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Nandor had been down in the cage for nearly three days when Nadja realized that she never actually got around to apologizing after the… incident with the Sire.
She’d been tossing and turning in her coffin all morning while Laszlo snored quietly in his. Nadja was tired, of course, council business had been running her ragged ever since Nandor’s abrupt departure from the vampiric life, but she still couldn’t seem to fall asleep. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was forgetting something - something important - and now the weight of it settled uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. Nandor had fled to that… “wellness center” because he was depressed, and his belief that he’d let the Sire escape and almost doomed all of vampire-kind, well… that certainly hadn’t helped.
Fuck.
Nadja chewed her lower lip and sighed. Decades ago, she wouldn’t have thought twice about Nandor’s obvious distress, but now she couldn’t seem to think about anything else. Would any of this have happened if she’d just… talked to him? Told him it wasn’t his fault that the Sire escaped? Apologized to him? Could Nadja have done something to keep Nandor from getting brainwashed by Jan and her cult of fang-pulling sheep?
What if Guillermo hadn’t gotten to the wellness center in time? Would Nandor really have followed the other vampires out into the sunlight at Jan’s command? It made Nadja’s silent heart ache to think of Nandor feeling lost enough to be lured to such a painful death.
For centuries Nadja had prided herself on her independence - being alone was how she survived, but then she’d met Laszlo and her dark, lonely world had exploded into brilliant color. After Laszlo, Nadja was sure she had found everything she needed, that it would be just the two of them against eternity, but then Nandor and Colin Robinson and, hell, even Guillermo had come along, and suddenly Nadja had a family again. She thought she was so closed off, but somehow the big, stupid softie had managed to worm his way into her cold, dead heart.
They hadn’t got on at first. Of course they hadn’t - Nandor was everything that Nadja found most annoying in a man, and Nadja was everything that no woman had ever dared to be in the presence of an emperor. He was brutish, simpleminded, and arrogant; she was vulgar, stubborn, and outspoken. Nadja had been ready to pack up and leave Staten Island when Nandor had complimented her singing.
He had come home drunk while Nadja was sitting in the living room, polishing her favorite skull and singing in her high, shrill vibrato. And he’d told her that her voice was beautiful.
“Like the singing of my favorite concubines!” Nadja had been ready to smack him for such an insolent comment, but before she could, he plopped down criss-cross on the carpet in front of her and asked: “Sing some more? It sounds like home…”
Things were different after that. Nadja was kinder. She never stopped calling him a “shit stupid man” or an “idiotic bloody donkey”, of course, but there was rarely any real venom behind her insults anymore. That little bit of tenderness was all it took for Nandor’s true nature to reveal itself. He wasn't really a ruthless, bloodthirsty conqueror. Maybe he had been at one point, but he'd been holding onto that mask for far too long and he certainly wasn't that relentless warrior any longer.
Nandor was still selfish, whiny, and painfully unobservant at the best of times, but he was sweet, and usually had nothing but good intentions. Almost like a big brother. Nadja had grown up with plenty of younger siblings - boys and girls - but she'd been one of the eldest. Now, after decades steadily growing closer to Nandor, she often wondered if this was how her younger brothers had felt about her - this amused, begrudging sort of fondness?
Nadja would never forget the first time she'd gotten dreadfully sick after draining a sad person. She and Nandor had made a meal out of a miserable little familiar at Simon’s nightclub, and Nadja had woken up in the middle of the day with a horrible bellyache, suffering from nausea so intense that she'd actually vomited all over herself. Laszlo had been away on his ill-fated trip to California, and Nadja had no one to turn to but her roommate.
Nandor had stayed up until sunset taking care of her. He braided her hair back to keep it out of her face, and sat with her on the bathroom floor until her stomach settled. He’d gotten her into clean clothes, and he had been the one to wipe the ruined makeup and bloody tears from Nadja's face when she was too miserable to do it herself. Nandor had even put her back to bed after she'd fallen asleep on the sofa in the fancy room.
Nadja would have loved for that to be her only moment of extreme vulnerability with Nandor, but it was - unfortunately for her pride - the first of many times that Nadja was looked after by her friend. That night marked a major shift in their relationship, pushing them from ‘roommates and friends’ to something much closer. Nadja had long since lost count of the number of times that Nandor held her hand and dried her tears after Laszlo had decided that skipping town was the best way to avoid paying his debts. Again.
It got easier each time. Opening up to each other began to feel less and less like some sort of personal failure as Nadja and Nandor slowly began to trust that their respective moments of weakness wouldn't be used against them at a later date.
