tw: alcohol, one (1) suggestive comment, demon imagery, death imagery, rot imagery, mentions of blood, mentions of burning word count:2.7k
Summary: something is growing within these kaelish boys, and you must gnaw at all they have to give.
The Crow Club was more lively than usual, the lights bright and the drinks at the bar flowing free. Patrons were betting more than their lives were worth on dice, and others were dancing skin-against-skin to the music of the in-house band - something energetic and fervent, with the same undertone of sensuality you couldn’t escape, this deep in the Barrel. The Dregs were celebrating a particularly successful job, and everyone felt sweet - like new money and strong drinks, like million-kruge smiles and saccharine lips. You took your drink from the bar and slipped through the restless crowds. You snagged someone else’s shot on your way out - just a little fun before the night calmed, and business went back to usual.
You found him outside the Club, standing in the corner beneath the portico, the bright lights of East Stave dousing him in orange and red hues. He heard you approach, and when his gaze met yours, the glint in his eyes was like diamond - his irises a dark Kaelish whiskey on the rocks. You propped yourself up against one of the black lacquered pillars to drink in his deep, brown depths. He leaned toward you when you stilled, and then, as though his mind caught up with him and thought better of it, he pulled away. You noticed - you always did - but back then, you didn’t mind.
Of all the games Kaz Brekker played, you liked this one the most.
“You’re not celebrating?” You spoke after the silence had settled, and all the world was glittering before you, almost soft-looking, the way the dark night blurred his roughened edges - obscurity sanding him smooth.
“I already celebrated—” you raised your eyebrows; he tilted his head “—I counted the kruge.”
You rolled your eyes, making a big show of it as you opened your mouth in a soundless scoff. You looked at him, again, and he was grinning (or maybe just flashing his teeth).
You still had the shot in hand, and seeing as the night wouldn’t get much better than this, you gulped it down, feeling the sting at the back of your throat. Sometimes, burning was your only proof that it was all real. Kaz looked at the other drink still in your grasp, the liquor swirling in a way that seemed like oblivion. His gloved hand reached out, dancing in the space between, and you held out the drink to him.
His fingers brushed yours. He was quick to pull the glass away.
The liquid sloshed against the side; the waters rose higher. Kaz traced the rim with his gloved finger - as though quelling the tide. You watched him carefully. The liquor wouldn’t climb higher than the glass.
“I hope your kruge was worth it.” Your words pulled him out of his head, and Kaz turned his gaze to you. “I hated that poor excuse for an outfit you had me wear at the casino. It was cold! And I never want to paint my lips purple ever again.”
You chuckled at your own joke, not missing the way Kaz’s eyes lingered on your lips, and how his own curled into a smile. It was something genuine, or so you believed, and such beauty was rare. The deep night carried warmth on the breeze, and for a moment, you both swayed together.
“Purple’s your color,” and his voice was so quiet, it was almost not there.
But you had long since learned to hear Kaz Brekker and notice changes in the rasp of his breath. He was closer, now, and you could see the way all his life stood on the edge of his glass - one tilt toward you, and everything might change. You hummed, and the world drew close around you. The night was dark, and the lilt of music still drifted toward you.
His lips parted; he whispered your name.
You wanted to feel his breath against your neck.
The door to the Crow Club swung open, and someone called for Kaz. The world flooded back towards you, and it was loud and uneven - tilted to its side, and jarring you awake. You huffed in annoyance, and Brekker nodded at the intruder. You didn’t know why you were surprised - no one could afford privacy in Ketterdam. The door to the Club slammed shut, and the evening shifted with it.
You raised an eyebrow, half-amused, but not quite. Kaz leaned in, but he never crossed the full distance. “It was worth it,” he breathed, but by the time you registered the meaning of his words, he was gone.
I don’t deal in monsters, but I have met men and I have held their death. I have cradled a demon in my lap, and I have watched the world do the same.
The dying months in Ketterdam were brisk, but somehow, it was in those weeks that the sun shone brightest. It confused many, but you understood. An island of contradictions had to be beautiful in them at some point - otherwise, no one would fill her harbors. The sun painted the sky in burnt, orange hues as you sat in the Boeksplein, papers all strewn around you, with Nanko on your left and Jem on your right.
You looked at Jem until he noticed, then you shifted the other way.
This was the dozenth time you’d met them here - on one of the benches in the vast courtyard - a brief get-together in between classes, where the world around you was taking its failing breaths, and you contemplated just when you would follow suit.
“It’s too florid, isn’t it?” And you gnawed on your bottom lip, creasing your eyebrows just so.
You had cultivated this closeness between you slowly - like an aria - one step, then another. It had started with nights at the wall. Then meetings like these - clandestine moments stolen from the stream of time - sweet encounters between classes, where the world was amber-colored. Honey.
The first time you tracked them down, it was under the pretense of giving them back something you’d taken - a sheet of poetry Jem had shown you, one night by the wall - something still incomplete and not yet raw. They had been surprised you cared, rather than shaken you knew how to find them, and it would make all the difference, in the end.
The next time you chatted with them, you made sure that Nanko spotted you. The time after, it was Jem who sought you out. You had met enough times to make your presence comfortable and made just enough gambles to ensure your admissions felt right. They wouldn’t be surprised to know you, now, and it would save you when your hand was played.
This time, you had found them to share a piece of your own writing - something flowered and kaleidoscopic, romantic, and not quite breathing. You loathed it, from the moment you penned it. You hated that you had once believed its fragrant lies.
But you smiled at them, innocent, and asked for their opinion. You were all new to this, after all. Little things like yourselves should cling together.
“No! No.” Jem smiled and licked his chapped lips. He caught your gaze, and you held it more carefully than a smoking gun. “I like it. It just… feels different than what you’ve written before.”
On your face, you painted the visage of an embarrassed longing. You let your fingers dance outward as though subconsciously testing what lay between.
You bit down on a smile; you looked up through the lashes of your eyes. “I got some inspiration, is all.”
Jem shifted closer. You pretended that it sent you reeling.
You shook your flustered head. “I mean… I’m a nutcracker, after all. Remember the soldier prince? ‘My life began with wanting something for myself’.” —(and what did you want, now that you were just heaving?)— “We all have to find something to covet.”
Jem’s eyes glittered like far diamonds; Nanko bowed his head.
The clock marked the hour, then, and they were off to their next lesson. Nanko was swift as a rabbit - like some kind of prey that was too smart to be taken alive. Jem lingered in his farewell - as he had done for some time now - standing up slower and catching your eye before turning around.
Your mouth fluttered into a smile because it was designed to. You looked into his dark eyes because it was your con, and when they caught the sunlight, you pretended not to notice the shade of their depths.
They were just brown, and you were just a nightingale.
“If you refine your poem and bring it to the next meeting, I can help you carve it.” Jem fiddled with the strap of his bag. He had remembered what you said, one night, about his beautiful penmanship. He clung to your every word.
“You don’t think it’s too shallow for the wall?”
“It’s truthful, isn’t it?” And you didn’t know what to do but smile. Jem shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. Sometimes, they still snagged. “That’s all it has to be. And if it is, it’s enough.”
Enough. You hoped it would be, in the end.
“I’ll bring it, then.”
