#gvbbfic21
And here is my second fic for the @grishaversebigbang ! ZOYALINA BABIES! So much love to my wonderful gang, you are all so sweet and talented and supportive and it was a true joy working with you on this!!
Beta Readers:@purns-art
@floriahart
Artists: @krasnyzmeya[X]
@kiiro-art [X]
@generalstarkov [X]
@octopiconsortium [X]
@paperplanenomad [X]
@lemonpuffin [X]
@polekands [X]
@novembereverart [X]
Rating:Mature
Relationships: Zoya Nazyalensky/Alina Starkov, David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Darkling has one-sided feelings for Alina, friendship trio Alina/Zoya/Genya, Malina (platonic)
Additional Tags: Growing Up Together, Zoya PoV, Alina grows up at the Little Palace, (sort of — from the age of 13), Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Pining, so much pining, 4 years of pining, Zoya “i won’t say i’m in love” Nazyalensky, Alina “i’m too dumb to see what’s right in front of me” Starkov, and now for the Darkling-related content warnings, cw: grooming, cw: ancient man has feelings for underage girl, just cw: darkling really, Coming of Age, Jealous Zoya, Getting Together, Slow Burn
Summary:
“Come on, please,” a little voice begged. “Please don’t die.”
Zoya struggled to flutter open her frozen lashes. “What…”
Above her leaned a girl with tears pearling from her eyes — and they were such beautiful eyes, dark as trees and oceans in the night. She looked Zoya’s age or thereabout, with silky black hair and a pale, delicate face.
And, impossibly, the girl was glowing.
————–
An AU in which Alina gets taken to the Little Palace at 13, and her relationship with Zoya ends up following a very different route.
[Ao3 Link]
| Beginning of chapter 1 under the cut |
The snow was black with blood. Zoya’s blood. Her back burnt against the frozen ground; the cold seeped into her wounds. The white tiger had pierced her kefta, her jumper, her skin, leaving her bleeding and exposed to the frost. The mythical beast’s body lied a few feet from her, sprawled against thick roots. Its spine was bent in half, broken. Zoya hadn’t intended to kill it when she’d summoned a desperate gust of wind. She hadn’t intended anything except to survive.
That impulse seemed very distant, now.
Is this how I die? Alone in the cold, my blood in the snow?
She was barely thirteen years old. There was so much more she’d wanted to do, so much more she had to prove, but the frostbites were spreading up her limbs. The Darkling’s grisha were sleeping, or they simply didn’t care. No one was coming to help her.
The tiger cubs were long gone. At least they would be free to grow as strong as their mother — not reduced to a greedy grisha’s trophy or a male tiger’s meal. The thought was strangely comforting. The cubs would live.
Then, Zoya felt sunlight.
Warm, gentle on her skin. It had to be death coming to claim her — why else would she feel the heat of the sun in the middle of this winter night? Even during the day the sun wasn’t this warm, this close to the Permafrost.
This is a nice way to go, she thought. Zoya had always been more suited for warm weather.
“Come on, please,” a little voice begged. “Please don’t die.”
Zoya struggled to flutter open her frozen lashes. “What…”
Above her leaned a girl with tears pearling from her eyes — and they were such beautiful eyes, dark as trees and oceans in the night. She looked Zoya’s age or thereabout, with silky black hair and a pale, delicate face.
And, impossibly, the girl was glowing.
“Oh thank the Saints, you’re awake,” she said with a laugh that shuddered in relief. “Y-you’ve lost a lot of blood, but it’s going to be okay, alright? You’re going to be okay, I promise. Mal went to get some bandages—”
Zoya could barely hear any of her words. She was glowing. Her light was bright and warm, as though the sun was trapped under her skin. Zoya had been around grisha power for years, surrounded by every prowess of the Small Science, and she had never seen anything like this.
“Why are you…” But Zoya’s voice trailed off, weak. Even with the soothing warmth, it hurt. It hurt so much.
The girl said something else, something that sounded panicked, but suddenly, she stopped. Silence engulfed the clearing. The sounds of the forest vanished, all at once — even the wind quieted, even the distant howls of animals.
At the edge of her vision, Zoya noticed the Darkling.
The girl’s sunlight died like a snuffed candle, throwing the world back in darkness, and just as quickly she was bolting out of the clearing into the thick of the forest. The Darkling shouted something, his shadows thrusting outward, chasing after the girl.
Dimly, Zoya hoped he wouldn’t catch her.
The thought was confusing, inexplicable, but she didn’t have the strength to examine it now.
All she could do was close her eyes, and lie in the snow.
Soon, everything was dark again.