They started squabbling more after they were appointed… co-leaders of the Staten Island Vampiric Council, but that was hardly enough to shake the bond that Nadja and Nandor had spent well over a century building. Besides, their experience leading the Council together hadn't been all bad - far from it! Nadja remembered the first time she and Nandor had gotten to try on their official council robes, and the way he'd twirled her under his arm before they walked out - hand in hand - to model for Guillermo and the Guide.
Nandor was a handsome devil, Nadja had to admit - his council robes made him look every inch the fearsome emperor of legend. And their first council session, before all the stress of the office could set in, had been quite a lot of fun - sentencing rogue vampires to imprisonment, granting vampiric title changes, and Nandor had even agreed to let Laszlo win his first case!
Unfortunately, things did get…difficult soon after. Nadja and Nandor couldn't agree on a leadership style, and most work nights were spent arguing or trying to undo whatever resolutions the other one had passed the night before. Nadja couldn't decide which was worse - the nights she spent cleaning up the messes Nandor had made in her absence, or the nights they spent shouting at each other when something needed the approval of both council members.
One such evening, Nadja was sitting at her desk trying to ignore the railroad spike pounding between her eyes while she finished up some important council paperwork, and Nandor was quite unhelpfully pacing back and forth behind her. The sound of his footsteps was driving her absolutely insane, and Nadja finally snapped at him.
“Nandor, please, I’ve got a splitting fucking headache so if you could just stop fucking pacing and -” She hadn't even turned around yet when his hands settled on her shoulders, making her jump. The noise she made when Nandor started working his thumbs into the base of her skull was positively indecent. The pressure in her head dissipated almost immediately, and Nadja could have cried at the relief. Where the hell had he learned to do that?
They didn't finish the paperwork that night. Nandor finished working all of the knots out of her neck and shoulders, and gallantly escorted Nadja back home for the day.
Things with the council had gone a little smoother in the few weeks after that, and Nadja allowed herself to hope that their rocky start as co-leaders wasn't going to ruin their entire council tenure or their friendship.
And then she showed up.
Nadja had known what was coming as soon as Gail came back into Nandor’s life. Contrary to what everyone insisted, Nadja truly did not hate Gail - she just hated watching Nandor get his heart broken by her every few years.
She had been ready to go up to her coffin after they returned from the kickball tournament when she found Nandor sitting by himself in the library, staring listlessly at the flames dancing in the fireplace. The poor, stupid man - how was it that he couldn't see this coming? It was endearing, really, how Nandor still held out hope that he would find a partner to share his eternity with. For all his flaws, he really was just a big softie, and he had so much love to give. There had to be someone out there who would appreciate Nandor the way that he deserved, if only he could just stop looking for love in all the wrong places.
Nadja didn't say anything when she sat down on the sofa next to him, close enough that their legs were touching. Nandor hardly seemed to notice her, and he didn’t react at all when her hand found his knee. Silence stretched out between them even as Nandor laced their fingers together and squeezed. Nadja was searching for any words of comfort she could offer when she felt Nandor’s head come to rest on her shoulder and heard him sniffle.
Nadja didn’t even need to see his face to know that her big brother was crying.
Over Gail.
Again.
She sighed, and shifted so that she was sitting with her legs tucked up underneath her, then pulled Nandor close until he was almost in her lap, his head tucked under her chin and his arms around her waist. His fragile composure shattered when Nadja dropped a kiss onto his hair, and then Nandor was sobbing in earnest.
She held him through it, stroking his hair, rubbing his back, shushing him and telling him over and over that everything would be alright. Nandor was a shaky, hiccuping mess by the time he finally cried himself out, and Guillermo had long since fallen asleep, so Nadja just took him by the hand and put him to bed herself. The meltdown had tired Nandor out so thoroughly that Nadja would later swear that he was asleep before the lid of his coffin had fully closed. Before she left for her crypt, Nadja had already decided that she would rip Gail’s throat out if she ever tried coming back. It didn’t matter that this would feed into the household delusion that Nadja hated Gail - no one was ever going to play with Nandor’s feelings like that ever again.
The escape of the Sire certainly hadn't helped Nandor’s already-delicate emotional state. Nadja had certainly felt bad at the time, of course she did! She hated seeing Nandor so upset, and there had been several moments where she was on the verge of telling him the truth, but then they managed to recapture the creature before any real damage could be done. After the Sire was returned to Vampiric Council custody, Nadja had all but forgotten about the incident and assumed that Nandor had done the same.