He was dazzling with the light of the sun before he was gone. You watched him as he left - his black curls bouncing with every step - and it was hard to mourn the living. The Kaelish boy was a dreamer - like he didn’t yet have smoke trapped in his lungs or a demon curled in his lap.
What a beautiful thing - to be that alive.
You sat on the bench for a moment, and the world passed you by. Two weeks had passed since you began this lie; for fourteen days, you had been living a version of the life you’d always longed for - something tied in poetry and lined with expressions of love. Part of you longed to enjoy it, but another, more broken division demanded you end this game before it got out of hand.
Before their blood was on your silver dagger, their fortune in Kaz Brekker’s coffers.
Silly thoughts - they’d get you killed. An actor was only so good as their scenes - a liar only as successful as the reading of their lines. The last time you had believed in your own artistic liberties, you’d paid the price for it, and so had others, dead and gone. This time, there would be no deviations from the plot.
The only mercy you had was time.
You made your way to the library, swallowing the Kaelish boy’s goodbye and feeling the way such a good-natured parting sat in the space behind your teeth. You slinked into the book-lined rooms of the library and wandered over to a table in the corner, writing little messages about the knowledge you’d gleaned. You breathed in deeply on lines that were harder to pen, and the honeyed smell of the University wasn’t as strong as it had once been; something in the shadows of your deeds had poisoned it. Already, it started a rot.
You found yourself choking on memories that no longer belonged to you.
“I’m not one for poetry,” a shadow had confided, once, in you.
And you had liked the way you danced around its jagged edges. You had coveted the broken knuckles and the fractured glances. You had longed for this shadow and the way you teased it in the hushed pitch of night.
You circled around it with a smile - close enough to feel its breath, far enough away to never touch its heart. “Ah, but you’ve never read mine.”
And your shadow liked to bare its teeth.
“(Y/n).”
You looked upward, and the darkened tendrils of the Barrel were gone. Quiet Inej stood in front of you, and just how long she’d been waiting to announce her presence, you’d never know. You blinked away the past, but for a moment, it lingered. It clung to you, unfreed.
But still, here you were: the library, the note, the con.
The Wraith had the mind to smile.
“Inej.” And despite the years of distance between you - stretches of time where you hadn’t seen her, and had only heard of the deeds of her ghost - the contours of your worried mind smoothed into something genuine. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
She took a seat across from you, and you wondered what the both of you must look like. The Wraith and a nightingale. A university student, and something more. In another life, such a scene would have never fit together, but Ketterdam liked to blur her edges and lines.
“A pleasant surprise,” you mused, smiling and tilting your head. “Did I wander too far, and Dirtyhands asked you to find me?”
Inej scoffed, as though the thought of losing you was impossible. “You’re not hard to track, y'know. Anyone could find you if they wanted to.”
You shrugged. “That’s the point, actually. I can’t be hidden and noticed.”
‘Why bring it up, then?’ a part of you insisted.
‘To hear something that isn’t my own desperate thoughts.’
“Are you here for this, then?” You folded your page of secrets and held it out to Inej. She hesitated, but took the note and slipped it somewhere within the folds of her vest. “I was going to take it to the Geldcanal later tonight, like every week. Is that not soon enough for Brekker? Does he really need it now?”
For a hairbreadth of a moment, she didn’t meet your gaze. It betrayed more than it should have.
“What is it?”
Inej breathed in, and when she spoke, her voice was low and even. She was expecting something rash, then, was she? What ruin had Ketterdam brought you, now? “Kaz wants you to come to the Slat tomorrow night.”
You blinked against a wave of something more. “I thought he said—”
“One night won’t blow your cover. If you come late enough, everyone will think you just blew off some steam at the Crow Club and wandered your way in - no one will think much.”
You held in a scoff, and the bitterness was acidic. The Slat. You hadn’t been back there in nearly two years, and when you had left it, you swore to yourself you’d never pass its foyer, again. You didn’t need the Slat. Or, more aptly, you didn’t want it. It was just an extension of Dirtyhands - just another way you were indebted to him.
Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, Usurper of the Dregs. He was smart. Clever, even. Brekker always knew what made others tick. And more than that, he always knew when to play his hand.
You kept your tone even but raised a calculatedly curious brow. “Why not the Crow Club?”
And Inej tipped her head, something rueful in the depths of her gaze. Why did Kaz do anything he did? For power. For kruge. For the pleasant feeling of vengeful blood dripping down his throat. All the diamonds in the world wouldn’t compare to that copper taste at the back of his tongue. It would never be enough, and the acridity of him would soon burn all of Ketterdam through.
You wanted to scream. You wanted to leave. You wanted to burn all of Kerch.
You painted something calm on your face.
Inej blinked. It was as though she wasn’t sure what was reality, and what was your game. If you were to look in a mirror, would you know, yourself?
“Tomorrow night,” you conceded. “The Slat. I’ll stop at the Crow Club for a game, first - a cover story in case I’m seen. Who else will be there?”
“Jesper and I.”
That’s right. One of you was already gone. Nina had left on a barge to Fjerda, with a new face and long-aching woes. Inej would take to the seas herself, in a few months’ time, on sails of her own. Even Jesper was close to leaving the Slat - he’d still be caught in the web of the city, but he’d remove his place in its balance. They’d all be scattered to the wind soon - some of them already were - perhaps somewhere better than here. They were already gone, but some things would stay.
You would be at the Zelver, all the same, singing operas that would make audiences itch for someone to come home. Kaz would be in his office, working until the candles burned low, and everything in the harbor lost its breath.
“A reunion, then,” and your lips curled into something that resembled a smile. Inej settled comfortably into your features, and you ached at your own lies. “I haven’t seen you or Jesper in years. You might want to have a drink beforehand.”
REQUESTED: “A heist with split parts. Inej, Jesper and reader are in one place, working on stealing something Kaz needs. Him and Nina (or just rearrange the roles as you wish) are outside, backing them up in case of unexpected events. Inside, the three of them trigger a security system, only the two manage to get out, the reader gets locked in. Knowing she’s able to get herself out, they return without her before getting caught. They wanna plan accordingly, but Kaz get’s furious, worried, tense, you name it. Ignoring the danger and the plan, he goes back for her, killing and destroying everything in his way to get her out. How about in the end when she’s safe, all of the tension and anger falls off of him and a hint of previously hidden affection gets revealed, unintentionally? (Feel free to change something if you want to <3)”
SUMMARY: a carefully planned heist. nothing could go wrong, not if kaz brekker had planned it. but when everything goes south and the reader gets into trouble, it’s up to kaz to remain cold and analytical, it’s up to kaz to make sure everything turns out right.
WARNINGS: gore details?? (not too much), i used bells to keep track of time (so one bell means something that happened before four bells etc.). also, reader uses she/her pronouns and it’s in third person. if you squint, you can see spoilers for kaz’s backstory :)
WORD COUNT: 4093
A/N: I HOPE I DID YOUR REQUEST JUSTICE LEAH OR ELSE IMMA CRY.
summary: It’s easy to look at Ketterdam with rose tinted glasses when you’ve been away for so long, but YN learns the hard way just how cruel of a place it can be.
note: I know I made a post earlier but like THE LOVE FROM YOU GUYS is unbelievable and made this part all the more stressful to write because I don’t want to disappoint so please keep the feedback going and I hope this was a good part 2 for you all!
Ketterdam was alive at night, yet there was a short hour from when the crowds went home to when the workers awoke just before dawn to start their day.
