I'm leaning in the wind
Head bowed down from what I saw
My shadow for a friend
Still some things are worth fighting for

So I'm moving on
Asking where you might have gone
From what I knew before
Some things are worth fighting for

-Judas Priest, Worth Fighting For

Kirill is sitting on the stairs, waiting. According to his watch it is past eleven, which means that he has been sitting here for over an hour already. An hour and a quarter, if he is not much mistaken.

Under different circumstances he would have brought a book from upstairs, but the solemnity the leading vory, his father's associates, have shown upon their arrival, and the strange dignity in Nikolai's bearing, a dignity he has somehow achieved to convey even when forced to strip down to his underwear, have kept Kirill from it, just as they have kept him from fetching a bottle to keep himself occupied. And so he just sits and waits.

The door lets no sound through. He has tried listening at it, but all there is to hear is the echo of his own blood pulsing through his veins.

He would have liked to be present, but of course he is excluded. After all, being the son of a leading vor does not make him a leading vor himself. Nikolai has to face them alone. All he can do is wait for his arrival, and be there for him when Nikolai comes.

But Nikolai does not need help. Nikolai can handle any situation.

Nikolai is better than him, in everything he does.

Kirill sighs and thoughtlessly twirls a strand of hair around his fingers. He wants Nikolai to be a vor, to truly be his brother at last, but at the same time he is aware that Nikolai is bound to eventually take his position, and that his father might only too readily accept another son in the place of the one that has turned out to be such a failure.

And again his hair is refusing to lie flat, but for once he ignores it. Among his siblings he is the only one with curly hair, but he would readily swap it for his sisters' straight hair, if that were possible. He would also prefer to be dark-haired and dark-eyed, but instead he has sandy-coloured hair and his father's bright blue eyes. Life is not fair to him even in trivial matters.

Well, at least he is tall.

He yawns and tries to find a more comfortable position. His limbs feel sore already after spending so much time sitting on the stairs. With a little groan he gets back to his feet and stretches. Why do they have to take so long?

In order not to get bored he tries if he can still remember the names of the seven sons of Fëanor from The Silmarillion. He keeps forgetting them, but Nikolai patiently repeats them for him every single time he asks, along with many other names from the elfish genealogy. Apparently it pleases Nikolai that he at least tries. Maedhros and Maglor, those two are easy. Celeborn, no, Celegorm. Curufin and… Caranthir, wasn't it? Yes. And the twins… Amrod and Amras? Kirill smiles to himself. At last he has managed to memorise them. Not that it is truly important, but it matters to Nikolai, and Kirill wants Nikolai to see that whatever matters to Nikolai matters to him as well. He has even thought of having the elfish word for nine tattooed onto his left upper arm, just like Nikolai has it, or perhaps the Eye of Sauron. The Lidless Eye would be a splendid idea, yes. If his father asked, he could always point out that an eye is a rather common tattoo among Russian criminals and pretend it is just by chance that it looks precisely like the burning eye symbol his father has seen on the little cardboard packet of playing cards Kirill has forgotten downstairs recently.

Luckily his father has simply assumed that Kirill has been playing cards with Maria. Luckily he has not realised that his son would play a collectible card game as complicated as Middle-earth only with his best friend, Nikolai. Otherwise he might have grown suspicious yet again. In his father's opinion, Kirill suspects, playing complicated card games that can potentially last for hours with one's driver is something a vor simply does not do.

Well, maybe a vor can do it when the driver in question is a vor as well?

But now Nikolai will be a vor soon – no doubt he passes the test –, will he still care about Kirill?

Kirill pictures how Nikolai serves his father instead, with the same loyalty he has shown him until now, and forgets about his former captain, and it is an ugly idea, an idea that makes him angry, but mostly sad. Without Nikolai, he would be so alone, as alone as he has been before Nikolai has stepped into his life. Only this time it would be worse, because earlier on he has not believed that there could ever be a friendship like this. This time, he knows what he might be losing.

No. Nikolai will not leave him. Never.

But then again, how can he be sure?

Yet whatever happens, Kirill will be glad that Nikolai has become a vor, glad for his friend. Even if his friend will choose to move on, Kirill will be proud.

And he did help him to come this far. Without him, Nikolai would never have met his father. Whatever Nikolai says, he would not be here now without Kirill.

Still, it was a stupid lie last night in the cellar. Kirill should have known better.

He sighs and trots upstairs to pick up his Middle-earth: The Lidless Eye Player's Guide from his desk. While he is waiting, he might as well rethink his current strategy.

Back on the stairs, he does his best to become absorbed, but he just is no real tactician, unlike Nikolai, who plays the Wizards series and always comes up with a certain strategy, while Kirill, who often plays the Lidless Eye series, which would actually allow for a lot of tactics, is a very straight-forward and offensive player. Moreover, he is restless. He is waiting for his friend to appear.

And he knows his friend is dressed in nothing but his underpants, which is a somewhat distracting thought. No matter how often he banishes the picture from his mind and scolds himself, it will always return.

