#new fixation: kaz and the dregs

[barrel-crow-n]

Rotty: "They'll never find the body" is such a boring threat. Threaten that they'll never stop finding the body.

Kaz: How about "They'll be recovering pieces of you for at least three months. You will be alive for two of them."

Rotty: Oooooo good!

[elijahs-dumps]

The Infantilization of Wylan Van Eck (within the soc fandom)

Hi! This is my first tumbler post ever, which is like super scary I wont lie. But I've had this project I've been working on since October and I'd love to share it with people, so here goes nothing!

Infantilization or to infantilize someone means to treat them as a child or in a way that denies their maturity in age or experience, and it qualifies as a form of mental abuse. 

This treatment is common in fandoms, although it obviously isn't done in a hateful way on purpose. It’s often directed towards characters who are more innocent, more kind, or more anxious than the other characters within the universe. Or, sometimes these characters are literally just the youngest of the group. Some examples of this include, Entrapta from She-Ra and the Princesses and Power, Varian from Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure, Number Five from The Umbrella Academy, Hunter from The Owl House, Little Cato from Final Space, and even Peter Parker from the MCU.

However, most of the traits found in characters that are infantilized are also traits found in neurodivergent people. These traits include, missing social cues, being easily excitable or restless, often feeling anxious hyper fixating on something (usually related to science or math), being an outcast from the rest of the group in some way, and so on and so forth. Therefore, infantilization within fandoms is pretty problematic on its own. People (usually online) think that characters with these traits should be babied or pitied or demeaned in some way, even though neurodivergent consumers usually relate to these characters because of those same traits. 

Some evidence of Wylan being infantilized can include; the fact he's only referred to as cute or synonyms to that, while the other Crows or their actors are often sexualized more. People saying or implying he's smaller, weaker, or even younger than the others. And of course, people saying Kaz and Wylan are father and son... which is something I'll come back to later.

Why Wylan?

To better understand why exactly Wylan is receiving this treatment exclusively from the fans, we need to fully analyze the Six of Crows duology, which is exactly what I did!

When we are first introduced to Wylan in chapter seven (Matthias’ POV) of the Six of Crows, we see him sitting at the table and doodling while occasionally chewing on his thumbnail. He doesn't speak until Inej voices her doubts in Wylan’s demolition abilities. Jesper says Wylan “barely knows his trade”, and Kaz mentions that Wylan is “new to the scene”. Matthias also makes a comment about how Wylan “looks like he’s about twelve”. When Jesper and Inej continue to complain about Wylan being their demo man, Kaz tells them that Wylan is doubling as their insurance policy because Wylan is Jan Van Eck’s son, the rich merchant who’s paying Kaz and his chosen crew 40 million kruge in exchange for breaking Bo Yul-Bayur out of the Ice Court. This immediately makes everyone in the room think less of Wylan because of his privileged past.

This introduction sets up Wylan to the readers. His reserved body language, along with his inexperience and Matthias’ comment about his young appearance gives the impression that Wylan is more childish than the other Crows.

In the next chapter (Jesper’s POV) as the Crows react to the reveal of Wylan’s identity, Kaz tells Wylan that he’s “passable at demo, but excellent at hostage”. Jesper calls Wylan a “baby merch” and insists that Kaz leave him behind, less he slows the crew down. Wylan is annoyed that Kaz and Jpeser are talking about him as if he isn't in the room. Then, Kaz tells Wylan that the only reason he hasn't been mugged or jumped in the three months since he left his father’s house is because Kaz placed him under Dregs protection. In fact, Jesper even says that Kaz has been “coddling Wylan”. Jesper proceeds to call Wylan useless as he and Nina belittle Wylan for living in the Barrel “by choice”. This is also where the nickname “merchling” comes from. When the group continues to go back and forth over Wylan’s skills, Kaz repeats that he’s only bringing Wylan along because he doesn’t want to leave their hostage alone in Ketterdam. This makes Wylan the only Crow that wasn’t hired for their abilities, Wylan’s passable demo skills are simply a bonus. It’s a way for Kaz to keep the crew small and avoid splitting the money even further. 

This entire exchange and interaction between our six main characters lays out the groundwork for the dynamic between Wylan and the other Crows for the majority of the first book. Everyone else in the room believes Wylan is just another spoiled rich kid. They make fun of him for his lack of street smarts, and the money he was born into. Wylan never really fights back too much when it comes to comments from the others, which just reinforces the idea that he came from a cushy lifestyle where he never had to learn how to defend himself verbally. Wylan’s inexperience and innocence is often mistaken for stupidity by the characters, and therefore the readers. 

Kaz saying, “Always hit where the mark isn’t looking.” Only for Wylan to reply with, “Who's Mark?” is a great example of this. (Still chapter eight, Jesper’s POV.)

In chapter nine (Kaz’s POV) we see how Kaz views Wylan in his inner monologue. He says Wylan seems out of his depth, and even though he’s only a year younger than Kaz (making Wylan sixteen)  he still looks like a child. Kaz describes Wylan as a silk eared puppy in a room full of fighting dogs. This pushes the concept that Wylan is more childlike than the others further onto the audience. 

Additionally, in chapter eleven (Jesper’s POV), we see Jesper quite literally call Wylan “kid” during the attack at the docks, even though they’re also only one year apart. And in chapter fifteen, Matthias refers to Wylan as “the soft one” within his own inner monologue.

Since Wylan doesn't have his own point of view chapters in the first book, the reader’s entire understanding of this character is formed through the eyes of the other Crows. So, what we’re hearing about Wylan in the first book might not be entirely accurate, which is something people often forget. Part of the reason why the fandom treats Wylan the way they do is because of the way the Crows describe and talk to him throughout the entire series, The reader learns to rely on the others’ opinions on Wylan in order to learn more about him. 

All of the evidence I have shown so far, and even some smaller things I haven't included, plants a certain mentality in the reader; Wylan doesn't have the same knowledge as the other Crows, so he must be weak and gullible. Weakness and gullibility are often traits associated with the “younger-one-of-the-group” trope, or the “Kid Trope”. So, since Wylan is displaying behaviors that we as media consumers have grown used to attaching to characters who are literal children, Wylan must be a child, or at least be treated like one. 

However, the Crows don’t treat Wylan this way because they truly believe Wylan acts like a small child, because he doesn’t. Wylan’s behavior is perfectly normal, it simply sticks out in contrast to the harsh environments all the others have been exposed to. They treat him this way throughout the book as a sort of condescending joke, they belittle him for the stereotypes surrounding his upbringing and little else.

Still, like I said, the Crows’ mindset on Wylan is all the reader is exposed to for the entire first book, so the reader will subconsciously assume Wylan must be doing something to earn this odd treatment from the others. Sometimes readers don’t understand that it is not Wylan’s wealthy and sheltered background that makes him different, it’s the fact that the others are all criminals, murderers, soldiers, and convicts. Wylan is the only “normal” Crow on a very surface level, so his innocence is bound to stick out more.

As the first book continues, we see that there’s more to Wylan’s past than he lets on. We see first hand how smart and capable Wylan truly is, as his character grows with the story. It begins in the fight at the docks in chapter eleven, where Wylan uses his own flash bombs to help Jesper out.  In chapter thirteen, Wylan openly questions and even challenges Kaz after he throws Oomen overboard, which shows great courage on Wylan’s part. This pattern of questioning Kaz when no one else really does is a common theme when it comes to Wylan. We also see Wylan explain who Pekka Rollins is to Matthias in chapter fifteen. This shows that he’s not completely incompetent, and is at least somewhat aware of what goes on in the Barrel. Then, in chapter seventeen (Jesper’s POV), Wylan expresses his natural curiosity and desire for knowledge about anything, from the mechanics of the Ice Court moat to the design of Jesper’s guns. All of this builds to chapter twenty-two, where the Crows are attacked on the ice by Grisha who were sent by the Shu, dosed on parem. Wylan does a lot of heavy lifting in this fight with his bombs, and everyone is impressed. Jesper even makes a comment about how Wylan’s “earned his keep” now. 

Small moments like this that showcase Wylan’s natural resourcefulness and strength are crucial to communicating with the readers that the Crows were wrong about Wylan in the beginning. As Wylan’s true nature begins to develop further throughout the first book, we slowly see the Crows and their attitude towards Wylan change. It becomes more positive. In the future, when Wylan makes an ignorant comment, the others don’t poke fun at him as much. They’ll tell him to be quiet at most.

By the final climax of Six of Crows, chapter forty-six (Kaz’s POV), we find out Wylan cannot read. Jan Van Eck is open about his hatred and mistreatment of his son. When Jesper jumps to Wylan’s defense, he goes as far as to say Wylan is smarter than most of the others put together. Jesper is in love with Wylan at this point in the story, so his words might be a little exaggerated. But there’s still truth to them. This entire scene serves as evidence that Jesper and the other Crows have realized Wylan’s intelligence and worth, so they don’t even think twice when they find out Wylan can’t read or write. 

If all the Crows’ preconceived notions about Wylan were proven wrong before the end of the first book, then why does the fandom still view Wylan in such a problematic way? 

Blame Booktok

This is all mainly tied to modern day book consumption, and the obsession with “tropes”. Online reading communities such as “Booktok” or “Bookstagram” have normalized interpreting even the most complex characters through simple archetypes. This is something all six crows are a victim of, in fact, most characters within all kinds of media are. 

A good example of this within Six of Crows is Kaz Brekker himself. Kaz, within “Booktok”, is often lumped together with several other male YA love interests in books, like Aaron Warner or Cardan Greenbriar . They all usually share very few qualities, like having violent tendencies, being extremely protective of their loved ones, and acting cold or mysterious towards others. Regardless of the fact that all these characters are so complex and different, from their relationship dynamics, to their morals, to their backstories,  readers still often view them as one in the same because of videos online pointing out very minute similarities. A broader example I would use is the way the Hunger Games series was often marketed and discussed as if the love triangle between Peeta, Gale, and Katniss was the main focus of the story. But really it was just a subplot to a more serious and heavy narrative.

People will often focus too much on singular tropes because it makes books easily identifiable and marketable in this new era of self-publishing and online purchasing. It’s easier to judge a book by its cover if you have a broad sense of what might be inside based on the small character details or scenarios other readers liked from it. But what does that have to do with Wylan? 

