Tolya, I'm sorry, but I just can't—

"But where would I sleep?"

He hadn't expected that.

Laughter bubbled in his chest. "I think there's room for you in my hammock, if you'd like." He caught your look of doubt and grinned, "Aw, come on. I'm not that big."

"What would I do?"

Slowly but surely, Tolya thought he could sense hope building inside of him. You hadn't yet declined. Your piqued interest gave food for thought as Tolya studied your expressions.

"Well," he said, thinking about it. Actually he'd already thought about it, more than ten times out at sea, twice within the few hours they were in Ketterdam, "you could do anything you wanted. Gaze out at the seas. Play card games—in no time, you'll be a better player than Tamar. You could paint the decks, climb the masts, sit in the nest all day for all I care. I just want you to be with me, for longer than just a few hours."

Tolya's eyes were almost pleading. You gazed into them. There was no need to think, you already knew what you wanted to say. Chewing the skin of your inner cheek, your eyes flickered to Mal. As Sturmhond, you figured whatever he said went. Tolya followed your gaze and laughed when he spotted the source of your interest.

Mal's eyes flickered, like he'd been alerted back to the present. He looked around innocently, refraining from smiling when he caught the glimmer in Tamar's eyes next to him.

"Don't look at me," Mal said to you, shrugging his shoulders and raising his hands, "I'm not in charge."

When you next looked at Tolya, you were smiling. From the corner of your eye, Tamar clapped Mal on the shoulder and disappeared into the crew, helping Nadia unload cargo to a different spot below deck. For a second, Mal looked as though he didn't know what to do with himself, until he shuffled further towards the bow, scanning the horizon. Kaz was no longer on the ship when you turned to acknowledge him. You saw the shape of his coat disappear back into the masses in the harbour, and Jesper extended his hat in a farewell and turned to follow. Nina would understand, you hoped, as you were sure she'd still be occupied with freeing her 'hunk of meat'.

"What do you say, lapushka?" Tolya asked. He knew he was cheating by using the Ravkan tongue on you. You'd mentioned it was your mother language only once in passing, and he'd never wasted a second on charming you with it. He ran his hands up and down your arms, arching to look into your eyes with a wide smile on his face. Tolya grinned as he moved with your shyness, a laugh huffing through his lips. "Hm? Will you come with me?"

You laughed, giggled in his arms, as he brought you closer with a kiss under your eye. Squirming, you faked revolt, wrestling out of his grasp. Your smile told him your answer—the rest was roleplay.

"I know we're going far from home," he said, watching as someone stepped close to pull up the ramp from the harbour. The distinct clink of the anchor filled his ears, departure would be soon and if you wanted to say no, then now was the time. You never did. "But I promise I'll take care of you."

You gazed at him fondly, reaching up to steal a kiss from his lips. He lingered, his face warm in the rising sun. "You can focus on your business, and I'll keep you safe from harm."

Tolya gasped teasingly. "You know the way to a man's heart, I see."

He pulled himself away, with some reluctance, with a grin and shuffled to aid his mates with assembling the ship. Before he could stray too far, you hooked your finger around the strap over his shoulders, used to hold his ensemble of guns and weapons. Tolya looked back as he felt the pull, the adoration in his gaze never faltering.

"Only the hearts of men I love," you told him, and he smiled, bigger and brighter, tilting his head as his eyes folded into Cheshire smiles before he winked, dipping his head back to look at his crew.

You watched him retreat along the deck, his assertion cool and respectful, commanding the attention of the crew as they fell into their formations. Figuring you had time to find your place, you stood rooted where you had been standing this time, casting one final look at the harbour; you bid silent farewell to the streetlights and carts, to the horses snuffling as they loaded merchandise and travellers into the carriages pulled by their strength, to the place you lovingly called home, until a new one found its way to you in the shape of a man named Tolya, who wherever you were together became your new anchor, the new place you fell to for comfort and safety. The man you loved, yours for the taking, for a life stretching past the horizon across that plane of endless sea.

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jeanbie · 10 months

Text

LABYRINTH ★ masterlist.

pairing: tolya x reader

warnings: sick mentions, one-sided love, romantic relationships, character death that's a little bit lazy, angst | wc: 6.3k | ♬

note: all mentioned legends are things i briefly looked up and belong to chinese history (specifically the tale of the white snake). hanahaki is a made up disease but you can read more about it here! apologies for mistakes, if any!

