It's A Wonderful Life Solo/PV Val Closed

Over the last couple of months, Valentin watched Nikolai come back from being little more than a corpse to embodying a twinkle of starlight as it fought to stay lit in the sky. Valentin knew the depths of courage and dedication it took to summon the light that had, by some miracle, never fully gone out inside. For as much as Val griped about Sergei being invasive, overcontrolling, and viciously judgmental, he was happy to see how well Nikolai treated their butler. His blood-brother’s radically deep compassion was a large part of why he felt like home to Valentin. Seeing Sergei and Nikolai together now, such opposites, had a way of drawing a smile out despite the tension. Valentin approached the pair from an aft wing of the house, catching a segment of their dialogue.

"Are we to be leaving Master Volkov."

"You know that's not my name Sergei and not until I say goodbye to Val he will be gone by the time we get back, oh and you could at least pretend like this isn't going to kill you I'm not the one that insisted on you coming. Frankly as soon as we're out of his sight you can feel free to do whatever you want."

As Valentin arrived at their side, Nikolai would see the seeker's ever-adoring face greeting him. It was likely that Nikolai found Valentin to be a happier person than he really was, since it was when they were together when Val felt at his strongest. The past two months had been hard on them, but Val was carrying an additional burden: fearing the next fallout from his “Christmas curse.” After receiving the most precious blessing in his life, it felt all too certain that this would be stripped from him too, like some cosmic demonstration. Torn between respecting Nik’s freedom and the paranoia that grew more severe with every hour leading up to the New Year, Valentin had barely slept. Yet, each moment of enjoying Nikolai just being himself served to revive and stabilize him despite a chaotic undercurrent of tension. Ever observant, Val would not fail to notice the new gloves and would continue to eye them as he chose to push back against Sergei.

“It’s Vol’ka now, not Volkov. He is part of my family now and there’s nothing my butler can do to stop me. Show some respect. This is not the Kozlov household – you are paid to be here.”

“Sir, I mean only the utmost respect. The Volkov line is to be highly regarded. A made-up surname does not suit one with such potential.”

Val reached out his palm to bring Nikolai’s gloved right hand closer for examination, clearly trying to remain calm. The touch of the delicately embroidered gloves was soft.

“Where did you get these, darling? Have you had them checked by the curse detection staff?” Nikolai looked so cute with his light blue gloves, which was a color Valentin always had a fondness for because it reminded him of perfect skies. Passing his hand through the boy’s hair with affection, Valentin took a deep breath before turning back to Sergei.

“His name is Nikolai Vol’ka. He is free and I will not tolerate anyone telling him who to be. That is his decision, only.” Squeezing Nik’s hand, Valentin’s anger eased as love took back its sovereignty.

“You can dress a thestral in garlands and a horn, but it will never be a unicorn.”

Rage overtook Val’s face and he bore his teeth as he stepped forward and grabbed Sergei by the collar.

“You don’t know his heart like I do. You don’t understand him at all.”

“Once a Volkov, always a Volkov. It’s in his blood. Don’t lie to yourselves. It dishonors the real power that is his rightful heritage. You would know something about that, wouldn’t you, master?”

“It’s his life and it’s his choice how to live it, Ssssergei...” The warped hiss of a broken parseltongue syllable slipped from Valentin’s tongue, and it looked like he might punch the man at any moment.

“You will treat him right. He deserves a peaceful and happy holiday season, especially after everything we’ve been through. This is what I’m asking for, Sergei, and if you can’t do something so important for me, I’m sure someone else would be happy to take your outrageously high-paid position. I don’t care what my parents said about you anymore. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, but on this I must insist. Treat Nikolai with respect or get out of my life.”

Godmods are consensual with regards to Nikolai, Val, and their shared NPC Sergei.

Deterring from Val's offence to Sergei's blatant ignorance he lightened the mood a habit that was becoming far too familiar these days, "Jokes on you Sergei Thestrals are one of my favourite creatures, in fact I was rather hoping my camera had captured them but I suppose they are too mysterious for such simple technologies." It had caused grievous disappointment when Nik had eventually developed said photos from the investigation of pyre only to find them blank and yet be was quite sure he could still somehow sense the presence in each shot. Like a ghostly fingerprint etched into the film. If he were honest disappointment was a major understatement, the strength alone it took to develop the images had almost caused him to fully spiral out and he found himself practically seizing again when he finally stumbled into his therapists office. Rage seethed off him like his own personal demon stalking his shadow and as such the missing evidence had been the final straw to collapse him in. But that was then, and this was now and dwelling in the past wouldn't change it.