The Slat, in its slouched state, always made noise even when there was a gentle breeze outside but as Kaz Brekker sat in his office, he heard not a single sound. Well, he could hear Inej and Jesper’s persistence as they knocked on his door repetitively, but nothing phased him as he sat leaning on his knees and staring at the paper ridden desk before him. There was one file he kept that hadn’t been opened in months now that he realized it. But his whole world seemed to go quiet as he looked down at it, reeling from seeing YN just seconds away from ending his life.
Suddenly, as if a marble statue moved after ages of standing still, Kaz hesitantly reached for the file and opened it.
There lay a dozen newspaper clippings, mainly from when the bureaucrats and politicians of Novyi Zem would make the pages with spectacular news from abroad, but only those where YN was pictured with a beaming smile among her family.
His eyes bore into the paper, gloved fingers slowly sorting through each andevery one, the aching growing in chest of all these years lost.
In that moment, he wanted to throw it all off his desk, a rage building up in him to hide his shame of never once seeking her out.
Underneath the clippings were mere stories of a concealed young woman who had been witnessed at the scenes of death of some of those high status individuals her or her father would be pictured with. The descriptions would have gone over anyone’s head, but Kaz had an inkling of an idea that those were her.
Scowling at himself, Kaz shut the small file and leaned back in his seat, looking away and sinking back in his thoughts.
Every time he tried to think of why she was here now, the circumstances of which he saw her again, he went blind with anger.
Perhaps, even a little hurt.
“Kaz Brekker, I will blow off your rotten door hinges if you don’t let us in.” said Jesper, his voice muffled from the other side of the door.
Finally hitting his breaking point, Kaz snatched his cane and jumped out of his seat, ripping open the door himself to find the pair of crows standing there mildly surprised he even answered.
“I told you not to bother me until she was awake.”
The two looked at each other.
“She is.” Inej hesitantly spoke.
Without another word, Kaz stormed by their gaping mouths as they stammered over their sentences. He needed answers and he needed her far away, the sooner the better.
“Who is she?”
“Do you know her?”
“Obviously she’s important if we brought her back here of all places?”
As Kaz walked up the stairs to the attic, their incessant questioning was giving him a headache, and the moment he stepped into the attic he slammed the door behind him, leaving the two of them behind which granted him a moment of peace.
But that was before he saw YN standing there, and Kaz knew, there was no such thing as peace in him when he looked at her.
—
It started with the aching, so profound that YN kept her eyes shut as she regained consciousness.
But the moment everything caught up with her, she jolted from the thin and worn down mattress she lay on in a panic only to find she was submerged in darkness still with only the light coming from the skylight.
As her eyes adjusted, she realized that was just a hole in the roof and looking around, she realized just how tiny this room was.
YN stood up on her shaky legs, bare feet pressing against the dusty floor, and as she went towards the opening, even she wasn’t dumb enough to try and escape. It would be a death sentence waiting. Pacing around, YN was about to bolt to the door but she froze at the sound of voices and couldn’t bring herself to move when she heard the door knob rattle.
Before she knew it, Kaz entered in a hurry, and her breath caught in her throat.
The door slammed, leaving them in a suffocating silence, and YN couldn’t breathe as she stared at him in the moonlight.
“Well, do you have a light so perhaps I can get a look at you one more time and see that you’re really alive?” YN urgently spoke, unsure of whether she should be defensive or not.
Without a word, Kaz turned towards a lantern hanging by the door and there was soon light after he put a lighter to it.
The shadows of such a small flame were enough to remind her of the shuddering feeling that Kaz was truly alive and well. Part of her was disappointed as she looked him up and down, not because of how he aged but because of how he stood there with an unnerving glare.
“What business do you have with Pekka Rollins?” his raspy voice questioned, breaking the silence between them.
YN raised a brow at him, chuckling. “That’s really the first thing you want to ask me?”
Kaz, looking down at gloved hands that rested upon his cane, remained composed.
“What did they offer you in exchange for me?”
“That’s not the point!” YN exclaimed, not realizing how loud her voice got until she felt her voice shake the walls
“Of course it’s the point! How could you ever work for that man?!”
It was his voice that nearly crumbled the ground beneath her, spreading an icy layer over her chest.
But she found herself laughing once more the more irate she became, stammering over the words to find for him. The man she looked at was not the Kaz she knew, and even in his hardened features, she thought she could still see him there. But there was not an ounce of kindness in his eyes.
“Do you truly believe I would have taken that job knowing it was you? Kaz, for Saint’s sake, listen to me!”
Tears burned her eyes, and she sunk back when he scoffed.
“Why should I?” Kaz scowled.
As Kaz watched her nearly squirm under his words, caught between the hurt and anger he felt too, a deep part of him called him to end this silliness. It was YN, the one person who caused him so much turmoil from so far away, and yet, here he was being angry for something that was entirely his fault.
“Because I’m your friend that you let believe that you were dead for seven years!” she shouted.
In the small ounce of light cast over them, the tears were shining over her cheeks.
Kaz looked away once more, growing tired of the guilt eating him alive.
“I mean, did you even bother to look for me? Let me know you were alive?”
YN’s voice finally cracked, and she internally scolded herself for her weakness, shaking her head. It was her turn to look away from him now. Her hand covered her mouth, the emotion wracking through her chest, and she refused to let herself be anymore vulnerable in front of him.
“It was complicated, YN.”
It was the first time he spoke her name to her, and his indifferent face fell for just a moment, but YN convinced herself it was just a trick of the shadows.
The silence came around again as she tried to wrap her mind around this all. It felt like a dream, or even a nightmare at this rate, and part of her was still in shock that she was standing before her best friend who looked at her like she were the enemy.
It was a look she could never even dream of, and that was how she knew this was all painfully real.
“Complicated.” she repeated, her voice low, drained from the fight.
A grim smile crossed her lips. “What was complicated was having to live with my monster of a father across the True Sea, mourning you every day, while you were here.”
Kaz’s eyes lifted from the ground, falling on her as she turned away from him now to gaze out through the hole in the roof. The ache in his chest was momentarily from her, and not the fact that he had done everything wrong—but that came shortly after too.
When YN turned around with her arms crossed, Kaz quickly averted his gaze.
“So what now, Kaz?”
The boy swallowed past a lump in his throat, finally bringing his eyes back to hers.
“You should leave. Crossing Pekka Rollins is a death sentence.”
Those were the last words she expected to hear.
They were a slap to the face, the last straw of pain she could tolerate in this late and exhausting night.
But Kaz couldn’t face her much longer as she stared at him with the most broken face he had ever seen on anyone and turned towards the door. When it opened, the two faces she recognized from earlier nearly came stumbling in from having been pressed on the door, and YN watched as he pushed through them.
Standing there, feeling consumed by a numbing cold, the two cautiously stepped in the room.
YN couldn’t face anyone else tonight, too ashamed to admit that Kaz truly wanted nothing to do with her.
“So, you knew Kaz but tried to assassinate him?” the Zemeni boy asked, a confused stare going from her to the door.
The Suli woman smacked his arm. “Jesper!”
A dry laugh passed through YN’s lips and she shook her head. “I knew him, yes. But that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.”
The woman shook her head and approached YN. “There was obviously a misunderstanding. You should stay.”