★ thank you anonymous for the request!

⏤ Tolya wasn't sure what to be more upset about—the fact that he was suffering with the Hanahaki disease, or the fact that this meant whatever feelings he had for you you didn't reciprocate.

Tolya and Tamar's mother had told them countless Shu legends growing up, so many that they both had their favourites. Tamar always liked the tales of the white snake—her ability to transform into a beautiful human, but to bask in serpent seduction and harbour magical talents. As she grew up, her favourites consisted of battalions and bravery, but Tolya always liked the peaceful tales of kindness and faith, good fortune and health, the beauty of the world stuffed into stanzas and poetic folktales to send him to dizzy sleep and bright dreams. More than his sister, Tolya liked most legends and tales, but he had to confess that some of them scared him—tales of suffering and woe and heartbreak, tales of sickness, tales of misery.

His mother said that learning about all of these legends were as good as life lessons. As a child, that hadn't bore much meaning on his life, not until he grew up a little, lived his life according to his own needs, wants and desires, and consequently threw up two or three white petals.

Tolya knew all about the Hanahaki disease, for it had been one of his least favourite stories. Not once had he ever imagined it would plague his health, but he should have seen it coming when he met you. When Tolya and Tamar joined Nikolai on his pantomime performance as Sturmhond, he hadn't anticipated that you'd play a larger role than the Volkvolny's gunner, agile and quick, passing by in a blur. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd started looking at you differently (after a visit to Shu Han), although Tolya supposed it didn't quite matter anymore.

He was hunched over, staring down at the petals by his feet. They were oval, like lily petals, and for a second, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. Perhaps he was delirious, sleep deprived and seeing shapes in his own sickness. One seaman behind him popped his head over Tolya's shoulder with a bucket to give, but frowned at the white pool of flowers.

"Where'd you get those on here?" they asked. Tolya offered no answer, and it was fortunate that the seaman begged no answers to any more questions. Inside of his chest, Tolya's heart hammered nervously.

How could this be? He wasn't sure what to be more upset about—the fact that he was suffering with the Hanahaki disease, or the fact that this meant whatever feelings Tolya had for you you didn't reciprocate?

A bitter tang lined his mouth, and he knew that the rising sensation in his gullet belonged to vomit this time and not petals. Arching his head over the rim of the bucket, Tolya coughed up the nerves from his stomach, cringing away from the sick as he stared once more at the clean petals between his feet. A splash of seawater trickled through a crack above his head, drowning the petals in a frothy puddle. Tolya stared, willing the petals to disappear into the foamy white of the ocean, but even as the water drained to the next deck, the petals remained, white and damning.

The sky overhead was grey, clotted with storm clouds that ceased to move. Tolya twisted his head up with a frown, wincing as the first spots of rain dripped down onto the deck, sliding down the curve of his forehead.

Unfortunately for the Volkvolny, the storm in the heavens was the least of everyone's concerns—a thick mist sat on the surface of the ocean, cut into by the waves as they lapped up the sides of the ship. Tolya felt like he'd been at sea all of his life, and he stood almost still while other members stumbled over their feet as the vessel turned into the water, fighting the ocean's snarl as it advanced into the mist, where unexpected dangers waited.

The difference between pirates and privateers was the licence, and all the fancy stuff that Tolya didn't understand or care about. Nikolai was always very adamant about the difference, but he likely knew that other ships cared little for the distinction. All they saw was a ship, grand and foreboding on the horizon.

For weeks now, the Volkvolny had been on course tracking a slaver ship. It was immoral to steal children from street alleys and harbours, but this particular ship had a fine collection of booty on board that made the eyes of his friends glisten. Tolya had seen your eyes sparkle too—as a gunner you'd get your fair share of booty, and Tolya felt certain that anything given to him would be inherited to you anyway, simply because you wanted it more than he did, and whatever he did he did to make you happy.

"Steady as she goes," came the gentle warning from above. Nikolai had emerged from below, his eyebrows curled into a tight frown. Tamar busied herself up ahead, fiddling with ropes, meanwhile Tolya searched the deck for the sight of you. He found you standing behind Nikolai, looking equally concerned.

"If the mist gets any thicker, then we're in trouble," you warned. Tolya had arrived by your side as you stared towards the heavy hanging mist. "There's really no way we can stall?"