Here is my first fic for the @grishaversebigbang ! It’s been a lovely journey writing the kanej story that’s been in my head since i finished crooked kingdom years ago ♡ I hope you enjoy it, and the lovely art my team-mates made for it! And special thanks to my beta-readers for your help!
Beta Readers:@franklevesque
@silvercloud-18
Artists: @kayadraws[X]
@cassecorrea [X]
@art_by_alyssa04 [X]
@tiaragloryart [X]
@corvidinacape [X]
Rating:Teen And Up Audiences
Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa (romantic), Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey (platonic)
Additional Tags: Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom, Canon Compliant, Healing, Apologies, Meeting Inej’s parents, Inej and Kaz learning to be close, First Kiss, Domesticity, Comfort, Character Study
Summary:
“Kaz opened the door, and the sight of her was almost enough to make him forget everything — the pain, the guilt, the turmoil of emotion this day had been. A string of tension snapped, releasing him. She was at the window, dark hair loose to the wind, casually perched on it just like she used to, before everything. The crows she’d taken the time to feed fretted around her, recognizing her careful fingers. A younger one had nestled in her lap, and gently, she petted its ruffled feathers.
‘Pretty’ was nowhere near enough. She was every beautiful thing in the world.
Kaz found the breath he’d lost, and felt a tired smile bloom on his lips.”
——
Six months after the events of Crooked Kingdom, Kaz Brekker begins to heal. It starts with a long-owed apology to a friend, and the return of the Wraith in Ketterdam.
[Ao3 Link]
| Chapter 1 under the cut |
Kaz had never thought about what would happen after he avenged Jordie.
Truth be told, he hadn’t expected to live this long.
He’d survived, somehow. He’d lived through plagues and suicide missions, through every unforgiving odd the Barrel had thrown at him, again and again, he’d clung to the painful scraps of his life kicking and thrashing. Whenever he’d considered giving up, whenever pain had pierced through his leg, vengeance had kept him alive. Vengeance had kept him walking. But his vengeance was over, now, and Kaz Brekker was still alive.
It was a cold morning on the fourth day of winter, and he was turning eighteen.
He hadn’t intentionally kept track of Kaz Rietveld’s birthdays; those of his rebirth when he’d emerged from the harbour had always seemed more significant. But try as he might, he hadn’t been able to forget the smell of cinnamon cake in the morning, the excitement in Jordie’s eyes as he’d handed him a poorly-wrapped gift, the gentle sound of his father’s voice wishing him a happy birthday.
Nobody knew he was turning eighteen today. The omission was intentional. Someone could have used the information to track him back to his first life, and anyway, he’d never wanted the Dregs to give him their best wishes, or — Saints forbid — gifts. Up until now, this day had only served to fuel his anger more. It had reminded him of Jordie, which had reminded him of Pekka Rollins and of the boys they’d been before he’d killed one and ruined the other.
Today, there was no anger burning in Kaz’s chest. Nothing as simple and clean as that.
But the grief was still there.
He still missed Jordie. His voice still rang in his ear, shivering from the cold. He still remembered the hot chocolate he’d bought him, the warm cup between his hands; he still heard his laugh, his reassuring bravado. He still saw corpses whenever he closed his eyes. It wouldn’t be fair to say that avenging him had done nothing — it had quieted some of the rage, but the ache lingered, still, and Kaz missed his brother like he missed walking without pain.
He missed other people, too.
Inej was the most obvious absence. Lately, Kaz’s life was separated in two: when the Wraith was in Ketterdam, and when she wasn’t.
When she was in the city, even if she wasn’t by his side, the simple knowledge of her presence soothed a restless ache within him. And when he saw her? When she was perched on his window, looking at him with kind determination, when she told him of a job she needed help with — then, he felt like himself again. Kaz Brekker. A dangerous, faithless man who had somehow found himself on the path of something sacred.
He didn’t believe in saints or gods, but he believed in Inej’s purpose, and if she needed him to be Ketterdam’s monster while she terrified the oceans, he would be just that.
When the Wraith was at sea, however, Kaz was never certain she’d come back. She was strong, and dangerous; dangerous people died, too. Being strong didn’t save you from the storm. Being quick didn’t help when canons started firing. Any day her ship might sink, or Inej might simply decide she was done with Ketterdam.
He wouldn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure what kept her coming back here. She had never fit in Ketterdam, in the Barrel — she was entirely too good for this shithole.
Kaz, however, was exactly what this shithole deserved.
He’d known he would miss Inej the moment she’d stepped foot on the deck of her ship (earlier than that, perhaps he’d known it from the start), but he hadn’t expected how much he’d miss Jesper, too.