After some time he gives up and places the book on the step he is sitting on, beside him. There is no point in reading when he cannot concentrate on the words.

But at least another twenty minutes are over.

How long will they take? Kirill has no idea how long the ceremony lasts usually. His own has seemed incredibly long to him, but according to his father it was over rather quickly. Kirill had expected it to be solemn, but all it really was to him was awkward, and he has felt incredibly sheepish, standing in front of the heads of the families stark naked and answering questions about his far from spectacular criminal record. Only when at last the stars were tattooed onto his chest and knees he has felt elevated, but still a stale taste has remained, the knowledge that what has made him a vor was that he is his father's son, and that in the eyes of the heads of the families, those men who have all gone through the Zone like his father and like Nikolai, there is little honour in that. He has regarded it as his birthright, but at the same time it has angered him often enough that this does not earn him as much respect as gaining it through his deeds might give him. The respect he gets is respect for his father.

And this is also why they made him answer their questions naked. After all, he knows from his father that usually a candidate is allowed to keep at least his underpants on, but in his case, they were ready to accept him out of respect for his father, but let him feel that they had little respect for the son.

Well, at least he has borne it with calm and managed not to let them see how embarrassing he has really found it. Not that it bothers him to take his clothes off in front of other men, but being the only naked one in a round of well-dressed men is definitely awkward, especially when Valery Nabokov is scratching his chin with the top of his cane while mustering said naked one critically.

At least that creepy walrus-moustached one known as The Gypsy wasn't present at Kirill's ceremony. Poor Nikolai, having to endure that one.

But Nikolai will impress them all, every single one. Kirill is certain, and he is proud. Nikolai is the very best, the best there ever was. Compared to Nikolai, Kirill is but a little boy.

His father would agree with that.

But to be exact, there still are things Nikolai does not know, things Kirill has been filled in on.

And of course those things will get fewer and fewer as Nikolai will move up swiftly in the hierarchy, and eventually the time will come when it is Nikolai who is Kirill's captain, and not the other way around.

Yes, yes he will. Because you're lousy at anything you do.

Kirill wraps his arms around his knees and considers this. It is true, he thinks bitterly. He may be the son of a leading vor, but he is no good at all.

Is there anything you actually can do, apart from video gaming?

Well, he has a pretty good memory, although this mainly manifests itself in knowing song lyrics by heart. He can be rather eloquent. He is strong, and he does not give up easily. He carries out orders with precision.

But apart from that…

Yet Nikolai likes him. And Nikolai must have a reason for liking him.

Because he is Nikolai's employer, obviously. He is only bothering with him so he can reach his own goals.

But then again, Nikolai has stepped in recently and kept his father from giving him a nasty thrashing when he was so fiendishly drunk he could hardly stay on his feet. The memory is hazy, but it is clear enough for him to tell. If at that point Nikolai really was thinking of getting to his father, this would have been a bad move.

Still, Nikolai does not need to put up with him any longer, now he is a vor himself. Nikolai will take his orders directly from the father and forget all about the son.

Just then, the door opens, and Nikolai stands before him. The stars are still fresh and dark on his chest and knees, and he is smiling.

"Kolya!" At once Kirill is back on his feet, ignoring that one leg was just beginning to fall asleep from sitting in an uncomfortable position.

"Kiryusha," Nikolai answers fondly. "My little brother."

Kirill leaps down the steps and throws his arms around his friend's neck enthusiastically, all his worries and doubts forgotten. The bitterness is gone from his heart, washed away by a wave of joy, and by the warmth Nikolai exudes, the warmth that Kirill feels streaming into his fingers as they make contact with Nikolai's smooth skin.

"Calm down, little brother, calm down," Nikolai murmurs to him, patting his back. "Come on, let me get dressed, and then I'm expected with them again."

Grudgingly Kirill lets go of him and leads the way upstairs, taking two steps at once and only pausing very briefly to pick up his book again. "But we'll celebrate tonight," he insists, briefly turning on the landing, but not breaking his pace. And he will give Nikolai a proper hug later on, a brother's welcome into the family.

As they are inside Kirill's bedroom, where Nikolai has left his clothes, it is hard for Kirill to resist the temptation to embrace his friend once again. Instead he sits down on the bed while Nikolai gets dressed, admiring his swift, precise motions and his quiet grace. At the moment there is nothing about Nikolai he does not admire. And he is so happy he could bounce around like Maria does it when she is in a jolly mood.

"Are you coming down with me?" Nikolai asks casually as he pulls his shirt back on.

"Yes!" At once Kirill is back on his feet, practically without a transition. Nikolai wants him to accompany him!

"Then tuck your shirt in, silly."

Kirill laughs and does so. From his brother he'll readily take any reprimand. He also rolls down his sleeves and does up the pair of little buttons on each. "How do I look?"

With his tie hanging loosely around his shoulders and his belt still open, Nikolai comes over to him to straighten his collar and do up another button on his shirt, wearing a little smile as he does so. "Now you look good, little one," he states, playfully patting his cheek. "Aren't you going to wear a jacket?"