Well, because people often talk about books or even whole genres on a surface level, they also discuss characters on a surface level. This lazy form of consumption is what often leads to mischaracterization. People can obviously understand complex characters like Wylan, so it’s not a question of intelligence. Fans online are just used to discussing things within books fandoms in such a simple way and viewing a character through the lens of one trope. They’ll put the character in a box, and Wylan just so happens to check all the boxes for a character who would be infantilized. Even though there are interesting things about Wylan besides his “innocence”, people are less inclined to talk about it. In short, viewing Wylan as just another character who falls under the category of a simple stereotype is easier than including and discussing his nuances. 

So who is at fault?

When it comes to talking about a more harmful fandom behavior, like infantilization, it’s important to keep an open mind. Sometimes, it’s the creator’s fault for writing a character in a problematic way, not the fandom’s fault for interpreting it that way. So, is Leigh Bardugo at fault here for writing Wylan in this light? Or is it the fandom’s fault for not looking past the obvious parts of a character? 

I don’t think it was Leigh Bardugo’s fault. If you take the second book, Crooked Kingdom, into account then you can clearly see that the way Wylan is disrespected in the first book is something he’s dealt with his whole life, especially from his father. Wylan has been taught to believe that his reading disability makes him useless as an heir, and as a human being all together. This is one of the reasons why we never see Wylan truly snap back in an aggressive way in Six of Crows when the others insult and belittle him. A big part of Wylan thinks that the others are right about him being useless. Obviously, Wylan couldn’t have had his own POV chapters in Six of Crows, because then that would spoil his father’s true motives. However, I think the fact we didn't get to see his point of view in the first book serves another purpose. Wylan’s low self-esteem is definitely a major thing he needs to overcome in his personal story within Crooked Kingdom. So for the readers to fully understand this, we needed to view Wylan from an outside perspective. First, we get to view him as the other Crows do, as someone sheltered and weak who’s in way over his head. Then, we get to see why Wylan is the way he is. I think this sort of reverse style of character writing is really interesting and more fun to read. But still, not every reader accepted Wylan just because the Crows started to warm up to him. So by extension, this is also why Wylan is one of the most hated Crows. Nevertheless, I think the way Leigh Bardugo chose to write Wylan is inevitable for the story and vital to his character! It wouldn't feel the same if we didn't get to see how the others viewed him first. 

The fault lies with the fandom when it comes to Wylan’s infantilization. But, are people online really just lazy when it comes to discussing characters, or is something bigger at play here? I think it’s both. People do misinterpret Wylan’s strong and resilient character because of laziness and the normalization of oversimplification and overconsumption within the book community. But this treatment is also rooted in subconscious ableism. To better explain what subconscious ableism truly is, I’ll be taking a deeper look at a specific dynamic.

Kaz and Wylan (are not father and son)

Despite these two characters only having a one year age gap, the fandom often views Kaz and Wylan’s relationship as one similar to a father and son dynamic. Which is understandable to a certain degree. Kaz is the very first person Wylan ever told about his reading disability. Kaz had Wylan placed under Dregs protection the minute Wylan set foot in the Barrel, which may have been for Kaz’s own selfish reason, but it still kept Wylan safe for a while. There are a couple scenes in the books where Kaz will give Wylan advice about life in general, or about having a disability, not just about being a criminal. We see Kaz take getting Wylan justice for his mother and stealing back Wylan’s inheritance very seriously. Wylan even starts to pick up some of Kaz’s mannerisms and facial expressions. All of these could be viewed as things a father and son would do, despite how small the actual age gap is. However, the fandom seems to take this relationship to the extreme, from fan fiction and fan art, to getting the characters’ actors involved. 

It’s somewhat because of very minute subconscious ableism. People naturally view Wylan as younger because of his demeanor, but also because of his disability. The opposite is true for Kaz. His physical disability makes people naturally view him as older than seventeen in their minds. This is due to long standing ableist tropes within the media. People with mental disabilities are often depicted as stupider in some way, so they need to be babied or coddled. While people with physical disabilities are often depicted as very ill, or very old. 

This might seem far fetched, but it’s true. And it’s quite obvious if you look closely enough at anything from books, to movies, to TV, to games! These are just some of the harmful stereotypes we see in our world every day, 

How to fix this issue

Now, of course people aren’t just going to stop misinterpreting characters or stop viewing them through small scale tropes all together. But keeping yourself educated and aware is a good way to stop promoting these harmful stereotypes. Listen to the voices that are being affected in these situations! In this case, it’s people with mental or physical disabilities. Be sure to take into account what they have to say on matters like this one. Allow yourself to take the criticism and learn from their experiences or feelings. It’s important to be empathetic and kind to one another, and acknowledge that sometimes we do problematic things without intending to. When talking about characters with disabilities, it’s important to remember what they represent, and the fact that you can't always say whatever you want just because the characters are fictional. 

As always, if you’re ever unsure about whether something you feel or think is harmful towards a certain community, never be afraid to ask questions and do your research!

[jackwolfes]

The new kid is pretty.

It’s frustrating, really, but accurate. Pretty. Pretty people don’t join the Dregs. They have the hot girls and the fit boys and the part-time Dregs part-time West Stave workers that know they’re desirable, know that they’re gorgeous. They are gorgeous.

But the new kid is just… pretty.

He isn’t pretty like Inej Ghafa or Nina Zenik are pretty, but then again, no one is. Inej is pretty in a ruthless way, a dangerous way, like a fire or a gunshot or a sharp, newly forged knife. Nina is pretty in a similar way, but it’s somehow subtler, somehow that much more of a surprise when the crack of pain comes because she’s snapped your ribs with a quick twist of her hand. She’s pretty then, when whatever she’s been hiding behind that closed off facade comes to bite you.

The new kid isn’t pretty like they are. He’s pretty in an entirely new way.

The new kid doesn’t have that rugged charm that Rotty sometimes does. He isn’t made up of sharp edges or rough lines like Dirix is. He doesn’t have the heft to him that a bat studded with nails does, he doesn’t have the thudding pound of a recoiling gun behind each movement. He definitely doesn’t have the razor-edged jawline Kaz brings to the table.

Saints, Kaz Brekker’s jawline.

Jesper thinks about that jaw too much, and the sharp cut of it, and the way Kaz looks on the rare days that he smiles. When he smiles at Jesper. There is little else in the world than the thrill that comes with making the Kaz Brekker smile, knowing that it’s something Jesper did to bring that look to his face. It makes Jesper’s stomach flip every damn time.

Sometimes he feels eyes on him when he stares at Kaz, only to look up to see him glancing away. Him. The new kid. The pretty boy. It’s a shifty thing, an amateur thing to glance away that quickly. It makes him look suspicious, and Jesper certainly is suspicious the first time he sees him glance away mere seconds after he catches blue eyes looking at him.

Jesper doesn’t think about that suspicion, though, doesn’t fixate on it. All he thinks is that he hadn’t known that there were people in the world who actually had eyes that were that kind of blue. He’d thought it was a myth.

It’s not a myth.

He can see the disdain in those soft blue eyes when he watches Jesper watch Kaz, though. He can see the judgement when Jesper stumbles into the Slat or the Club at seven in the morning, finishing a night out at the same time as he is just beginning his day. That isn’t all Jesper sees when he sees the kid watching him, when he looks away as if he can hide before he’s been caught. He can’t hide, he’s been caught, but Jesper doesn’t comment on it.

He sees something unplaceable, except he does his damndest to place it. It’s judgy through and through, but there’s an edge to it that softens it slightly. It feathers the edges like a dream, and makes the fact the kid is staring into something else.

The kid, this new kid – he looks like a prince.

That’s the kind of pretty he is. Jesper doesn’t know his story but he knows with certainty that there’s something. Something, something. He wouldn’t be surprised if he found out he was on the run from a brothel job, because the saints know he’d be pretty enough for it. He could work the White Rose, or any of them. He’s pretty enough to run the Stave.

He’s pretty enough to make Jesper wonder.

He wouldn’t pay to see him if he did work the Stave, because Jesper doesn’t do that sort of thing. When the mornings after he spends a night with one of the working girls or boys or people come around – and Jesper is always flattered they spend their days off sleeping with him – he buys whoever he’s spent time with breakfast. Plenty of coffee, extra waffles, because they could have been getting paid for that and he can’t believe anyone would choose to spend time with him. Of all people. He doesn’t pay, because they never make him, they never ask. They’re friends, and that kind of arrangement suits him just fine.

He’s late back to the Club on the day after he invited Poppy out for drinks then hours at the tables then back around to his bedroom. They hardly slept. He’s still a bit drunk, even after buying them both waffles and coffee as is customary, even after walking her back to rest before work picked back up for her. She kisses his cheek and leaves him to it, and that’s nice.

Jesper is late back to the Club, and walks straight into the new kid.

They both stumble a little bit, although the new kid doesn’t look as close to starting a fight about it as other people in the Barrel might. He’s soft, earnest, and doesn’t fit in. Maybe that’s what makes the rest of him stand out so much. In a district of the city where everyone is vying for attention with the brightest clothes and the loudest noise, this kid doesn’t. It makes his presence scream itself out in a totally new way, in a way that Jesper has no hopes of ever getting off of his mind.

This kid doesn’t have the sharp cut jaw Kaz does, doesn’t have the sharp, slick parting in his hair. Kaz Brekker dresses like a mercher; this kid dresses like there’s nothing more he wants than to be forgotten. He looks a mess, but a soft one. Not the way Jesper is after too much liquor in a gunfight. Even in the early morning with the faintest light from the rising sun, he looks drained, and tired, a little smudgy with the soot and grime of the Barrel.

He still looks pretty.

He still stands up straight like he’s grown up being told posture is key, like the way he holds himself is the only thing that matters. Saints, maybe he was a brothel boy. Maybe he’s secretly the son of a king. Maybe, maybe, it’s all a lot of maybes when the only thing Jesper knows for certain is that he’s gorgeous to look at. Even now, even when Jesper’s had at most three hours of sleep. Even with the flickering haze of liquor still in the corner of his eyes, even knowing he’s been standing in the doorway to the Club staring like a weirdo.

This kid, that pretty face with the mussed red hair and the cotton-soft sky blue of his eyes. They aren’t just clear or light – not like Jesper’s – they’re blue. The dreamiest blue, and Jesper feels fucking ridiculous for thinking it.

But surely everyone must think the same, right? Surely.

In a flash, Jesper wonders whether or not everyone else actually is seeing the same thing he is.

It’s a stupid thought, and he dismisses it. How could you not see it? How could you not?

This kid – the new kid – Wylan –

He’s the prettiest boy Jesper has ever seen.