Nikolai pressed his hand onto your shoulder with a sullen smile. "Believe me, if I could shift the mist myself to make this easier, then I would." His hand tightened in good spirit, and Tolya couldn't help but zero in on the gesture. He turned to him after giving you a smile, and Nikolai observed the displeasure on Tolya's face. "What is it?"

Tolya blinked. You were looking at him too, your worry permanent. "Nothing," he said finally. "I just think that Y/N's right."

Nikolai smiled and looked forward. "You would."

"I'm being serious," Tolya continued. "We've been hunting the Swallow for weeks. By now, they must know we're close behind. They might use this as a way to—"

"If they attack, we'll have the upperhand," Nikolai said. But his voice sounded wary, as if he said the words to convince himself more than anybody else.

Tolya didn't feel like it had convinced him, and judging by the look on your face, it hadn't worked on you either. Nikolai pushed ahead towards Tamar and the others, assisting with the rope to make his presence all the more useful, meanwhile Tolya shuffled closer to you and placed his own hand above your head gently. You looked up while biting your lip.

"What is it, little duck?"

You huffed, pushing into his touch. Feeling your head soften into his hand made Tolya's heart twist with an ache. He knew that you loved him in your own way, but knowing that you didn't love him the way he loved you made the gentle moments with you feel unkind. You'd been his friend since he first stepped on this boat, taken by the wind and the merchant tales and the vast, reckless seas.

When Tolya first realised he loved you, he thought there had been a slight chance that you felt the same. He knew that his presence in a room made you smile the brightest, and you always sought him out in a storm or a row, tucked into his arm safely, protected by his source of life. You belonged in the crook of his neck, in the gap in his hammock. You belonged in his arms, in his hands, in his heart. But Tolya belonged to you in moments, and he knew you cared about him, just not in the same way. Tolya thought the world revolved around you and you alone—you were the entirety of his life, and he was just a part of yours.

"I don't like this," you told him. "Not one bit, I don't like this."

"The storm?" he pried. Tolya knew you didn't enjoy the stormy seas, as much as you loved the ocean and the life of a seaman. You were born to live on the sea, but that didn't make the colossal waves and thunderous crashes any less scary.

You shook your head, moving free from his touch. Tolya let you leave, feeling a tug to follow. "Not just that. This race—the mist is too perfect. I'm not saying it was conjured by them, but they will use it to their advantage." You huffed with irritance, "I told Nikolai about these slavers. Their ship is painted grey to match the storms, they can approach you like a ghost, never seen until it's too late. He's stubborn, he's young. He doesn't know everything."

Nikolai had dreamt of the sea and its open promises of freedom. Unlike you, who had been raised in ship harbours and in boats, Nikolai had been fed with a silver spoon in Ravka and took the sea as his calling. He was good at it, and make no mistake, both you and Tolya loved and respected him, but even Tolya had to confess that in moments of danger, most of the seamen looked to you for support. Nikolai—Sturmhond—would come first, but should he ever fall, you were his next best successor, his heir, his unmentioned mentor.

More than that, you were Tolya's left-hand, second to only his sister. Tolya couldn't picture his life without you in it, which he supposed only made the churning in his chest even more pathetic.

Knowing there would be nothing he could say to ease your worries, Tolya settled his hand on the nape of your neck and rubbed the nerves away. He watched quietly as you leaned closer to his hand, closing your eyes with a calming exhale through your nose and then pushing forward in Nikolai's direction. He watched you leave in silence—what was worse? The fact that he loved you and you didn't love him back, or the fact that he had to hurl flowers as an eternal reminder until either you changed your mind, he found a medic somehow willing to cut him open and take the flowers out, or until one of you died?

At the mere thought of the latter, Tolya shuddered and felt the breeze kiss goosebumps up his skin. The gesture was almost comforting, romantic; he watched the deck fill with seamen attentive to the looming mists and fell to his position, hoping the business of his job would keep him distracted enough that he wouldn't feel the need to cough up anymore white petals.

But to no avail.

Very narrowly avoiding Miradi on his way across the ship, Tolya lifted himself up over the side of the Volkvolny and allowed a flurry of petals to lift up his throat and out of his mouth, spilling into the ocean with the seafoam and seaweed. He hoped it would sink with the current, out of view of anyone nearby, but he should have suspected that Tamar would be close behind, concerned by his sudden sickness.

