Nano Snippet: Zachary Returns to Russia
Spoilers for Stockholm
---
His room had remained untouched after all these years. It had been three years since his last night spent in the suite, and he missed quite sorely. His room at the Niebel High’s dorm could not compare to the inviting comfort of his own suite.
’And look at where you are now.’
Zide smiled wanly. He had decided, after enrolling in Niebel High, to leave anything that tied him down to the Romanov, and by extension, the coven for appearance’s sake. He was taking the three Londoners with him, after all. He couldn’t risk the chance of blowing his cover. Being back in the cold city of Petersburg and into the warmth of this opulent castle released the tight, aching feeling his chest. For the first time in three years, Zide could breathe without any weight pressing him down.
Clutching the strap of the duffel bag he had completely refused to hand over to some faceless underling, he threw it onto a couch, followed by a pair of black, leather gloves and a worn winter coat.
Despite the size of the suite, he kept the furniture to the most necessary minimum, much to the confusion of his mother. Everything was in the shade of either gold or dark red, which he only did after her death to remind himself of his proud heritage and her sacrifice. It made him be amazed of the modesty of his flat in London. Hell, his bedroom was even bigger than his dorm room! If he were to include the sitting room of the suite as well, it’d take up almost half a floor.
Taking out the keys (also golden, yet already worn out from age) to the bedroom, he slipped them into their slots and unlocked the pair of heavy doors.
With held breaths, Zide pushed them open and stepped in, gasping at the sight.
He’d never get tired of it, he realized.
Someone was tasked to keep his suite orderly and clean then, because he was certain he had left his bedroom in complete tatters. Broken pieces of furniture were replaced, curtains were clean and not torn into shreds, the glasses of the balcony’s French doors were definitely not shattered, and someone had gone into great lengths in restoring the wall opposite his four-poster bed wall. It was painted with blood, aside from being laden with bullets, last time he was here.
A soft knock on the door made him turn away. Seiran leaned against one of the doors, hand wrapped on the doorknob.
“Lucian would like to have some tea with you. He’s caught up right now with the CES, I’m sure he’ll be done in a few minutes.”
He just nodded, still too engrossed with the fact that he was home. This was Seiran anyway. The man knew him and his manners, and he was already used to it what with the kind of years they had spent together.
But instead of smiling the way he’d always do, Seiran shifted slightly- not really noticeable unless you were familiar his habits.
“What?” Zide asked gruffly, sparing Seiran the initiative to address the stupid elephant in the room.
Sighing tiredly, Seiran’s shoulders slumped forward.
“I’d like to say I am glad you’re home again, but sadly things are not that well here.”
Seiran left without a reply from him, but that didn’t stop Zide from wondering, as he stared at the space Seiran had previously occupied, what Seiran had meant.
-
As expected, a few minutes meant a few hours, in this case, three hours. Lucian didn’t even show up for dinner, much to Seiran’s consternation.
“For someone being rather vocal on your return, you’d expect him to be the first to greet you,” Seiran had muttered, a disapproving frown marring his still youthful face.
So instead of having tea with Lucian, Seiran invited him to the gardens for a walk, the same way they would spend their summer afternoons when Seiran was still a kidnapped prince and not the Romanov Don’s assistant.
Seiran had told him anyway just what the meeting was all about.
The CES didn’t want to pull another all-nighter for Lucian’s sake, which Zide frankly didn’t understand why since they sleep in where they work and their holidays are spent no different from work. He suggested dropping the CES and see how they would survive without the Romanov’s support, and was surprised when Seiran laughed instead, sincere mirth in his face. It was clear he hadn’t been able to laugh that freely lately.
“They just don’t know when to call it quits,” Seiran said in-between chuckles.
And despite the terrible weather, Seiran had absolutely refused to wear anything to cover his head. Instead, he let his hair down, literally, and though it wasn’t as long as it used to be anymore, it was enough to provide warmth.
Seiran’s black tresses ended short between the shoulder blades, still long by ordinary standard. It reminded him of Chris whom he tried not to think about as often as possible.
The gloved hand wrapped around his arm tightened slightly.
Seiran’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. “Penny for your thought? You seem to be deep in it.”