Jesper’s presence was one he’d taken for granted. He was so lively, his laugh just a little too loud, hands and legs constantly in motion: an energy Kaz would have found irritating from anybody else, yet one he’d come to rely on. He’d come to rely on him, not just because he was a good man and an excellent sharpshooter, but because while Jesper laughed and fidgeted, Kaz didn’t have to think about corpses in the water. And when Jesper looked at him with something like admiration, when he joked about his scheming face or his clothes, or when he talked too much, cared too much, hoped too much — when Jesper was around doing all of that, Kaz did not feel alone.
He felt very alone, now.
He hadn’t known he could still feel that way, after everything.
***
Kaz spent three hours looking for an excuse to visit the Van Eck estate.
‘Why do you always need an excuse, Kaz?’ murmured Inej’s voice in his head, gentle and taunting all at once.
Because I’m a coward.
Because I’m too proud.
Because I’m not sure I’d be welcome without one.
He eventually found one adequate enough. Jesper had apparently left a coat behind, one made of expensive Zemeni fabrics in turquoise and gold. He’d forgotten it in the Crow Club’s cloakroom months ago, but the courier Kaz had sent had decided to keep it to himself (never mind that it clashed terribly with his pale, reddish complexion). Now the courier had a broken nose, and Kaz carried a bag that contained Jesper’s neatly folded coat.
The walk to the Geldstraat was a painful one. With every step Kaz leaned more heavily on his cane, and with every step, he thought of turning back. The coat kept him on his track. It was a task more tangible than the words he needed to say — a clear, easily defined objective.
He had to bring Jesper his coat.
He could do that.
Seeing the Van Eck mansion brought in a mix of conflicting feelings, but the most potent one was pride. His crew had irreparably smeared the Councilman’s reputation and given control of his fortune to the son he hadn’t wanted; the sweet taste of that spite would refresh Kaz for many years to come.
A well-dressed domestic welcomed him into the towering estate.
“Kaz!” shouted Jesper as he ran down the stairs two-by-two. He sounded shocked and didn’t look exactly… happy to see him, but at least he didn’t seem angry. Kaz wouldn’t have blamed him if he was.
He nodded. “Jesper.”
He held out his arm, awkwardly handing him the bag.
Jesper took it, extracted the coat, and smiled. “Ah, I was wondering where that went!”
“The courier I sent tried to steal it.”
“So I see Dirtyhands has come to right this terrible wrong himself,” he grinned with no small amount of sarcasm.
Kaz felt the twist of a smirk tug at his lips.
“Thanks,” Jesper went on, slipping on the coat with a fanciful twirl. He looked great in it, of course — Kaz had the sneaking suspicion that Jesper could look good in anything. “Is that why you came? Because your courier stole my coat?”
Kaz hesitated. “In part.”
Jesper squared his shoulders, as though bracing himself for a fight.
“Alright.”
He led them to a small living room, furnished with expensive carpets, lush armchairs, and a particularly decadent chaise longue. They’d changed the floorplan of the estate somewhat since the last time Kaz had broken in there, but he could still make his bearings easily, instinctively looking for points of entry and exits.
There was no reason why he’d need to make a rushed escape from Jesper and Wylan’s home, but survival was a habit he couldn’t afford to drop, even amongst allies.
Jesper leaned on one of the cabinets, while Kaz, whose knee was now hurting too much to pretend he could stand, took one of the armchairs, containing a sigh of relief as he stretched out his leg.
Jesper’s fingers drummed on the wood of the cabinet.
“You seem to be doing well,” Kaz said, which sounded like meaningless small talk, but it was true. Jesper had filled up since the last time Kaz had seen him. His hair had grown, the coils meticulously styled, and his skin had a healthy glow to it. It was probably the consequence of Jesper’s new life in the lap of luxury, but it also reminded Kaz of how Nina looked after using her powers.
“Yeah, I am, actually!” Jesper grinned, dropping on an armchair close to Kaz’s in one elegant motion. “Turns out I’m surprisingly good at this whole businessman gig.”
“It’s not surprising.”
Kaz had some opinions about the difference between crooks and merchants (or lack thereof) and he’d always thought Jesper would excel in either profession if he could get his gambling under control. He was versatile, adaptive, brave, and uniquely smart, even if he often tried to hide all of those qualities under a veneer of cheap jokes and expensive charm.
He suspected Jesper sought to be underestimated on purpose, so that he might surprise and never disappoint. But Kaz had never underestimated him.
Not that he’d ever told Jesper any of that.