"Since when are you seasick?" she asked accusingly, patting him on the back. As if out of morbid curiosity, Tamar arched over the side to peer down at his vomit, surprised by the sight of nothing but sea. She had the idea to turn away until Tolya spoke next.

"I'm not. I just—" Out came another wave of petals. Tamar stared with shock at the white stream hitting the surface of the waves with a spit, and then she looked over at her brother with wide eyes. He coughed, heaving the dryness of his throat and then looking over at Tamar with an almost guilty expression on his face. "I—"

"How long?" Tamar asked.

Tolya stayed quiet, drying his mouth with his saliva and catching his breath. "Not long."

"Days?"

"A couple of weeks."

Tamar gawked. "Weeks?"

Tolya sniffed. He'd done a pretty good job at keeping his affliction hidden from just about everybody on board the Volkvolny. Tamar was the safest person to know, but it still made it more real, more serious.

"It's fine," he said weakly, hoping that Tamar might spare him the humiliation and leave it there.

For a second, it looked like she might, but then she bit her lip and looked up at him worriedly.

"Is it…" she started, trailing off. "Her?"

Tolya knew who she meant. He glanced in your direction briefly and then back at Tamar: "You can't say anything."

Tamar looked wounded. "It might help. In all the stories our mother used to tell us, they—"

"The last thing I want is for her to like me out of pity, Tamar," Tolya replied quietly, gently too but stern enough to keep her quiet. "And I don't think it works like that. The feelings have to be natural. And she doesn't like me like that."

"You don't know tha—"

"I wouldn't have Hanahaki if she did," Tolya said firmly, and Tamar silenced, mostly because he was right.

It didn't matter if he went up to you and proclaimed his love, mentioning he was suffering with Hanahaki because of your unreturned feelings. The choice to be in love with someone, with him, was yours to make, and forcing your hand wouldn't chase away the petals. He didn't think there was anything he could do now to change your feelings, not unless he died, maybe. But if he died, then it wouldn't make any difference. Tolya just wished none of it had happened in the first place. More than anything, he wanted the petals to go away, to wither and die in his lungs. He wished he'd been more on guard with his feelings, only dishing them out to those who could give it back.

Loving you was a game of self-hatred, but it wasn't like he could turn those feelings off, either.

After a pregnant pause, Tamar spoke again. "What're you gonna do?"

Tolya sighed again. "Ignore it. Endure it. No medic in their right mind will do the surgery to get rid of them—Saints, even I didn't think this was real until I coughed up my first petal. So, I'm just going to have to live with it somehow."

"They might," Tamar offered, but Tolya supposed she was just trying to be supportive, trying to lessen the blow somehow. "We could tell Nikolai. There might be someone in Ravka, someone trustworthy—"

"I just want to forget about it," Tolya said. Suddenly, he amended it, "and not through some sketchy surgery. Look, we've got work to do. Nikolai wants to push into the mist to find the Swallow within the next day. We shouldn't slow him down."

Tamar nodded slightly. She wanted to say more, but she knew it would be pointless. Even if there was someone in Ravka to do the job, it could seriously alter Tolya's feelings for you in general. Even if you didn't love him romantically, you loved him nonetheless.

The surgery, from what Tamar gathered from those stories long ago, not only rid the petals from the lungs but it also helped wipe away any unwanted feelings. The stories never covered those parts—what if Tolya's whole opinion on you changed? What if he didn't even want to be around you anymore? Somehow, she knew that would be worse to Tolya than him dying or it just not working.

She cast another short glance to the waves and then pushed herself from the sides and back towards the buzz of life, craning her head to hear the waves lapping under the vessel, the voices of the boat so quiet that her thoughts took initiative.

Tolya threw up a total of eight times through the night as the Volkvolny pushed deeper through the thick and wet mist hanging in the distance. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up the bad stomach act to keep the crew at bay, not forgetting you as you trailed after him worried about his condition. The last thing Tolya needed was you seeing the flowers—you'd know, or you'd think he was in love with someone else, both equally awful possibilities.

Around twenty minutes ago, the Volkvolny crept silently through the cloud of mist and was now completely surrounded. The mere sight of you pacing near the front of the ship made his insides churn, and he barely managed to stumble over the sides to release the new load of flowers. Tamar had done her best to shield him from view, but thankfully, everybody seemed preoccupied in the still cover of the mist, silent and alert for signs of the Swallow.