The boy shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, Kaz is a bit of a hard rock to crack he just needs some time.”
“He had seven years to tell me he was alive. I think I got the message.” YN said harshly, her arms unfolding from her chest.
But, she noticed her attitude was picked up by them and she sighed. “I’m sorry.”
They glanced at her with an understanding look, nodding at her, and that annoyingly awkward silence returned among the three of them. No one seemed to know what to do, and while YN didn’t want to move, she knew she needed to leave. Kaz was right, those men she crossed tonight were awful people.
“If you’ll be on your way, let me offer you a change of clothes.” The girl sighed. “I’m Inej, by the way.”
“And I’m Jesper. Sorry for uh, smacking you across the head earlier.”
YN chuckled, a genuine smile crossing her lips for only a second before she waved him off.
“No hard feelings.”
If YN was being honest with herself though, there were in fact, many hard feelings tonight.
—
Inej offered her a change of clothes and the moment she was dressed, YN left the home without wasting anymore time.
How could Kaz be surrounded by such kind people and turn her away as hedid? None of it could sink in just yet, leaving her alone with her thoughts as she walked through the early morning fog that rolled into Ketterdam.
It was a cloudy morning, the sky still a deep blue masked by the dense fog that almost made it impossible to see the end of the street. The lamp lights that lined the street were on, their flames flickering yet all she could see was little orange orbs as she walked down the middle of the street.
Not even the dewy air could compare to how cold she felt inside, every step she took away becoming heavier and heavier. In a matter of hours she found out her best friend was alive only for him to turn her away, and despite it being so unbearable, she had a nasty habit of pretending these things didn’t hurt.
It became easy at this point in her life.
As old memories flooded her head, there was an occasional shuffle in the street of strangers setting up shop or strays running down the alleys.
But there was one sound that perturbed her, a clicking noise.
YN immediately ducked just as the sound of a gun went off, sprinting for cover down the nearest alleyway to her right and pressed her back against the brick wall, holding her breath to listen for more sounds. There were footsteps approaching and she backed further down the narrow street between two towering buildings, the fog still holding her captive with no weapon in sight.
But as she backed down it, keeping her eyes peeled on the street, her backside collided with a brute force of a man twice her size and his arms wrapped around her neck.
Screaming out, YN stomped on his foot and bit down on his arm as hard as she could, hearing him cry out, giving her wiggle room to escape where she bought time by throwing her fist in his face.
A wave of pain shot up her arm, but more were coming now and she felt surrounded by faces she couldn’t see.
Darkly clothed arms came swinging towards her, and YN gracefully dodged as many as she could, finding faces to hit and places to kick but even she was no match for the gang that was surrounding her.
“You should never cross a Dime Lion, sweetheart!” Aemon’s voice roared.
“You’re not even in the stupid little club you bastard!” she yelled back, lunging herself at one of the men to make a break for it.
If she thought she couldn’t catch her breath before, YN’s lungs burned as she took off in a run down the alleyway, hoping to find a main street soon to get her to the docks. The run took her back to a memory that felt like ages ago when she was half the size and had double the will power to move as fast as she could, but it was all swiped away when another gun shot rang through the air.
All YN knew was that she fell to the ground at the impact of the bullet that skimmed her thigh, cutting deep but not enough to keep her from crawling away, staggering to get back on her feet.
Her hands and knees dug into the lumpy cobblestone streets, but she slipped as she tried to get up, heart racing as the footsteps came closer. The pain she didn’t feel moments ago was now coursing hot through her blood, and she grasped her leg to feel liquid seeping through her fingers.
“Dammit.” she harshly whispered.
When YN tried to stand once and for all, a heavy foot brought her back down as it stomped on her back, pressing her body to the Earth.
“You got a price to pay, darling.” said Aemon, standing above her now as she rolled on her back.
YN came face to face with the barrel of a gun, and time froze once more.
There was no escape, no way to fight back without a bullet lodging itself in her face, and for the first time in seven years, YN felt herself give up entirely. Her chest rose and fell, her breath blending with the fog of the early morning and she stared into the eyes of Aemon whose face was just beyond the gun.
“For failing to give me the head of Kaz Brekker, I’ll take yours.” he grinned.
But as the world slowed down around her, a crow perched upon a cane came swinging into the mans bald head, leaving her staring up in awe as the name of the man Aemon spoke seemingly popped into existence at that very moment
“Then you can die knowing you were a failure for not being able to get it yourself.”
Kaz’s voice made it all the more real, and YN lay stunned on the ground, watching as he dug the end of crane right into Aemon’s neck, blood spurting back up at him.
Just beyond the scene Kaz had caused, more gun shots rang and a larger fight ensued, but all her eyes could focus on the shadow he was, standing there with a wild look to his eyes only to become composed the second he looked down at her.
The pieces of his hair that fell over his forehead were simply brushed back with ease, and he extended his leather gloved hand towards her.
YN was still catching her breath, but took it anyway, standing up on her good leg only to watch Kaz immediately withdraw his hand and look back towards the fighting.
She swore she saw him grimace, but all of that went away when he looked back down at her, spots of blood dotting his cheek.
“You weren’t kidding about the death sentence.” YN exhaled, leaning heavily on her good leg as she tried to mask the pain that radiated from the other.
But Kaz was in no joking mood, and he pointed a finger at her.
“You stay with me—with us. No more detours.”
His eyes deferred to her leg, blood seeping through her trousers.
“You’re hurt.”
YN couldn’t fight the grin on her lips.
“Never mind that. You should have started with those words in the first place.”
Kaz mirrored her grin, but only for a moment.
“You had a knife to my face.”
As quick as they arrived, YN disappeared into the early morning with the Crows and as everything seemed to come together, part of her knew things wouldn’t be any easier from here on out.
summary: What is it like to see a ghost? After seven years of believing her best friend was gone, YN finds herself returning to Ketterdam only to find out Kaz Brekker has been alive all along. But the circumstances of their reunion make all that just more difficult.
pairing: kaz brekker x reader
The air went still and time itself stopped.
Such grief in a child could do that to the world, but none of it mattered anyway.
A little girl, no taller than the counters of the market vendor carts she passed, ran against the breeze coming inland from the tide, drying her unstoppable tears, and taking her heavy breath away. Strangers looked on at the child who weaved in and out of them, looking like she were running away from some inescapable darkness, when in fact, she was running towards it before she could even realize it.
No one bothered to give a second glance as if it were a normal day in Ketterdam.
“Kaz!”
The edge of the dock came near, the ship holding the bodies of the ill having sailed away and she arrived just seconds too late. She would have jumped in had her mother’s claws not snatched her back by the wrist, but the pull towards the water was almost stronger; the pull to her best friend’s body was almost stronger.
Almost.
No matter how much the girl screamed the boys name until her throat went dry and the irony taste became nauseating, she couldn’t pry herself from her mother’s grasp.
Her eyes, bulging with tears and the horror of losing her best friend, stared out into the gray sea and in that moment of stillness where the air didn’t phase her and time seemingly paused, everything had hit her.
“Darling, we have to leave. Your friend is gone.”
Not even her mother’s soft voice could crack through the wave of despair that left the child on her knees. Words became inaudible sobs. There was no numbness that came with her sorrow, but instead, she felt it all at once as her chest caved in over and over again.