Debating internally, Zide wondered if Seiran still communicate with his nephew.
Both waited patiently for the Romanov’s acting boss, passing the time with idle talk about literature and politics and strategies the Romanov should implement into its system if it wanted to recover from the war, something that, Seiran had teasingly noted, made Zide excited and lively.
Not that Zide could properly apologise for it, not when it became his only source of enjoyment. Life at Niebel High had been quiet, full of sneaking around and keeping to the shadows. Here, back at his home ground, he can do anything he want with all the people at his beck and call. He was the lord here, the master, the king. There was no Lord Hart or Chris Balteisse to watch out for.
“How was your stay at Niebel High?” Seiran asked, as if sensing his thoughts. “I reckon we have not spoken much while you were there. I miss your idle chatters quite a lot.”
Laughing, Zide leaned against the older man’s shoulder, shaking his head, dislodging the snow gathered on his crown along the process. “You’re too kind; I did not call at all. You should be spiting fire at me, not humouring me.”
Seiran shrugged. “It’s not every day I have someone to treat as my own son.”
Zide’s heart warmed at the other man’s words, unable anymore to shake off the goofy smile on his face. He still wore it even until the day ended.
Halfway through their walk around the garden, one of the windows above them blasted open, curtails flapping with the wind.
The two looked up at the open window curiously.
“What could they possibly be up to?”Seiran muttered darkly. Zide realized belatedly the window belonged to Lucian’s office.
"Experiment gone wrong?"
"I told them not to do anything anymore!"
Zide shrugged, looking up at the window blandly. Lucian was a fool to cross Seiran. Lucian might be the boss, but Seiran was the master. "CES is still Kevin and Ryan, right?"
"Regrettably, yes."
Zide laughed. "Then it's useless to tell them anything. Might as well drown them in a hotspring."
"I really miss your humour," Seiran drawled, with a twitch in his eyebrows. "You should know I'm very tempted to slap you for your cheekiness."
"Ah. Then I miss your slaps as well."
When they arrived at the Manor's atrium, Seiran slapped him soundly with a smile on his face. Zide could not do anything else but grin.
This was home.
---
His room had remained untouched after all these years. It had been three years since his last night spent in the suite, and he missed quite sorely. His room at the Niebel High’s dorm could not compare to the inviting comfort of his own suite.
’And look at where you are now.’
Zide smiled wanly. He had decided, after enrolling in Niebel High, to leave anything that tied him down to the Romanov, and by extension, the coven for appearance’s sake. He was taking the three Londoners with him, after all. He couldn’t risk the chance of blowing his cover. Being back in the cold city of Petersburg and into the warmth of this opulent castle released the tight, aching feeling his chest. For the first time in three years, Zide could breathe without any weight pressing him down.
Clutching the strap of the duffel bag he had completely refused to hand over to some faceless underling, he threw it onto a couch, followed by a pair of black, leather gloves and a worn winter coat.
Despite the size of the suite, he kept the furniture to the most necessary minimum, much to the confusion of his mother. Everything was in the shade of either gold or dark red, which he only did after her death to remind himself of his proud heritage and her sacrifice. It made him be amazed of the modesty of his flat in London. Hell, his bedroom was even bigger than his dorm room! If he were to include the sitting room of the suite as well, it’d take up almost half a floor.
Taking out the keys (also golden, yet already worn out from age) to the bedroom, he slipped them into their slots and unlocked the pair of heavy doors.
With held breaths, Zide pushed them open and stepped in, gasping at the sight.
He’d never get tired of it, he realized.
Someone was tasked to keep his suite orderly and clean then, because he was certain he had left his bedroom in complete tatters. Broken pieces of furniture were replaced, curtains were clean and not torn into shreds, the glasses of the balcony’s French doors were definitely not shattered, and someone had gone into great lengths in restoring the wall opposite his four-poster bed wall. It was painted with blood, aside from being laden with bullets, last time he was here.
A soft knock on the door made him turn away. Seiran leaned against one of the doors, hand wrapped on the doorknob.
“Lucian would like to have some tea with you. He’s caught up right now with the CES, I’m sure he’ll be done in a few minutes.”