The Swallow was unlike any other ship they'd gone after. Painted white and silver and decorated with a litter of stolen gemstones and booty, the Swallow liked to go invisible under heavy rain clouds, perfect for storms that frequented the channel they sailed through. Nikolai had heard rumours of its dodgy dealings, and its insane stories of trafficking and slavery and expensive booty, but finding it was a challenge in itself. Now, they could be anywhere, beyond or behind, and the thin visibility did nothing to ease the anxiety of the crew on board.

Tolya spared a glance at Nikolai. Even he looked nervous—maybe he was wishing he'd listened to your warnings. Back at the front of the ship, Tolya spied your pacing figure and approached slowly.

He closed in with a gentle hand on your elbow, and you turned with a jump. He tried to smile, but the worry on your face had his eyebrows knitting together.

"Fear not," he said gently, rubbing small circles across the bone of your elbow. "We'll be fine."

You nodded slightly. "Yeah." Although you didn't sound convinced.

Tolya's eyes scanned your face, mapping out your features and concerns. Just looking at your face made his heart leap, a fluttering sensation digging deeper within. Becoming aware of the feeling made it more real, and only brought the flowers up faster; Tolya swallowed thickly and looked away.

"How are you feeling?"

Then, he looked back at you, feeling his heart in his throat—or was that flower petals?—at your pointed concern for his well being.

"Not bad," he said in reply. "Just under the weather."

You smiled at that. "Then go below."

"No, I think you need me to protect you from the mist and the Swallow," Tolya said.

Your smile widened. "Oh, definitely. I'm a damsel, I couldn't be here without the surety of you coming to my rescue, should I be kidnapped."

"Not that I'd ever let that happen," Tolya grinned.

"Alls well," you replied, angling away with a feisty bounce, widening Tolya's grin. "I'd die before anyone could steal and auction me off somewhere."

The smile faltered on Tolya's face. Just the thought of you being dead was enough to raise the petals to his throat, where he could feel them sticking to the walls of his gullet. He couldn't throw up now—not now, not here. He twisted away, half stepping to the side of the boat where he leaned over once again, hoping to remove the evidence before anybody could witness it.

He kept his eyes open as he spewed the flowers, watching them disappear into the ocean, sucked down by the pull of the water. Tolya felt his heart hammering in his chest when he felt your hand on his shoulders, coaxing him back to the world. His eyes rolled, his body light—and more flowers came up, spilling from his lips, pooling in the water.

Tolya knew you'd seen. There would be no hiding it, no denying it. There would be no prolonged suffering, no secrets, and there would be no way to disappear to avoid confronting it. Tolya let the last few petals tumble out before he looked up, far into the misty nothingness that surrounded the Volkvolny, until he had no option but to turn to you and await judgement.

The surprise on your face was blatant. With wide eyes, you stared at Tolya in confusion.

"What just happened?" you asked, confused. It struck Tolya, then, that you had no idea what Hanahaki disease was. It didn't exist in your bedtime stories, nor in your nightmares. Tolya considered lying.

He could try and convince you that you saw wrong. Maybe the mist was getting to your mind, warping your vision; Tolya didn't want to lie to you, though. It's not like lying would make the problem go away. Questions would remain, heartbreak prolonged. At least if he was honest, the issue might become more manageable. He wouldn't have to tell you who or why.

"It's a Shu story, or, well, I guess it is actually real," Tolya began to explain. "It's called Hanahaki disease. And I—"

"I know of it," you replied quietly, surprising him. "Some Shu pirates shared these stories when we visited for the light shows last autumn. It happens when you love someone who doesn't love you back…" and then, the words died in your mouth. You fidgeted from foot to foot, staring at him almost awkwardly. "You—?"

"Yes," he replied right away.

"Who?" you asked breathlessly. Tolya had himself convinced that he heard jealousy in your voice. But, he knew that couldn't be true, otherwise he wouldn't be throwing up flowers every day.

Tolya wrestled with the truth, offering white lies. "Someone from my childhood. I saw them again in Shu Han."

"You've had this all your life? Or since the last visit?"

His stomach twisted. "Since the last visit." It wasn't a lie—the flowers had only appeared after they left Shu Han, although it had nothing to do with a childhood sweetheart. He examined the look on your face, the twist in your features. "Why…do you look angry?"