Sergei however was not a man to back down and his words clattered in the young Russians head temporarily deafening him to the world as he threatened to not spin off his axis once more. It was nothing short of horrible living each moment so fragile that any short burst of wind could completely topple his crumbled foundations, not to mention the dreadful stares of knowing that each and every one of his family, friends and even strangers levelled him with. Vulnerable was decidedly not a state he was comfortable with. Once a Volkov, always a Volkov. Once a Volkov, always a Volkov. Once a Volkov, always a Volkov. Screaming through his head, wrecking defences and worst of all infecting his mind with its potential truth. It wasn't until Val raised his temper at the butler that he found himself forcibly dragging himself back into the conversation. Unfortunately such arguments had become the normality of living in the Schnell estate. Tension was palpable, thickly hung in the air just waiting to cause calamity and it seemed every member of the household was at one point or another hellbent on causing said apocalypse to begin.

Valentine was angry with Nikolai, or worse disappointed, perhaps even worse still he felt betrayed, and Kolka knew it with every pulse of his heart, for it lingered in the silence between them. Harder still was that he was without a doubt entitled to. The devastating reality, however, was that Nikolai was angry with Valentine too. The only difference being that he hadn't the right. The long and the short of it had begun because for some unknown reason the pair simply weren't speaking about the events. As if some massive deadly elephant wasn't sitting in the room with them every second of every day waiting to be acknowledged. Then on top of that there was the constant surveillance, lack of trust and just general refusal to let him exist without fearing he'd break. That same knowing stare that every single person in his life was adamant on retaining, but in Val's features it hurt all the more. Life had become exhausting, and Nikolai was tired enough as it was with recovery. Every day he was to push himself to the farthest reaches of possibility both mentally and physically and sometimes he wished he could just scream all of it away like he had before. Though screams were no longer a sanctuary, haunted by ghosts he couldn't bear a scream only rendered him voiceless now.

Even months later he couldn't recall the specifics of his time in St Petersburg but having come to terms with what he did remember provided plenty enough recovery material. Frankly his memory could remain fragmented as far as he was concerned, anymore torture would reap too gravely. Realising he was losing himself to the clutches of his warring mind he let the tips of his fingers curl into his hands and ran them along the finely embroidered snowflakes soothingly. Nikolai was, unsurprisingly, conflicted about almost everything to do with his family but the gloves were a declaration, symbolic that he still had one Volkov heart beating for him and although that came with its own complications it did well to dim the loss. Mostly it was just a relief to know he hadn't been responsible for his own brother's death, unsure to this day that he had really survived the ordeal he was so overcome with relief when the gift came. Volkov's didn't forgive but perhaps the loss of one wolf from Mikhail's den had already caused enough problems to possible relieve another.

Sighing outright blatantly to get the others attention he spoke, voice precariously balancing on exhausted, "Please can we just not. It's Christmas eve, if you won't do it for yourself Val do it for me and if you won't do it at all Sergei just wait outside while I say goodbye." Unlike his brother, Nik would never demand as such from the butler as an order, frankly he didn't ever ask the man for so much as anything if it could be helped, but when he dared himself to almost protest empyreal eyes shot a threatening lace of murder towards him and he found himself dismissing himself all formalities and charm like nothing had happened. "Sorry Val," would Nikolai ever stop apologising for his actions, the thought throwing him off balance and replacing wise thoughts with emotion, "I just, we're going round in circles with the arguments, and I need today to be different. I know you're worried about me going but nothing is going to happen, Sergei will be there and I'm going as a non-magi. I won't ask you to trust me, that wouldn't be fair but please at least accept I need this to recover."

Before Valentine could speak or deny or really do anything at all Nikolai tackled him into a hug lacing his fingers around every inch of him and filling every other space with the essence of his encapsulated love. Trust would perhaps never recover but surely love could. Tucked into his chest he looked up at him puppy dog eyed with only a hint of past pain glistening through, "I love you Val. Please try and enjoy yourself tonight, everything doesn't always have to be a battle. I'm going to be safe I promise." Detangling himself from the mess of limbs they now shared he almost found his toes tipping up to reach for the seekers forehead in a gesture once so common now tainted. Thanks in part to his distorted memory and a reluctance to rush their joint recovery Nikolai couldn't remember the last time he had offered Val a forehead kiss. How had something that was once so common become taboo, was it even or did the young Russian's mind simply demand that their relationship was more deteriorated than the truth? It seemed impossible to know which only lengthened the distance between them. Either way Valentine looked as heartbroken as he felt when the pause lingered between them.