Maybe he should have. Maybe, if Kaz had valued him out loud as well as in his mind, if he’d been the kind of friend Jesper could trust enough to confide in, to ask for help, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in the desperate situation that had almost cost Inej her life and Colm Fahey his livelihood.
Maybe. Or maybe not. There was little point in rewriting history.
Jesper eyed him strangely. It looked almost like one of those old yearning glances he used to throw his way, when he hoped for more than Kaz could give. But whatever Jesper had hoped for back then, he was done hoping now. He looked aside.
“So where do you live, these days?” Jesper asked, fretful anxiety swirling under the airy words.
“Same as always.”
“What?” He gaped at him, leaning forward. “Are you messing with me? You still live in that tiny room up in the Slat?”
Kaz made a dignified expression that was definitely not a pout, and said defensively, “It’s not a bad room.”
“It’s a great room if you’re broke as shit and neck-deep in debts,” Jesper snorted. “Not if you’re a millionaire. Did you lose all your earnings already? Spent it all on girls, I bet.”
Kaz huffed something like a laugh. He wasn’t completely wrong. He’d spent a lot of his money on one girl in particular.
Rather than confessing that, he replied, “Still a terrible gambler, I see.”
“I’ll admit it was a hopeful wish more than a gamble. So?”
“My money’s fine. It’s been put in several lucrative investments.”
“Ugh.” Jesper pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Look. I don’t expect you to suddenly know how to have fun, Kaz,” he drawled. “Not everybody can have my impeccable sense of style and bottomless joie de vivre. But what’s the point in investing to earn more if you don’t allow yourself to spend some on the bare minimum of comfort?”
An acerbic retort was on the tip of Kaz’s tongue; he barely silenced it in time. Six months ago, rageful and exhausted, he likely would have spat the defensive words and cursed himself for it afterwards; today, he could be smarter than that. Even if Kaz didn’t appreciate being interrogated, Jesper was asking a reasonable question. He tried to think of a reasonable answer.
Why hadn’t he left the Slat? He could have bought himself an apartment, one where he’d have more space and privacy. He certainly had the means. Was it because the small confines of his room were familiar? Close enough to the Crow Club? Because he’d made it liveable, and he felt some kind of responsibility for it? Was it simply because he hadn’t had the time to change, hadn’t felt the need?
It was some of these things, perhaps. But most importantly, it was:
“I don’t feel safe when I’m comfortable.”
He regretted the words as soon as he said them.
Jesper’s eyebrows shot up, looking suddenly soft and vulnerable — looking heart-broken.
“Kaz…”
“Don’t,” he said, quiet and clipped. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t pity me. “Whatever you want to say. Don’t.”
It was unfair to cut him off like this, and even more damning besides.
Jesper’s shoulders slumped.
“Right.” His smile was bitter — nothing like the charming grins and warm smiles he usually gave away like flowers. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Silence weighed over them, thick and uncomfortable.
Eventually, Jesper sighed.
“So. What is it you need? Is it for a job?”
That hurt, somehow, even though Kaz knew he deserved it. He’d never tried to talk to Jesper outside of work before — those interactions had always come from Jesper and his relentless, ever-forgiving kindness. Even now, Kaz itched to respond to his disappointment by proving him right, by saying something hurtful, by being the heartless barrel boss he’d carved his entire life around.
But he hadn’t come all this way to fight Jesper. He didn’t want to fight Jesper. If they fought now, if Kaz was cruel to him as he had always been, he was fairly sure they’d never see each other again. And perhaps that would be for the best, Dirtyhands would think so, certainly, one less distraction to worry about, except — distraction from what?
Pekka Rollins was gone.
Jordie’s grief wouldn’t leave.
And Kaz had missed Jesper, weak as that admission made him feel. He’d missed him. That was why he was here.
Kaz swallowed, gloved fingers clenching into fists.
“I came to apologize.”
Jesper’s entire posture stilled, frozen. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, and right now, Kaz could almost read the emotions as they washed over him. Shock. (Understandable.) Fear. (Why?) Hope. (Unwarranted, but so very Jesper.)
And a clear invitation to go on.
Kaz had practiced the words on his way there, but he still struggled to string them together.
“I’m sorry for all the times I was rude and cruel to you,” he said. “It was on purpose.”
Jesper let out a short, incredulous laugh. It almost sounded like a sob. “You know that makes it worse, right?”
Kaz nodded. “I know.” He gripped the cane between his legs, finding in it some phantom support. “When I joined the Dregs, I didn’t want to make friends. I didn’t want to rely on other people. Not the gang, not anyone. But you…” His grip tightened. “You were very hard not to befriend.”