There was a small stretch of silence before you spoke. "I don't know." Then, you glanced at the sea.

"Are you…" Tolya sucked in a breath, as if baiting himself into disappointment, "...upset by that?"

You continued to look out across the sea. Then: "I don't know how I feel about it."

His heart dropped, like it had just landed from a towering wave onto the sea below. Hanahaki was a bedtime story just a few weeks ago, and he reckoned there was more to it than what his mother might have said when he was little. It was blatantly clear that you did not love him back, hence the flowers, but why would you be jealous if there was nothing there at all, no spark you felt for him?

Tolya's mind raced. You were jealous, maybe, or even upset at the thought of Tolya loving somebody else. It was too late to amend the lie. Tolya, at once, thought of all the things this might mean: maybe you were just jealous that Tolya might one day leave the Volkvolny for this imaginary childhood love, or maybe you just didn't want him to settle with anybody, had an unspoken hatred for love and all things related. Maybe you had unestablished feelings for him that you didn't understand, ones that weren't powerful enough to be love but not insignificant enough to make you feel strange about him being with someone else? If that was the case, then could the disease be cured? Could you learn to love, eventually return the feelings, without him ever being honest about his unrequited love? Or maybe your jealousy was platonic, a fear of losing him, or familial, a fear of whoever he loves not being good enough?

Tolya was so lost in thought that he barely heard the call of the seamen behind. A scrawny seaman in the nest above had called something, but he didn't know what. He blinked, watching you scurry away across the deck and up to the poop deck, transitioning into your role. Ship spotted. He looked over the horizon, almost missing the outline of another vessel sailing across the sharp sea. The Swallow, looming closer.

The squaller's onboard hurried to tend to the sails, meanwhile Tolya positioned himself alongside the deck, Tamar flanking him. The ship leaned dangerously to the right, and he stumbled to keep balance as someone caught hold of the wheel. He tried to focus on your voice calling commands to those on the deck, occasionally hearing you poke your head below to the two seamen positioned near the emergency cannons. Nikolai never liked making use of his cannons, not when he had other amazing gadgets and weapons to utilise, but as the Swallow crept closer, you commanded the cannon operators to their positions, measuring out exact amounts of gunpowder.

The upper decks were chaotic, and the Swallow was fresh in sight. Tolya's heart stammered, but he slowed it down with heavy breathing, trying to locate you in the crowd of the ship. You were gone, out of sight, and his stomach churned again. With the impending attack of the Swallow inching closer, he put his mind off the idea of throwing up and looked at the closing danger.

Around them, the wind whipped, water splashing over the sides and onto the deck, pooling around Tolya's boots. The Swallow was now virtually at the Volkvolny's side, and he heard your faint voice shout, "Fire!" and the applause of cannon fire burst out. Decked with top-of-the-range Grisha tech, the cannons sounded like machine artillery, rapidly bursting into the side of the Swallow. It veered from left to right on the twisting ocean surface, teetering closer and closer to the Volkvolny. It clinked the side, and within minutes, enemies poured in.

"All hands engage!"

Tolya jumped into action, putting his mind off trying to find you and instead trying to focus solely on the task at hand. Busy with the task of evading his crew from capture or death, Tolya poured himself into his efforts, but thoughts of you prevailed. He could tell your heartbeat out of everyone else's, hammering, a reminder of your life. He felt like he couldn't breathe at the idea of you being away from him, somewhere beyond his vision, and the petals threatened to rise up from his lungs again.

The ship lurched with the force of the enemy's cannon, sending splinters of wood into the air, barely skidding across the surface of the deck. Nikolai scowled from his post at the audacity of another ship trying to destroy his own—luckily the Volkvolny was in dire need of a makeover once this matter was dealt with, but it didn't make the situation any less stressful and frustrating.

As if by command of the Swallow, the ship teetered in the wind from left to right, the wind so strong it had Tolya looking from side to side in a daze. Mountainous waves swept over the two ships, the storm brewing over their heads. There was no room for retreat, and with his heart in his throat, Tolya surged forward to thwart enemy invaders in their tracks onboard the Volkvolny. Nikolai's arsenal of weapons emerged in full, a choir of noise and anger, and Tolya barely ducked in time before catching a glimpse of a razor sharp arrow cutting through the air past his ear. It burrowed itself in the neck of a man just a few steps away.