Opting instead for a simple smile he adjusted his fur-lined coat and wrapped himself up in his Kashmir scarf allowing Valentines careful hands to adjust it until the material lay comfortingly around him warming him with love. Things between them may have been haggard but they were still brothers bound intrinsically. Leaning his head once more against the side of Valentine's chest they walked to the stunning pearlescent doorway and squeezing once more unwilling to let go before they had to he spoke so soft the snow could not compete, "See you soon Сольданелла" Snowdrop Lightness dotting his features with the use of the nickname Val took up one of Nikolai’s hands placing a kiss as gentle yet devoted as his nature upon one of the snowflakes before raising it to his own forehead, an intimately personal gesture. Vividly the memory of the dream fluttered through the young Russian’s mind and viscerally caused him to swallow thickly, but the moment was as tender as it was reminding. "I love you too Kolenka," As such the time had come and despite everything in Valentine's mind begging to stop the wheels of fate from spinning, he pushed off and began skipping down into the snow like a little artic fox or wolf pup on an adventure. Warring heart aside the older boy did his best to believe the curse was a fantasy of his own creation, but it was no use, not until New Year would his paranoia ease, not until his peace was secured.

For Nikolai the freedom tasted like hot cocoa, scrumptiously delicious and the perfect remedy for the cold frost that had settled so deeply these last months within his veins. The trip through the mountains had its hazards but all paled away when the boy bore witness to the winter wonderland that stretched across the terrain painting every ridgeline with delicate snow and frosted the large spruce trees like dusting. Deep breaths were stolen by the air painting mist in front of his face making him thankful for the layers enveloping him, magic could have removed such factors but stealing a single precious moment from this day would ruin its importance. Magic had become somewhat a sore subject for the boy who had been refusing to cast ever since October’s events. It wasn’t necessarily that magic had been to blame he simply needed to understand and decide on its place in his life, a conversation he wasn’t truthfully capable of having with himself let alone others yet. Such the winter’s bite that settled upon his lips and bristled his platinum hair with icy flakes felt all the more perfect. A reminder that he existed with or without magic.

By the time they had arrived in Kazan Nikolai had managed to irritate Sergei enough that the journey had been travelled in relative peace, blissful silence shared between them. Although the primary intention of today was for exposure and an attempt to prove to himself, he could function alone without any problems arising he couldn’t help but wish that the older gentleman might actually lighten under the mundane day. Any such hopes were dashed when the perpetual scowl of their butler held steadfast despite the breathtaking beauty of the diverse city. A prior Nik might have been able to summon enough spirit to twist his arm but that sunshine that once dazzled still felt diminished these days and he felt the words die in his throat before they even surfaced. Defeated he tucked his hands under his arms holding himself in tight while they walked through the city. Climbing historic streets bursting with colour and creative architecture he marvelled at the wonderful amalgamation of culture that was present from the buildings to the people. Kazan was a mixing pot of many influences, and all complimented each other creating a masterpiece portrait of blending ideologies and opinions. It was everything he wanted from the world.

Reaching their first major stop the pair rounded a snow sheeted corner coming face to face with the jewel in the crown that was Kazan, the Kremlin, the last Tatar fort of Russia. The architecture felt like home given the similarities in style to the Schnell estate with towering points of marble blue tipped with small balcony like features it was like seeing a miniature version of his very own tower. The large blue dome reminiscent of Val’s’ room Nikolai couldn’t help but take a seat on a nearby wall and simply admire the building. Despite the weather the sun still spilled gorgeous radiant beams that filtered through the large windows transcending the space into a glowing beacon causing small crescent moon shadows to linger on the cobbles from the Kremlin’s ornaments. Nikolai was sure he could sit up there for hours just watching the world go by with all its miraculous variation. Some people smiled as they passed, small children waved giggling off into the day and Sergei consistent to a point brooded in defiance of any human emotions. “Are we to sit here all-day Master Volka?” The use of his chosen name came as such a shock to Nikolai that he found himself stumbling off the wall an uncovered patch of ice assisting his fumble. Prepared to meet the cold crash of the pavement he found himself further surprised when the strong hands of Sergei caught him mid fall and placed him gently down levelling a look of paternal mockery. Confusing as it may be he couldn’t help the sides of his mouth tug into a smile, “Thank you Sergei for that, and the name though really you can just call me Nikolai or Nik. The formality does nothing for me.” Genuine in his response Nikolai couldn’t help but wither as Sergei’s steeled look reforged, but for a fraction of a second, he swore he had seen real worry on the butler’s face.