[triptuckers]

Two Homes (part 6/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: no Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary:  you’re finally back in ketterdam Warnings: language Word count:  3.8K A/N: I literally love the crows so much they’re my comfort idiots <3  PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting @im-constantly-fangirling  @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy (if your name is in bold it means I couldn't tag you) add yourself to my tag lists here 

The cold wind on your face feels welcoming. You can smell the salt and there’s water all around you. You’d made the journey across the True Sea before, but it felt like a lifetime go.

Maybe because it was a lifetime ago.

You look down at the golden ring on your finger. It feels heavier than it used to. As if you’re suddenly aware of its presence.

When you first sailed across the sea, you were Y/F/N Y/L/N. A merchant’s daughter who had joined a gang in secret. You had learned how to fight, to steal, and a number of other illegal but useful things. You had earned your place among the Crows, joining them on jobs and secretly stealing small bits of your father’s fortune job by job.

And now you’re on a ship again, as Y/F/N Lantsov. A queen, of all things. Of a country you barely know. Married to a king you met less than a year ago. 

Of course, you hadn’t given the captain of the ship you’re on your real name. You’d used a name Kaz had given you once as an alias for a job. Luckily, the captain didn’t ask much questions.

You look out at the sea again. Would the Crows treat you differently now? You wanted to believe you hadn’t changed. But everything had changed. Your entire life. Still, you loved the Crows like they’re your family, and they loved you back. But you couldn’t help but wonder if they would love Y/F/N Lantsov as they loved Y/F/N Y/L/N.

You’re lost in thought, unaware of the people walking around the ship behind you. It isn’t until you hear a loud voice, you look up. 

Someone is standing at the front of the ship, pointing ahead. He shouted something in a language you didn’t know. When everyone moved to see what he was pointing at, you followed them as well.

After making your way to the front, you see what he was pointing at. In the distance, barely visible on the horizon, you can see land. A city. Your beloved Ketterdam. 

You’re home.

You feel like it takes forever to dock and be able to get off the ship. After pulling your hood over your face to hide your identity, you finally set foot in the city again.

Nothing’s changed. You see people moving swiftly between the people who just got off the ship. As a member of the Dregs, you know they’re pickpocketing. How many hours had you spent on the docks yourself, under Kaz’ watchful eye as he taught you. 

And now, you realise you’re among their targets. You grin as you start to manoeuvre through the crowd. You know the weak and strong points, and where it was most likely to find a gang member. 

Because this part of the docks belonged to the Dregs, you make sure to give them all the signs you have money on you. You keep patting your pocket. To them, it would look like you were merely checking if your money was still there. But you know for a fact your money isn’t in that pocket, and you’re simply luring them to you.

You know how to pick pockets, so you know how it feels. You walk through the crowd, fixated on your coat pocket. When you feel something brush against it, you grab the wrist of the person who walked past you, pulling them back.

The person lets out an annoyed sound and tries to pull their wrist out of your hand, but you hold a firm grip. 

‘You’re still bad a this.’ you say. ‘You should let Jesper do it instead.’

You smile and let go of the wrist. When you look up, you meet Nina’s widened eyes. Your hood is still covering most part of your face, but you know she recognised your voice in an instant.

She opens her mouth to say your name, but you stop her.

‘Not here.’ you say, grabbing her hand and leading her away from the crowd. You’re impressed by her patience. But once you’re away from the crowd and in a deserted alley, she fires questions at you.

‘Y/N, it’s so good to see you!’ says Nina. ‘How are you? How is Ravka? Why did you come back to Ketterdam? Oh, tell me you pissed Zoya off in some way, I would have loved to see the look on her face.’

You chuckle at her rapid questions and hold up your hands. ‘Slow down, Nina, remember to breathe in between questions.’ you say, smiling at her.

‘I’m just so glad to see you.’ says Nina. 

She reaches out to you and pulls you in a tight hug. You hug her back and inhale the scent of her signature perfume. When Nina pulls back she looks at your face and smiles.

‘Bags under your eyes, but still as gorgeous as ever.’ says Nina, winking at you. 

‘Not as gorgeous as you, though.’ you say and Nina laughs.

‘You worked on your flirty comebacks!’ she says.

You smile briefly. ‘That’s what you get when you spend so much time with Nikolai.’ you say.

‘Of course!’ says Nina. ‘How is he? Why isn’t he here?’

‘I chose to come alone.’ you say. ‘I got homesick.’ 

‘Well, I’m glad you’re here, we have a lot to catch up on. Matthias finally took the next step.’ says Nina, smirking.

Your eyes widen. ‘He did what?’ you say. Before you left, you were Nina’s favorite person to talk to about Matthias. Whenever he said or did something, you were the first one to know. Nina told you she was hinting for Matthias to kiss her, but he remained oblivious as ever. Looks like he finally managed to figure out all of her hints.

‘Later!’ says Nina. ‘Let’s get you to the Crow Club first, I don’t want them thinking I’m keeping you all to yourself.’

Nina links her arm through yours and together, you start walking toward the club. You look at the familiar streets and shops, constantly smiling. You were finally back in Ketterdam. You’d missed it so much, it felt good to be back.

While it’s in the middle of the day, the Crow Club is busy. It always is. As you walk to your usual table with Nina, you spot three familiar faces. Inej is the first to see you. 

When she does, she leaps to her feet and runs over to hug you. Her hair tickles your cheek as she hugs you. Like Nina, she immediately starts interrogating you about your time in Ravka. 

After promising her you’d tell her everything, you walk the last bit to the table, where Wylan and Matthias are sitting. 

Wylan smiles brightly at you and stands up to hug you as well. He’s happy to see you as well but unlike Nina and Inej, he doesn’t ask all about Ravka. Instead, he asks you how you’re doing and how your journey was. 

You smile at him and tell him you’re fine, that the journey went well. Sometimes you still wondered why the always energetic Jesper had been able to find his match in Wylan, someone who you’d always considered so calm and quiet.

Matthias holds out his hand for you to shake, before Nina pulls him to his feet and basically pushes him into your arms. You laugh at his bewildered face as you hug Matthias as well.

Meanwhile, Inej had ordered a round of everyone’s favorite drink, and you all sit down. As expected, they all start to ask you all sorts of questions. About Ravka, the palace, the wedding, what it’s like being queen, and of course, Nikolai.

You tell them you refuse to answer their questions until Jesper and Kaz are here, so you can tell them all at once. Wylan had told you they were away on a job. To kill the time, you asked them what had happened in Ketterdam while you were away. 

Apparently, a lot.

‘I got shot.’ says Inej. 

‘Twice.’ says Wylan, taking a sip of his drink and turning back to you. ‘And Jesper almost dropped me off a building.’

‘Come again?’ you say.

‘We were on a roof during a job, Jesper wasn’t paying attention and nearly knocked me off of it.’ says Wylan, not a single hint of fear in his voice. He had changed so much since you first met him. Maybe that’s what Ketterdam does to you, it hardens you, forces you to grow up. 

‘I got in a fight with the Stadwatch.’ says Matthias.

‘And I had to bail you out of a holding cell.’ says Nina.

‘Only because someone knocked me out from behind. It wasn’t a fair fight.’ says Matthias.

Nina turns to you. ‘Heleen wanted for Inej and me to come back to the Menagerie.’ she says.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ you say. ‘You’re telling me she had the fucking guts to ask you that?’

‘Well, it was more like sending one of her new guys to deliver the message. Kaz sent him back with five fingers instead of ten, and without a tongue. I think she got her answer.’ says Nina.

‘Sounds like something Kaz would do.’ you say. ‘What else did I miss?’

‘Jesper almost let Wylan shoot with his guns.’ says Inej.

You raise your eyebrows at Wylan. ‘Jesper allowed you to touch his precious revolvers?’ you say.

‘Almost.’ says Wylan, correcting you. ‘He changed his mind right before handing me one.’

You’re enjoying their company. You laugh and catch up on what’s happening in Ketterdam, buying rounds for the table. Every now and then they ask you something about Ravka, but you still refuse to tell them anything until all of the Crows are present. 

Several drinks and card games later, the club slowly begins to empty. Just as Wylan beats you in a game of card, his eye catches someone behind you and he waves at them.

Before you can turn around, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders, and a chin on top of your head.

‘There’s only one person who always sits in this spot.’ 

You smile and turn around. Towering over you, and with a huge grin on his face, Jesper is standing behind you. Your expression mirrors his as you stand up. Jesper wraps you in a bone-crushing hug. You close your eyes, grateful for his embrace.

When you let go of him, you smile up at him, then your eyes catch the person who had been standing behind Jesper.

‘Hi Kaz.’ you say.

Kaz nods at you and you’re convinced you can spot the smallest smile on his lips. Barely visible, but still there. 

Wylan pulls two more chairs from the empty table next to yours, and Jesper and Kaz sit down. 

‘So.’ says Jesper as Wylan hands him his drink. ‘What did we miss? How much have you all heard about a certain king?’

‘Nothing.’ says Nina. ‘Y/N didn’t tell us anything. She wanted to wait until you two got here a well.’

Jesper turns to you and winks. ‘Here I am. I’m all ears, darling.’ he says.

You take a breath and finish your drink. ‘Alright.’ you say. ‘What do you want to know?’

Everything, it seemed. They asked you about life at the palace, about your daily routines, if there really was a buffet every day, and if it was as big as the stories described. And they wanted to know all about Nikolai. What he’s like, if he’s a good king, what it was like to be married to him.

You told them life at the palace couldn’t be more different from the life in Ketterdam. You told them about the gardens, the meetings which were boring almost all of the time, the triumvirate. You told them Nikolai is very sweet, handsome, and a great king. 

The rest of the night is spent talking, laughing, playing games and ordering more drinks. You’re exhausted but grateful to be back as you lay down in your old bed. Just before you fall asleep, you realise just how happy you are to be back.

It’s easy to fall back into your old routines when you walk down the stairs to the kitchen. Wylan and Inej are already there, along with a plate of steaming hot pancakes.  

You’re grateful to be back, and eager to accompany them on jobs again. Still hiding your face and true identity. Last time you were in Ketterdam, you worried about your father finding out you were a member of the Dregs. Now you had to hide the fact the queen of Ravka is running along with gang members. Needless to say, you were slightly more nervous about someone recognising you.

But when you joined Jesper, Wylan and Nina on a job later that day, their presence was enough to soothe your nervousness. 

Everything felt right. Though you had been away for almost a year, it was like you never left. The way you knew what to do without them having to tell you was comfortable. Everything was all right. You couldn’t believe you were finally back in Ketterdam.

You had missed life in Ketterdam and your crows very much. And you were thankful to see they didn’t treat you any differently. On your first night back, your life in Ravka had been the number one topic, but now you felt like Y/F/N Y/L/N again.

