annie nikolaev ☆ mary, queen of scots. (ofscots) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-09-30 15:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, * jamie, * kit, c: aleksandr nikolaev, c: annie nikolaev |
WHO: Annie Scott & Alex Nikolaev
WHEN: September 27, 2017; Night
WHERE: Annie’s house
SUMMARY: Both Annie and Alex had memory dreams and it’s freaking them out a little.
WARNINGS: Uh, Alex dream cuts off someone’s fingers! :D
Nothing, nothing, had gone as she had imagined it would since her return to France. Given the context of her short life thus far, Mary had never expected a fairy tale. As a female ruler, she was fated for a difficult path, that was to be expected. Having known Francis as a little girl, though, and having thought of him as her friend, she’d imagined that, for the both of them, their marriage alliance could be both one of convenience and one of genuine affection. He’d made it all too clear to her, however, that neither of those things were certain. There might never be a marriage, at all, in fact. It was an overwhelming possibility with too many repercussions for her to process all at once and, frankly, she needed a moment where she wasn’t burdened by her queenly concerns. And so she had pulled her ladies out onto the dance floor, taking reverie in losing herself in a dance. In her few blessed moments of worryless joy, she was able to appreciate the blessings she did have. Her friends were with her once, again. The palace certainly felt more like home than the convent ever had. Sebastian was proving to be an unlikely ally in a place where she could not be certain that she had many. Her gaze fell on Sebastian, standing to the side and watching her. A happy smile brightened her features as her eyes lingered on him, a feeling of warmth and safety enveloping her. A fluttering lightness caught her attention, though, and her eyes left him in favor of catching the sight of feathers floating down around her, evoking the happy memory of when she and Francis had been children, playmates, surrounded by down such as this. The warmth blossomed even more brightly inside of her and, instinctively, she found Francis to the side. His eyes were already on her and, without speaking a word, she knew his heart was opening as much as hers, regardless of whether or not he chose to admit it. She recognized that feeling inside of her that was mirrored on his features. Hope. In the span of one beat of her heart, she knew. One day, this is the man I will marry. Annie sucked in a deep breath and sat up straight in her bed, her heart pounding as lively as the girl’s in her dream. No, not a girl. Her. The memories, the emotions, they were all as vivid to her now as they had been in her dream self’s thoughts. She pressed her palm against her chest as though she could hold her heart in place and force its pace to slow. She looked over at Alex and felt her heart squeeze. This was the man who had her heart, not Francis. She didn’t understand why the latter was placing himself so firmly in her head and her heart, but she clung tightly to that truth. Alex was her future. He was. Nikolai stared down his sword, his expression fierce and foreboding, even for a boy trying his hand at being captain. This was his first foray into boarding another ship, his crew cutting down the other until he was telling the Fjerdan captain to lay down his sword and surrender. The laughter that echoed across the ship, made all the louder by those members of his crew that were still living, was a sound that he knew he would never forget. As the man told him that his people simply made bread from the bones of Ravkan boys such as himself, Nikolai felt a fist clench around his stomach. It was his first boarding. His men were looking at him. Nikolai knew what he had to do. He took no joy in cutting off the other man's fingers. He wanted to look away with each scream. He wished he couldn't hear the sounds as he fed the digits to his dog, his own men forcing the captain to watch. This wasn't what he wanted. But it was what he needed to do and he could tell as he scanned the faces of his men, his own expression stony and not betraying the storm of emotions that were raging in his mind. Nikolai celebrated with his men that night. They split up the spoils of what they had gotten from the Fjerdan trader's ship. They had drank, laughed, and told stories. He grinned as his men patted him on the back and rehashed the details of just how brutal their captain was. By the end of the night, his crew had dubbed him Sturmhond -- he was a privateer. A real privateer. Though he didn't show it on his features, Nikolai was relieved when he was finally able to return to his quarters. He kept up the charade up until the moment he had closed the thick wooden door, then locked it behind him. Immediately, he ran for the corner where he found a bucket and he retched. The fine food he had eaten for dinner returned with a vengeance, as though his entire body was attempting to rid itself of the toxins that were left thanks to his actions. He knew that what he had done was right. He knew he'd had to do it, if he were to be successful out on the seas. It would get easier. He could do this. But none of those thoughts could stop the physical reaction that racked his body or the tears that streamed down his cheeks. Alex woke with a start, his entire body recoiling as he sat up almost violently, gasping for air as he fought with the blankets that suddenly felt as though they were wrapped around him like ropes. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing or how he had gone from a ship to this comfortable bed, all of this thoughts jumbled together. Was he Nikolai or was he Alex and did it matter either way as he could barely suck in breath? It wasn't until he fell from the bed entirely, landing on his knees and hands, that his mind jolted straight. He was Aleksandr Nikolaev. This was his fiancée's bedroom. And he could still barely breathe. The dream was nowhere near forgotten, but it was shoved to the back of her thoughts, when Annie felt Alex tossing next to her and then heard the thud of him falling out of the bed. It wasn’t an easy fall, either, what with how tall her bed was to begin with and the fact that her entire house was hardwood. Worry welling inside her, Annie snapped out of her dream haze and crawled across the bed to look down at him. “Alex?” she asked, voice still quiet and tired, though her dream and Alex’s fall had her as alert as if she’d been awake for hours. “Are you alright?” Annie's voice washed over him and had an immediate calming effect unlike anything Alex had ever felt before. His breathing became less ragged, his heartbeat slowed, and it allowed him to come back to the present. The dream was still there, whirling around in his mind and playing the images over and over again like a memory he'd rather forget, but knowing Annie was there -- and then confirming it visually a moment later as he lifted his head and looked up at her -- made all the difference. He'd never reacted to a dream like that before, but, then again, he'd never had a dream quite like that, ever. "Yeah," he breathed. Alex might have felt sheepish, had that not just happened around anyone other than Annie. But with her, he felt at ease. Still, he lifted a hand up and pulled his fingers through his hair once before he let himself get off of the floor and sit on the edge of the bed. "Sorry, I don't -- " He paused, shaking his head. He didn't even know how to phrase that apology. Instead, he just settled for, "Sorry about that." Annie sat behind Alex on her knees as he took a seat on the side of the bed. Her arms went securely around him and her shoulder rested on his shoulder. “I was already awake, my love, so you don’t have to apologize for the commotion. I just want to know that you’re not hurt.” Even though his knees still stung from the sudden fall onto the hardwood floor, Alex hardly cared at this point. Instead, he focused on Annie and sinking back into her embrace. He lifted one his hands, letting it rest on her arm and he even closed his eyes for a moment, just soaking her in. Everything that he had seen in the dream was just that, he reminded himself -- a dream. The woman whose arms were around him, though, she was real. "I'm okay," he assured her, his hand squeezing her arm gently just once to punctuate the words. Alex drew in a long, steadying breath, then said quietly, "I love you, Annie." “I love you, too, Alex,” Annie replied, tilting her head to rest against his. She hadn’t lost that feeling of worry over him, though, and she said, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What happened?” The concern she felt was real--his well-being would always be one of her top priorities--but the question held ulterior motives. Her heart was still pounding from her own dream and if she could focus on whatever was bothering her fiance, distract herself from other thoughts, she could try to ignore the dream entirely. "I don't know," he admitted both immediately and honestly. Normally when Alex had dreams, they were nonsensical and he could barely hold onto the details when he woke up. He'd never woken so suddenly or with such a visceral reaction. Not to mention that rather than feeling the details of the dream slipping through his fingers like sand, he could recall everything as though it had just happened. It was less like something his subconscious had come up with and more like a memory that had come to the surface. It was as real to him as seeing Moscow for the first time, graduating from college, or asking Annie to marry him. "It was a nightmare." The words came out almost haltingly, like they were stuck in his throat. "It was as though I was some sort of pirate and -- " He shook his head, a shudder threatening to wave through his body. "It wasn't a great