Neglecting to hold eye contact with his young charge Sergei dusted imaginary snow off of his finely tailored coat and continued tone stripped of any pleasantries, “Whatever you say Master Nikolai, the question still remains.” Whether the old fart would admit it Kolka was pretty sure this was progress. “Could still lose the master but I appreciate the effort. Yeah, I think I’m ready though if this wasn’t for you, you’re going to hate the rest of the plans.” A mischievous grin morphed his features so that for the briefest of seconds he resembled a previous Nikolai, someone Hans might have recognised if he could have seen him. That light must have made its way from his face down to his heart because suddenly the feeling only clamped down and all the overwhelming pain of the last months filtered back In robbing him of it before he even had the chance to bask in its warmth. That was when it all went to shit. What started as just feelings of dread heightened as the shrill shriek of a woman was heard behind him and Nik found his vision instantly tunnelled. Where once was a vast open space glistened with snow reflecting the suns rays in a sprawling radiant display now darkened as trees grew looming over him and blood and dirt were all that filled his mouth. Ears ringing with drilling white noise and harsh laboured breaths while his heart began beating so violently, he swore his chest was minutes from caving in.

It was happening again, and he was powerless to stop it. Still he tucked his hands so desperately under his arms practically digging them into his sides anything to hold it in, to not cause a scene. Resistance was futile, it had been since the moment it started, and he knew it. Magic wasn’t a force he was on speaking terms with at present but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still screaming, if anything the communication severance was decidedly one way. Nikolai could feel his source vibrating at near constant always threatening to rip free and tear him in two. Perhaps if he simply wielded it the way he used to it wouldn’t feel the need to thrum so sickly sweet under his skin but ever-present he felt the slip. Accidental magic roaring free the smashing of glass filled his mind, and he prayed to any god that would listen he hadn’t ruined the site or worse injured someone. The next thing he knew the ground was beneath him and the soft wool of his knitted gloves were moist and chilled centring him back with gravity as he sat sprawled in the melting snow. Sergei’s hands were instantly by his side crouched next to him in an entirely unseemly display for his usual manners, but it was another’s voice that pierced through the haze instead.

“Hope I didn’t cause you to slip too дорогой dear.” The sweet lullaby of Tartar woke him as if from a dream as he observed a babushka struggling to right herself from what had clearly been a nasty slip on the ice. The shriek. He wasn’t in danger, no one had come to hurt him, it was simply an accident, all things he told himself to combat the racing patter of his heart until it slowed despite much protest from his survival instincts. Ignoring his own pained body he found himself rushing to the aid of the old woman who stood precariously a cane scattered on the floor next to her. Turning on a charm he thought lost he found himself warmer than recent memory as he helped her stand sweeping up her walking aid, “Don’t worry about me, I’m more worried about you. Are you ok? How did you know I spoke Tatar?” The last question slipped from his mouth before he even had the time to process only to be received with the sweetest of looks, reverent and just a hint of knowing. “Call it an old lady’s intuition, I think I’ll be fine if you can assist me the rest of the way.” Curiosity overcoming concern he offered his arm as they both staggered forward together carefully guiding a path free of ice until they reached the step of the main Kremlin where she offered her hand and graciously accepting with his own, she spoke, “Thank you young man, now please hold this for a moment.” Barely a second to process Nikolai was handed a long white candle with such swiftness unfitting of a woman her age.

Reaching further into the many layers of fabric that made up her shawls she retrieved a small plastic device coloured a vibrant shade of yellow, “Be a дорогой and tell Adelina your name child,” assuming that she referred to himself he found himself stuttering focus still drawn to the device in her hand- “Nikolai Vol’ka бАбушка babushka.” Bowing slightly towards her as a sign of respect he felt his cheeks rosy more so than from the chill air. Having never known his grandparents the most contact he had with elders were at the balls he used to despise, and it left him unnervingly unprepared for such an interaction. The woman couldn’t help but jovially giggle a little clearly unphased by his notice, the brazen honesty was as refreshing as the air, “Vol’ka what a unique name, it suits you well. One should never be condemned by ones birthright.” There it was once again, that knowing smile but before he could settle into any meaningful conclusions Adelina was walking him up the steps to a small offering altar clearly temporary in comparison to the surrounding aged architecture. “Would you like your own candle Nikolai? It’s curious isn’t it how light burns whether in night or day, always present even when we can’t see it? Light travels millions of miles an hour my grandson tells me, maybe he's right. I think light always finds its intended.”