You joined them on jobs, played card games, chatted with Nina and Inej over drinks. It felt good to be home.

But a little over a week after you arrived in Ketterdam, you start to feel down. You didn’t know why. You’re finally back home, just like you wanted. You should be happy, grateful, not miserable.

You’re sitting at a table by yourself, silently drinking your favorite drink, when suddenly Kaz joins you.

It was unusual for Kaz to join anyone for drinks. Mostly he was upstairs in his office, doing whatever the hell he did up there. Looking for new jobs maybe, or making sure the younger Dregs didn’t do anything stupid.

When he would join you and the others for drinks, it was mostly because you all had begged him to come along. Kaz wasn’t one to join someone for a drink out of nowhere.

Nevertheless, you were happy he decided to join you.

‘How are you liking Ketterdam?’ he asks.

‘It’s good to be home.’ you say, smiling at him. 

You watch as Kaz studies your face. You know there’s something on his mind, and you’re waiting for him to speak up as you nurse your drink. 

‘Something has made you upset.’ says Kaz.

It wasn’t a question, more like a statement. You look at him in silence for a while. You tried lying to Kaz once, and he could tell immediately. You figured it was some sort of hidden talent of his. No one could lie to him and get away with it.

You look at your hands, to avoid his eyes.

‘Why didn’t you come to my wedding?’ you say.

‘We didn’t want to risk it.’ says Kaz. ‘Traveling abroad would have ended in our capture. Besides, I thought you didn’t want to marry king Nikolai.’

‘I didn’t.’ you say. ‘Not at first. But once I got to know him, well, it all changed. He’s actually a really great guy.’

You finally look up at Kaz. You finish your drink and signal to the bartender for another one. Again, Kaz is studying your face. You wish he’d look away, you always felt like he could see right through you.

‘There’s something else.’ he says.

You frown. ‘No.’ you say, truthfully. There was nothing else to mention. 

‘Come on, spit it out.’ he says.

‘There’s nothing to spit out?’ you say, confused.

‘You’re not yourself. Not like I remember, at least. You said you’d be happier once you got back to Ketterdam. Well, you’re here now. You were happy last week, when you arrived. I have yet to see you genuinely smile, aside from the night you got back.’ says Kaz. 

Why did he always have to be right? It was starting to get annoying. Kaz would tell you the truth, even if you didn’t want to hear it.

‘I thought I’d be happy to be home.’ you admit softly, avoiding his eyes again. ‘I’m not. And I don’t know why. I’m finally home, like I wanted, but it doesn’t feel like it.’

‘Y/N, look at me.’ says Kaz. 

You keep looking at the table. The bartender sets down your new drink in front of you and you briefly look up at them to thank them. Still, you don’t look at Kaz. As you reach to grab your drink, Kaz’ cane lands on the table hard. Shocked and a bit offended, you look up at him.

‘Listen to me.’ says Kaz. ‘You can have two homes, Y/N. You came back to Ketterdam because you miss us. But you haven’t taken your ring off. Despite leaving the palace, yous till use Lantsov as your last name, aside from when you had to travel across the True Sea. Go back to the palace. Tell that king of yours that you love him. And come visit us during the summer.’

You look at Kaz, letting his words sink in. Two homes. Os Alta and Ketterdam. It could work. You’d spend your days with Nikolai, and spend the summer in Ketterdam. 

Suddenly, you think back to your goodbye with Nikolai before you had left for Ketterdam. It wasn’t a proper goodbye, because you couldn’t wait to go to Ketterdam. He deserved more. 

Maybe Kaz is right. Maybe you could have two homes. 

Kaz had been looking at you as you went over it all in your head.

‘Two homes.’ you mutter softly. 

You quickly finish your drink and get up. ‘I have to go.’ you say. 

Despite it being late at night, you head up the stairs of the Slat and to knock on everyone’s door. You knew they’d be alarmed if you wake them, because there was an unwritten rule that you didn’t wake someone up in the middle of the night, unless something very bad was going on.

When you knock on Jesper’s door, Wylan is the one who opens it. There’s still light in the room and there’s a pencil in his hand. He must have been working on some sketches for a new project. When you glance over his shoulder you see Jesper sprawled out on the bad, fast asleep.

‘Is everything alright?’ says Wylan. 

‘Yes, it’s fine, I just came to say goodbye.’ you say.

Wylan frowns, then smiles. ‘You’re going back to Ravka.’ he says.

You nod. ‘I need to see Nikolai.’ you say. ‘Can I say goodbye to Jesper real quick?’

Wylan steps aside so you can enter the room. You walk over to the bed, kneel beside it and shake Jesper’s shoulders. He wakes with a string of words you can’t quite understand. 

‘Jes.’ you say softly. ‘It’s me, Y/N, I'm here to say goodbye. I’m going back to Ravka.’

He mumbles a “good for you, have fun” before falling back asleep. 

You smile at move to rise to your feet again. You hug Wylan and after another goodbye, you leave their room, walking the stairs to the next floor. 

Inej walks out of her room, holding a bunch of dirty dishes in her hands. She must have been on her way downstairs to put them away.

‘Hey.’ she says. ‘What are you still doing up?’

‘Saying goodbye.’ you say. ‘I’m going back to the palace.’ 

Like Wylan, Inej smiles. ‘Tell the king I said hi.’ she says.

‘I will.’ you say. ‘Goodbye Inej, I’ll be back for a visit soon.’

You walk to the next floor and knock on Nina’s door. It takes her a while to open the door, but you knew she would. When she does open the door, her hair is messy, she was clearly fast asleep just like Jesper.

‘What happened?’ says Nina, voice thick of sleepiness. ‘Who’s in trouble?’

‘No one’s in trouble.’ you say. ‘I’m here to say goodbye. I’m going back to Nikolai.’

‘You’re leaving again?’ says Nina. ‘But you just got here.’ 

‘I’ll be back for a visit in summer.’ you say. ‘In fact, I’m going to visit every summer. But right now I need to go back.’

‘To Nikolai.’ says Nina.

‘Yes.’ you say. 

‘Give him a kiss from me.’ she says.

‘Nina!’ you say, making her laugh.

‘I’m kidding!’ she says. ‘How about give him a hug from me?’ 

You nod and Nina pulls you in her arms. You close your eyes, trying to capture the moment. You were going to miss them. But you’d be back in summer. When Nina lets go of you, she smiles brightly. 

‘Wait here, you can say goodbye to Matthias too.’ she says. 

She enters the room and seconds later she reappears, with Matthias behind her. Just like Nina, he looks like he just woke up. He’s squinting his eyes as he looks down at you.

‘You’re leaving?’ he says.

‘For a while.’ you say. ‘I’ll be back in summer.’

‘Alright.’ says Matthias. 

Unlike the night when you arrived in Ketterdam, Nina doesn’t have to shove him into your arms. Matthias steps forward and pulls you in for a hug. 

‘Take care.’ he says as he pulls away.

Nina moves past Matthias and pulls you in for another hug.

‘That first one was for Nikolai, this one’s for you.’ she whispers. 

You blink furiously to stop the tears from falling. Saints, you really were going to miss them. But there was no need for tears, you’d see them again in summer. You smile at her as she pulls away.

‘I’m going to miss you.’ you say. ‘All of you.’

‘You’ll see us again.’ says Nina. ‘Now go! You’ve kept him waiting for long enough.’

You walk down the stairs, and grab your coat when you get to the bottom of the stairs. You poke your head around the door and see Kaz is still sitting in the same spot. 

‘Bye, Kaz!’ you say and you wave at him. 

He nods at you and briefly smiles. And then you’re out the door.

You don’t even know if there would be a ship at the docks that would sail to Ravka. But you’re still determined to head to Ravka as fast as you could. You walk down the streets toward the docks. 

You were going back to Ravka, to your king.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[teacup-tyrant]

Kaz Brekker & Loss of Purpose

Do you ever think about how Kaz and Inej's motivations and goals over the course of SoC & CK run completely opposite to each other? Because I'm having a lot of thoughts today.

Inej spent her time in the Dregs floundering with no aim, “demanding an aim to land true.” She found her motivation and goal during the series and it ends with her off to hunt slavers, aka fulfill her life's purpose.

Conversely, Kaz was hyperfixated on taking Pekka Rollins down and the series ends with him completing his goal. So what does he have left after that? I'm sure he's having a grand time with his multiple gambling halls and running the Dregs and whatever other schemes he gets up to but NONE of that is as grandiose as The Goal that he had worked towards for years. Now, he's the one who's supporting Inej's goal, and I have no doubt that he's playing an active role in helping her (from the hints that we get in RoW). I just... idk, I hope that's enough for Kaz's Big Brain. Kaz without a problem to solve kind of worries me.

Here is my best analogy: it's kind of like how once professional athletes retire, they have no idea wtf to do with their lives. They spend most of their life training and being focused on one goal and when that's suddenly gone, they have nothing left. If they don't find something else, a lot of them fall into bad fixations like drugs or crime and over 75% of them go bankrupt (I swear to god, that's an actual NFL stat). They often don't have enough help transitioning out of their careers and then literally do not know what to do with their lives. They're used to the emotional highs, the routine, and the attention. Once your whole purpose in life disappears (i.e. your career that you've worked towards your WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE ends), sometimes your self-worth disappears along with it, and you're left with an empty shell of a person with no direction unless they have a new venture to throw themselves into and a really good sports psychiatrist.

So, what do retired professional athletes have to do with our dear Bastard of the Barrel? Loss of purpose. If they don't find a new outlet, they fall apart. I'm not saying that would happen to Kaz (it definitely doesn't happen to every professional athlete; this is just a comparison). Obviously, I hope it doesn't. Maybe he falls into a rut and then finds glorious new purpose when a certain Queen of Ravka needs him to go on a Quest For An Ancient Artifact™. (that alone worries me bc it's SO cookie-cutter of a fantasy plot and I really hope there's more to it than that for a SoC 3 premise but that's another can of worms) But I think it's just an interesting point to bring up that sometimes you can work towards something your whole life and think the world will be ~perfect~ once you achieve it, but it doesn't always turn out that way. Greener grass on the other side and all that, you know?

WHO KNOWS. I SURELY DON'T.

But anyway, thank you for coming to my excessively long TED Talk about how Kaz is actually a retired NFL player. Bet you didn't ever expect that comparison.