Jesper was stiller than he’d ever seen him, giving Kaz his full, undivided attention. The bright focus of it was more overwhelming than Kaz had prepared himself for.
“Even when you say something nice,” he said softly, sadly, “you make it sound like an accusation.”
“It’s how I felt. I resented you for it.”
“For being your friend?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head, incredulous. “That’s fucked up, Kaz.”
“I know.”
Jesper had no response to that. He looked at the ceiling, seeming deep in thought. Then, he leaned forward.
Decisively, he repeated the question from half a year ago.
“Who’s Jordie?”
The decaying muscles of Kaz’s leg twitched, sending a jolt of pain through him, a hurricane of ghosts and corpses and fetid waters. The very mention of Jordie’s name was a tidal wave — he wanted to run, he wanted to drown.
But this was what he’d come here for.
To make amends.
“My brother,” he admitted, so quietly it was a wonder the word could be heard at all.
A million questions shone in Jesper’s eyes, but he left Kaz the space to speak.
He’d never talked about this to anybody but Inej, on that ship to the Ice Court, and Pekka Rollins, when he’d taken his revenge.
But Inej was at sea.
Pekka Rollins was gone.
And Jesper deserved to know, at least some of it. He’d helped Kaz, saved Kaz, trusted Kaz. He deserved some pieces of who he really was, even if the pieces were broken and jagged.
“We grew up on a farm near Lij,” he began, voice low. “After our father died, Jordie took us to Ketterdam. He tried to take care of me, but he…”
Kaz closed his eyes, desperately trying to keep the demons at bay. He wasn’t doing a good job of it; their cold fingers were grabbing his wrists, clawing at his throat, dragging him back into the depths of the harbour. He tried to focus on the room instead, the leather of the armchair, the throbbing pain in his leg, Jesper’s grey eyes fixed on him, unwavering.
“He trusted the wrong people,” Kaz managed to utter, “and we paid the price.”
“So that’s why I make you think of him?” Jesper said. “Because I’m not trustworthy enough—”
Kaz cut him off. “You make me think of him because I care about you.”
Jesper stared at him like he’d been punched in the stomach.
“Every…” Kaz went on, hating the tremor in his voice. “Every fucked up thing I am today is because I once cared about someone, and this city took him from me. I promised myself I’d never be that weak again.” He noticed he’d started trembling — with a sharp gust of shame, Kaz forced his body to still. “It’s not an excuse,” he spit out. “I’m not looking for your forgiveness. I just wanted to explain, so you could… So you’d know.”
When Kaz looked up to him, Jesper had tears in his eyes.
But it wasn’t pity — not quite. It was a lot more complicated than pity, and perhaps that made it easier to accept.
“Thank you… for saying that,” Jesper murmured. “And thank you for not asking for my forgiveness.”
Kaz nodded stiffly. “Forgiveness is earned, not asked.”
At that, he smiled. “That sounds suspiciously like one of Inej’s proverbs. She said something like that to me, once.”
The bastard of the Barrel most definitely did not blush. “She’s a bad influence.”
“Clearly.” Jesper looked to the floor, his fingers drumming on his thighs the way he did when he thought intensely. He leapt up from his armchair, and served himself water with lemons from a pitcher. “It’s pretty amazing, what she’s doing, isn’t it?”
“Hunting slavers?” Kaz asked.
“Making a difference.”
Pretty amazing was somewhat of a euphemism for how proud Kaz felt when he thought of what Inej had accomplished in the past six months. She’d taught herself everything there was to know about sailing, picking it up as easy as she’d learnt how to be the best spider in the Barrel, and gathered herself a competent, trustworthy crew. Last month, the Wraith had taken down her first slavers’ ship. Quiet as the night, they’d slipped aboard, freeing the children and killing every last member of the crew.
Officially, the slavers had caught a bad storm on their way to Ketterdam — courtesy of the tidemaker Inej’s fervor had inspired to join her crew. But already, rumours of a vengeful phantom ship were spreading, and Kaz had heard the urban legends being whispered around West Stave.
Inej was only just starting, but they would learn to fear her soon.
Kaz gave Jesper a half-smile. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d also fancy changing the world.”
“Well,” Jesper replied, embarrassed, “maybe not the world; I do have some measure of my own limitations.”
“You could,” Kaz said simply. “You could do anything.”
They’d broken into the Ice Court. They’d stolen a Fjerdan tank. They’d bested some of the most dangerous and richest people in the world. If Jesper wanted to change things, who could stop him?
Jesper pressed his lips on the rim of his glass, looking thoughtful. He put the glass down. “What about you? Isn’t there something you’d like to change?”