Biding time, Tolya ducked out of the way as thick, black smoke crept along the deck, and he frantically searched the expanse of the ship searching for you. For a moment, he mistook Nadine as you, moving forward, until he spotted you jump past him in a hurry, calling orders to several other seamen at your command who seemed all the more eager to race into battle. He felt his heart throbbing in his gullet, the petals close to the surface—he swallowed them down.

The Volkvolny's crew advanced to the Swallow, crossing narrow planks and fighting poor balance as sharp and jagged hooks pushed from small windows on the side of the ship and into the unsuspecting Swallow. Knotted together, with nowhere to run, it would be now or never for the Volkvolny to put an end to the Swallow's unlawful ways. Tolya saw you cross enemy lines and without hesitation moved to follow, shadowed by several other seamen. A squaller appeared amongst enemy lines, sending a gust of sharp wind in your direction, and without thinking, Tolya raised his hands and with the flick of a wrist, the squaller was choking up, feeling the air crush in their lungs.

He needed to find you. More than anything, Tolya needed to be near you, ensuring your safety. He didn't care if that put him in the firing line.

An enemy crewmember attempted to manipulate the sails to wrench away from the iron clasp of the Volkvolny, but Tamar put him out of action with a grunt and shove of her long spear. Heartrending was hard work at the best of times, and she gave Tolya a warning stare, having noticed him crush the ribs and lungs of someone just moments before. It wasn't his way—she knew he was doing it out of protective instincts, but sometimes, instincts made you sloppy, protectiveness made you weak.

Shrouded in mist, Tolya felt the Swallow buck against the water, sinking slowly. Nikolai's master craftwork had punctured holes in the belly of the ship, water flooding into the lower sections of the ship. Foamy waves filled each cabinet, each floor, until it was swallowed whole. It gurgled like a drowning man, and Tolya's eyes flickered up to where you'd last stood, and he saw nothing but empty space. His heart raced, and with a cough, he spat out one single petal. He didn't even have time to feel sorrow about it, instead just stepping over it and heading through the smokey ruins of the Swallow.

A yell from behind him signalled that Nikolai and someone else had captured their captain—whatever else the seamen were doing could halt. The Swallow would succumb to the hungry ocean, becoming a decoration for the fish below, food for the salty mouth of the big and expansive sea. There was no need to fight, and no need to prolong the violence. Tolya stood there, breathing heavily, as his eyes scanned the deck. Through the thick coverage of smoke, he thought it would be impossible to see you, until he did.

He choked at the sight. As you pushed off an enemy, you stumbled, falling face first on the watery deck, choking on the salty liquid that filled your lungs. Not one enemy, but two—Tolya made quick work on the one snaking a hand around your foot, pulling you to the slanted edge, as if prepared to throw you over. Tolya heard his heart slowing as he put an end to the man dragging you away, and as you spluttered out the water with a desperate gasp, the other enemy grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you back, a blade against your throat. Everything happened in flashes; Tolya couldn't breathe.

The blade dug into the front of your neck, and Tolya saw blood spilling around the edge as he, without any hesitation, pushed his hands forward to cut off the beat of the man's heart. He choked, gasping for air, feeling the pressure of his heart squish into a flat surface, and Tolya thought that would be the end, that everything would be fine. As the man began to fall, the blade slipped across your neck, cutting into the flesh and opening up a flood of blood, pouring out like a waterfall. Tolya didn't even have the ability to scream.

"Man down!"

The roaring call of a seaman nearby had three or four Volkvolny crew members surging forward to pick you up, appearing out of nowhere like angels. Tolya staggered forward, his mind racing, his footwork sloppy. With Tamar guiding his arm, Tolya made it across to the Volkvolny, seeking you out on the deck you were laying flat on. Without meaning to, he shoved past the forming crowd, immediately falling to his knees and pressing his hands against your neck, as if to prevent the blood from spilling out.

Your eyes were wide, bloodshot and scared, and Tolya blinked several times in shock. There was nothing to say—nothing adequate. He could say you were fine, but you blubbered, unable to speak, unable to do anything but look at him, afraid and ready to die. Tolya cried once, his voice hoarse as if his own throat had been cut, and he applied greater pressure with one hand to make up for the other pulling away and stroking your hair. He didn't know how much longer he had, you had, until death arrived. He stared at you, horrified, guilt building up in his stomach. The petals fluttering like wild butterflies, uncontrollable, the tickling sensation stinging his insides.