[neverhaveieverheardkazbrekkersay]

Gloom and Glare - Chapter 1.1

𝔬𝔫𝔢

Kaz

Kaz Brekker needed his reasons. Sentences to substantiate his actions. Something to tell others when they asked. He always needed reasons. And he always had them. Though they were not essentially good ones at most. And they always were not truly his.

Most commonly dripping from his mouth were the words “Money is good”. It is what had him do most things. Money is good. Greed is your god. But this was the reason all people from the Barrel gave. He had picked it up on purpose. To fit in, to not attract unwelcome attention.

Second were the reasons his clients gave him. To get revenge, help a poor man, make investments. Replicating their words was more of a lie than a reason of his. But he did not care. It kept him out of unwanted trouble. Away from people who asked too many questions.

Third were the Dregs. The gang he had joined when he was just fourteen. New to these corners of Ketterdam. They kept him afloat in his first year. Then he turned the wheel around. Bringing them up to where they were now, and he kept them at their size and importance. Impossible to substitute.

The jobs he gathered found their way to him through them. No one would know the name Kaz Brekker this well if it was not for the Dregs. Not by now. It was sure he would have built his reputation without them the same. It would have taken longer. But Dirtyhands would have risen as he always did. Destined for a higher place.

In between all these, there was one thing that the reason for was not a fabricated one, chosen carefully, to please and reassure. The one was truly his and he was glad he never had to give it. No one ever asked. They did not know. But even if they did, they would be too scared. No messing with the Bastard of the Barrel.

The sound of his cane on cobblestone had been bouncing off the wet walls. Fifth harbour was always damp. The sea leaving stains on all the walls it could reach. It belonged to them, the Dregs. He had gotten it for them. It had not been the most impressive thing he had pulled from his pocket. He had tricks more dangerous and helpful than the ones he had used for the job. Still. They were proud and it made them ruthless. Ruthless enough to pat him proudly on the shoulder. Wincing under his gaze like scared dogs when he had looked at them. Leaving him be, not daring to close in on him again.

By now Kaz had gotten used to pats on his shoulders. He was too successful to always escape them. So, he had let them touch him as they pleaded as long as there was cloth between skin, and they did not mishandle their privilege. He had been closed to chopping off fingers before. The crow head of his cane had broken enough hands.

He had heard the soldiers who dared to come to the Barrel brawl. They were drunk, like always. It was a mystery how they had managed to get into the first army. How why they had been selected to be the ones coming to Kerch. And how they had gotten through the fold alive. They had crossed just a few days ago. A supply-run. The only one out of ten in the last month that had made it. And the only one carrying Ravkan ambassadors.

Now, these soldiers were getting drunk. Gambled in the clubs. Behaved like pirates more than soldiers. If they would have been Kaz’s men, he would have gotten them to sober up. He would have hung them upside down over a canal until they were clean. The more they drank the longer they would hang.

When they came to him that day. In the middle of the night, he had wished them to be drunk. Just as he had wished to be quicker. Fifth harbour had been the last place he had suspected to get attacked. His thoughts had been trailing off. To Inej, a small Suli girl he had started working with over the last few weeks. He called her wraith; the Dregs called her his wraith. She was like a tiny invisible spider, catching secrets in her web. Disappearing in shadows as though she was part of them. The darkness seemingly following her. She wore it like a cloak. It suited her.

It had been useful to him. To get secrets out of people unexpected. To have someone in his back pocket who was ready to defend him at all times. No one saw her. No one saw her coming. Just like he did not see them coming. He had wished for Inej to be there. To escape the shadows to help him. Lend him a hand. He had wished them to be drunk. He had wished to be quicker.

Now he is trapped. Hands tied behind his back. His legs strapped to a chair. His bad one hurting more than on average days. Kaz thinks he might have slammed it against something when he had tried to escape one of the soldier's grip. He hoped it to have been one of the other soldiers but judging by the pain it had more likely been a wall.

He was inside a tent. Outside were voices. Footsteps of people passing. Occasionally the smell of unwashed bodies and a cigarette or two reached Kaz’s nose. From far away there was the sound of waves crashing against stone and wood. He was at the temporary Ravkan military-like camp just outside Ketterdam they had persisted to build. Next to the coast facing their eastern one. And closer to Ravka and the fold than he favours to be.

He despised the fold. The big wall of darkness splitting Ravka into two. It had been there all his life and he begged for it to be gone. The creatures inside disgusted him and there was no way of getting around or through safely. He had done his best to avoid it, but it did not change what had him hate it. Even if it were gone, he would still see himself as from the other side. What he most despised about himself and anything else. Nothing coming from the other side was effective in his eyes. It was weak.

A man in a red kefta sat in front of him. The surface of a simple table, covered by paper and quills, the only thing between them. If Kaz freed himself, he would easily be able to spring across and tackle him. The heartrender would not have time to act his magic. He would be too surprised to be attacked by a cripple who had been bound to a chair just seconds before. Kaz could overpower and beat him within seconds.

The silver head of his crow cane was peaking over the table, leaning against it on the heartrender’s side. If Kaz worked flawlessly, like he always did, he could get to it and kill the heartrender. The feeling of a scull smashing at the contact with his walking stick would make Brekker smile. It would always be one of the best feelings at last.

“Oh, look who’s awake,” the heartrender noted monotonously. His eyes lifted from the paper in front of him and locked with Kaz’s. He was not scared. Not like most people were when facing Dirtyhands himself. But of course, he was not. You are a cripple tied to a chair, Kaz reminded himself.

The heartrender’s eyes bored into his. Reddish hair falling into his forehead. This one looked drunk even now but Kaz was sure he was sober. He had been writing when Kaz woke and Kaz did not think someone would write with a head full of alcohol. But the white in the heartrender’s eyes was dipped red and he slurred his words. The second might be caused by his thick ravkan accent as well.

Kaz had not heard many people speaking with an accent like this. The Grisha coming to Kerch tried their best to not show theirs. It would give them away too easily. Luckily Kaz had never had this problem. If anything, he would be having a Kerch accent when trying to speak Ravkan.

The heartrender did not speak again. His blue eyes kept on Kaz, something raging behind them. The paper in front of him stayed abandoned and the feather in his hand hung limp.

After some time Kaz had enough of silence. “What business?” Reciting the familiar words, he had said to many people in his life, he leaned forward as far as he could. He wished to seem natural, he did not want the heartrender to suspect him to be feeling the ties around his wrists and ankles. Looking for their weak spots. Ready to get free at any given moment.

“Who are you,” the heartrender rejected. Kaz knew he was avoiding telling him what this was all about. Kaz guessed to know what it was, but there was no way that they knew.

“None of your business,” Kaz replied. Rocks scrapping together with every syllable. Harsh and uncomforting. Kaz liked his voice.

The heartrender lowered his eyes. “Kaz Rietveld.” Kaz groaned when he heard his old name. “Known as Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel. Seventeen years old. Born in East Ravka, fled to Kerch at a young age. Part of a gang called the Dregs with his own little crew of special people. Got the gang from the reputation of just a few thieves up to one of the better-known ones. Competing in the streets of Ketterdam with other gangs.”

Slowly, every of the heartrender’s spoken word got Kaz more uncomfortable. He shifted in the chair, still trying to untie himself. With time he was thinking he might not manage it in time. Those knots were good.

“You claimed fifth harbour, created the crow club and did much more for these Dregs.” The blue eyes fixated on Kaz again. “All in three years.”

“I’m a good businessman.”

“You’re a thief and a cheater, not a businessman.” Kaz scoffed, leaning back to get another perspective on the room and his binds. He had heard these words before. They did not bother him anymore. He knew what he was and nothing of what they said was right. They called him so many names but none of them get close to what hid behind his furrowed brows and cold eyes.

Again, Kaz leaned forward. The heartrender mirrored him. Resting his elbows on the table, loosely folding his hands. “If I am just a thief, a cheater, a barrel thug, one of the worst. Then what do you want from me?” With every moment facing the Grisha, Kaz got more suspicious. What if they did know what he thought no one knew.

It was one other thing he hated about himself. It belonged to Ravka and reminded him, always, that he did too. If he could, he would have cut this part out of himself. No matter the bleeding, the pain. He hated it more than he feared the consequences.

“We’ve been tracking your every step, Mister Rietveld.”

Kaz growled. “Brekker.”

“Mister Brekker.”

The heartrender grabbed the quill and scribbled something onto the paper. Kaz watched him, fiddling with the ropes around his wrists.

“We’ve had suspicions for you to be someone we’re looking for,” the heartrender continued. “We aren’t sure if you really are this.” The heartrender’s unbothered gaze caught Kaz’s. “I personally think this is a waste of time. But the Darkling has an eye out for you. She wants to test you, to be sure.” He got up. His sleek long fingers gathered the few things on the table.

Now was the time. Now Kaz should escape. He could, the ropes on his wrists were loose, the ones on his legs would not make much of a problem. He could grab the heartrender’s collar, slam his head into the table until he was unconscious, or better, dead. This was the perfect moment to escape. And yet he did not.

He watched the red-headed heartrender slide the papers and quill into a slender bag. When his hand hovered over Kaz’s cane he froze. Kaz guessed him to be considering if he should take it but then he felt her too.

From the entrance of the tent black spread across the cloth. With a smooth motion, the heartrender grabbed the bag and stepped away. To the side of the tent. His head lowered. Not in fear, Kaz realized. But in respect.

All the people he had heard talk about the Darkling feared her. Why didn’t he? The others had not even met her, he had. Why wasn’t the heartrender scared of someone as powerful as her?

In the black entrance, a silhouette appeared. Dark robes, seeming to float around a surprisingly small figure. The Darkling.

Kaz knew her by many names. The black Heretic, General Ghafa, shadow summoner, witch. But he had never seen her. Not many had. Not outside the second army. She was like the shadows she controlled. Everyone knew she was there, they feared her, speculated about her real face whenever they thought she was not there. But only few knew this real face.

He would see her now. She was standing there.

The darkness pulled into her. It formed the sharp silhouette of the girl, still leaving her in shadow. Then out of the shadow stepped, Inej.

Tagging: @man-cardoor-honk-sand (If you want to join the tag list just tell me) 

[thanks--for--listening]

figments of the dark

yes i read all the grishaverse books after watching the show yes i’ve now written kanej fic yes they’re my dream couple no i’m not okay mentally. SPOILERS FOR CROOKED KINGDOM this fic takes place right after it. 

(also on ao3)

~~

She kept pace with him initially. Walking down to the harbor, he watched as the Suli couple moved closer and closer, the details of their appearance materializing with each step. The gray of the man’s hair creeping in at the edges. The woman’s long braid lying gracefully over her shoulder. Their hands clasped together, tugging each other along as the distance between them and their daughter disappeared. Inej was nearly jumping out of her own skin, but she stayed by his side, only breaking into a sprint when there was nothing but a few feet separating them. It was the most impressive feat of strength he’d seen from her. From anyone, if he was being honest. 