“No, it’s not fair!” she sobbed, still weakly pulling from her mother’s grasp. “He can’t be gone!”
“Your father is waiting for us! We cannot make him late to his ship to Novyi Zem. You knew this was coming!”
The harsher tone that came from her mother was enough to instill some discipline in her, and suddenly, she had no will to fight.
But as her mother had to drag her from the docks, only to be put on another one, her eyes never left the water and she couldn’t escape the gut feeling that something was horribly not right.
Seven Years Later
Whether it be sea sickness or nerves, YN did not fare well over the rough waters through the True Sea.
Standing on the top deck, she sat on a set of small stairs with her knees up to her chest and stomach swirling no matter what remedy any of the crew tried to offer her. The salty air was knotting her hair and making her hands clammy, but the worst feeling of all was the fact that she had spent most of her coin on this trip.
From her spot on the stairs, she was high up enough to see a blur of land through the fog, but she was mainly observing the other passengers. They were all merchants one way or another, some rich and some scammers, but nonetheless, it was all business as they rode to the travel hub of the sea.
YN was here for another reason though, whether it be nostalgia or a detour for a bigger journey, she wasn’t sure just yet, but she had a job to complete either way she felt about it.
To be quite honest, she felt foolish for even thinking of coming here after so long with her last memory of this place being so cruel.
“We will be docking in Ketterdam shortly! Gather your belongings!” one of the old crew members shouted from behind her.
The thought of it being said aloud made her stomach churn just a little more, and as if on cue, the hazy skyline beyond the ports became visible.
YN sighed to herself, a shaky one at that, and threw up the hood of her cloak to prepare herself for returning home. She was almost sure that her family would send a search party after her sooner rather than later, she whatever business she felt compelled to do here would need to be quick and discreet.
Upon arriving at the dock, YN was the last to get off, basking in the rotten smell of the shore and grim faces that greeted her.
Ketterdam hadn’t changed a bit, but yet, as she strolled through the 5th harbor, there was still something different in the air.
The contact she met in Novyi Zem gave her a specific address in the East Stave to go to, the little note on parchment burning a hole in her pocket as she strolled around for old memories.
Walking the old cobblestone streets gave her a lighthearted feeling she couldn’t describe. Despite the taverns and gambling spots, it was still early enough in the day to see families walking around and children running with friends. Little did they know, they were walking in a place that essentially became a barrel of gun powder at night.
Although, it seemed that every crevice she looked in had been altered in the slightest, reminding her she wasn’t a child anymore.
Who knew seven years could pass in the blink of an eye?
As the night drew near, YN knew she shouldn’t be out on the streets much longer and hurried to one of the back alleys the address lead her to. The street name was familiar and by the time she found herself away from the noise of the main roads, an eerie feeling rose on her neck. The homes back here seemed to tower over her, casting shadows over the street even with a little daylight still left.
YN grew up on these streets, yet her pulse was racing as if to anticipate something more.
She wondered if there was even a soul in these lightless homes.
YN walked slowly, her head on a swivel while looking for the numbers 42 scribbled on a door, eager to get this over with. To her relief, she found it with ease but the unsettling feeling began to creep up her shoulders.
The red wooden door was nearly rotted away and when YN went to knock, she feared it would crumble under her fingers.
Taking a deep breath, she heard footsteps on the other side and it swiftly opened.
YN wasn’t sure what to expect, but she wasn’t expecting a face she had long forgotten. He was around her height, yet twice her size, wearing a tailored suit that surely didn’t match his living situation.
“Are you the girl Lionel sent?” he asked, raising a dark brow that wrinkled his aging skin.
YN returned the gesture, his deep voice no longer intimidating. “I am the woman he sent, yes. You’re the man Lionel tells me needs this win to get back in his stupid little gang?”
“It’s not stupid it’s–never mind.”
The man looked her up and down before peaking his head out the door to check her surroundings, and she caught an unwanted glance at the beads of sweat on his bald head. He looked familiar and she couldn’t quite place a name on him.
“Alright, I’m Aemon. Nice to meet ya. Now get inside, we don’t have long.”
|||
A member of the Merchant Council was holding an auction tonight at midnight in a place deep in the city. It was private and while there would be hundreds of people there, it was a whisper among the community according to Aemon.
Word got around that this member of the council was going to be assassinated and it was going to be her job to stop the crew trying to do that.
YN’s father was on the council once upon a time, which made this job a little difficult, but with the way Aemon’s “friends” from the nearby brothel dressed her up for this evening, she imagined no one would recognize her anyway.
Aemon gave her an invitation that one of the girls from the brothel stole from a man. Luckily for her, it had no name, just a white card with an emerald green print of feral cat curled into a crown.
She scoffed when she read it, shaking her head as she stuffed it away, now realizing where she remembered this man from.
It made her sick to pretend she was a Dime Lion, the same group that caused her and Kaz so much trouble as a child. But she would be five hundred thousand coins richer before sunrise and that’s all that mattered.
Dressed in a sleek black gown she assumed was also stolen, YN’s weapon was tucked underneath the slit in her dress. She was used to such extravagant clothing from home, but nothing was as revealing and daunting as what she wore now, leaving her exposed and more nervous than she would have hoped to be upon arriving in the financial district.
With a black hooded shawl over her shoulders, YN slipped into the building with ease like a shadow, her invitation putting her in the clear.
Now that the second hardest part was over, she was given a description of the man they know as Dirty Hands, notorious for his cane. Aemon warned her that he most likely would not be alone though.
The mansion seemed out of place for the parts of Ketterdam she knew best with its gleaming marble floors the dim chandelier reflected off of, making her feel as if she was walking on liquid gold among those who wore real gold and other jewels she only dreamed of. Every man and woman turned a blind eye to her to her relief as she blended with the crowd, all heading to a large ballroom where the auction was to be held.
YN kept her face forward and eyes moving, scanning out the various security guards every several feet down the long, gaping hallway. Every exit was noted as well in case things went sour.
Whispers of Grisha that were meant to be auctioned off were heard among the crowd, people speaking of them with excitement like they were exotic animals.
Maybe this Dirty Hands had a point in killing this member of the Merchant Council, but she swallowed her distaste and kept on forward into the room.
As the crowd grew, YN hung back, scanning around every so often for the people who looked out of place, none of whom had a cane to her disappointment. Glancing at the small watch on her wrist, she saw there was still plenty of time til the auction started which gave her a window to make sure the man would be safe at least until he made it on stage.
YN backed out of the room, happily watching how the security guards started pouring in and giving her the clear. But the weak link of them all that she spotted would be her key.
“Excuse me, where can I find a ladies room?” YN asked softly, a degree of urgency under her charming smile.
The tall young man, most likely a Zemeni boy, looked slightly taken back by her question, as if he were wondering where that would be as well.
“Uh, it’s my first night on the job, my best guess is somewhere that way?”
Internally, YN was sighing with exasperation but she kept her guise. “I’ll find someone else along the way to ask. Thank you, though!”
Finally, when she was on her own in the hall, she let her face drop into a frown, rolling her eyes as she quickened her pace to the room where the council member would be waiting in before his appearance. Aemon gave her a small map drawn out on paper, but as she looked down at it now, it seemed impossible to navigate.