"Oh," he managed out, lost for words. When he said he wanted all of this to end, he never meant like this. How could this have happened? And so fast, so soon, like a cruel joke? "Oh, Saints, oh—" He closed his eyes, feeling his body start to tremble. You gargled again, and he looked back at you immediately. What could he possibly say?

He sniffled, his heart in his mouth around the words, "It's you. It was always you, it will always be you."

Tolya hoped you knew what that meant. There was no notion of understanding in your eyes, no expression at all; nothing but nothingness as the life vanished from your face, your eyelids still and half-lidded, your whole body limp across his knees as the water lapped across your hair, hungry to take you to your bed of coral and darkness, a home calling you back as Tolya held you close, unable to say goodbye, unable to accept that you were gone. One moment you had been there, under his hands, all nervous smiles, clueless feelings, and the next moment you were gone, empty and covered with blood, a phantom on the Volkvolny ready to dance into the mist.

As several others prepared your body for the funeral at sea, Tolya could do nothing to keep his sickness down. He did more than spew petals, gradually only throwing up his breakfast, whatever food he'd been forced to eat by Tamar, and stomach bile and acid that sat on top of the eerily still water, refusing to be washed away. Hours and hours he spent hunched over the side of the ship, or over a bucket in Nikolai's quarters. The sight of his own hammock made the knots in his stomach tighten, and the only place he found solace was here, staring out of the smashed window in this little office, thinking of everything and anything.

Tolya hadn't thrown up petals in a few hours. He didn't want to acknowledge the lack of flowers in his vomit. Literally only yesterday, Tolya had wished the flowers away, but now he wanted nothing more but for them to return, to still be blooming across his lungs, smiling up from a puddle between his feet. The flowers were a reminder of your life, that you were still here, alive and well. He'd rather be throwing up petals and pining over you as you busied yourself on the ship. Now, his chest felt hollow for more than one reason.

As the Volkvolny advanced in silence back towards the mainland, Tolya felt like none of it was real, too preoccupied with his thoughts to even respond to questions, to think about the reality of his life. How could he begin to adjust without you being there? How could Tolya get back up on his feet and live, knowing that you wouldn't be nearby, seeking him out in a storm? Sooner or later, someone would inherit your place as gunner, and he'd be searching for you in their commands, looking for you in the darkness. Suddenly, he felt sick—the pool of vomit showed no signs of flowers, and another wave of sickness followed.

Tamar dropped by to tell him they were ready. Tolya almost didn't respond, but if he missed it, he'd never forgive himself. He stood silently like a ghost behind the solemn crowd, doing his best not to look at your body, dressed in black and grey and decorated with flowers that had been found somewhere on board. The sight of them as he dared a glance reminded him of the flowers, or lack of, growing inside of him. He felt a burning sensation behind his eyes.

The Volkvolny had never lost a member before, marking your death as the first burial at sea. Nikolai had mentioned it would be the right thing to do, to send your body back to the Holy Mother that was the ocean, yearning for your return. You always said you were born from coral, born for the sea—now, you'd be returning, wrapped in pretty clothes and decorated like a present. Tolya felt sick—a burial at sea, your body following them on their voyage, but no headstone to visit, no grave to put down flowers. Two cannon masters wanted your burial on land, and Tolya's heart twisted at the gesture.

"It wouldn't be what she'd want," Nikolai said.

It was true—you'd want a proper sea burial, cannons firing and all, the water wrestling you down until you lay to rest on the seabed to become one with the reefs. Later, he would be able to spot you in the shape of the water, the whisper of the wind over the waves; he would feel your spirit protecting the ship through wild passages. But he'd never get to lie beside you in the event of his own death, he'd never have a place to go to find you intimately.

As the cannons fired, your body sent to the calm ocean waves and into the slight warm orange sun, Tolya felt his stomach churning, insides rippling and curling and he moved to the side, feeling a rise in his throat. Out came a pour of vomit, hot and sour, not a petal in sight. As your body swept away in the welcomed embrace of the sea, Tolya came to terms with the newfound cure to his sickness. The flowers were gone, Hanahaki cured, the memory of you to remain.

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