They swallowed her whole. Neither were particularly tall, but they towered over her nonetheless, their arms wrapping effortlessly around her delicate frame. As he stepped closer, he could hear them amidst the sobs, the prayers usually whispered under Inej’s breath now spoken loudly and without reservation. Their foreignness was familiar. Kaz might not have cared for gods or saints, for myths and legends, but the sound of their devotion still soothed his racing heart.

He stood back as they held one another. A feeling deep in his gut ignited softly, a spark burning in isolation: not strong enough to turn into a flame, but with enough heat to leave a scar. It wasn’t resentment — he would have given anything for her to have this moment, would have let the rest of the world crumble around them if that’s what it cost — but an aftertaste of something else lingered as he watched them. No matter how often he won, how deft defying the odds or complicated the scheme, he’d never have anyone waiting for him when the dust settled. Not like Inej did. Not like Jesper did. His victories had long been celebrated in solitude, and he’d come to terms with that years ago. 

Still, the feeling seemed to whisper, a voice in his head that sounded like someone he knew. Still.

“Kaz!” He blinked the thoughts away, straightened his back as they walked toward him. “Mama, Papa, this is Kaz Brekker. He’s saved my life more times than I can count.”

“Your daughter paints me in a better light than I deserve.” He looked at her as he added, “No one has ever protected me the way she has.”

Their eyes were locked, and he saw it again. One of the first lessons Ketterdam had taught him was to read faces as if they were words on a page. Any hand could be won, any man could be manipulated, if one could learn to see beneath the surface. Nobody could hide forever. Their hearts would give them away every time. 

Now he was grateful for the lesson. Not for the victories it had led to, or the money he’d won, but for the undeniable truth of what he saw. Adoration. When Inej looked at him, it was as if the entire harbor floated away, and all that was left were the tears in her eye and the smile on her face. It didn’t matter that the real joy had come from her parents; he would use any excuse to be on the other end of that look, regardless of whether he deserved it.

Kaz didn’t even notice her father until Inej stuck her arm out, spoke in quick and hushed Suli. He didn’t have to know the language to understand — Mr. Ghafa had moved to embrace him, until Inej stood in the way. Kaz had been lost in the endless depths of her eyes, drawn to them like a sailor to a siren, so fixated he would have drowned rather than tear his gaze away. Inej, his better in every way that mattered and every way that didn’t, had never lost sight of the world around them. Even now, when the threat came in the form of a grateful father, when her focus should have been at its weakest, she was still protecting him. 

He wanted to tell her that he would take it. The touch, and the revulsion that came with it. The gratitude he’d done nothing to earn. He would suffer any pain, subject himself to all kinds of agony, play whatever character she wanted, even the farm boy he knew had died in that river. He would hunt the world for her wretched saints and construct an altar of his own, if it kept that smile on her face. 

“Thank you,” her mother said, the words still muddled by the tears that had yet to stop. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

Safety didn’t exist in Ketterdam, and it certainly wasn’t what he’d given her when he’d taken her out of that Menagerie, but he kept his mouth shut, nodded curtly. That wasn’t his story to tell. 

“Every day, we searched,” her father said. “They told us to give up. They said you were lost, that those who took you would never let you go. They said you wouldn’t make it no matter where you’d gone, but we said no. Our Inej has angels on her shoulders and wings on her back. She can survive anything.”

If she hadn’t been before, Inej was crying now. With every passing moment, Kaz felt more and more like an intruder. He wondered if it was some sort of retribution for each time he’d sent her to creep in through someone’s window, to become the audience they weren’t aware of. How much had he learned from her being privy to moments like this, so intimate and exposed? What had it cost her to push back the guilt that came with the encroachment?

“I can,” she said. “But I didn’t have to do it alone.”

He listened half-heartedly as she told them about Wylan and Jesper and Nina. The house she was staying in, with a staff and a view and a life that was much more palatable to those unfamiliar with the stench of the Barrel. Painting over their history was effortless with those kinds of tools. The only question was how long it could last. 

As they began walking, he forced his face into neutrality, buried any evidence of the thoughts that ran through his mind. They would have to find out eventually. Perhaps not all of it, and ideally not all at once, but in due time the truth would become unavoidable. They spoke of survival as if it was an honorable thing, but where that ship had taken Inej, only those with the sharpest of claws and malleable of morals made it out alive. Dirtyhands may have become his title, but nobody around here could claim cleanliness. Not even the dead.

The path made itself clear, the flip of the final card coming to him with striking clarity. A death blow delivered by the river, turning a winning hand into a losing one in a single fluid motion. They had been looking for their lost child, for a little girl who only ever pushed the limits in a performance. But the secret to the Dregs was that everyone was already dead. They may have called themselves Crows, but like phoenixes born from the ashes of their old lives, rebirth was an entry level requirement. Whoever they’d gone searching for, the Ghafa’s had found someone else. He didn’t know when they’d realize it, when they’d look at their daughter and see a stranger in her place, but he knew the moment would come. And for the first time in his short and miserable life, Kaz longed to be wrong. 

Tuning back into the conversation, he caught the tail end of a list of relatives, each one having done their own part in trying to find her. Inej stood in between them as they walked. Kaz let himself fall back just slightly, a pace behind theirs. It was as much privacy as he could give out on the street. Things may have improved for the Dregs in the past few weeks, but that didn’t mean people weren’t still watching, waiting to find them in a moment of weakness, waiting for their chance to steal the throne Kaz and his crew had built from nothing. 

“We’ll send a letter as soon as we make it to your friends’ home. Nobody knew what to believe when the messenger came to us with news about you. Half the family were convinced this was all a scam, a ruse to kidnap us as well.”

“Your aunts will start planning the celebration before we even board the ship home,” her mother said with a smile. The tears had eased up, replaced with effortless joy and comfort. “Preparing the food will take half the length of the trip, at least.”

Inej let out a moan. “Nobody in Ketterdam knows how to cook properly.”

Her mother’s smile grew, something he hadn’t thought was possible. “Anything you want, I’ll make. Saints willing, I’ll be cooking for you for the rest of my life.”

“You’re in for a treat,” her father added. “Ever since the circus ended, your mother has been cooking non-stop. Everything will be better than you remember.”

“Wait,” her eyebrows scrunched together. “What do you mean, the circus ended?”

The smiles faded. “We tried,” he said, his voice tainted with the somber weight of grief that grew heavier over time. “But how could we go on without our star? How could we look to the sky and see someone else walking amongst the clouds?”

“It wasn’t fair,” her mother said softly. “To the family. They needed the performances to survive, but we…we needed every moment to search for you. We needed you to survive.”

They’d slowed their pace, and even though he slowed with them, they now stood nearly side by side. Kaz left a gap the size of a person between him and her father in a pathetic and slightly selfish attempt at disappearing. He’d have pulled an Inej and evaporated altogether, had she not asked him to stay. 

“I’m sorry,” Inej said, and he couldn’t see her face clearly but he could hear the tears in her voice. 

“For what, zheji?”

“For being the reason you stopped. Performing was our lives. It was everything you’d worked toward.”

“Inej, you are our lives. You are more important than any stage or crowd. You are worth more than any money in the world.” Her mother stopped walking, grabbed hold of her face as she said, “I would walk away from the circus a thousand times if it meant you were safe.”

Inej just nodded. The feeling snuck in again, quick and quiet and sharp; he forced it back down as they started walking again. He refused to let his pitiful, despicable nature ruin any part of this moment for her. 

“And who knows?” Her father said, the cheer in his voice somehow both authentic and artificial. “Once you come home, maybe we can put the show back on the road. Perform as a family again.”

Oh. So this was the moment. He’d known it was a possibility when he’d made the deal, but his mind had refused to accept it. The life he led required foresight, examining every outcome for every choice, but he hadn’t found the strength to prepare for this ending: the moment she left.

His step staggered ever so slightly. It shouldn’t have been noticeable, shouldn’t have disrupted the rhythm of their walk, but like a conductor trained to spot the lone instrument out of tune, Inej turned. She stared first at the ground in front of him, then brought her gaze up. Met his. An inquisitive look flashed across her face, as if she was searching for the disruption. Or perhaps she was searching for something else. 

He tried to school his features into something legible, to show her the answer she was looking for. The permission, although it wasn’t his to give. The forgiveness, although there was no guilt to absolve. Even when he wanted to fall onto his hands and knees and beg her to stay; even when the thought of her living across the true sea made the air around him grow thicker and his lungs smaller, made breathing a painful, labored thing. He nodded his head slightly even when every nerve in his body fought against it, because if there was anyone who deserved to turn their back on Ketterdam and leave it all behind, it was her. If leaving was what made her happy, he’d send her off without a single word of protest. If she wanted to fly on her own land, on her own accord, who was he to ground her, to tie her wings for the sake of his own spoiled heart?

Inej didn’t say anything, but the look on her face…Kaz wasn’t one to cling to hope, but he grasped desperately to her reluctance, to the way she bit her lip and kept her eyes away from her parents. Even if she also kept them away from him.

— 

Jesper had a thousand questions. 

He’d spent half of dinner begging the Ghafas for stories about Inej as a child, and the other half endlessly praising Mrs. Ghafa’s cooking. Kaz couldn’t fault him for the latter — Inej and her mother had spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen, and what they’d come out with was quite easily the best meal he’d ever had. The way they managed to extract flavors he’d never tasted before from the ingredients he’d had at his disposal for years was an art form in itself, one that rivaled even his own general resourcefulness. And the smell. Envy reared its ugly head at the thought of Wylan and Jesper getting to enjoy the lingering scent long after the meal had been devoured.

“We had a guest faint during one of her performances.” Her father was telling the story with the same enthusiasm as he had with every one that came before. Where Inej was silent and still, her father was big and bold, every move exaggerated and every word announced rather than spoken. Kaz wondered whether it had always been her nature, or whether he was witnessing what Inej might have been had she not been forced into the shadows. 

“Faint? Because of Inej?”

“Oh, yes. You see, we realized that we couldn’t make it look too easy. Not that it was easy, of course, but when Inej walks that rope, it looks effortless. So we staged a wobble, a moment for her to pretend to lose her balance. Oh, the way people panicked! They’d hold their breaths and try to hide their eyes, but none of them could ever look away, not until she made it to the other side.”