dream. And it doesn't feel like a dream. It was all so clear, as though it actually happened. I can see and feel everything." Closing his eyes, he tipped his head to press a bit firmer against Annie. "I sound crazy." Annie stiffened. Alex was having realistic dreams now, too? She wrapped her arms more tightly around him and closed her eyes, relishing in how here he was. “You don’t sound crazy. Look who you’re talking to.” Part of her had to wonder, though, why they were having such vivid dreams. Piracy didn’t seem to fit the context of her own dreams, so they weren’t shared, but could it be just a coincidence that they both were having dreams that felt more like memories. “Here is what we know, my love. You are Aleksandr Nikolaev, I am your fiancee, Anne Scott, and we are here in my apartment in Dunhaven. That is real, not our dreams.” She had half a mind to have someone come first thing in the morning to check for mold or asbestos. Did either of those things cause vivid hallucinations? Her words echoed Alex's thoughts when he had landed on the ground, trying to remind himself of what was true and what wasn't. Hearing her say it out loud, though, made him feel more secure, a reminder that this was what was real. Still, it couldn't keep him from tipping his head forward, his eyes opening as he looked down at his hands. He brought his right to his left, his fingers touching where he had severed the fingers from that man. This time the shudder did go through his body, though he immediately looked up and turned so he could see Annie. Annie, his good, wonderful Annie. His hand rose so he could cup the side of her face with it, his palm along her jaw. "I love you." Annie placed her hand over Alex's and smiled, concern still very apparent in her eyes. "I love you, too, Alex. Tell me what you saw and I will share your burden," she said, moving so that their foreheads pressed together. "I will always, always be by your side to share your burdens," she said and put all of her effort into trying to erase the feelings she'd had in the dream that still felt so real. For every certainty she had felt in the dream toward anyone else, she felt that same certainty tenfold with Alex. Whatever future her dreams tricked her into imagining, her head and her heart were both fully invested in her future with this man right here. "Our dreams will never change that, my love." Though Alex wasn't yet sure if he really wanted to tell Annie about what he had seen, he felt an overwhelming need to tell her. He was always wanting her to share her burdens with him, to alleviate some of the pressure off her shoulders and take some of them on himself. The thought of getting that same relief was tempting and he wasn't sure if that made him selfish in some way -- or if maybe it was just what marriage was actually about. He closed his eyes for a moment, then broke away just far enough so he could look Annie in the eye. "I was a pirate, like I said," he started, his hand dropping from his face and into his lap, his gaze following. "Privateer, actually. I don't know what the difference is." He was stalling, a realization that made him breathe a sigh. "We were boarding some merchant ship and wanted to take the ship and its contents. Fought the crew, but the captain would have none of it. It was the first time I'd taken a ship before, though, and I had to show my crew I meant business. So I cut..." His voice wavered, but he swallowed and pushed forward. "I cut off his fingers and fed them to my dog." At this, Alex looked up to Annie, an anguished expression on his face. "Why would I dream something like that, Annie? What is wrong with me that it even exists somewhere in my subconscious?" “Hey, no,” Annie said without hesitation, “there is nothing wrong with your subconscious.” She pressed her lips to his temple and tried not to let her active imagination get carried away with the description of his dreams. With that thought, a mental image of a dog eating a bowl of human fingers came into her mind and she had to suppress a gag. “It was probably something triggered by an article you read, or movie you’ve seen.” But then she thought of her own dreams and how tangible they felt and wondered if she’d ever be able to buy them as triggers from things she’d read or seen. Probably not. With a small sigh, she added, “But even if it was your subconscious, for whatever reason, I know that your heart is good. There is nothing that you would do, awake or asleep, without having the right reasons to do them. I trust in your motivations, Alex. You’re not a bad person, not even close.” Alex wasn't so sure. Though he never would have thought something so violent as that dream, he knew he wasn't perfect -- and he also knew that Annie didn't actually think he was, just that he wasn't as terrible a person as that dream would imply. Though he might have doubted her words, though, he still appreciated them and didn't