There was nothing but the silence of her heels clicking on the floor so as she neared her destination, she began to slow her steps, walking on her toes as much as she could to soften the noise. The upstairs of the mansion was just as extravagant as the first, except this had more doorways and less prying eyes to her relief.
The job still was growing more irritating and difficult by the second though, until she heard a pair of voices up around the corner of the long hallway. YN’s heart leaped to her throat and she swiftly moved behind a column wide enough to cover her, waiting for the voices to pass.
“Change of plans, we wait until after the auction.” a man said, a deep rasp to his voice.
“Are you crazy?” a woman hissed at him.
Listening closely, tuning out the sound of the heartbeat that pounded in her ears, YN heard an extra step as they walked: a cane.
“Jesper was able to sneak down to the cellar while the rest of the guards were being assigned their positions. One of the Grisha he found was talking about how she was going to kill the council member herself.”
“Are you seriously going to rely on that?” the woman scoffed.
“No, but it gives us more time to readjust. Watch the councilman, I’ll blend with the crowd and you will follow my lead. We will rendezvous at the church.”
The woman’s footsteps could be heard going the opposite direction, and YN turned her attention to the man with the cane, slowly rounding the column to watch him make his way back to the auction room. In that moment, her mind shifted else whereas her body went completely reliant on her instincts, and her footsteps silently treaded behind the man.
He wore a fedora and a long coat, and YN imagined he would have something up his sleeve, perhaps even use his cane as a weapon.
But YN was only a yard away when she slipped the dagger out from her dress, only to find that the man caught on and abruptly turned around with his cane swinging.
YN instantly ducked, charging at the man with a force that knocked his one weapon from his hand and pinning him down while he was still on the floor, the adrenaline pumping through her blood fueling every move she made.
The second she drew up the dagger though, YN caught sight of his true face, locking in those shining blue eyes, and instantly froze like she had run straight into a door.
It seems the man beneath her did too.
“Kaz?” YN croaked out.
The air was being drawn from her now, staring down at a ghost and the very sight of it leaving her dizzy. Had she not locked up in this moment, she was sure that the numbness taking over her limbs would have made her drop the dagger.
“You?” he breathlessly stammered, brows furrowing in confusion.
His voice made sense now, and the longer she studied his sharp features the more she began to piece it together to the memory of the boy she once knew.
It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be him.
YN staggered back off of him like she were crawling away from a cruel joke, unable to pick herself up from the ground, and Kaz couldn’t either as they stared each other down like the two fools they were on the floor, unable to tear their eyes from each other.
But they looked at each other with a mix of fear, no nostalgia or a welcoming glance at all.
Out of the corner of her eye though, the Zemeni boy from earlier had snuck up on them, a pistol in his hands.
“Jesper, don’t!”
Any other time, YN would have been quick enough to react, but this time, she couldn’t.
But before either of them could move, the back of the gun came swinging down on her head, sending YN into oblivion.
—
Tagging those who voted for this story! Hope you all enjoy
A/N: Continuation parts are always a bit difficult and I don’t like this, but I hope this doesn’t suck to you and it’s a satisfying ending for this twoshot And let’s hope the situation is better when that Kaz series finally comes out, me being happy with part two, part three, part four etc and not feeling like their quality decreases as the story goes on
Word count:1.2k
A few days passed, and Y/N was clearly avoiding Kaz. She walked away with a huff if Kaz approached, and gave him dirty looks. Kaz understood why she did that, but he pretended not to care.
He had wondered why Y/N hadn’t left the Slat, but Inej told him that she has nowhere else to go. She had told the other Crows everything, and Kaz had been slightly pissed about it since he didn’t like it when his past was scattered around - but fortunately he knew that his Crows wouldn’t scatter it further. And it’s Y/N’s past too, his heart reminded him.
Inej had tried to talk to Kaz, told him that he should apologize. Bastard of the Barrel never apologized, but with Y/N, it was different. He even wanted to apologize, but the thought of stepping down and humble himself in front of Y/N still felt uncharacteristic for him. He had built up his ruthless picture for years, and now he was expected to step down and admit he did wrong? Some time ago, he’d sooner be hung as the most infamous thief in Ketterdam than apologize to anyone for anything he had done, but this was his sister.
He pretended to dismiss Inej’s advice and her telling him how miserable Y/N had been ever since she had fought with Kaz, even when he masks it as anger when Kaz looks at her, but he actually listened. And Inej knew he listened. She knew Kaz wanted to keep his sister near, to know she’s safe, even when he pretended not to care. He had grown a lot during her knowing him, but she knew that he thought he’d never have to face his past again like that. Y/N had told her everything, filled out the parts Kaz had left out when he had told about Jordie to Inej.
He had never once mentioned about his sister, and Inej knew it was because he was ashamed of how he once had abandoned her. He tried to act like he didn’t care and had never cared, to bury his shame behind all those walls he erected so high - and yet, Inej could feel it on him anyway. Even if he didn’t want to admit it or talk about it, Inej sensed that it made him uncomfortable every time he looked at Y/N, he could almost see memories flashing by in his eyes.
So she kept talking about the grief Y/N felt about not connecting with her brother again, even after that fight that had hurt her. They needed each other, and Kaz wanted to keep Y/N near, to know she’s safe. He cared, even though he was trying to hide it and pretend otherwise. Kaz deserved to be happy, even when he insisted that he needs to be feared, and sentimental bonds didn’t fit the picture. But he still shut up when Inej reminded him about them holding hands, and the Bastard of the Barrel, the feared king of Ketterdam with sharp teeth and claws as his hands wouldn’t have been able to do that.
She made Kaz think, made him question if his reputation was really so important to him that he wanted to push his sister away. And, Kaz’s heart reminded him, you kind of owe it to her after what you did. You owe her to come down, to apologize. You broke her trust that day when you made her lose you into the crowd, she has a reason to be angry. You could have killed her when you did that.
Eventually, Inej succeeded and Kaz made his way to Y/N’s door. He stood behind it for some moments, squeezing his cane so hard he was sure he bended the crow head. Then, he knocked. When Y/N opened the door, she immediately scowled and tried to close the door, but Kaz was faster, pushing past her and walking inside without any invitation. She groaned and Kaz heard a thud as the door collided with the wall.
“Get out,” she said angrily, stepping forward. “I’m not doing this.”
Kaz ignored her and made his way further into the room, turning around to look at her from the corner of his eye. Her eyes were narrowed, and he could tell that she was struggling not to scream insults at him.
“We need to talk,” he began.
Y/N folded her arms across her chest. “No we don’t.”
“Yes we do,” Kaz insisted firmly. “It’s been days of it going like this. You glaring at me, avoiding me, telling about our past to everyone—”
“Oh, so it’s all about you again,” Y/N snapped. “I’m the only one who’s supposed to apologize? Because big bad Dirtyhandshimself doesn’t apologize, huh?”
Kaz ground his teeth together, trying to hold his Dirtyhands side from snapping back. He clenched his fist tight against his thigh and spoke before he had another urge to stop himself. “I am sorry I left you alone in that crowd. And I will apologize for everything what happened after that day. I’ve regretted leaving you there for years, I’ve been beating myself over…” His voice died away as he turned and faced her directly, dropping his gaze briefly and then looked her back straight in the face.
The anger and loathing on her face slowly started fading away and the hurt was replaced with something else: confusion. She let her arms fall limp by her sides, shoulders dropping as they lost their tension, and her lips parted slightly.