Clearly, he hadn't…
And then there was the time that Nandor helped Nadja look for her dolly after she had run away. The way Nandor had come running as soon as he heard her panicked cries, the genuine fear in his eyes as he skidded into the room - he’d been afraid for her, Nadja now realized, probably thought she was hurt or in danger. It was sweet, really, the way Nandor had immediately mobilized Guillermo and the documentary crew to aid in the search, even if he had been a little awkward in dealing with Nadja’s hysteria. Nandor had even picked up an extra council shift so that Nadja and the doll could enjoy a day off once she'd been found!
Had Nadja ever actually done anything to thank him for that?
No, she realized, guilt and shame tightening in her chest. All she had done was purposely avoid Nandor when he needed his friends - his family - more than anything. She hadn't even tried to go look for Nandor after he left, Nadja had left all of that Guillermo and just hoped for the best. He'd managed to get Nandor back home, sure, but now he was in an even worse state than before he left.
She would never forget seeing Nandor for the first time after Guillermo had brought him back from that so-called “wellness center”. Laszlo hadn’t recognized Nandor at all, and it had taken Nadja a moment to process the fact that yes, that was her big brother that she was seeing. Nandor didn't look like himself at all - his clothes were cotton, not leather or silk, without a buckle or cape to be seen, his beautiful hair had been cut, and his teeth…
The sight of the gaps where Nandor’s fangs should have been was enough to make Nadja gag, and even remembering those empty spaces now still had her feeling distinctly ill. She ran her tongue over her own sharp canines, trying to imagine how badly it must have hurt when he yanked them out. And to do that every night?
Fucking shit... Nadja thought, heaving a sigh as she threw open the lid of her coffin. She had to go talk to him, and tell him that she was sorry. After all, Nandor had apologized for burning down her village - the least she could do was return the favor!
Downstairs, the door to the inner chamber of the basement where Nandor was being held had been left slightly ajar, and the sight that greeted Nadja when she stopped to peer through the crack was nearly enough to make her throw up. Nandor had his upper left canine hooked over one of the metal bars, and his hands gripped the bar on either side, poised and ready to snap his fang out of his mouth as soon as he worked up the nerve.
The door creaked loudly when Nadja pushed it open. “Please don’t do that, Nandor.” She said quietly.
“Nadja!” He jumped away from the bars, looking guilty. “I was just - what are you doing down here?”
Nadja didn't answer, she just swept down the stairs and sat criss-cross in front of him, the same way Nandor had on that night when he had complimented her singing.
“You should be asleep.” Nandor chided. “As I am a human now, it is normal for me to be awake during the day, but -”
“I'm sorry, Nandor.” Nadja said, words tumbling out in a rush before she could stop them.
“What?”
“I'm sorry.” She said again, looking at her hands in her lap. “You didn't forget to feed the Sire.”
“I didn't?”
Nadja sighed heavily. “No.”
“Then what…”
“I forgot to tell you.” Nadja couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. “I thought we would just forget about it, after we got him back.” Her hands balled into fists, clutching the fabric of her skirt. “I didn't know you were upset enough to run away! And the vampire depression, I - we - shouldn't have ignored you. Laszlo and I both knew you needed help, but we hoped everything would just work out on its own. If I had said something, or maybe if I had just -”
“Nadja!” Nandor cut her off. “It's alright! I didn't leave just because - it wasn't just one thing, I have been…going through a lot.”
“You promise?” Nadja sniffled, lower lip protruding.
“I promise, Nadja.” Nandor said.
“Can you ever forgive me?” She asked, looking guiltily up at Nandor.
“I forgive you.” He assured her.
Nadja scooched forward and snaked a hand through the bars, mindful of the silver chains that enshrined the cage. She flexed her fingers once to ensure that Nandor got the message.
He sighed and sank down opposite her before lacing their fingers together and squeezing, just like he had that first time when Nadja was sick and again on countless other occasions over the years: whenever Nadja missed her husband, when she danced with Nandor at the clubs, when she had comforted him after Gail’s multiple rejections…
Nandor was far from perfect - and hell, so was Nadja - but he had a big heart. He was a good listener (when he felt like it), always ready to defend those he was close to, an excellent swordsman, the life of any orgy, a terrible hypnotist and an even worse dancer, but most importantly, Nandor was her friend, and the closest thing to a big brother that Nadja had ever had. She squeezed his hand tighter.
“Get some sleep, okay Nandor?”
He looked like he might say something about his new human sleep schedule, but he just nodded. “Okay, Nadja.”
Nadja let his hand drop. They would talk again in the evening. Maybe things would be better.