“Was the woman who passed out okay?” Wylan asked.

Her father shook his head. “You misunderstand. Women never looked away. They stared with intensity, as if their eyes could carry her to safety. The poor man collapsed right there in the front row.”

“He didn’t even see the rest of my act,” Inej added. “That’s the real travesty.”

“Maybe he’ll come back and see how it ends once you’re home.” Kaz saw it again, the feeling streaking across her face like a runaway star. Only this time, it wasn’t reluctance: it was guilt. 

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what, zheji?”

The first words had come out softly, but when Inej looked up at her father, she spoke with the determination that Kaz had grown used to. “I can’t stay. I can’t rejoin the circus.”

“So you’re out of practice. It’s nothing a little time can’t fix! You have magic in you, Inej. That doesn’t just go away.”

“No,” she said. “I can’t rejoin the circus because I have to come back. Here, to Ketterdam.”

Her mother reached across the table, put her hands in her own. “They took you against your will. Against our will. Whoever stole you can’t stop us from taking you home. Nobody can keep you here anymore.”

“No,” she said, “you’re not hearing me. I want to go home. I want to see the family, to spend time with you. But I also want to come back.”

“I don’t understand,” her father said, and Kaz could hear the desperation creeping into his voice. “What could a place like this possibly have that would be worth leaving your family? Leaving your home?”

“Papa, it’s not about leaving you.” Jesper was practically bouncing out of his own skin, and Wylan’s eyes scoured the room in search of anything else to look at, but Kaz kept his gaze fixed on the table in front of them. A part of him knew the noble thing, the polite thing, would be to silently excuse himself, to give the Ghafas this moment alone. But Inej had started it with them there, and Kaz didn’t have the willpower to walk away before he heard her answer. 

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about everyone else.” Inej spoke with fervor, impassioned with purpose and righteousness. It fit her better than being a spider ever had. “There are hundreds of little girls and boys going through exactly what I did. Only they don’t get rescued. They don’t have anyone looking out for them.” She spared a quick glance his way; he pretended not to notice. “I can’t go home while they suffer.”

“So it is us who should suffer, then?”

Inej groaned. “Mama, that isn’t fair and you know it.”

“Life isn’t fair,” her father said. “The world is full of terrible people, Inej. You can’t—“

“Trust me when I say I know the terrors of both men and women alike.” Venom had slipped into her voice. Kaz watched the shock slowly register across her parents’ faces, watched as they blinked at the girl who had replaced their daring but soft-spoken daughter. He wondered when they’d truly process her words. Back in Ravka? On the boat home? Maybe it would come while they lay awake tonight, dreams poisoned by the realization that some version of their worst nightmare had come true. That even though she stood in front of them now, seemingly all in one piece, Ketterdam had still taken something from her, and nothing they ever did could give it back.

“I only meant to say,” her father continued, his tone shifting into something gentler, “that this battle is one you’ll likely never win. There’s no end to greed. Not in this lifetime. Perhaps not even in the next. Every enemy you defeat, every man you force into accountability, will only be replaced by two more looking to use his failure as a stepping stone.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to adjust my aim. Target the root and not the weeds.”

“Why?” Her mother groaned, frustration and terror written all over her face. “Why does it have to be you? Someone else can save the world. Someone else’s daughter can play the hero. Why can’t you just come home?”

“Who, Mama? Who’s gonna save them if not me? Who’s going to watch out for them when their families are told they’re dead and nobody else comes looking?” She turned toward her father. “I know it’s a losing hand. But I’m not the same person I was before. I know how to win with anything now, how to bend the rules so they work in my favor.”

“But you don’t have to,” he begged. 

“If nobody ever tries, nothing gets better. I have to try, Papa. I owe them at least that much. I owe myself that much.”

The silence spread quickly. He knew there was nothing in the air, but the tension felt like a gas leak, like one spark could set the whole house ablaze. Kaz watched the way they stared across the table, each waiting for the other to break first but neither one wanting to watch them burn. Even if he hadn’t been a betting man, he would have known who to back in this fight of wills. Whether on the ground or in the air, Inej would hold steady. If nothing else, he could count on that.

Jesper clapped his hands, the sound echoing across the room that felt both overwhelmingly big and suffocatingly small. “So! Who’s up for a little music?”

—

Kaz found her exactly where he expected to. The sound of Wylan’s piano faded as he cracked open the window, pulling himself up onto the roof even when his leg throbbed in protest. 

Inej didn’t move, didn’t do anything to acknowledge his presence. She didn’t have to — she always knew where he was, just as he did her. Climbing up to her perch, he let the sounds of the city surround them. It never mattered what time of day it was: someone in Ketterdam was always awake, and therefore, no one was ever truly alone.

“They don’t believe me,” she said softly. He fought the urge to turn toward her; he knew that some words were more easily spoken to something rather than someone. “They think that the minute I get home, I’ll just forget about everything here.”

“Unfortunately, I think Jesper’s singing is going to be permanently ingrained in all our minds.”

He spared a quick glance, caught the corners of her mouth creeping upward. “Who needs to remember? I’m positive the sound will carry all the way across the true sea and into Ravka.”

“We should be grateful for their diminished armies, then. If they had the means, I’m positive this performance would be a worthy cause to go to war.”

She laughed then, just once, but saints the sound was enough to send electricity through his entire body. He’d start a war himself for that sound. He’d crawl into the Ice Court with nothing but his own two hands. He’d try and heal the shattered bits inside himself if it meant he got to hear her at her happiest, if he got to be the one to make her feel that way in the first place. 

Kaz wanted to stay like this, to poke fun and let the future disappear, to laugh and let the hard words hide beneath the sound, but he’d never had a habit of doing what was good for him. The dead of night exposed questions that cowered in the light of day, and for all his strength, he couldn’t resist knowing the answers. “Would it be so bad? To forget this place?”

“I could never do that. Not even if I wanted to.”

“You don’t know if that’s true. Time away, back with your family, it could help. It could…heal.”

Inej finally turned toward him, the daggers in her eyes as accurate and deadly as the ones strapped to her wrists. “Do you really think you could just leave and pretend like none of this ever happened?”

Part of him wanted to lie, wanted to believe in a world where the past stayed locked in history and the future could be its own thing entirely. If not for himself, then for her. But while the sentiment may have been foreign to her parents, Kaz and Inej spoke the language of the Dregs. There was a reason people got tattooed when they joined: being a Crow wasn’t something you could ever leave behind. 

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

“Exactly.” She turned forward again, stared at the city as if it could give her whatever answer she was looking for. “All night, I could feel my parents looking for a ghost. They remember a girl whose only dream in life was to walk across air, but there are other things that matter more to me than the fucking applause.” She leaned back without losing her balance. “I don’t think they’re ready to see the person I’ve become.”

“Then they’re missing out on the strongest, bravest, and most honorable person in all of Ketterdam.”

Inej raised an eyebrow at him. There was curiosity in her eyes, and behind it, something more. Something he hadn’t seen on her yet, despite spending a considerable amount of time stealing glances, soaking in the sight of her whenever he could afford to. He couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked like pride. “Since when do you care for honor?”

“Since you watched me at my weakest and my worst, and still deemed me a worthy cause for devotion.” He kept his eyes on her now, emboldened by the light of the moon and the truth of his words. “You look to your saints for guidance, but I look to you. So long as you stand by me, I know I haven’t strayed too far.”

As he spoke, he carefully slipped his hand out of his glove; when the only sound left was the echo of his words around them, he reached for her hand, let his own slide into place within it. Immediately the rush came, the concoction of emotions all tangled up and twisted. He squeezed, let the pressure of her reciprocation ground him in the present and on dry land. 

Pain would always come first. No matter how much time passed, no matter who he was with, Kaz wasn’t sure that would ever change. For so long the agony had held a chokehold on anything else that might come with it, suppressing desire until it was all but nonexistent. The longer they held onto one another, though, the stronger it became. Inej dulled the anguish until it was no sharper than a blunt knife, until he could feel everything else without being blinded by the blade. 

Eventually, she let go, only to shift and drop her head onto his shoulder. She rested largely on his jacket, but there was a sliver, right by his neck, where their skin came together. It set his pulse on fire. It felt like exhaling. Like holding something so delicate in his hands he didn’t dare breathe and risk disturbing it. The weight of her against him sent all his senses up into disarray, and he wondered for half a second if this was what the rush of parem felt like, because with Inej leaning against him. he swore he could see, hear, feel everything. The pain all but evaporated. The world came gloriously into tune, and now that he’d heard the sweet sound it could make, Kaz wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to tolerate a sour note. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, the sound nearly blending into the ambiance provided by the sky above and ground below, nearly drowned by the synchronous beats of their hearts. “Thank you for bringing them back to me.”

“Anything,” he responded just as quietly. “No matter the cost nor the reason. If you ask, I’ll do anything.”

“Why?” The question was so genuine, and he wasn’t sure he had an answer. How could he possibly put into words the feeling of needing her happiness as much as he needed air to breathe? What could he give her that could show just how deeply he craved her, and how terrifying and exhilarating and all-encompassing that desire was? 

“You asked me earlier about my tell,” he said after a moment. His eyes were fixed on the city in front of him, but he could feel her gaze. This time, it was he who couldn’t say the words to her face. “I gave you a half-truth. My tell, my true vulnerability, the thing that gives me away every time, is you. When you’re by my side, no one else matters. Not the rest of the team, not the job. Nothing.”

“Is that why you…?” She didn’t have to finish her thought. He knew what moments she thought of, the constant battle inside himself she became victim to. The back and forth, longing turning to avoidance that never managed to last. A cycle he had yet to fully break out of. 

He nodded, just enough for her to see it. “Van Eck knew. That day he…when he threatened to kill everyone else, he set the trap that I walked right into. In the moment when we were all in peril, he followed my gaze and saw who I couldn’t afford to lose.”

“That’s funny,” she said, and he stared down at her, the confusion written all over his face. She tilted her head back slightly, just enough to look at him without breaking the contact. “Had he turned his eyes to me, he would have seen the same thing. I guess we damned each other that day.”

“It’s not funny.” He desperately tried to keep the edge out of his voice, but control was a fantasy when his mind went back to that night, to the days he spent in fear of Inej being tortured or killed or worse. “I vowed to never let anyone hurt you like that again because of me. Because of what you hurting would do to me.”

The quiet settled back in, as if it had never left, as if their conversation had already dissolved into oblivion. Her head shifted slightly, eyes turned back to the city in front of them. He longed to watch her, to search in her face for the thoughts running through her mind, but she still rested against his shoulder, and he would rather throw himself off the roof than disrupt the comfort she seemed to find there. Patience was something he’d once considered a virtue, but now it was practically nonexistent. 