He just nodded, still too engrossed with the fact that he was home. This was Seiran anyway. The man knew him and his manners, and he was already used to it what with the kind of years they had spent together.
But instead of smiling the way he’d always do, Seiran shifted slightly- not really noticeable unless you were familiar his habits.
“What?” Zide asked gruffly, sparing Seiran the initiative to address the stupid elephant in the room.
Sighing tiredly, Seiran’s shoulders slumped forward.
“I’d like to say I am glad you’re home again, but sadly things are not that well here.”
Seiran left without a reply from him, but that didn’t stop Zide from wondering, as he stared at the space Seiran had previously occupied, what Seiran had meant.
-
As expected, a few minutes meant a few hours, in this case, three hours. Lucian didn’t even show up for dinner, much to Seiran’s consternation.
“For someone being rather vocal on your return, you’d expect him to be the first to greet you,” Seiran had muttered, a disapproving frown marring his still youthful face.
So instead of having tea with Lucian, Seiran invited him to the gardens for a walk, the same way they would spend their summer afternoons when Seiran was still a kidnapped prince and not the Romanov Don’s assistant.
Seiran had told him anyway just what the meeting was all about.
The CES didn’t want to pull another all-nighter for Lucian’s sake, which Zide frankly didn’t understand why since they sleep in where they work and their holidays are spent no different from work. He suggested dropping the CES and see how they would survive without the Romanov’s support, and was surprised when Seiran laughed instead, sincere mirth in his face. It was clear he hadn’t been able to laugh that freely lately.
“They just don’t know when to call it quits,” Seiran said in-between chuckles.
And despite the terrible weather, Seiran had absolutely refused to wear anything to cover his head. Instead, he let his hair down, literally, and though it wasn’t as long as it used to be anymore, it was enough to provide warmth.
Seiran’s black tresses ended short between the shoulder blades, still long by ordinary standard. It reminded him of Chris whom he tried not to think about as often as possible.
The gloved hand wrapped around his arm tightened slightly.
Seiran’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. “Penny for your thought? You seem to be deep in it.”
Debating internally, Zide wondered if Seiran still communicate with his nephew.
Both waited patiently for the Romanov’s acting boss, passing the time with idle talk about literature and politics and strategies the Romanov should implement into its system if it wanted to recover from the war, something that, Seiran had teasingly noted, made Zide excited and lively.
Not that Zide could properly apologise for it, not when it became his only source of enjoyment. Life at Niebel High had been quiet, full of sneaking around and keeping to the shadows. Here, back at his home ground, he can do anything he want with all the people at his beck and call. He was the lord here, the master, the king. There was no Lord Hart or Chris Balteisse to watch out for.
“How was your stay at Niebel High?” Seiran asked, as if sensing his thoughts. “I reckon we have not spoken much while you were there. I miss your idle chatters quite a lot.”
Laughing, Zide leaned against the older man’s shoulder, shaking his head, dislodging the snow gathered on his crown along the process. “You’re too kind; I did not call at all. You should be spiting fire at me, not humouring me.”
Seiran shrugged. “It’s not every day I have someone to treat as my own son.”
Zide’s heart warmed at the other man’s words, unable anymore to shake off the goofy smile on his face. He still wore it even until the day ended.
Halfway through their walk around the garden, one of the windows above them blasted open, curtails flapping with the wind.
The two looked up at the open window curiously.
“What could they possibly be up to?”Seiran muttered darkly. Zide realized belatedly the window belonged to Lucian’s office.
"Experiment gone wrong?"
"I told them not to do anything anymore!"
Zide shrugged, looking up at the window blandly. Lucian was a fool to cross Seiran. Lucian might be the boss, but Seiran was the master. "CES is still Kevin and Ryan, right?"
"Regrettably, yes."
Zide laughed. "Then it's useless to tell them anything. Might as well drown them in a hotspring."
"I really miss your humour," Seiran drawled, with a twitch in his eyebrows. "You should know I'm very tempted to slap you for your cheekiness."
"Ah. Then I miss your slaps as well."
When they arrived at the Manor's atrium, Seiran slapped him soundly with a smile on his face. Zide could not do anything else but grin.
This was home.