Wasn’t there ever another dream? echoed Inej’s voice. At the time, he hadn’t been able to give her an answer. He still couldn’t.
How was he supposed to know, after all these years?
“I’m not much of a dreamer, myself,” Kaz said. “But if you find your path, and you need a conniving bastard to get there…”
“You’d help me?” Jesper said, somewhat hesitant. Like he’d never considered that possibility before.
Isn’t that what we do? Isn’t that what I owe you, after everything?
Out loud, Kaz simply said, “Yes.”
The sounds of steps drew near, followed by a small, polite knock.
The door creaked as Wylan entered the room, looking as flushed and shy as Kaz had ever known him, though that might have been due to his presence; the merchling had always been intimidated by Kaz. He must’ve been less tightly-wound when he was alone with Jesper — Kaz couldn’t see how the relationship would work otherwise.
“Hey, Kaz. Long time no see,” Wylan said, sounding sheepish, as though he was an intruder in his own home. “We’re serving lunch. Do you…” He trailed off, looking at Jesper with an unspoken question.
Jesper turned to Kaz. “Want to eat with us? The cook’s cuisine is decadent.”
His tone was not uncertain, exactly, but it was cautious. Back in the day, Kaz had never accepted anyone’s offers to spend casual time together, to the point where even Jesper had stopped asking, or at least, stopped meaning it when he asked. This was a genuine offer, but it was also a test of their new boundaries.
Are we the kind of people who can have lunch together, now?
Kaz was surprised to find that he wanted them to be — and what a strange emotion, to want. After so many years of need, he was still getting used to that softer, much more unsettling feeling.
But his leg was aching, and he already felt too raw, too overwhelmed by everything he’d said and hadn’t said in their conversation.
So, Kaz said, “Not today.” However, he added, “I could come next week.”
Jesper beamed. “Dinner on Saturday?”
And though Kaz couldn’t quite believe it himself, he agreed.
What an honor to create this piece for the beautiful fic by @nuclearnik don’t forget to check out the other amazing artworks by these fine people @blursed-caw@deudly@elle-bo-illustrationand@zapeta12 and of course a huge thank you to our corporalki @simplifiedemotions it’s been so great being a “holy heartrender” for the 2021gvbb❤️
https://archiveofourown.org/works/33358816
Tougher Than the Rest - NuclearNik - Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo [Archive of Our Own]
https://archiveofourown.org/works/33651949
I had such a blast working on this piece for the amazing fic Sunspark by @destiniesfic where a young Alina Starkov is discovered as Grisha at a young age and brought to the Little Palace, where she must keep her powers a secret. Check out the other awesome artwork done by @proporgo @blursed-caw@llysaan and thank you to our corporalki @elviriel
‘A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat’ - Chp. 1!
Gang banner by @verdiris
A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat
A trunk of contraband items ends up in the hands of the Crows, but the item that piques their curiosity most is the large box labelled “MONOPOLY”. Kaz is out of the Slat for the time being, so of course they decide to play it. Was there ever a mission more likely to fail than six criminals with lethal skills and undeniable emotional ties all trying to build a make-believe empire without killing each other in the process? Answer: yes - all of the above while attempting to pull off a heist at the same time.
Turns out board games weren’t the only interesting items shipped into Fifth Harbour that afternoon, and now the Razorgulls are interested. It will take all of the gang’s effort to break into two buildings full of rival gang members, regain possession of the contraband, and make it back to the Slat in one piece. And that’s without the inherent strains of playing at business negotiations with a group of decidedly underhand friends.
Join the Crows as they cheat, steal, lie, and bribe each other, all before the heist has even begun.
I am so excited to finally get to share the fic that I have been working on for the @grishaversebigbang over the last few months - A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat! Getting to take part in the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021 has been so much fun, and I have had the honour of working with an absolutely incredible gang of artists and the loveliest beta reader. It’s been an absolute blast, and this is one of my favourite things that I’ve written. Thank you so much to everyone that I’ve worked with, and I hope that you enjoy reading and admiring the story and art that we’ve created!
Here is everyone in my gang, with links to the work that they’ve created (some art may relate to chapters of the fic that haven’t been posted yet - the fic will be posted in its entirety within the next 3 weeks and the art will be linked within the fic on the relevant lines, but also there’s nothing that will spoil the story for you, so don’t worry!):
Corporalki:@davonysus (who is the most wonderful beta reader, thank you for everything that you contributed to this story!)