Kirill wants to ruffle his hair, but decides against it since Nikolai is supposed to look impeccable now. Instead he brushes his own out of his face. "Nah. I don't like those silly uncomfortable suit jackets much. You can't lounge in them."

"I'm not even going to ask if you'll be wearing a tie." Nikolai is smiling warmly, and Kirill answers the smile. "But you get used to it, really."

"One can be a smart dresser without constantly wearing fucking Armani stuff like you," Kirill teases him. Still mirth is bubbling up inside him, and instead of going downstairs with Nikolai he wants to keep him here and spend the next five minutes play-wrestling and doing silly things altogether.

"Fine, have it your way." Nikolai finishes knotting his tie and puts his jacket on, then he sits down on the bed to tie his shoelaces.

Kirill throws himself down on the mattress very closely beside him, making him bounce slightly, and snickers as Nikolai tries to slap him around the head. "Man, this is the fucking best day of your life, eh? And we'll make it the best night, too. I'll get hold of some girls, shall I? Would you like to shag Sonya? I'll let you, for the special occasion, and have another one. Shame your Ukrainian bitch isn't around anymore, otherwise I'd have her. I haven't fucked most of them for ages, and you know what? That little thing you had on your lap last time, I haven't fucked her at all for at least three months, and she is willing enough, so it's high time I do her again. You can have a go, too, if you like, how's that?"

"Oh, Kiryusha." Nikolai chuckles. "Your balls are winning over your brains again."

Kirill grins. "C'mon, don't be like that. Regular sex is good for your health." He runs his hand over his groin, feeling his own hardness. "You seriously have to do it more often." And maybe they can take a girl together, the two of them, and have her in turns, or maybe even at the same time, one from the front and one from behind, or one from the front and one in her mouth.

Nikolai nudges him in the ribs and gets up. "Stop wanking, man, and come on."

"Call that wanking?" Kirill laughs and follows him. "Nah, Kolya, I'm dead serious, we ought to have a proper fucking orgy. In the literal sense."

"Later on, Kiryusha, later on." Nikolai straightens his jacket and tugs at his tie. "I'm not sure what they'll expect of me. You know your father, after all. Maybe he intends to send me somewhere first thing in the morning."

"Nasty as he is, that's possible," Kirill concedes. As he gets up from the bed, he feels his lust fade. Of course, his trousers rub less against his groin when he stands, which is of some help, but he doubts he is able to maintain an erection anyway when someone mentions his father. "Not that it's overly likely, but… right. Let's celebrate tomorrow, if you like. Tomorrow night, how's that?" The thought of the pleasures awaiting them still stimulates him, but he remains more or less limp this time, and he is glad for it. Not that it would be too obvious, considering the fit of his trousers, but still he would feel awkward, standing before the heads of the families in a state of strong sexual arousal.

"Tomorrow night. Agreed." Nikolai heads down the stairs, with Kirill trailing closely behind him. "Now show some dignity. You're presenting yourself as my captain, after all."

"I'm your brother now," Kirill reminds him. Strange, he thinks, why does he protest to being called Nikolai's captain? This is what he wanted, after all, Nikolai remaining his loyal follower, or isn't it?

No, he realises. He would accept Nikolai becoming his superior, as long as he remains his brother. He would readily be humbled this way, as long as Nikolai's brotherly affection for him does not cease.

"Hierarchy still is important to your father," Nikolai points out.

"But I'm your captain no more." It is so easy to say, a few simply words escaping his mouth, and yet those simple words throw him into turmoil. Joy is battling with wounded pride, deep affection with loss. This has become Nikolai's world now, and Kirill can see his friend's star of fortune glowing bright while his own is paling beside it.

And yet he would have it no other way, even if it hurts, because there are things more important than personal gain and pride.

He almost laughs at this thought in disbelief. Until now he has always considered such emotions unreal, elements in stories, but nothing that would happen in real life.

Yes, but he has not known until recently what it truly is like to have a friend, either.

It is crazy, absolutely crazy. This must be a bit like truly being in love must feel like.

And Nikolai's eyes are so gentle as he stops before the door and looks at him. Then he takes Kirill's face between his hands and places a tender kiss on his forehead. "I'll be there for you, my brother," he promises. "Always." And then he has already stepped over the threshold, back into the main room of the restaurant.

For a moment Kirill stands thunderstruck, filled with a kind of warmth that seems sentimental to him and still makes him want to hug Nikolai and hold onto him forever. Then he hastens after him, trying to banish the smile from his face, trying to shake off this silly daze. Who is he, a teenage boy who has just gotten his first kiss from the girl he fancies? This is ridiculous, but still he wants nothing more than be alone with Nikolai now and answer his pledge of friendship with one of his own, with strong, beautiful words, but there are none coming to his mind, and it is too late already, the moment is over and Nikolai is heading back to the heads of the vory. All Kirill can do is follow, and show them the dignity Nikolai has asked him to show.

But there is so much more he wants to be showing in this moment, so much more.