She definitely hadn’t expected him to say that. Kaz felt a little surprised himself - it wasn’t an easy thing to admit to. And Y/N seemed to know that too. She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Kaz… you really are sorry?”
Kaz gave a slow nod of his head, biting his tongue until he could speak again. “Yes.”
“You mean it?” she whispered. “I thought maybe I imagined it or made it up in my head.” Her hands rose tentatively, hesitantly as she took a step towards him, reaching out to touch his arm. But she hesitated there, stopped herself midway and withdrew them again, probably remembering Kaz didn’t like to be touched. Her hand dropped down again to her side, and she turned to look out from the window, leaning on the windowsill. Kaz slowly made his way beside her, careful not to step across any boundaries either. He still wasn’t sure what was going through her mind right now, if she would forgive him. But maybe this was a start of it if not else. Y/N gave him a side glance and leaned towards him slightly, which made Kaz take in a deep breath and shuffle closer to her, letting her rest her head against his shoulder.
They watched the darkening night of Ketterdam together, taking their first, careful step towards their newly found relationship as siblings. It would probably never be the same anymore and it would need a lot of talks and building their trust and love back up, but one thing was clear:
Also@ledaisyy asked to be tagged on this one Let me know if you wanna be tagged on the rest of my Kaz pieces during this event or general SaB taglist so you’d catch the post-event Kaz pieces as well!
A/N felt like coming back to writing here now that it’s summer and i’m working on rediscovering myself in order to deal with some mental health stuff. What’s a better thing to come back with than my roots?
Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader
Background: This is very much inspired by the main relationship dynamic in the Hulu show ‘The Great’ (if you haven’t watched it and have a hulu subscription and are old enough I’d def recommend it). Basically this is just playing into the ‘i love you, but i’m supposed to want to kill you’ trope. Also inspired by Taylor Swift’s ‘My Tears Ricochet’ (i’m obsessed with the line ‘you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same’)
Summary: Y/n has been groomed her entire life to take over as head of a major gang. Recently, she’s been working with the Crows. Tonight, though, she’s being put to the ultimate test of loyalty. No longer is this a game of cat and unaware mouse, because now she’s supposed to kill Kaz Brekker.
this ends on a cliffhanger bc i wanted to do a two-part thing, so let me know if you’d be interested in that or want to be tagged :))
I was first exposed to the concept of taking someone’s life when I was about seven. I don’t remember what happened, but I remember that Cassandra hadn’t meant for me to find out about it. She didn’t take any care to keep it from me, but she didn’t exactly want me walking into her office after she slit the throat of the merchant that tried taking advantage of her.
She had blinked at me, then, before telling me that forcing death was just a part of life. She didn’t react when I ran out into the hall to throw up after the man’s blood soaked into my socks. She rubbed my back gently and told me that soon I’d learn how to kill efficiently so that I wouldn’t have to stomach much.
I was ten when Cassandra made good on that promise. I still remember the day she taught me how to kill with calculation. We spent the day together, plunging blades into foam mannequins. She presented me with my first dagger that day.
That was years ago, and somehow, by some kind of miracle, I had avoided ever having to kill someone. Cassandra raised me, meaning that there’s always been someone else around to do the dirty work. Either Cassandra would do the ugly part of a job for me or one of her upper ranking underlings would be around in order to spare me.
But today is the day where all of that changes. Not only do I have to kill someone, but I have to kill Kaz Brekker. The pit in my stomach should only exist because of my fear of retaliation. I should only be concerned about what the Bastard of the Barrel will do if he realizes my betrayal, but that’s not why I’ve felt sick all day.
When I first started playing double agent, I didn’t think it’d end like this for so many reasons. Cassandra never told me that her overall goal was to have Kaz Brekker killed. I also really, really didn’t expect to see Kaz as a person, let alone…
I don’t even know. I just–I hated him. I was supposed to hate him and being exposed to his cruelty and lack of regard for life made it easy. And then–then one day it started to seem like maybe he isn’t made of darkness. Maybe he’s only touched by it, maybe he only wears it because he needs to. Maybe he’s more like Cassandra than I was supposed to realize.
“You alright, dovey?”
I should roll my eyes at Jesper’s question and relax into my seat. I should act normal so that no one will suspect anything of me. All I can manage to do is slump into my seat. “A bit of a headache,” I mumble, “You know it happens from time to time.” My dagger is sheathed beneath layers of fabric but somehow I still feel the coldness of the metal. It forces a chill through me. “And don’t call me ‘Dovey’, we’ve talked about nicknames.”
Jesper lets his head fall to the side dramatically. My eyes move to the glass in his hand. The amber liquid sloshes with Jesper’s movements. “You’re no fun when you’re in a mood.” I open my mouth to comment on how dramatic he’s being and the fact that I’m feeling perfectly fine, but he beats me to it. “Then again, with what boss-man said, I’d be in a mood, too.”
What–what Kaz said? “With what whosaid?”
Sobriety attempts to grasp Jesper, but he quickly dodges it. His eyes briefly shut as he takes a sharp inhale. “You don’t know.”
Something in my stomach knots. Did Kaz find out who I am? “Know what?” He brings a finger up to his lips, signaling that it’s a secret. “Jesper.”
“Y/n,” he copies the sharpness of my tone. I continue to glare at him. “C’mon, don’t put me in this position, today’s been hard enough. Our job went off without an issue, don’t drag–” I don’t stop glowering. “Y/n–” He sighs once. “Fine–I don’t–I didn’t hear much, just that your name–” Jesper pauses, struggling to arrange his sentence. “Your name came up during a deal. I couldn’t quite hear everything.”
“Well, what did you hear?”
Jesper hesitates again, eyebrows pinching together in an unsettlingly pitiful way. “Some kind of contingency thing–something that would’ve–would’ve given the other man the rights to you.”
Something in me bursts into flame. The ice of the knife strapped to my skin is suddenly welcome. An old instinct in my chest understands the meaning of Jesper’s slurred words before the rest of me does. “The rights to me?”
Jesper shifts uneasily. “If your headache’s not going away, maybe you should just have a drink for your nerves and go to bed.” I don’t move.
“How can someone have ‘the rights’ to me? I’m not indentured–”
“Kaz knows how to run with an assumption when it’s convenient.”
Something in my chest turns to stone. Jesper’s drunken testimony has left gaps in the story, but it’s not exactly hard to fill in. For whatever reason, Kaz put me on the line for a deal. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to make good on his promise. Kaz could slip something into my drink. He could overpower me or have someone do it for him. He could force me into something at gunpoint. He could–he could have sold me.
I swallow once, wiping my eyes with my palm. “Listen, y/n, Kaz says whatever he needs to–”
“His word means something, Jesper, you know that.”
My voice must reflect how hollow I feel inside because Jesper sighs once. “Y/n-”
I swallow once, “I’m fine, Jesper. You didn’t hear everything, and you’re drunk, and nothing happened. Everything’s fine.”
Something in my chest has stopped. He was willing to sell me. I was wagered like the gambling chips from the Crow Club. Everything Cassandra said was right. Kaz Brekker may be a criminal like the woman that raised me, but he lacks Cassandra’s one redeeming quality. He lives without humanity.