Materialki:
- @ciph3rrr with hilarious Crows-minus-Kaz Monopoly shenanigans from Chapter 1
- @j-wirth with this brilliant Inej and Wesper moment inspired by Chapters 2 and 7
- @bloodysusher with a gorgeous group moment in Chapter 7
- @verdiris with some amusing Kaz geniusness from Chapter 7
- @maximumbluebirdpatrol (link still to come)
- @emmaxtw (link still to come)
There are 7 chapters in total, so I shall be uploading a new one every Tuesday and Saturday until 25th September. Look below the cut for an excerpt from Chapter 1, and if you want to read the full thing (and check out the collection of all the other incredible pieces created for the GVBB) then click either of the links. I hope that you enjoy!
AHOTBIWTOTG Chapter 1 Excerpt:
The front door of the Slat opened with a loud clatter, and slammed shut on itself seconds later. It made Inej jump in her seat as she sat going over ship documentation - which, as it turned out, there was a lot of - in the front room. Nina gave her a look, and Inej wrinkled her nose back at her; the Wraith didn’t startle easily, but equally, there was usually less banging of doors while she tried to organise her finances.
“Honeys, I’m home!” Came Jesper’s voice. “And I brought treats!”
“It had better be more exciting than that time you came back from Cilla’s Fry with meat pies,” Inej called back. “That was underwhelming.”
“Speak for yourself,” Nina chimed in. “I was more than happy to finish up those.”
“We know.” Matthias gave her a knowing look, and Wylan sniggered as she raised a single finger at him in response.
The bickering that came from everyone trying to work on separate projects at the same time was one of the many reasons that Inej hadn’t made it past the first page of her sailing license. That being said, she joined in the chuckling at Nina’s expense.
“Oh, it’s definitely better than Cilla’s pies, but you’ll have to take a look for yourself.”
Jesper rounded the corner, a large trunk tucked under one slim arm. His face was bright from the brisk, cold air of the streets, and a bead of sweat dropped from his chin as he deposited the luggage on the table beside Inej. She sighed heavily as the wad of pages in front of her jumped with the sudden extra weight.
“Sorry,” Jesper grinned. She just rolled her eyes fondly in response.“Come on, who wants to see what I’ve got?”
Nina, Matthias and Wylan all got up from the neighbouring table and crowded around Inej and Jesper. It was uncomfortable having so many significantly taller people stood behind her while she was sitting, so Inej scooped up her papers and deposited them on the floor, taking their place on the table so that she could get a good look at the trunk.
“Where did you get that?” Matthias asked.
“Well, our dearest Kaz decided to put me on shipment duty and I had to wait around at the Exchange for a boat full of contraband to come in. It took hours, so as soon as I saw something that looked interesting, I used my innumerable skills to swipe it so that we could take a look inside.”
““Innumerable” is a long word for you,” Nina quipped.
A bubble of laughter rose up amongst the group, and Jesper stuck his tongue out childishly. “Fine, no contraband for you.”
“No, I want to look!”
“Be nice, then. I get first dibs on anything cool because I found it.”
Matthias snorted. “What happened to the ancient rule of “finder’s keepers”?”
“I found the trunk, therefore I found anything that’s inside it by proxy.”
“Can we just open it up?” Wylan said impatiently. “I feel like we’re building expectations by arguing like this – it’s probably smuggled whiskey or something.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Kaz?” Inej asked. The others gave her a look of incredulity. “Where is he, anyway?”
There was a brief moment of looking at each other for answers, before Jesper answered decisively. “If he was so worried about what came in on the boat, he would’ve gone himself. And if he isn’t here now, then he’ll just have to accept whatever is left over from the spoils.”
“We aren’t actually pirates, you know,” Inej said.
“Not yet,” Jesper stage-whispered in reply, and Inej found herself grinning, pleased. “Gather around, then.” He beckoned everyone closer like a ringmaster at the centre of a performance.
Inej was surprised to find that her heart was actually beating faster with the thought of what might be inside. Wylan was probably right that they were getting themselves worked up over nothing, but all the same, she couldn’t help hoping that they found something rare or exciting. Perhaps it was gold? Guns? Something dangerous? You could never know when it came to the imports of Ketterdam, and for once Inej was glad for the intensity of life in the city. It could very well be something extraordinary.
The catches on the front of the trunk lifted easily, but there was a thick knot of string around the middle as well. Jesper struggled to untie it, so Inej slipped a knife from her sleeve and cut it off with one flick of her wrist. Giving her a mischievous look, Jesper dug his fingernails under the lid and with a crackle of flaking rust, the trunk opened.
On top there was a loose gauzy scarf clearly intended to keep moisture out of the trunk on the long sea voyage, which had definitely served its purpose; the red print had blotted itself onto the inside of the lid, and there were water stains on it where it had protected the rest of the cargo. Matthias and Nina went to grab it at the same time, but it ended up in Nina’s hands regardless as he passed it to her with a shy smile.