“We can’t control the rest of the world,” she finally said. “Nor can we stop people from coming after us. Torturing yourself to stop someone else from doing it for you doesn’t solve anything; it only guarantees pain.”

“I’m no stranger to suffering. I’d rather withstand self-inflicting wounds. Those I can control.”

“It's not just you who suffers at your own hand.” She broke apart from him, shifted her body until they were face to face. A chill settled in where her head had been. 

When Inej was walking above him, traversing through territory only few could manage, he’d allowed himself to pretend she was safe. That her perch protected her from the terrors that struck on the ground. But now, sitting above the rest of the world, all he felt was exposed. He was not Inej. He had no control here; be it to the elements or his enemies, or the one who held his heart in her hands. Every part of him was vulnerable. 

“When you hurt yourself, when you consign your life to misery on the basis that it’s coming anyway, you hurt me as well. When you keep your distance, I’m the one who ends up untethered. You want to protect me from suffering on your behalf, but all you're doing is delivering the death blow yourself.”

“I…I never meant—“

“I know,” she said, her voice gentle and calm and everything he’d never deserved. “But I refuse to accept that pain any longer. I can’t love you if you spend all your time demolishing yourself. I’ll go down with this ship, but I can’t stay if you’re the one poking holes in the deck.”

“You won’t have to.” He’d never been one for vows, but he spoke them now, wondered if any of her beloved saints could hear him. If they would even dare listen to someone as depraved as he. “I can’t promise a miracle. I won’t lie to you and spew falsities about changes in morality that I know are nothing more than a cheap trick of the light. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me. So every moment you choose to stay by my side is one I’ll devote to earning it.”

A crash from below sent them both to their weapons, before the sound of raucous laughter eased their grip. Kaz wondered if they’d ever stop anticipating the fight, if that instinct normally developed at childhood’s end, or if it was simply another consequence of living in Ketterdam. 

“I should probably go rescue my parents. We’ve left Jesper and Wylan to their own devices for too long.” He watched as she floated down the roof, as if the surface itself was flat and level, as if the force pulling them down to the ground was only optional. When she got to the windowsill, he expected her to disappear, but instead she stopped, hands gripping the edge of the roof. “You deserve better, too,” she told him. “Better than you’ve got. Better than you’re going to get. One day I’ll make you believe it.”

Kaz didn’t say anything, didn’t so much as breathe, not until she dropped through the window and out of sight. He stared at the spot she’d left behind. There was no trace of her, nothing he could point to to prove she was there. Only the catch in his breath and the chill on his skin. 

—

It was something he’d almost gotten used to by now. The smell. Saltwater had been one of the first things he’d learned to endure. Success and revenge both relied on the seas, so he’d spent as much time by the water as he could, until he could tolerate the scent without having to empty the contents of his stomach after so much as a whiff. It had been a lesson, he’d told himself. Every time served as a reminder that in order to beat Rollins, he’d need to leave the broken child behind. He’d need to become something better. Someone new. 

He didn’t know if it was the smell now that was nauseating, or the sight of the boat anchored on the harbor carrying Ravka’s double eagle flag. Inej’s parents had already begun making their way to the dock. Jesper and Wylan had given their heartfelt goodbyes back at the house; Kaz had said nothing, but followed a step behind them, just as he had upon their arrival. Inej never stopped him. He took her silence as an invitation. 

They’d passed The Wraith on their walk, and now his eyes kept trying to drag him back to it. Her ship turned his body and mind into a contradiction, elicited responses that shouldn’t have coexisted. Pride and fear, joy and sorrow, guilt and righteousness. It tempted him like a puzzle he wasn’t clever enough to solve, made him think that if he just kept looking, he might be able to sort it all out. To find an answer to a question he couldn’t ever ask. 

“You’ll watch over it when I’m gone?” He turned to face her, unsurprised that she followed his gaze even when the boat lay out of view. 

“Of course. I don’t abandon my investments.”

“Tell Specht he can start trying to put together a potential crew while I’m away. And that he’s got the job as my first mate if he wants it.”

“I’ll pass the word along.”

“Tell him to look into the girls first. The ones from the Menagerie.” 

“They may be hard to find,” he said casually. “Now that Heleen is shut down, most are scattered to the wind.”

“Then it’s a good thing he’ll have you.” Kaz raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. “I know you’ve kept tabs on them. Offered a place in the Slat, a new name and fresh start. Offered them a ticket home, too, if they have one.”

“I work for The Wraith,” he said in response. “She expects me to rid the world of evil women and men. Can’t do that if the girls have nowhere else to go.”

“What a formidable employer.”

Kaz smirked. “Rumor has it she’s got heartsick fools wrapped around her pinky, and slavers and scum crushed beneath her fist.”

“Is that so?”

“If the whispers are to be believed.”

“Sounds like a handful.”

“Only for the scum.”

“And for the heartsick fools?”

Sincerity slipped back in and he let it, forgoed the smirk and the sarcasm entirely. “For them, it’s an honor.”

Her own smile faded, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake. If the price of genuity was her laughter and lack of tension in her shoulders, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to pay it. “When I return — and I will, no matter what my parents tell themselves — who am I going to find?”

He wanted to tell her that he’d be the same person she left behind. That she could dock her ship and they could walk besides one another the way they have before, that nothing had to change if they didn’t want it to. But that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. And maybe, despite his own internal protests, that wasn’t the truth, either. 

For as long as Kaz Brekker had been alive, he’d had one singular purpose. Every choice and decision, every move he made, was done in service of that goal, the heist within all the heists. Brick by brick required time and diligence, so much so that it hadn’t left room for an after. It didn’t matter what name he used; the dominance, the relevance, the very existence of Pekka Rollins was never going to survive. Until the dust settled and he was still standing, Kaz didn’t think he would, either. 

But here he stood. And here she stood. The waves crashed against the harbor behind her, each one with a different incentive: the threat of drowning, the promise of infinite possibilities, the rueful fate awaiting any who would seek to control them. The sea dragged out what was left inside the infamous Kaz Brekker as easily as it pulled in the tide. In its wake, a rare type of tranquility remained. He had no plan, no scheme. There was only one thing left to give.

“I’m not sure,” he told her. He prayed she could hear the truth in his words. “But I know that each time you traverse the seas, I’ll be here on the shore. And whenever and wherever you decide to land, I’ll be there. Anything you need — support, supplies, a place to lie your head — you’ll have. What’s mine is yours. It always was. It always will be.”

Inej stared at him. If they were other people, he knew this would be the time for desperate hugs, for clinging to one another in some last ditch effort to fight off the sands of time. But they weren’t other people. They were Kaz and Inej. Products of the Barrel. Broken in all the same places. And he wasn’t sure he could handle holding onto her just to let her go. 

So they watched. Her eyes held the kind of radiance that the poets preached about. The wind pushed her braid back just slightly, as if it was trying to pull her toward the sea. The hilts of her knives glistened in the sun, peeking out only in places where he knew to look. If he was a religious man, he’d tell her she looked like a goddess, a deity escaped from whatever world lay beyond their own. If he followed the faith, he’d tell her that no saint, not even the one blessed with sunlight, could possibly outshine her. If he wasn’t a coward, he’d confess that he had already begun to pray for her, to beg the water to bend to her will, to keep her ship and her mission and her body and soul all in one piece. 

Years of walls crumbled under the weight of her gaze, and he let them with no resistance. He wasn’t sure what she saw when she looked at him, but he hoped she could hear the words he could not say. And the selfish, undeserving part of him wished she’d feel the same. 

The blaring horn from the ship fractured the moment. Neither of them flinched, but he watched her turn back, glance behind her at the vessel waiting to take her home. 

“I should probably go,” she said, but her feet stayed planted, her eyes already back on him. 

Courage came in the form of fear, his desperation to keep her in front of him shoving out words he hadn’t planned on saying. “When you return, who am I going to find?”

“I’m not sure.” She spoke slowly, and he wondered whether admitting it came with the same distress, the same relief, as it did for him. “But no matter what happens, I can promise you that I’ll come back. Not just to Ketterdam, or my ship. I’ll come back to you.”

“Why?” He felt sliced open just asking. No one else had ever had so many chances to destroy him without taking a single one. Part of him wondered when the shoe would drop, when the inevitable would happen and she’d turn her knife against him. How would her face look when she had his life in her hands? How long would it take her to realize he would welcome death with open arms rather than resist her? Kaz could think of no better way to die, no better way to live, than at her mercy. 

“A shadow,” Inej answered with a smile, “can only stray so far before the sun pulls it back where it belongs.”

He shook his head. “I’m the shadow; you’re the one who deserves to walk freely of me.”

She stepped closer, and his breath caught in his chest, sat right above his heart in glorious, agonizing anticipation. “Then every night I’ll pray for shade, so us figments of the dark can disappear together.”

Inej reached up, and it was only then that he noticed the gloves on her hands, thin and sleek, the same color black as his own. Despite the barrier, his heart still fluttered when she brought her hand up to his chin. She stood like that for a minute, her eyes searching for permission, and Kaz didn’t know what she was asking for but the answer would always be yes, yes, yes. 

Leaning toward him, she turned his head slightly, brought her lips to his cheek. They only touched for a second, maybe two, but it was enough to elicit another internal vow. He would find a way to fix as many of his jagged, shattered parts as he could, because the next time she brought her lips to his skin, he wanted to feel euphoria unburdened by anything else.

“I know I’ve said it before,” she whispered, “but thank you. For all of it.”

Whatever words, whatever courage he might have had, evaporated as quickly as it had come. The ship horn blared again but he kept his gaze steady, stole one last look, memorized the moment before it could fade. Inej lingered, as if she was doing the same, before she took a breath and turned around. 

Kaz watched. He watched her board the ship side by side with her parents. He watched her turn back as it began to pull away, the lone traveler facing Ketterdam rather than the endless sea. He watched until the ship disappeared into the horizon, the sight of it swallowed up by the glare of the sun. And even when it was gone, he watched for just a little bit longer, as if his eyes could carry her across the sea and into the safety that only existed in dreams and on a stage.

Turning around still hurt. Part of him longed to stay anchored to the harbor, to wait for her in the very spot she’d left him. But instead, he pulled his watch out of his pocket and began walking toward the Barrel. There was no time for standing around and waiting patiently. Not when he worked for The Wraith. She expected him to scrub their dirty home clean, and despite all his failings, Kaz Brekker refused to disappoint.