hesitate to take comfort in them. He breathed a sigh of his own, the action doing little to clear his mind. The instinct was for him to dwell on this, but Alex knew that wouldn't help. He had work in the morning, as did Annie. He didn't need to keep them up any longer than he already had with his strange dream. Straightening up a bit, he stole a soft kiss from her, then pressed his forehead to hers. "We should sleep. I'll try not to fall out of your bed again." Annie followed Alex’s lead and let the topic of his dream fall silent for now. Accepting the kiss, she smiled and rested her hand against his cheek. “It’s all right, love. I was already awake when you fell, anyway, so don’t lose any sleep over it.” She smiled and tilted her chin up to steal another quick kiss from him. A small smile went to Alex's mouth, though it didn't grow as it could have. Worry spiked as he pushed aside the issue of his dream and instead focused on her, where he tended to prefer his focus to be. Backing away from her a few inches so he could see her face, he reached up one hand and gently ran his fingers through her hair. "And what were you doing awake?" he asked. "Staring longingly at my sleeping face?" It was meant to be a touch of levity, but, like the smile, it wasn't as strong as it could have been. “You know it,” Annie replied, though her smile was about as genuine as Alex’s. She hadn’t dreamt about pirates or chopped fingers, but she thought that her dreams were likely just as disturbing. As confident as she was that her heart was completely Alex’s, she couldn’t deny the wave of guilt she felt at remembering that same confidence in her feelings for someone else, someone she didn’t even know. Even in a dream where she wasn’t herself, it felt wrong to be dreaming of anyone but her fiance. Sighing, Annie said, “It was another dream, but it doesn’t matter. We should get some sleep.” Alex felt his stomach clench at her words. For as disturbing as his dream had been, Annie had been having her own odd dreams with great frequency lately and he didn't necessarily like it. Less for himself -- he wasn't really all too worried about any dream competition he had, when she'd had those particular dreams -- and more for her own psyche. He wished there was more that he could do. Helping Annie and taking care of her was something he took pride in being able to do. This was outside the realm of possibility for him, though. He couldn't take dreams from her. "I'm sorry, lyubov moya," he murmured. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? I can return that favor." Annie didn’t want to talk about it, but she thought it was probably a good idea. Her own guilt, however unwarranted, would only become warranted if she actually let her decisions be dictated by that guilt. And, aside from that, she couldn’t expect him to share his burdens if she was unwilling to do the same. “It was just more of the same,” she said. “I was at French court and I was meant to marry the dauphin.” She refrained from saying the name, again, still bothered by the way it had interrupted them the first time, and decided to skip over the added factor of the dauphin’s half-brother. “He wasn’t sure he wanted to marry me, though. And then there was a wedding and I was dancing with my ladies when suddenly feathers rained down from the ceiling and it reminded me of jumping on a bed with the dauphin when we were little and the feathers from the pillows flittered around us and, for a moment, I knew that his uncertainty didn’t matter because I was certain enough for the both of us that our story was just beginning.” Annie frowned. “It’s better than other dreams I’ve had. There was no poison. It’s the realness of the dreams that bothers me the most.” Alex listened, struggling to keep his expression as neutral as possible as she relayed the details of her dream. He didn't know where these dreams were being inspired from or if hers truly were inspired by stress and everything that was piling on her shoulders as they came closer to the wedding, but he did know that he hated the distress that it caused her. When she was done, he paused just long enough to take in a slow breath before speaking. "You are Annie Scott," he started, brushing his fingers through her hair once more while recalling her earlier words. As he continued, those same fingers came to rest at her jaw, cupping it while his thumb brushed over her cheek. "I am your fiance, Aleksandr Nikolaev, and we are here in your apartment in Dunhaven." He moved closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "That is real, my darling. Not our dreams." Annie lifted her own hand, letting her fingers curl over Alex’s wrist. “You know,” she said, offering him a small smile. “I’m not sure I want to know what it’s like to sleep without you ever again.” Alex gave her the same small smile in return, his free hand finding hers to rest upon it. "If it's up to me, you never will." |