“I thought you would want it, so I was making sure no-one else got there first.”
Wylan made an exaggerated gagging noise, and Matthias’ expression quickly reverted to his familiar scowl.
“Aha!”
Jesper reached forward and pulled out two pistols, both only a little rusty and with a single blue gem stamped into the body of each. With impressive speed he turned around and mimed firing two shots at the wall before holstering them beside his favoured revolvers.
As Matthias pulled out a slim soft-covered book, Inej realised that she was far too focused on the discoveries of her friends and was going to miss out on finding her own treasures otherwise. Lifting up two more scarves – this time green and blue – she found another couple of books which she handed to Nina. Her friend’s focus was pulled away from adjusting her hair under her newly matching scarf to flicking through the pages and wrinkling her nose hard.
“I don’t recognise the language, but I can understand it well enough,” Nina mused.
“Where did the boat come in from, Jesper?” Wylan asked as he opened a small wooden keepsake box full of golden rings in varying levels of ornate decoration.
“Kaz didn’t say, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay much attention.”
Nina tutted and continued her reading with Matthias peering over her shoulder. With fingers now covered in rings, Wylan pulled out a long fur coat that smelt of mould. Removing its furry cuffs from the case, Inej reached into the trunk for what seemed to be the last item: a big box made of thick card, with a green cover and the word MONOPOLY emblazoned on the top. The lettering was incredibly clear, but it didn’t look as though it had been done by hand or with a printing press. It had an odd shiny feel to the outside as well, like it had been coated in order to keep out the damp.
Inej sat it on the table and lifted the lid. It came off easily, and revealed a large square of that same thick card in bright red that unfolded into a larger board with regular markings on it.
“What in the Saints’ names is that?” Nina remarked, putting down her reading material.
“I have no idea. It was at the bottom of the trunk.”
“Is it a map?” Wylan suggested.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Inej murmured as she put the board down and looked at what was left in the box.
Underneath that map-like object was a tray divided into several compartments, with little silver tokens collected in one, some colourful playing cards of an unknown variety in another, and some appealing little houses done in an unusual material in both green and red. Beside those lay a rack of what looked like currency, in the same shape and thickness as notes of kruge. Jesper immediately started rifling through it all, mixing up the various collections and inspecting them all with irregular attention. Although Wylan slapped his hand away with a tut, it clearly wasn’t out of lack of interest.
“What is it?” Nina asked again. Taking the board in her hands, she began to stumble through the words written on it.
“Collect 200… something, looks like it could be a currency symbol because it says “salary” after that, as you pass GO… Old Kent Road, another amount of money… sixty? Community chest, Whitechapel Road, same amount of money as the other square…”
As she turned it over in her hands, a slim white booklet fell out onto the table. Inej started forward and managed to snatch it up before anyone else did, although the gesture was useless as she immediately handed it to Nina, who skimmed over the first few lines and let out a delighted noise.
“It’s a game! A board game! Seems like you play by going around the board which has place names marked out on it, and you buy up the land so that you can build houses on it. And you compete to earn the most money.”
“Who’s sending weird foreign board games to Ketterdam?” Wylan said incredulously. “Are you sure it’s not got something contraband hidden in there somehow?”
Inej laughed. “Does a game based on financial gain not strike you as the most Kerch thing in the world? I can well believe a mercher bought this to educate their children on the fun of working under Ghezen.”
Wylan cracked a grin at that, and Nina snorted. She pushed the box towards him.
“Take a look if you want.”
He lifted up the tray of items and ran his fingers along the underside, then looked inside each of the little model houses as if there might be gemstones wedged in the base like on Jesper’s guns. Wylan tapped along the top of the board, but there were no hidden compartments or secret openings. It seemed as though they had genuinely come across some kind of entertainment from another country.
“Shall we play it?” Jesper said with a broad grin at everyone. “We’ve got nothing else on, have we?”
“I’m meant to have applied for my sailing license by the end of next week,” Inej said weakly, but she wasn’t much interested in her own excuse. This bizarre-looking game they had stolen by chance had already caught her attention far more than boat permits and crew-hiring documents.
“I’m happy to,” Matthias said, and Nina and Wylan nodded fervently as well.
“Perfect! Let’s not disturb everyone’s things down here, we can take it into another room.”
“Nobody’s bedrooms are big enough,” Nina complained. “Kaz is too cheap to give us enough space to actually enjoy our stay at The House of Brekker.”
“His bedroom is, though.”