I have heard the stories, I have seen what becomes of women sold and bartered. Cassandra has stolen so many women that were owned by men like the man Kaz just did business with. The man he was willing to sell me to just to get an edge on Pekka Rollins.
Thousands of images reflect in my mind. I can see them now, their empty eyes offset only by the litter of bruises against their skin.
“Y/n–”
“I said I’m fine, Jesper. I know how Brekker is.” I repeat, voice stern. “I just need to go to bed.” He looks like he wants to say something. “I’ll sleep it all off.” I stand, staring at a blank spot on the wall. “Don’t drink too much, alright? Just make sure you eventually find your way to a safe bed. It doesn’t even have to be yours.”
Jesper grins, “You get me.” He sighs, adjusting his hold on his glass. “Will do, Doves, make sure to take something to make sleeping off that headache a little easier.”
No matter how tonight goes, if I survive, I’m going to need to drink something strong. “Yeah, Jes, I’ll take care of my headache.”
I am a phantom as I approach the stairwell. In another life, another version of events, I never entertained the idea of being Jesper’s company as he drank in celebration of our success. In that reality, what I need to do is less possible.
With shaking hands I reach towards the pocket of my dark pants. In a single slash, the blade my fingers are touching can take a life. I can extinguish a flame of destruction and Cassandra will be proud of me. She’ll realize that the child she took in was worth it.
“Y/n–”
I turn, trying to hide how ambushed I feel. Okay…there’s nothing weird about jumping about someone’s sudden appearance. “Kaz.”
His name stumbles awkwardly from me. Act normal. “I need to speak to you.” Speak to me, how kind of him to waste his valuable time communicating with someone who’s basically cattle. “I have some business to attend to first. Meet me in my office before the hour ends?”
Why, is my purchaser going to be expecting me? The urge to lash out pulses through me, but that will get me nothing. Kaz is beyond reason. If I could change him, if I could spare him, I would. So I swallow the lump in my throat and nod.
“The color’s drained from your face.” His observation is a blow to the chest. “You’re not ill. Does Nina–”
“I’m fine.” His concern is only practical. Illness would only slow me down or make me less valuable. “Just a migraine. I’ll sleep it off tonight.”
His eyebrows draw together for a moment. “Hm.” Please let that be the dismissal I’m looking for. “If you’re feeling uneasy, you don’t need to over concern yourself. That’s what I wanted to meet with you about.” Kaz pauses, an odd affliction crossing his features briefly. “You did good work today.”
An unnamed feeling wedges itself between my hurt and fury. Grief–crushing, undeniable grief has found itself in me. “Thank you.”
Kaz won’t stop looking at me directly in the eye. “I know that you’re adverse to killing and much of what I do, but you never let that translate into weakness.”
His voice is low and uneasily patient. My chest flutters, all of my emotions curdling in my chest. Even on a normal day I wouldn’t be able to think of a good response to that. “I’ll see you before the end fo the hour.” He nods once and I turn. “Kaz,” his name comes from me without my permission, “I appreciate your acknowledgement of my lack of weakness.”
For a second, I think he might smile. “I never said you lack weakness.”
“I know, but your gushing approval made your true feelings clear.”
“Dear, y/n, light of my existence,” Kaz approaches me, extending a hand slowly. I become perfectly still as his pinky latches onto mine for a brief moment. My heart stops. “I have never once ‘gushed approval’.” His sarcasm seems to settle me. The corner of my mouth turns upwards. “Now, get out of my way, I have some business to deal with downstairs.”
“Doubt I could get you to ask more nicely.”
He takes a single step forward. “Please, excuse me.”
A final good moment with Kaz. My chest swells as I step to the side. “That’s more like it.”
He disappears down the stairs. Okay–within the hour. I have time to-to think and to–I don’t even know. Cassandra sent me here to ruin him, to work against him so that our gang could do better. I’m a mole, not a killer. But I should have known that one day our relationship would end like this–the knife of one buried in the back of the other.
That final thought echoes in my chest, shattering me. I make it to my room, lock the door, and sink against the wall, suppressing a sob.
I stay like that for as long as I can justify it, but there is no putting off the inevitable. Kaz Brekker will die at my hand, and it is deserved. I wipe at my tears with the back of my palm and wash my face in the sink. Once I’m convinced that I’m presentable, I leave my room, checking for the blade secured to my thigh. It hasn’t been that long, so there’s a good chance I will have the element of surprise. That’s the only way to end this. I’ll be efficient, just like Cassandra taught me. He will not suffer, and it will not be personal.
I walk to his office, my steps methodical. He would have sold me. He would have sold me. He would have sold me. I take a deep breath, reaching for the handle of the door to his office. I pull the dagger from its place, squeezing the hilt. He would have ruined me.
Pushing the door open silently, I stop breathing. His tall figure is turned away from the door. Good, this way he won’t have to see me and I won’t have to feel his reaction. My steps are even until I’m within arms reach of him. Think of Cassandra, think of all he’s done.
My blade plunges into his back. The world stops. I pull my knife out before pushing it back in. Tears swell in my eyes. Again and again, I stab him. He takes two unsteady steps before falling to his knees. I yank the knife out one final time. He collapses in front of me.
Everything in my body shatters. Dead–Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the boy who stayed up with me after an injury left me too sore to sleep, the man who would have sold me. He used me as currency, he has disrespected and threatened me so many times, and he linked his gloved pinky with mine in order to ease me.
I stare at his body, forcing the hurt to crash into me like violent waves. All of my fury, all of my desire to win Cassandra over, vanishes. Now all that’s left is a burning agony.
What have I done?
The question is screamed so loudly in my head that it feels silent. I tear my gaze from the body–his body–and stare at my knife. The end of it is coated in so much sticky, red liquid I could throw up. My hands and clothing are covered in the same thing. I drop to my knees, letting everything I’m wearing soak into his blood. My free hand covers my mouth in hopes of silencing the sound that is ripped from my throat. The urge to touch him, to feel him while he’s still warm, pours through me. But the one thing I can still offer him is the protection of his will. I will respect his wishes. So instead of dropping over him, I just stare, my fingers still gripping the damn knife.
What have I done?
Collected footsteps snap me out of the trans I’ve fallen into. I take two deep breaths before turning my head. If I have been caught, I deserve whatever fate I will be met with. Blinking twice, I force my eyes to adjust on the person who has found me. There is no energy in me for fear for myself, there is only heartbreak.
Kaz. It’s–he’s alive. By some Saint granted miracle, he’s alive!
He’s standing there, watching me with the blankest expression I’ve ever seen him wear. I don’t care. I don’t care. I jump to my feet, disregarding the only man I’ve ever killed. Whoever he was, that’s something for me to feel guilty about later. Eventually, the relief will become a feeling I can manage and I’ll be able to regret the life I just took, but right now all that matters is Kaz.
I drop the dagger, letting it clatter against the hardwood floor. I run towards him, desperate to be close enough to see his open eyes and to be aware of the rise and fall of his chest. “Kaz,” a lament, a prayer, a lifeline.
My hand moves forward without a second thought. I link my pinky with his, the same way he did earlier. I squeeze his finger as tightly as possible, desperate to feel the fact that he’s alive. Kaz owes me nothing, but he gives me what I need. His pinky squeezes mine back, his eyes holding mine.
I think we could have stayed like that forever. But the man that I attacked shattered our silence with a pained, exhausted groan. Our hands fall apart.