Without waiting for his response the gentle woman pulled another candle and taking his nuzzled hand wrapped the candle within, remarking with gleaming eyes on the snowflake embroidered gloves, “Wonderful craftsmanship, love always does inspire the greatest creations.” Nikolai had never had grandparents, but he lost himself to fantastical wonders of what their presence might have brought to his life, Adelina’s grandson was a very lucky boy indeed. Holding both candles in his hand the woman took her own carved with small engravings that swirled up the length and lit it using the small yellow contraption that held fire within its small shell. When the woman handed it to him, he found himself fumbling attempting to replicate a movement he had only witnessed once and briefly at that. Looking around for rescue it was the first moment since launching towards her he had noticed the lack of Sergei’s presence but as he turned around, he found himself pleasantly surprised to find the butler watching from a distance close enough for safety but far enough for privacy, with what could have been mistaken for a look resembling humour. Sensing his struggle Adelina retrieved the lighter and held it aflame until Nikolai could light his own. Watching as the white wax began to drip down, he sent with the light his hopes for his brothers safety, Nikolai wasn’t sure he would see them again, honestly wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he would be damned not to wish them well.

A comforting hand found purchase on his lower back as the old woman cradled him affectionately her eyes closed intently focused on whomever she too held enough esteem for to send light. The act was so mundane, so simplistic and yet the impact of it ran deeper than magic, it was pure hope all innocence and truth. Without opening her eyes the woman began to speak quietly like the rest of the world was stripped away leaving only the two of them and their candle wishes, “For generations the Tatar people have survived. I have seen so many children of ancestry run through these streets, heard woman’s pleas and parent’s prayers. All of them united by a culture long since gone but never lost. Every one of them holds the future in their hands and every one is capable of what that future entails. A most precious cycle, the passing of the torch.” When she finished Nikolai noticed her right leg begin to waver slightly where she had traded her stick in effort to soothe him so manoeuvring himself, he became her crutch supporting her as she did him. “бАбушка?” His voice so little like a child yet ladened with a depth he shouldn’t have held- “Do you think that light can come back after the darkness has taken it. Is it possible to get it back and the people lost in the darkness when the match went out, will they ever seen the flame again for what it was. Or is it just burnt ash now?”

Adelina’s face was so gentle as she opened her eyes staring into his own with familiar blue eyes only where lightning splintered his hers wove lighter lines around and within the iris almost grey and unseeing like a thick sea fog washed in from the outer blue. Locked in a look that spoke directly to his soul the older woman took her aged hand to his cheek cooling away the blush with their touch, “Wherever there is light, there is darkness. Just as light burns both night and day, darkness shadows despite the sun. To want one is not to eliminate the other, both are necessary it’s all a matter of perspective. You must learn to see both just as they must learn to see you again. Time heals all wounds young one that has been known for generations but what has been lost is that such healing takes dedication. You must remind them of your light солнышко little sun. You are not burnt.” Somehow despite her not knowing his situation he felt every word was truthful to such rich depths he wondered if in a sense she did. Whatever she knew Nikolai’s shoulders sagged slightly lightening the weight he had held all that time. It wouldn’t drop not fully, it may in truth never, but the release helped more than she could know. “Thank you, бАбушка.” In the moments after she squeezed his face endearingly and spinning him on his feet patted him off on his way without the need for words, having understood each other perfectly.

“When you meet again, remember she wasn’t always that way. You needn’t be either. We write our own stories.” Mystified confusion rushed through Nikolai’s mind, and he felt his eyebrow quirk at the woman who only returned him with a hearty laugh turning away and walking off into the distance. Everything from their conversation had been befuddling but as he turned to return to Sergei, he couldn’t help but smile a little brighter for it. For the first time when the smile met his heart he didn’t falter, the joy didn’t pain. Whipping back around he let a small giggle bubble up from his throat as he shouted towards her “Bye Adelina!” to which she raised her hand and wiggled her fingers in a farewell that left him thoroughly enthralled by her. Such a simple moment yet more magical than any spell. Nikolai was about to continue when he found his eyes drawn to a figure just past the babushka partially covered from sight leaning against a wall, but eyes drawn to their direction. Stretched across the wall the tall man who rivalled Val in height stood with fine golden locks quaffed up with volume, a rather aristocratic yet tasteful style to his clothing with a cravat tied to his neck he was like an older more refined version of his blood brother. Similar in almost all features but from the distance it was hard to truly place any familiarity, yet they bore the same intense stare. Nikolai might have been drawn in closer but as quickly as the man had appeared he was leaving. The exchange was too far to overhear and too covered to witness properly but something Adelina had said to the man seemed to have him dismissing her and walking off, blind to the wisdom of the woman.

Despite the almost haunting recognition of the man Nikolai refused to let it temper his now aflame heart and returned to Sergei lighter and more unruly than ever grinning more truthfully than he had in a while. “Ready to continue Mister Kozlov!”

Interacting with Valentin Schnell Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood