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#i can’t get materialki for the life of me
rietveldbrothers · 6 months
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If I can't have love, I want power
a/n: me elisha and tiff wrote the most unhinged au our combined chaos could come up with for @grishaversebigbang 2023. make sure to check out the stunning art from our materialki below
Materialki: @iri-lynx (x) @hagnoart (x) and @mfrov95 (x)
Ethrealki: @dregstrash @wafflesandkruge
Summary:
Zoya didn’t need anyone. It was a lesson that had been burned into her after she’d let Nikolai into her life four years ago, and he’d responded by sabotaging her chances at Top Gun. When the best of the best are called back to North Island for a dangerous mission, Zoya and Nikolai must set aside the past and work together once again. But the heart is a tricky thing, and Zoya isn’t sure if she’s ready to let go of her grudges just yet…
AKA the love square meets top gun au with lots of pining, angst, and loaded history.
Read on AO3 or Chapter 1 below the cut
Nikolai’s breath came in short, harsh pants as his hands clenched around the controls of his plane. All he could see was the black fighter in front of him, desperately dodging and weaving to try to avoid him. He was good, Nikolai would give him that. But he was better. 
“Come on, come on,” he muttered as he watched his computer track the other plane, the target never quite steadying. The fighter dived into the canyon below and Nikolai followed, still not able to get a missile lock. The canyon walls seemed to narrow around his plane, one small misstep sure to end with him dying in a fiery wreck. Nikolai’s breathing quickened.
“Nik, need some help here!” Dominik gasped on the radio. Nikolai jerked his head up and saw two planes streaking across the sky, Dominik pursued by another enemy fighter. His heart stopped.
“Genya!” he yelled. “Help Domino!”
The fighter he was pursuing swerved suddenly, and Nikolai cursed as he struggled to follow. The enemy planes were infinitely more maneuverable than theirs, if a little slower. But he was so goddamn close, he could taste it.
“Can’t!” Genya responded, her heavy breathing making the line crackle. “Two on my tail.”
“Nikolai!”
Fuck. Nikolai was getting too far from his teammates. The world seemed to slow as he stared at the fighter in front of him, seemingly getting further and further away from him with every second. Dominik could handle himself for a few more seconds. If he stayed, he could chalk his first kill. He could scratch that tally mark into the side of his plane.
And Dominik would be dead.
Damn it all. 
He pulled up and out of the valley, the familiar crushing force settling back onto his body. 
“I’m coming,” he gasped, praying Dominik could hear him. “Hang on.”
The sky was a brilliant, unforgiving blue as he climbed higher, the air thinning. He looked around wildly.
“Talk to me, Dom. Where are you?”
“On your left! Break right, break right!”
Nikolai obeyed blindly, his body jerking against the seat’s restraints as the plane went perpendicular with the ground. To his right, he saw Genya’s plane scream past. She was giving the two on her tail a run for their money. Dominik passed by overhead with a roar, smoke trailing from his plane. Another enemy fighter followed him. 
Nikolai cursed and struggled to right his plane, but it was too goddamn slow. Time seemed to stretch out, each second an hour as Dominik got further and further from him.
“I’m almost there, Dom. Hang on,” he panted as he pushed the jet to go faster. The engine let out a warning screech.
“Nikolai!” Dominik screamed. 
“I’m coming, I’m coming—” His cockpit felt like it was burning up, the heat of a thousand suns piercing through his uniform and searing his skin, his bones—
“Nikolai!”
Nikolai bolts awake, sheets twisted around his sweat-sticky body. Dominik’s screams echo in his ear. His heart pounds in staccato rhythm, his mind still locked in a battle long past, long survived.  
“You good?”
Nikolai blinks and the figure crouched beside his bunk comes into focus. Mal Oretsev’s face is twisted in concern, one hand still stretched toward Nikolai. Nikolai bats it aside. He forces one breath after another into his constricted lungs, and slowly, the panic subsides. He isn’t in the sky, he isn’t flying, and the ground beneath him is as solid as it would ever be.
“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. He clears his throat and tries again, this time with a fake smile. “Never better.”
Mal doesn’t look convinced, but thankfully, doesn’t dig. He’s used to Nikolai’s idiosyncrasies by now. He tosses a shirt at Nikolai. “You better get your ass ready then. They called us back to Top Gun.”
Nikolai’s heart stutters at the name. Memories of bright blue eyes, desert that stretched to the horizon, and words he regretted more than anything rise unbidden to his mind. He hasn’t been back since what had happened almost four years ago, and he had intended to keep it that way for the rest of his hopefully long career. But he supposes he was never that lucky of a guy, anyway. He keeps his voice carefully level as he pulls the shirt on and kicks off his sheets.
“For what?”
Mal leans against his dresser, the very picture of nonchalance as Nikolai pulls on the first pair of pants he can find on his floor. But Nikolai has been with him long enough to read the tension in his jaw and that look he gets when he’s thinking about the past. He isn’t the only one with a messy story, after all. 
“Special detachment. They wouldn’t tell me more than that. But they only invited the best of the best.”
There’s only one pilot other than himself that Nikolai would ever think of as the best. He’s spent so long trying to forget her that the thought of seeing her again is like the sight of water for a man dying of thirst. His heart gives a little skip, the ink on his forearm aches. 
Don’t even start, Lantsov. Zoya’s not in the business of second chances. 
Nikolai shoves the thought of her out of his mind and gives Mal his best asshole-smile. 
“Guess you’re in charge of the squadron while I’m gone then.”
Mal rolls his eyes and chuffs Nikolai on the shoulder. “Fuck off, asshole. Be ready to leave in an hour or I’m leaving you behind.”
Nikolai clutches his heart in mock-hurt. “You would do that to your wingman? Your dearest fling? Your most convenient friend with bene—”
Mal throws a pillow at his face and stalks out of the room.
Top Gun is somehow just as Nikolai remembers it, and a completely different beast at the same time. As soon as he steps onto the tarmac, the balmy San Diego air kisses his skin and makes him crave an ice-cold drink. Beside him, Mal slides on a pair of aviators and squints at the midday sun.
“That was the worst flight I’ve ever been on.”
“Mmmm, I don’t know,” Nikolai drawls. He grabs his bag from the ground and starts walking toward the building where all the brass have their offices. “I’ve been in your backseat before. It was a pretty harrowing experience. Almost made me want to change careers.”
“I’m hanging you out to dry on our next hop,” Mal threatens, but Nikolai knows it’s an empty threat. Mal has never left him behind. Not when it counted. 
The two of them check in with Juris, the grizzled Top Gun Air Boss who’s been stationed there for as long as Nikolai can remember, then take a meandering route to their assigned housing. They don’t see a single pilot other than themselves as they roam the halls, the sky quiet without the familiar roar of fighters overhead. It’s like walking through a ghost town.
By nightfall, the two of them end up at Genya’s seaside bar on an unspoken agreement. Nikolai convinces himself he’s there to scope out the competition, but it’s a pretty flimsy excuse when he knows exactly whom from the competition he wants to see. Mal eyes him as he takes another swig from his beer, and Nikolai ignores his stare. Mal really isn’t one to judge. Pot, kettle, black, however the saying goes. 
Speaking of competition—there’s plenty of it packed into the space. Pilots fill every available space, wings of gold gleaming in the dim lights. Nikolai recognizes a few he’s flown with before, and some from his Top Gun class. The Bataar twins are over at the dartboard, arguing over the points from the last round. Nadia Zhabin sips at a brightly colored drink, her pale eyes sharp and focused as she scans the room. Even the elusive Alina Starkov is there, forever a bright star that would much rather be a wallflower. She ignores the small wave he sends her way, almost as resolutely as Mal refuses to acknowledge the whole side of the room where she’s seated. Not for the first time, Nikolai wonders what exactly they did to each other.
Nikolai flags Genya’s attention from across the bar where she’d been serving another group of uniformed pilots. His former squadron-mate is as beautiful as ever with her flame-red hair and glowing smile. Her one amber eye is narrowed in amusement, a black eye patch embroidered with seagulls covering where the other should have been. A familiar twinge of guilt tickles the bottom of Nikolai’s stomach, but he ignores it as he grins at Genya.
“Another beer, please. And put it on Oretsev’s tab.”
“Absolutely not,” Mal interjects. “Put it on his own tab. We all know he can afford it.”
Genya laughs, and Nikolai catches a lovestruck look from David, her fiance, from across the room. Genya has always said her career had been worth both a successful business and a fiancee, but it’s the first time Nikolai has been able to believe her. He hides his smile behind the new bottle Genya hands him.
“I think he’s got you there, Nicky.” She leans in closer. “Zoya hasn’t shown up yet. Thought I’d save you a few minutes of looking around like a lost puppy.”
Nikolai takes a measured sip of beer. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh look, it’s Nazyalensky,” Mal deadpans. Nikolai’s head whips around so fast that it hurts. And sure enough, Zoya Nazyalensky is walking through the front doors. Nikolai feels like he’s suddenly been ejected from his jet, just miles of empty sky beneath him and no parachute to slow his fall.
Where to begin with Zoya Nazyalensky? She had been in and out of life like a summer hurricane, one summer there and then gone as quickly as she’d arrived with a path of destruction left behind her. Nikolai watches sullenly as the entire room’s attention seems to shift toward her. She looks better than ever in her pressed khakis, her dark hair pulled back into an elegant twist. Her eyes scan the room in disinterest before they pause in Nikolai’s vicinity. He swears his heart stops as she pauses a few steps away from him.
“Oretsev.” Her voice is just the same as he remembers. 
“Nazyalensky.”
Nikolai’s grip on his bottle tightens as Mal hops off his stool and slides an arm around Zoya’s waist. Genya sighs from behind the bar. 
Nikolai isn’t stupid. He knows about Mal and Zoya. But seeing is different from knowing. He watches as the two of them head for an empty pool table, then turns back to Genya. She has a distinctly sympathetic look that makes him feel pretty fucking pathetic.
“You got anything stronger?”
“On the house.”
“I think I can take it from here, Oretsev.” Nikolai says as he grabs the pool stick from his friend’s hands.
Mal raises his eyebrows in shock, a million questions dancing in his eyes, but he takes one glance to where Nikolai was actually looking and decides to relinquish his hold.
He shakes his head then sighs, “More and more convinced you have a death wish, Charming.”
Nikolai rolls his eyes, “Prince Charming. C’mon man, we’ve been working together for how long now?”
Mal didn’t say anything. He just took his lukewarm glass of beer and went to join Alina at the other side of the bar. 
“Lieutenant Nazyalensky.” He gives her his best grin, he knows it won’t work. “Good to see you”
“Lantsov, I should have known you’d be here.” Zoya’s voice was as frigid as always.
“You look good.” He said as he pocketed two of the solid pool balls on the right pocket. 
“I am good. I’m very good.” She scoffed then scanned the table for her next move. “Nice to see my sloppy seconds can enjoy one another.” 
Nikolai grinned, their toxic little love square they had going on, well, Mal was a good distraction, and he wasn’t sensitive enough, about that at least, to be bothered. He didn’t even mind that her shot had knocked two of his pieces in different directions and had one of her striped balls landing in another pocket. 
He took his time looking at the table, but he was really looking for an excuse. An excuse to round the corner and stand toe-to-toe with her. His hands not-so-casually resting on either side of her on the sleek wood of the pool table. She didn’t need to tilt that much to meet his gaze, and he tried not to think that from this distance, it would be easy to just kiss her senseless. 
It also didn’t help that she didn’t take a step back either.
Oh, the familiar smell of her was making his head light. His hands twitched on his pool stick, like they were considering actually just taking her face and press his lips to hers. He could have actually done more than kiss her in the middle of this bar. But he saw just how tense her shoulders were under that bravado. Or maybe he was just projecting because he could feel the rigidity in his own spine.
Their last conversation hadn’t been a pleasant one. Their parting even colder. And seeing her under these familiar yellow lights was making Nikolai way more aware of just how far she felt. Just how big the barrier between them was that made her that much more untouchable.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to push his luck, anyway.
He moved away and deliberately stepped around her so that his shoulder brushed hers. It was a cheap shot at getting the upper hand.
It was a pathetic excuse to touch her. 
He lined up his shot and managed to tie their score. 
But Zoya wasn’t looking at the game. Her dark blue eyes picked him apart. 
He wondered what she saw. If she could read just how tense he was with her around. If she could see how badly he still wanted her. If she could feel how terrified he was to see her here, at the start of an assignment that smelled too much like a suicide mission. 
“Your shot.” He said. 
It was loud in Genya’s bar. The evening crowd on a warm summer night created a symphony of bursts of laughter, stories being yelled over the music, and servicemen and women trading war tales. There was no reason for Nikolai to have heard Zoya say, “It was my shot.” But he did hear her, and their game of pool suddenly felt so small and insignificant.
She turned away from him then. She marched back to Mal who was suspiciously alone and shoved the stick into his hands before storming out of the bar. 
Mal came over, and Nikolai forced a smile that he knew that his friend didn’t buy.
“Came back to get your ass kicked?” He winked. Then threw his arm around his broad shoulders. “Maybe something more?” 
Mal didn’t take the bait. He chugged the rest of his drink, and started to reset the table. 
“We both have enough problems, Lantsov. Let’s try not to make things worse.” 
Nikolai shrugged, trying to ignore the feeling of Zoya’s eyes still on him. 
“Hasn’t stopped you before.” He tried again. 
His friend shot him a look, “Maybe I should have.” He glanced behind him to the direction Zoya had gone. “Maybe we both should have known when to stop.”
Nikolai felt his gut plummet as his past started to creep out of the locked box he kept all of his worst memories. And he finished his drink to shove them all down.
He forced a laugh as he broke the triangle of pool balls to start their game.
“Can we table this wildly depressing line of conversation until after I beat you? It wouldn’t be Top Gun without me smoking you. Right, Pocketknife?” 
Mal rolled his eyes, but Nikolai still noted just how tense his friend was. He didn’t know quite what happened between Mal and Alina, but based on his last…encounter…with her it didn’t seem good. 
He was almost tempted to accuse him of being an idiot who wasn’t brave enough to get what he actually wanted. But pots shouldn’t be calling kettles black. 
Nikolai couldn’t help but glance at the door. He turned around and caught Zoya’s hand brush against Alina’s platinum blonde hair. He hesitated to call it affectionate, but it was…something. She leaned closer to the other girl, her lips just brushing the corner of Alina’s jaw. 
A flare of jealousy that was unfounded went through Nikolai, and was only abated when Alina met Zoya’s eyes in a sad kind of resignation. She shook her head and squeezed her hand in sympathy.
Zoya seemed to roll her eyes and walk off with her head shaking slightly. Nikolai wondered what that was about. Then he reminded himself that it wasn’t any of his business. Instead, he focused back on Mal. He focused on ignoring the empty ache that was more present with the absence of the flare of jealousy. 
So, they just played the night away and then when that wasn’t enough, Nikolai took to the keys with Mal drunk and singing off key next to him. Both of them ignoring the burn of old heartaches, and the chill of an uncertain future.
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super-oddity · 3 years
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countryclubstarkey · 3 years
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Trust me
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Pairing: The Darkling x female reader
Warnings: Angst, manipulation, making out
Word Count: 957
Summary: Before Alina, there was someone else.
Disclaimer: I do not condone The Darkling’s actions; this is pure fiction.
*This gif does not belong to me and all credit goes to the owner
The mood around the little palace was grim upon The Darkling’s arrival, everyone knowing the foul mood he was going to be in due to his dispute with The King. The king of Ravka has been pushing the Grisha’s and is expecting too much from them. He wants to use the Grisha to gain as much power as possible, but he never rewards them for it. This is what The Darkling has been fighting for years, respect for his Grisha.
This morning, the Corporalki, Etherealki and the Materialki are all on their best behaviour to impress The Darkling and get on his good side; you never saw the appeal of doing that. The Darkling chose his favourites according to how much the person benefits him. However, you can’t blame the people trying to get his attention; The Darkling is captivating in every way possible.
“Did you hear that the king threatened his position?” Zoya asks you while duelling and practising your summoning powers together. Shaking your head at the news, “The King thinks he has him wrapped around his finger, but with one wrist motion, he can end his life.”
“I’ve always wanted to see him do the cut, have you?” she asks, “It was terrifying, to be honest, I thought I would be next, it happened when they caught me escaping, and the Fjierdan soldier tried to kill me,” you tell her. Zoya laughs at the memory that happened a few years ago when you were forced to join the second army.
“Now look where we are; you’re one of the only people he trusts,”
You can’t help but release a chuckle, “he doesn’t trust me; we both know that, and to be honest, I don’t trust him that much either.”
“Seems to me that we have something to talk about, Miss. y/l/n,” a raspy voice spoke up from behind you. Everyone on the training field froze to gaze at The Darkling as he stood tall in his black kefta. Any loss of dignity did not show on him following his conversation with the king. Instead, he looked the same as always; intimidating and powerful.
“I-- didn’t mean it like-” you tried to stutter out; he held his hand out to stop you from embarrassing yourself any further. “Zoya, please find another sparring partner for the rest of the day, y/n, please follow me,” he said calmly.
No matter how hard you tried to keep a calm demeanour in front of everyone, The Darkling always shattered that wall and broke you down.
The walk back to his room was deafening with silence; the only sounds filling the hallways were sounds of your footsteps and shallow breathing.
Stepping inside his room, he motioned to one of the chairs in the corner of the room.
You broke the silence first, “what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Do you like being here?” he asks you, “Excuse me.”
“You have been here for years, but you have never trusted me or my decisions.” You try to stumble out the right words, “Sir, I do trust you.”
“Please call me Aleksander,” he says. Not many people in the little palace or Ravka have the luxury of knowing The Darkling’s real name. You grab hold of his hand, “Aleksander, I do trust you, but you don’t share anything with us, how can I trust you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
He grasps your hand back tightly, looking into your eyes, “I need you to trust me and my decisions at all times because you are one of the only people who knows how I feel. I’ve been feeling alone all my life, and I only want the best for my people, and sometimes those decisions are going to cause harm to others. Everything I do is for the benefit of the Grisha.”
Standing up abruptly, “who are you planning to hurt?” you ask curiously. “No one at the moment, but I need to know that you are supporting me at all times; I cannot have traitors following me,” he speaks out vulnerably.
You gently stroke his cheek, scared of his reaction fearing that you are stepping out of line, “I would never betray you. You have shown and given me everything; I’m finally not afraid of my own shadow.” He nods his head slowly; something unnoticeable becomes present in his eyes. He’s looking at you with eyes full of love, something neither of you has ever experienced. He grasps your face, trapping you with his hands. “Tell me that you trust me; I need this.”
“I trust you,” you breathe out, trying to reassure yourself and him. He leans forward, brushing his lips against yours, making you crave every inch of him. You close the small distance and connect your lips with his feeding your urges. His hands move to your waist, pulling you even closer than before as you both try to cure the loneliness you both have been feeling.
Wandering hands begin moving around your body, trying to feel every inch of you as you both fight for dominance, trying to have some kind of power over the other. There isn’t much of a fight because Aleksander always wins and gets what he wants.
You start to pull away to catch your breath, resting your head against his, “It’s getting late. You should head back to your room.” You nod your head before giving him one last kiss and leaving the room breathless of the events that happened.
Aleksander Morozova rests his head against the door, trying to find the feeling of guilt for lying to you and manipulating your emotions; however, nothing rises because everyone is a pawn in his plan.
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sadchappuccino · 3 years
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My Queen
Pairing: The Darkling x otkazat’sya!reader
Warnings: Angst, fluff, sexual hints
A/n: Omg she’s actually writing again.... Honestly shit is happening in my life so I’m going back to my good ol’ trusty coping mechanism of simping for fictional characters
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The sun shines bright in your room, too bright for your liking. Groggily your turned around and hid your face in your husbands shirt. “Make it go away”, you mumbled. Aleksander kisses the top of your head as he let the darkness embrace you both. “Thank you”, you smile. Aleksander wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight into his embrace, “anything for you my love.”
You don’t know how it happened. How you, an otkazat’sya, got together with the most powerful grisha in all of Ravka. It all happened so naturally, when you met you felt that instant connection and the more time you spent together the more the connection grew.
You were walking through the woods, trying to get some fresh air and far away from all the people in Os Alta. It was a beautiful city, but too crowded, so you’d escape reality for a while and take a stroll.
These little walks always cheered you up, they made you forget about the city. All there was were the chirps of the birds and the smooth breeze of the wind.
On that faithful day a horse ran straight to you, making you fall back scared by the large black stallion. A man jumped between you and the horse, once he calmed the horse down he turned to you. He was tall with black hair, a beard and the most beautiful eyes. “I am terribly sorry,” he offered you his hand and you hesitantly took it. “Oh it’s fine just scared me a bit, that’s all,” you smiled. You had no idea that this was the Darkling nor that he would be your husband, in that moment he was just a handsome stranger.
“What is on your mind,” Aleksander asked you. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, “the day we met.” Aleksander smiled broadly, “that’s one of my favourite days, after our wedding.”
“Oh really and here I thought our first time was your favourite day,” you sassed. “It is definitely up there,” he groaned into your neck, “but on our wedding we eternalised our love for each other.” You slowly kissed his lips “you’re such a sap.”
“How is that anyway to treat your husband,” Aleksander mused. “We both know that I know perfectly well how to treat you,” your hand trailed down his body, gliding over his abs.
A loud knock interrupted your movement and you groaned. Aleksander threw his head back in annoyance, “What is it?” He shouted to the person on the other side of the door. “We found the sun summoner, sir,” Ivan announced.
Aleksander’s eyes widened, he quickly pecked your lips, “I’m sorry my love but I have to go.” You kissed him again, but more passionately this time, “go. I will be here when you’re back.” He groaned into your mouth, “I’ll keep you to that.” And he left the room, leaving you alone and cold without his touch to warm you up.
You got dressed and walked through the halls of the little palace, at first this place was foreign. Many grisha didn’t accept you at first because you couldn’t practice the small sciences, but soon you proved yourself more than worthy of your place here. You were smart, so you often found yourself working with materialki. You also knew basic medics, a way the grisha healers weren’t taught, so you showed them how to give chest compressions instead of having to call a heartrender. It was harder to bond with the etherealki and the heartrenders, but you managed. Soon everyone adored you, even if you were just otkazat’sya.
Today you walked to the labs, you were working with a few alkemi on a new kind of substance that could temporarily impair a person’s legs and arms without them receiving any further injuries from the substance. You had it almost figured out, there was still a few hitches in the chemical compound. After a few hours with no progress, you gave up.
You walked back to you and the Darkling’s quarters. Your eyes landed on a few pieces of papers on the floor. You didn’t meant to read them, just pick them up and place them on your husbands desk, but your interest spiked when you saw the words ‘expanding the fold.’ Before you even knew what you were doing, you started to read everything, you grabbed more of his books and papers until every single inch of the room was covered with the books.
“Hello darling,” Aleksander smiled widely as he entered the room. You turned around to face him, “what is this?” you held the original plan in your hands. Aleksander’s face fell, “y/n it’s not what it looks like.” “Really? Because it looks like you want to expand the fold and kill thousands of people!” you screamed. “It’s the only way, if we don’t do this the war will continue on and more people will die,” he stepped closer and his voice softened, “if there was any other way I wouldn’t do this.”
“There must be another way Aleks, please you can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I’ve been alive for hundreds of years, there is no other way.”
“Promise me one thing Aleks,” you said, “you won’t lose yourself by going on this path, promise me you won’t change.”
“Never my queen,” he placed his hand in your cheek, “I will always be the Aleksander you fell in love with.” You looked at the ground and then up at him, “Then I will stand by you, for better and for worse.”
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siriushxney · 3 years
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⊱┊ searing light | chapter one
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— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader
— au ; shadow and bone
— wordcount ; 1.7k
— warnings ; cursing, talks of war, no dream yet but he will appear somewhere in the next few parts!
series masterlist | next
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the fold was scarier then you could've ever imagined — it stretched for miles upon miles, casting a shadow down upon where it stood. down onto the land of ravka. for centuries the blackness of it stood tall — no way to get through, under, or over safely. but despite the risks and dangers, with war raging on both sides of the country — you had no choice to go through for resources.
climbing out of the back of the truck, you could feel the rocks digging into the soles of your feet as you walked alongside the rest of your squadron — the cheap leather boots that were supplied to you and the rest of the first army, doing nothing to shield your feet from the rough and jagged ground. but despite the aching state that the boots left your feet in at the end of the day, you reminded yourself daily that it could've been worse. you could have been on the next skiff to enter the fold — the chance of coming back being slim to none.
anything was better than going into the fold.
“Y/L/N, why don’t you keep the move on?” another cartographer bumped their shoulder into your own, knocking you out of your tense state, and urging you to continue moving down towards your new camp.
everyone in ravka knew what the fold looked like — it was hard not to when it stood at unreachable heights and stretched the length of the country. but despite this, you had never been this close. no one ever spoke of the coldness it radiated, bringing a chill and goosebumps to anyone that dared to near it. and the thing that no one could have prepared you for at all was the sounds.
the sounds of the creatures that lived inside of the black barrier, screeching at deafening volumes and with such ferocity that it could send even the bravest of man or woman running for the hills.
with a deep breath and encouragement for yourself running through your head like a mantra, you pushed forward, closer and closer to the fold.
“Y/N!” you stopped in your tracks — the other cartographers passing you with quick feet and watchful eyes. turning, you caught a glimpse of a boy that you knew all too well — wilbur. while he was also in the first army, he was named a tracker due to his brilliant mind and tracking skills — skills that proved to be beneficial numerous times, making him one of, if not the best tracker in all of ravka. “you know, for a little mapmaker like yourself, you sure do have quick feet,” wilbur threw his arms around your shoulders, pulling you to continue walking beside him.
“you know, for an amazing tracker like yourself, you do stick out like a sore thumb — what if you're on enemy territory? they're gonna spot you from miles away, you tree.”
“I’ll have you know that despite my large stature, I’m quite good at blending into my surroundings — that and I don’t wear bright colours like them,” wilbur halted, standing awkwardly as he watched the group clothed in bright purple, blue, and red observed and trained with eagle like eyes — their hands drawn to grasp in front of their body as they waited their turn to strike the dummy.
them — the grisha.
grisha were people, much like you and wilbur, who were gifted with abilities like no other — abilities that could either take, or save a man's life. there were three orders of the grisha — the corporalki, the order of the living and the dead, who had people known as heartrenders, healers, and tailors; the materialki, the order of fabrikator’s who had people known as durasts and alkemi; and then there was etherealki, the order of the summoners, who had people known as squallers, inferni, and tidemakers.
but there was one being that you had heard about — someone they named the darkling. a grisha who did not possess an ability like any other — instead, he had the ability to summon and control darkness itself. a walking horror story with the ability to wipe out dozens if he wished.
he came from a line of them — a line consisting of only his families blood.
“I can feel their ego wafting onto us from here,” wilbur whispered slightly, not wanting any of them to hear due to their nature to lash out at people they considered ‘lower’ than themselves.
“no kidding,” you looked around the area in wonder, before looking down to your hands — a map that the head cartographer had handed each and every one of you before you arrived at the camp, displayed your tent being directly where the grisha now stood. “wait… this is where my tent is supposed to be, is it not?” you spun slightly as if it would magically appear.
wilbur stopped your spinning, and guided you towards a different area of the base. “they moved our tents this way, in order for the grisha to have more room — as if the entire upper region of the base wasn’t enough for them,” he couldn't help but grumble out now that he was farther away from the gifted individuals, throwing one more glare before looking ahead once more.
you casted one more look over your shoulder as you followed beside him — one grisha catching your eye for a moment before she turned away. the purple of her uniform — something that they called a kefta, catching your eye instantly alongside the grey embroidering on it. she was a durast — someone who could manipulate things such as steel and glass.
as much as grisha were dangerous and cold — they had a knack for looking their best at every waking moment, with a style that could kill. quite literally.
many of the first army stood shoulder to shoulder as they were awaiting orders — the general standing overhead with a paper in hand that no doubt held the list of names of the unfortunate people that would be ushered onto the skiff that would cross the fold.
wringing your hands nervously, you waited for your name or wilburs to be called, hoping and praying to any saint that would bother to listen. wilbur dug his elbow into your shoulder lightly, drawing your attention to him. “we’re among the youngest batch of the first army — we’re in the clear,” he spoke his words with such certainty. but as much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn't.
“I don’t know… I have a weird feeling, wil,” you gave him a serious look, only to be brushed off with a roll of his eyes. “I’m serious — somethings not right.”
wilbur brought a hand to your forehead, feeling for any sign of heat that could indicate sickness, before lowering it slowly and leaning it. “maybe you should rest — I think all those waffles you’ve eaten are making you fall ill,” while his joke was lighthearted, you couldn't help but sigh.
sigh over the fact that he didn’t believe you in the slightest, and sighing at the fact that you haven’t had a full meal, let alone waffles, in over five years — merely table scraps left over from the grisha’s wonderful and elegant meals they were served daily.
“attention soldiers! tomorrow is the first journey through the fold of this season, and we are taking volunteers!” the room laughed at that, the general included — no one sought out to enter the fold — you were selected and that was final. “knowing that none of you will volunteer however, I have taken it upon myself to select a group of you that will accompany the second army across the fold.”
the first army was full of people like you and wilbur — mapmakers, trackers, and ordinary soldiers that could barely hold their own in a fight. mere children when they entered the army, chosen based on how healthy they were. if you could walk, talk, and breathe normally — you were selected.
the second army however, is what the battles were one with — with grisha only ranks, they dominated against the fjerdans and the shu, two nations that had it out for ravka.
no one could bring themselves to laugh this time around — all too weary and nervous to crack a joke.
“entering the fold tomorrow will be… malyen oretsev, atlas cooper, wilbur soot...” you turned to wilbur in horror. “please come to the docks at 1600 for deployment. that will be all soldiers,” the general stepped down from the stage, leaving a room full of shocked, scared, and relieved soldiers.
he tried to put on a strong face for you, but you could see through it as if it were glass. the man that he was today had retreated into the scared and small boy who could never fight for himself. “wil…” you could only whisper tearfully, knowing full well that this moment could be the last time you’d ever see him.
wilbur slapped on the best smile he could in the situation, and pulled your into a hug. “I’m going to be okay, you hear me? if not you can kick my ass,” he laughed lightly in your ear, not able to hide the way his voice shook.
“I can’t kick your ass if you're hurt,” your mind searched for some way that you could fix this — perhaps it was a mistake? or maybe he could get out of it through faking an injury or a sickness. “what if I shot you in the foot?”
“you have a terrible aim.”
“if it means you stay, wouldn’t you take the chance?”
“I have to go.”
“wil-”
“Y/N,” he gave you a look — a look that you had given him minutes before. “I have to go — I have orders to, you know that.”
an order was an order. there was no way out. no amount of arguing, begging, or offering could buy your way out of doing something no matter what your case was, or what the order was. wilbur swore to follow orders at the beginning of his first army career, much like you had.
“I promise you I’ll come back to you.”
“you better,” your head lowered to his chest once more, basking in the warmth one more time before you had to let him go.
if there was really anything as saints, you prayed for them to watch over him.
he had to come back.
because you didn’t know what you would do if he didn’t.
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— word bank
grisha [gree - shah] — unique individuals who have abilities
ravka — a country in the books of shadow and bone
corporalki [core - pour - ral - kee] — an order in the grisha
materialki [mat - eire - al - kee] — an order in the grisha
etherialki [ether - ree - al - kee] — an order in the grisha
fjerdan [fee - yair - den] — the ethnicity of fjerda residents
shu [shoo] — the ethnicity of shu-han residents
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phy-be · 3 years
Text
| treasured | a david/genya fic
my participation to the mini-bang for @grishaversebigbang ♡ This was so fun to write, and a million thank you to my two wonderful materialki! Please check out their amazing work:
@nuclearnik [link] @zemenipearls [link]
Rating: General Audiences Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, proposal, set between Ruin and Rising and King of Scars, Canon Compliant, david is a nerd and he loves his soul mate very very much, cw: nerdy descriptions of rocks, Grishaverse Minibang Summary:
“David, you didn’t have to…”
He frowned and cocked his head. “Yes, I did. It’s customary to gift a ring when asking someone’s hand in marriage.”
He was never good at understanding social norms, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten that one right.
David pressed the button on the side of his microscope goggles, switching the lens to a more magnifying glass. In the palm of his gloved hand, a crystal gleamed, like sparks of purple fire trapped in stone. The light hit each of its faces in slightly different ways, creating an explosion of colours and geometrical shapes. It was even more beautiful seen up close, when David could not only admire the beauty of the thing, but also the elegant laws of science that made the light refract just so.
Crystals were complicated to work with. Their beauty was due to a highly specific geometry at the molecular level, and any careless alteration could damage their inner core, breaking the stone or making it duller. Even if some were strong enough to cut glass, crystals were precious; they needed to be handled with the utmost care.
David loved working on crystals.
His quiet work was interrupted by anguished sobs coming from the bed.
Quickly, he slipped the stone in a bit of fabric and rushed from his desk. Genya was having another nightmare. Throwing off his glasses and gloves, he hurried to find her on the bed. He took her in a protective embrace as she sobbed, screamed, legs jerking in panic. She clawed at the air around, desperately chasing off a horde of invisible nichevo'ya.
“Stop,” she begged. She wasn’t talking to him.
David held her tighter. Every time he saw her this way, so anguished and pained, helpless to her inner demons, a bitter guilt settled in him, consigned in a single thought: I should have protected her.
Then the guilt faded into hot-white anger — at the Darkling, who had done this to her, who had known how much it would hurt and keep hurting her — until David discarded that emotion, too. Rage and regret were not useful feelings to linger on. Helping Genya get through this, making her pain more bearable — these were the only things that mattered.
Eventually her movements calmed, her hiccupping sobs turning into shallow breaths and silent tears. David caressed her hair, the auburn locks softer than any silk he’d ever felt, and dropped feather-light kisses on her forehead. Genya nestled closer to him, burying her face in his neck. He could feel the wetness of her tears trickling on his skin.
“You’re safe, dear,” he whispered, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this would always be true, from now on. “You’re safe.”
Her grip tightened on his shirt.
“W-were you awake?” she said, her voice still shaken.
David recognized the change of topic as her way to distract herself from the nightmares that lingered in her wakefulness. He played along.
“Yes,” he said, kissing her hair. “I was working late.”
“It’s almost morning,” she murmured. “You work late a lot lately.”
“I’m working on a project.”
“What project?”
David hesitated; Tamar had said he was supposed to keep it a secret. Keeping anything from Genya was hard enough normally, but when she was vulnerable like this, it was downright impossible.
He got up to get the piece of fabric — Genya followed him out of bed, not wanting to let go of his embrace, and he smiled, endeared. Gently, he led her back to the bed, sat next to her, and put his creation in her open palms.
“It’s not finished,” he warned.
Genya carefully unwrapped the silk. Her eyes widened at the sight of the ring, a glistening band of grisha steel wrapping like branches around a rose-shaped stone. When she turned it to get a better look, the candlelight shining through the crystal switched its colour from red, to purple, to blue.
“I altered the refracting index at different levels of the structure to make the crystal polychromatic,” David explained, excited in spite of himself. “I’ve done this with metals before, but never with crystal. It still needs polishing before I can give it to you, though.”
Genya’s eyebrow shot up, looking shocked. “This is for me?”
“Of course.” He admired the ring against Genya’s hand, as beautiful as he’d expected. It would be perfect once she wore it. Silver and red always complemented her pale, rosy skin, the way gold and purple complemented the bronze colour of his own.
“David, you didn’t have to…”
He frowned and cocked his head. “Yes, I did. It’s customary to gift a ring when asking someone’s hand in marriage.”
He was never good at understanding social norms, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten that one right.
“Y-you’re—” Genya croaked, her skin visibly flushed, “you’re proposing to me?”
“Not right now,” David corrected. “Tamar told me it had to be a special moment, so I’m still working on the details of that.”
He’d been thinking of doing it at sunset, for one. The fiery hues of the sky when the sun slipped under the horizon always reminded him of Genya’s hair, and it would look good on the ring. He’d calculated which part of the palace would be the most adequate spot — a corner of the Summoner’s field provided the perfect exposure for the ring to reflect sunrays and shimmer beautifully — but he needed a reason to bring Genya there that wouldn’t alarm her. Tamar had suggested a picnic, which David had found confusing since they never ate on the training grounds, but Genya did enjoy it when he cooked for her.
His thoughts came to a brutal halt when he realized Genya was crying.
David blinked. Had he done something wrong? He was always so bad at this stuff — he couldn’t count how many times he’d offended someone without meaning to, but Genya usually saw past his awkwardness and understood his meaning.
“Genya…” he said, hesitant, “I’m sorry, did I…”
“You’d want to marry me?” she sniffled, eyes cast down, tears gliding down her cheeks.
David was even more confused. Tamar’s advice hadn’t covered that part. “Yes. Of course.” Had that not been clear?
“Why?” Genya met his gaze. “Why would you… We haven’t even been together that long, you can’t know —”
Like the unknotting of a rope, suddenly, David understood. This was just like the imagined nichevo'ya. She was panicked, sure that the worst was yet to come, that she couldn’t be safe in her own home.
Softly, he cupped her cheeks, bringing her closer. He wished he could take some of the burden that weighed on her, carry it on his shoulders instead of hers, for once; wished he knew the right words to make her feel better, the perfect formula to soothe her fear. But this burden was Genya’s, and David was never good with words. All he could say was the truth.
“I agree that our romantic relationship has not been exceedingly long,” he admitted. A year only accounted for a twentieth of their age so far. Five percent of a life, and some change. “But I have been in love with you for seven years, five months, and twelve days. Our friendship is even older than that,” he pressed his forehead against hers, “and I’ve wanted to marry you from the first time you kissed me.”
His lips brushed hers, an echo of that day at the Spinning Wheel, when the bravest woman in the world had first chosen him.
“I realized at the time that this wasn’t a rational impulse,” he conceded, “so I waited to see how our companionship would grow. I believe I’ve now waited long enough to know. I feel at peace in your company, and I want to make you as happy as you make me.” He pulled back a little, retreating his hands. “Unless you do not want that, in which case I will respect—”
Before he could finish, Genya pulled him into a kiss — the dizzying, head-spinning kind of kiss he’d only ever experienced with her. When she kissed him like that, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, lips flush and panting, David’s usually overworking mind would quiet, snuffed out like the wick of a candle, replaced only by her . Soft hair, delicate skin, lips scarred and still wonderful, her scent a unique aroma he’d come to associate with peace, with home.
“Of course I want to,” she whispered against his lips, smiling coyly.
David kissed that smile, then her cheek, then her temple. “I’m relieved to hear that,” he sighed. “I’ll keep working on that proposal, then.”
Genya laughed, sweet and bright — David didn’t care much for music, but he could have listened to Genya’s laugh for hours. He tucked the ring back in the fabric and put it on the nightstand, where it wouldn’t get lost in the sheets, then took off his shoes and his shirt.
They lied together, Genya’s body half on top of his, snuggling close, as though any space between them might bring in the cold.
Genya brushed her fingers on David’s chest, tracing some patterns.
“So,” she said, her voice now clearer, more sure of herself — Genya in daylight, where the monsters couldn’t touch her. “What was that about seven years, five months, and twelve days?”
“Oh, hm…” David said. He could feel his face heat up, and felt irrationally glad for the brown of his skin, unlikely to show any hint of a blush.
Still, he told her the story of that day. Genya had visited the Fabrikator’s laboratory to make a new cosmetic for the queen. She’d been thirteen years old, and already so creative with her powers. At the time David had only reproduced what his masters had taught him as perfectly as he could, never trying to invent, to create.
But there had been Genya Safin, the first of her kind, inventing everything she did.
It wasn’t the first time they’d met, not even the first time they’d enjoyed each other’s company, but it was the first time David had watched her work. He hadn't even bothered saying hi (which he now realized had been rather rude), too eager to ask her question about her experiment. They’d talked, and when David had gone on a long tangent about his favourite way to colour glass, Genya hadn’t been bored or made fun of his enthusiasm, the way the other students usually did if they bothered to listen to him at all.
She’d listened with care and attention, and then she’d given him her opinion — smart, succinct. Perfect.
“How do you even remember the day this happened?” Genya laughed. “It was so long ago.”
David caressed her shoulder, a soothing, circular motion. “I remember everything, when it comes to you.”
“Cheesy,” she grinned.
“Maybe.” He felt his lips quirk in a smile of his own. “But it’s true.”
She rose up to look at him, her expression turning serious.
“I love you,” she said, the words like a promise. “For even longer than that.”
Gently, David took her wrist, and kissed her palm. “Now, let’s not make it a competition.”
“Wise. You know I’d win.”
“My dear,” he smiled against her hand, “I think I share this victory with you.”
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writewithurheart · 3 years
Text
Hearts of Kyber
a/n: Hello lovely readers!! I’ve been working on this work for the last couple months (and especially the last couple days). It has been an absolute pleasure working with these amazing artists who are astounding. I hope you love what we’ve put together!!
Corporalki: @kazandthecrows
Materialki: @anubem (art link) @generalstarkov (art link) @pijoshi (art link) @mitdemadlerimherzen (art link | art link 2) @erandraws (art link) @nannadoodles (art link) 
Summary: When an Imperial pilot defects, the Rebellion sends its best spies to find out what he knows. They discover the existence of a planet-destroying weapon known as the Death Star and a scientist who holds the secrets to its only weaknesses. Guided by the pilot, Wylan, and a former storm trooper, Matthias, Kaz Brekker leads a team to uncover the secret that can save the Rebellion before it’s crushed for good.
A Grishaverse Rogue One AU for the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021 
Read on AO3 or below the cut 
Part I
Inej barely remembers those early days with her family living in the heart of a city. She gets flashes of memories - playing with dolls, toddling after her father, parties full of boring adults who couldn’t care less about her. What she thinks of when she remembers her family is what came after: the travelling band of performers they joined. It’s there that she felt comfortable. The troupe was her family: they encouraged her, taught her tricks of the trade, and were the ones who trained her as an acrobat. They travelled from system to system, performing in cities and small villages alike, on hot planets and cold. She had careful rules to follow about her interactions whenever they landed. 
Despite all the restrictions, she remembers feeling carefree. The caravan was her domain and she was empress. The day her life changed was just like any other. She remembers her mother running a hand over her hair, whispering that they were going down into town. Her sleepy head full of cotton can’t remember her exact words, just the feeling of warmth, the comfort of routine. Only recently - on her eighth birthday - had she earned the right to sleep in instead of joining her parents’ customary outing.  
Sometimes in her waking hours, she forgets that happened years ago and in her half-waking state she thinks she can still hear her mother’s soothing whisper and her father patting her hand as he tucks her treasured stuffed bear under the blankets of her bed so she has company. 
Inej’s eyes fly open as the harsh lights of simulated daylight jolt her unrelentingly from her sleep into the cold reality of her life. 
She rolls up to a seated position and runs her arm over her sleepy face. She makes no effort to make herself presentable and glares at her arm with the repulsive peacock feather tattoo. It’s been eight years since that morning when her whole life burned around her, her whole extended family vanished in the blink of an eye and she was sold into the slave markets of the Hutts before she was even aware what that meant. 
“Inej Ghafa, the mistress will see you now,” a mechanical voice says over the speaker hidden in her room. Luxurious drapes and curtains cover the mechanical aspects of the room, but can’t hide the prison-like nature of a room without windows in a pleasure house. This has always been Inej’s cage. 
Of course, to the Empire, this isn’t slavery. She has an indenture that she’s working off, this was a choice she made. Inej stands. The words are bullshit. It’s a pretty story told by those who believe themselves to be above such terrible things just because they use different words. Inej is old enough to know what happens in the different rooms of the pleasure house she currently calls home, but still too young to be expected to participate fully. But she knows her days are numbered. 
Girls in this trade grow up quickly. She’s still a tease, only suffering a a groping hand here, a leer there, the occasional bit of voyeurism which makes her skin prickle and means she can never feel comfortable in any room, including her own.
Inej dresses with practiced movements in the ridiculous trappings Madam Helene requires. There are far too many bells on the outfit, too many dangling bits that can tangle for it to really be the exotic outfit Helene claims the clients want. She hates the way the silk feels against her skin when it used to mean the soothing comfort of performance attire. 
For now, her role is to just be an ornamentation for the pleasure house, but madame makes sure she knows what could happen the moment she steps a toe out of line. She’s not above selling Inej off before her time, the cost of which would do nothing to lower the exorbitant cost of her supposed indenture.  
Inej keeps her head down and walks quickly to the main room. In the early hours, there are few patrons who might be looking for a companion, but Inej has learned to keep her head down in any case. She’s short and skinny - underdeveloped to most tastes - so aren’t many interested in her and the ones that are she should avoid with even more care.  
There’s a boy in the room with Helene: a boy with a familiar cane. Inej is so surprised to see him that she forgets to look away meekly when his dark eyes meet hers. She tilts her head in curiosity. Last she saw, he was slipping out of a back hallway which she knew allowed Helene to eavesdrop on clients as they spent the night with girls, or that she offered to well-paying customers who took pleasure from that sort of thing. 
He looks just as cold as he did that night, but she vividly remembers the surprise in his eyes when she spoke from over his shoulder. He wasn’t a regular customer at the brothel but he was on good terms with a couple members of the staff and she’d seen him exchange kruge for information on more than one occasion. Last she saw him, she’d offered him help. 
“Ah, there’s my little Suli Lioness.” Madam Helene smiles benevolently, but her perfume chokes Inej as she wraps an arm around her. “Inej, do you know who this is?” 
“They call him Dirtyhands,” she answers, voice proper and meek as Helene likes. All the other girls have told her not to ask questions any time she tries to find out more. She can’t help but wonder if offering herself to him was a mistake, but she knows this place will kill her if she doesn’t find a way out. 
“Hmm…,” Madame hums. She turns to the boy with a set face and Inej’s chest tightens in apprehension. “I’m afraid your offer will not be accepted, Mr. Brekker. Inej is precious to me.” Her bejeweled fingers dig into Inej’s shoulder. “I couldn’t possibly part with her.” 
The boy raises an impeccable eyebrow. “I was under the impression our negotiations were finalized.” 
Helene releases an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, you silly boy. Did you know the Empire has offered quite the reward for you?” 
Inej tenses. She knows that Madame is fickle in her alliances, but she’s never openly invited storm troopers into her house: they don’t pay well. 
“You’d better run, little boy, if you want to get out of here before they can grab you.” 
Two doors into the main room slide open with a whoosh of air to reveal armored bodies with blasters levelled at the boy. Inej’s quick eyes note that the door closest to Brekker has no guard, instead being left clear if he wants to escape. If she were him, she would be running but instead he looks bored as he stares back at Madame. He lifts his wrist to check his time piece, an old fashioned analog device that hasn’t been used in decades. 
There’s a pulse of static followed by a volley of blaster shots. Inej jerks down out of the way but is shocked to see that none of the shots were aimed at them. 
“You should have taken the money, Helene,” the boy shaking space dust from his jacket. “We could have continued this lucrative partnership.” 
Madame pales and looks around at the rumpled crew of men who are all standing around. Most have holstered their guns, but a tall dark-skinned man walks up to them and gestures Helene back away from Inej. Madame drops her grip as if she can’t get her distance fast enough. She turns to the boy. 
“Please! You have to understand, the troopers would have killed me if I didn’t.” 
The boy looks at her impassively before shrugging. “Per Haskell is still willing to buy out her indenture. I’m sure we can agree on a more reasonable price.” 
Inej snorts. She can’t help it. They’re literally haggling over the price of her indenture after not killing one another. Frankly, it’s ridiculous. The boy looks over at her. Although his face is a mask which reveals no secrets, Inej sees a hint of amusement lurking in his dark eyes before he focuses again on Madame Helene. 
“Congratulations,” the dark-skinned man who shooed Madame Helene away says, leaning down to her, even as his eyes stay on the boy and madam. “You’re being rescued.” 
She looks around at the rag tag group she’s now willing to bet are Rebellion spies and wonders if this will actually be any better. Beyond them, she spots a couple of Helene’s girls with their bloodshot eyes, thin skin and haunted looks. It’s enough to remind her that is it. This is what she wants: a chance to save her father and get revenge on the Empire which has caused her so much pain. 
Inej straightens as much as she can. It looks like she’s joining the rebellion. 
...
Three years later… 
“You ever wonder if Kaz is actually a demon?” Jesper asks speculatively. He points his blaster to the sky and stares down the barrel. It’s in the best possible order he can make it. The sights are calibrated, the lazer refined and the trigger pull smooth. He couldn’t ask for a better weapon. 
Other than it’s partner, which is still in his holster and also freshly taken care of. 
“You’re supposed to be watching his back, Jesper,” the Wraith’s voice reminds him, tinged with annoyance. 
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, rolling over so he can look over the side of the building to where Kaz is meeting with his contact. “You know, I’m still not sure why all three of us need to be here for one pilot.” 
“If you want, we can always switch positions,” Inej offers. “You can play get-away pilot.” 
Jesper snorts as he lines up his sight again. “Yeah, right. That’s all yours, spider. Besides we needed the sniper position here, remember?” 
There’s a long suffering sigh over the radio and Jesper grins. Through the scope his eyes bounce to Kaz. He can’t see his face, but Jesper knows he’s got that stone face of annoyance, which, as it turns out, is not so different from his normal ambivalent face except that it includes the slight twitching of the vein at his temple. 
Inej claims he’s seeing things, that it’s all in Jesper’s head. According to her, Kaz’s tell has to do with his eyes or some other sappy thing like that because they’re both secretly in love with each other. Jesper thinks they’re both idiots and he likes to think that one day, if he makes a bad enough joke or an inappropriate enough comment, that vein on Kaz’s temple is going to burst. 
He thinks it's good to have goals like that. It makes the dirty work they do for the Rebellion more palatable. 
“I still think it would be better to have me on the ground,” Inej grumbles. “You know I’m no good at the piloting stuff.” 
“You’re the one who wanted to come. If I recall, Per Haskell offered you leave and instead you came here.” Jesper notices the stiffening of Kaz’s shoulders. His informant is still calm, if a little jumpy-looking, so he knows that’s not the source of the tension. His eyes scan the street and see nothing alarming. 
Jesper hasn’t asked but he knows there’s something going on here that they’re not sharing. Inej has been wound tight since they started to hear rumors of an Imperial weapon strong enough to take out a planet. While it was still just a rumor, Kaz and Inej were chasing the thread down with a vengeance. It’s what brought them back to this city world where they had found Inej three years ago. 
Now if only his sneaky little cohorts would share the secret with him. That would be great. 
Jesper grumbles to himself. Like that would ever happen. He looks through the scope of his rifle. The tell tale of white of stormtrooper armor catches his eye and Jesper focuses on the location. The odd trooper presence in a city like this isn’t necessarily something to make note of. It happens on occasion, but this is a pair and he can spot another pair making their way in what looks to his eyes like search patterns. 
“Heads up, Kaz. We might have company.” Jesper says as he keeps an eye on the soldiers. “Moving in pairs. Looks like a search pattern.” 
They’re too far away to hear the words that are spoken, but Jesper can guess what it is from here: “Hey! You there!” 
He watches as Kaz drags their contact into an alley as the storm troopers converge from two directions. 
“I’ve lost sight of you, Kaz.” Jesper sights the troopers through his scope and taps a finger against the trigger. Killing troopers brings more attention than Kaz likes. They work in secret. “Exit strategy?” 
Through Kaz’s comm he hears the panicked pleas of Kaz’s contact swiftly silenced by a laser bolt. He grimaces at the additional body count as Kaz’s gravelly voice comes over the comm. 
“I’ve got it. Jesper, join Inej. Meet me at the rendezvous point.” 
He takes one last look at the troopers closing in on the alley and then stands. If Kaz needed help, he would ask. The man had a thousand and one plans. There’s no way he didn’t account for a way out of this trap. It sounds like he’s probably climbing, a feat considering his bum leg from when he landed on it wrong a couple years back and it never healed properly.  
“You know, for once I’d like one of these missions to go smoothly,” Jesper mutters under his breath as he hightails it back to the ship. He stows his blaster and keeps it from sight as he moves through the crowds. Seedy cities have been a second home to him for years, since he left the Imperial flight academy, if he’s being honest. He liked the anonymity the city gave him. It always felt better than the emptiness of the moisture farm he grew up on. He hates the heat and the sand. 
Oh, God, the sand. 
He walks aboard the ship with the swagger of a drunk who won big at the betting table. He nods jovially to those he passes. There are a couple glances down to the pistols at his waist, but that’s normal on a large port like this one. Intergalactic travel to major cities has always been fraught with trouble and this one isn’t especially savory. They don’t have the clearance for savory. 
Inej sits on the ramp of the ship, sprawled out across it like a cat. She opens her eyes as he arrives and stretches. “Ready to go?” 
“Shouldn’t the get away pilot be ready to run?” Jesper teases as they walk up into the ship and Inej diverts to the cockpit, starting the take off procedure. 
“I spent the last hour bemoaning my terrible coworker who insists on gambling at each port and always staggers back drunk, occasionally with unexpected company. I’ve already got tower clearance to leave. And taking off won’t set any red flags with the Empire so we’re clear.” 
Jesper drops into the copilot chair as Inej goes through engine checks. “You did all that?” 
“You’re not the only one capable of sweet talking people, Fahey.” She shoots him a look and he chuckles. 
“I remember when your first attempt to blend in. Didn’t you end up stabbing someone?” 
Inej scowls at the memory. “And no one has tried to grab my body since then without a threat of a knife point.” 
Jesper chuckles. “Fair enough.” He shifts as they fly high enough to leave the atmosphere and then drop back down, drifting through the carefully mapped out empty space of blind spots that allow them to drift down to the meeting point. Despite it taking them almost no time to get there, Kaz is already sitting against a crate on the roof of a run down building, cane held out in front of him with his hands crossed on top. 
Jesper moves back toward the loading bay and opens the doors. He leans against the side of the doorway as the ship turns to face Kaz. “Hiya, honey. Miss me?” 
As always Kaz rolls his eyes at Jesper’s attitude as he climbs the ramp. “We’re clean. Any trouble at the port?” 
“Nope,” Inej reports from the cockpit. “Just a couple nosy traders looking for a good time. Sent them after Jesper.” 
“Har har,” he shoots back as the ramp closes with a firm whoosh of pressure stabilizing. He turns to Kaz who has dropped onto the bench and closed his eyes. His lame foot is extended slightly in front of him, a tell that it’s aching from the exercise of escaping the troopers. Jesper can also see where his blaster sticks out from under his jacket, the clip of the holster no longer in place. He definitely used it. “Did you get the intel?” 
Kaz nods. 
“Where are we headed?” Inej asks. From the body of the shuttle, Jesper sees her hand hover over the hyperspeed settings, preparing to change the destination of their jump. 
“The pilot is on Jedha.” 
They both freeze and you could hear a pin drop in the shuttle. Jesper glances at Inej and sees the same worry painted in the lines of her face. “Are you sure?” 
Kaz finally opens his eyes and leans forward. “It’s been confirmed. That’s the second source and this one claims to have actually seen the pilot.” 
“But he’s a defector, why would he go there?” Jesper asks. 
“Jedha’s not a stronghold for the Empire, but they do trade there.” Kaz answers, as if that explains the reasoning. 
“But it’s a Shu stronghold. They’re cut off. We haven’t had contact in years.” Jesper glances at Inej in the cockpit. “Nina was there when the communications shut down. She wasn’t able to get out and no one’s been able to go in.” 
Kaz rams a gloved hand over the top of his cane. “That isn’t strictly true.” 
Inej whips around. “What?” 
He sighs. “We have a way onto the planet. The problem will be finding the defector and getting him to talk to us.” 
“And getting off planet again,” Jesper cuts in. “Or have you forgotten how the Shu seize whoever and whatever they want? There’s a reason we don’t have an outpost there.” 
Kaz stares at him with those cold, blank eyes and then turns toward Inej. “Set the course.” 
For a long moment, Inej doesn’t move. Her fingers tap against the control as she gazes at Kaz with an inscrutable expression on her face for a moment before she turns back to the controls and the ship lurches into hyperspace. 
Jesper crosses his arms as he faces Kaz from across the ship. “You knew we were headed to Jedha.” 
Kaz stares back at him for a moment and then closes his eyes. He leans back against the side of the ship. Jesper wishes he was surprised about the lack of communication. 
He sits down next to Kaz. “This way on to Jedha...does it have anything to do with Nina?” 
Kaz cracks open an eye. He looks Jesper over and shuts them again. “She was able to get one message out since the Shu shut down. The last message that got out - the one that opened a path - the agent was lost. Haven’t heard anything since.” 
“Nina?” 
“Under orders to lay low.” 
“Are we taking her out with us?” 
Kaz’s hands tighten on the head of his cane. “We’ll see.” 
...
There was something happening. Nina looks around the marketplace covertly as she examines the fruit in the stall in front of her. It’s the same bland, slightly bruised fruit that they always have. Two years on this desert planet and she’s still not used to the blandness of the food. She’s missing the lush variety of Aldaraan and the sweets she used to eat by the bushel. There’s no sweets here in Jedha, especially not in the mostly abandoned temple. 
She exchanges a coin for two shrivelled pieces of fruit and a smile with the vendor. She slips off the main thoroughfare and into the archway that leads into the dilapidated temple. Like most of Jedha, it’s covered in a fine layer of sand and dust, and shows the wear and tear of years of war. 
She tosses a piece of fruit to the tall and skulking shadow that leans against the archway. Matthias catches the fruit of the air. He pulls a wickedly long knife from behind his back and cuts the fruit into meticulous pieces, eating with precise movements to stop the juice from creating a sticky mess. 
Nina is far less careful. She bites into the fruit and does her best to stop the overripe fruit from spilling juice down her chin. It’s a messy process and her fingers will end up coated in sugary sweetness. It’s her little act of rebellion that makes Matthias shake his head in her direction, when his eyes aren’t sweeping the plaza. 
“There’s something in the wind,” he says as he slowly eats another slice of his fruit. Nina’s is almost gone. She’s sad for that. 
“Rumors.” Nina glances at the gangsters on the corner of the street with their strange metal suits. They’re looking antsy, searching the street. “There’s not much chatter. Something about an Imperial pilot. Broke through the Shu blockade.” 
Matthias’s eyes drift back across the crowds of people. Nina rearranges her robe and leans against her staff. Two years posing as acolytes of the temple and proselytizing about Sankts has her accustomed to her character. No one bothers with a monk spouting ideas of an old religion they no longer believe in. 
“The Empire is still confined to their kyber shipments,” Matthias observes. He casually cuts the seeds from his fruit. “Their shuttle routes haven’t been altered. The Shu though.” His eyes dart to their locations around the square. “They’re looking for someone.” 
“A defector,” Nina says. 
Matthias finally looks over at her in surprise. “Yours or mine?” 
“Does it matter?” she asks. “Either way, we need to find them before anyone else.” 
“Do we?” Matthias grumbles and slips his knife back into the sheath hidden somewhere on his person. “It’s not like anyone’s come to get us in the last two years.” 
Nina rolls her eyes. They’ve had this argument before. “Come now, druskelle. Where’s that attitude of dedication to the Empire?” 
He snorts. “It died two years ago.” One of the Shu guards moves and Matthias’s attention strays. “Think it’s important enough that they’ll risk their peace with the Shu?” 
Beneath the question is the unspoken one that neither of them have put words to, but they both know is lingering in the back of their minds: Is this defector more important than they are? Nina’s last mission was to get a contact off Jedha to the Rebellion. Matthias had saved her from capture by the Shu and they hadn’t been able to risk an attempt to leave Jedha since then. The Empire had some sort of deal with the Shu that allowed them access to the Kyber mines but that was it. 
“Perhaps it’s time we went to collect tithes, Brother Helvar,” Nina announces. She pulls up the hood of her robes and leans on her staff as she walks out from the temple. Matthias follows behind her with grumbled complaints under his breath. The occupants of the city are familiar with their dynamic, although they’re sure to vary the times they depart the temple. Routines are too predictable. 
Matthias doesn’t speak even as Nina stops to talk with every friendly face she sees. For the first year, he had complained at every moment, even as she explained to him the importance of blending in, of becoming part of the populace. Now he even lets the children climb on him when she stops to share a story about the saints. 
“They’re jumpy,” Lin shares with Nina in whispered tones, her eyes darting around the square even though there don’t appear to be guards around right now. “Jan said he saw stormtroopers preparing to enter the city.” 
Nina performs a blessing on an elderly man. “Any idea what they’re looking for?” 
“A pilot.” Lin shifts her daughter around on her hip. “Imperial pilot. You don’t want to get between the troopers and their goal. The Shu are looking for him too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of their way.” 
Matthias moves closer. “And the pilot?” 
Lin glances at him and then back at Nina. She’s always been more skittish around men. It’s a look Nina’s uncomfortably familiar with and one she knows speaks to a violent past interaction. The way she grips her daughter just a bit closer breaks Nina’s heart. 
Nina nods encouragingly. 
“Down by the old refractory.” Lin freezes up as soon as the words escape her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise at what she just divulged. She darts away in a panic, leaving Nina and Matthias to continue to serve the poor with their usual tithes. 
By unspoken agreement, Matthias follows Nina’s lead as she takes them on a winding path. The last year and half of long meandering routes work in their favor as Nina leads them with more purpose. 
It feels good to have a purpose again. She hasn’t had contact with the Rebellion, but if this is big enough that the Empire is willing to fight the Shu for the interloper, then it’s big enough for the Rebellion to also be looking. The Empire has the strength to use brute force. The Rebellion will send Kaz Brekker. Per Haskell would be an idiot to send anyone else. 
As they get closer to their destination, Nina slows her pace and purposefully plays up her monk persona, passing out alms and blessings in equal measure. Matthias moves gruffly in her wake, watching her back in a way that might be suspicious if it hadn’t been his stable characteristic for the last two years. The Shu are used to their dynamic of the devout believer jaded sceptic. They had adopted the personas for safe passage before the Shu blockade and been forced to maintain it since then. 
It was useful, despite neither Nina nor Matthias being well versed in espionage. 
By the time they reach the old refractory buildings, Nina and Matthias are moving at a crawl, speaking to every person they see. Nina’s eyes scan the faces for one that looks out of place, one that screams uncertainty or distrust. 
She gets pointed down a dark alley by one of the urchins after she shares with him one of her precious jojo beans. It’s the closest she can get to her sweets in this city. She glances at Matthias and he nods. His body is intentionally relaxed, ready to move as necessary in response to a threat. 
Nina leads the way into the factory, looking around carefully as they move into the space. She breathes in deeply and sinks into the meditative state. The air around her settles, buzzing with the life force of the inhabitants of the city. In a couple of breaths, she narrows it further so she can feel the interior of the building. 
Matthias mutters under his breath, something about religious mumbo jumbo and insanity. 
Nina turns sideways and opens one eye to glare at Matthias. He rolls his eyes and gestures at her to continue.  
Her use of the Force is unrefined, based more in the faith that it will work than on actual knowledge about what she’s doing. It’s an old religion and the order they’re with is still respected even if not believed in. Okay, so maybe respected is pushing it. They’re disregarded as religious fanatics who don’t do much of anything. 
She follows the light of the Force through the factory, letting it guide her feet, trusting it to protect her from bumping into any of the clutter. Dimly, she senses Matthias grunt as he moves something out of her path before she hits it or it hits her. She keeps her focus on the life signature that shines like a beacon, coming to a stop once they’re in sight of the huddled mass. She opens her eyes and peers into the gloom. 
“We’re here to help you,” Nina says. Her soft voice carries around the large space. She ignores Matthias’s mutter about talking to herself. 
“Who...who are you?” A tremulous voice asks. It sounds younger than Nina expected, more uncertain. She thought a defector would be more hardened, more convinced of their path to go against the Empire in such a way. 
Nina squats down to look at the hunched over figure. Matthias has one hand hovering over his hidden firearm, the other on a dagger. She’s deep in her meditation of the Force and senses no danger from the huddled figure. 
“You’re the pilot, right?” Nina asks instead of answering. 
His eyes look her over, lingering on her and Matthias’s matching robes. “You’re priests?” 
He inches forward. There’s enough light cast on him that his Imperial uniform catches her eye, answering the question he avoids. She smiles softly at him and holds out her hand. Behind her Matthias shifts, disliking her proximity to perceived danger, if she has to guess. 
“Word on the street is you’re a defector. We’re here to help.”  
...
Wylan doesn't think he's ever been this cold in his life. Which is bizarre because this is a desert planet. You'd think it would be warm but instead he's found himself huddled in dark corners, scavenging like a rat for scraps for the last couple days while he tries to escape notice from the Shu. Jedha was supposed to be a safe haven for him, somewhere the Empire couldn't touch. The Shu had tried to grab him first, had detained him and demanded answers to their questions about the Empire. His protests that he wanted to defect fell on deaf ears. Then they'd dragged him into a cave with a beast they called Bor Gullet. 
It's a blur after that. 
He remembers waking in a cell to garbled words, a blurred hologram of his father glaring disdainfully down at him. A comment about the Empire being grateful to the Shu. Wylan doesn't know how he escaped. There's a memory of loud noise, a flash of heat, and dirt. Then it's all dark and cold. 
He'd avoided people after that, stuck to shadows, and only ventured out when the emptiness of his stomach threatened to eat him from the inside out. 
He doesn't even know how long it's been since he escaped the cell...or was released...he doesn't know. 
Then the woman appeared, like an angel out of the darkness and she promises salvation. 
Wylan knows enough of his father's games not to immediately trust the gesture. "Who are you?"  
“We’re with the Rebellion,” she says with a smile. 
The monk behind her rolls his eyes and turns away. They don’t look like any monks he recognises. The only person he’s heard of who truly follows the old religion is the Darkling and Wylan’s not so unfortunate to have ever seen him in person. “You don’t look like Rebels.” 
“He’s right. We don’t,” the man tells her. 
The woman looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in a glare. “Matthias Helvar.” She turns conspiratorially back to Wylan and there’s a friendly glint in her eye that makes him want to trust her. “Once he was the most devout of you all. Rose through the ranks of the Empire almost as high as they come. You want out of the Empire. We can help.” 
Wylan’s eyes drift over the man’s features and there’s something that reminds him of the way General Brum’s men carry themselves, the elite of the troopers he’s only seen from a distance. Wylan wants to string words together but they slip away like soap and water. 
“Will you come with us?” She prompts, yet again. 
He can’t combine the fears and hopes and questions into coherent sense. All he can do is nod in agreement. Whether they harm him or save him, he’ll be dead or caught if he stays here on his own. He needs allies and he’s not in a mental state where he can do much of anything himself. 
“Good,” she says. She pulls him forward and manhandles Wylan into a monk’s robe over his tattered pilot’s uniform. “I’m Nina. This is Matthias. We’re going to get you out of here alive. Good?” 
Wylan nods. She shoves a basket into his hands and drops additional bits of clutter from the warehouse floor into it. 
“We should be heading back,” Matthias rumbles. 
“Walk between us,” Nina instructs, pulling the hood of his robe up. Matthias mimics the movement. “Don’t make eye contact. Don’t talk to anyone. Just stay in step with us. We’ll speak for you if it comes to that.” 
Wylan has enough sense to nod along. He knows talking will only give away his current state of complete confusion. He can see the looks Nina and Matthias exchange in response to his silence. He’s not so lost that he doesn’t understand what’s going on but the thoughts take too long to reach his lips and disappear like fragrance on a breeze. 
The ground is dusty and uneven under Wylan’s feet. It captures his attention as he walks, so different from the metal hallways and corridors he’s used to walking.  His feet catch from where they scrape the ground and he tries to tell his body to lift his feet higher, but they don’t seem willing to respond any more than what they do by instinct. When was the last time he walked on anything that wasn’t steel? 
He’s so preoccupied by swirls of dirt that he walks right into a wall. 
Well, not a wall, but the giant monk - Matthias. He bounces off the man’s back, which feels like the equivalent of walking into a wall. The man doesn’t even move in response to him walking into him at full speed, but Wylan almost falls on his butt, and would if it wasn’t for Nina catching him. 
She steps past him to stand next to Matthias. She pushes him further into the shadows behind Matthias as she looks past him to see what’s grabbed his attention. Wylan shuffles sideways and ducks down so he can look around the hulking figures. 
The white helmets break through his current haze and Wylan stumbles backwards. The Storm Troopers followed him. He can’t allow himself to be captured, not after he finally escaped that place and his father’s restrictive control. 
“Wait!” Nina whispers harshly, but Wylan’s body is moving without his consent. The urge to get away is too strong. It drives him, haltingly, step-after-step through twisting and confusing alleyways. He’s not sure where he’s going except away. If he can get to a port, he’s sure he can fly a ship. 
Another flash of white Imperial helmets send him careening in another direction which leads him into a square. The sudden exposure leaves him disoriented and he spins around looking for another exit as a child is ushered into one house and shutters are slammed shut. Wylan gulps. He walks back and turns, running into someone for the second time. This time the person rocks as he crashes into them, but Wylan’s still the one wheeling back. 
He blinks at the man, carrying some sort of stick. He looks like he could belong here except that his eyes are too intent. It’s the kind of gaze you couldn’t stand for too long but are also scared to look away from. It takes him a second to notice the tiny girl at his side. She’s looking around, causally flipping a blade in her hand. The other rests on a blaster. Now that he realized that, Wylan notices the man is also armed. 
“Wylan Van Eck?” The man asks. 
Wylan blinks at him in shock. He’s helpless to do anything but nod. They’re not Empire and they don’t look like the Khergud who grabbed him, so they can’t be that bad. Or at least are likely better than the alternative.  
“Right. Time to be off. Let Jesper know we’ve got the package.” The man turns abruptly. 
Wylan glances at the girl who steps aside and gestures at him to follow. He hasn’t decided if he will when there are footsteps behind him. He twists back to see who’s following and breathes a little easier when the monks appear. Maybe monks are better than whoever the man is.  
Maybe he’s dead anyway. 
“Oh good. You’re here.” The man says. “We can all go then.” 
Nina smirks from where she’s bent over catching her breath. “Nice to see you too, Kaz. Been ages.” 
...
It’s convenient that they were able to find the pilot and Nina in one place. He would have trouble getting Inej and Jesper out of here with just the pilot. They’d had no communication with Nina, no way to get in contact with her once they were in the atmosphere. Kaz takes it in stride and moves back the way they came. The rest will follow and someone will make sure the pilot comes along with them. 
It would have been a fantastic escape. In and out with no trouble whatsoever. It would have been too lucky for him, so the storm troopers that come streaming racing around the corner where Nina and her friend emerged are hardly a surprise. The real unlucky bit is that they also appear in the two other access points to the square. 
The pilot looks ready to bolt. Nina and the second monk steps forward. Kaz respects the bulk of him and hopes that he’s good in a fight. If it were just him and Inej, they would split up and meet at the rendez-vous. The pilot is going to be the issue. 
“Halt. Surrender or you will be terminated.” 
Inej pushes Wylan behind her and toward Kaz. The boy curls in on himself. How he ever got up the courage to desert the Empire, Kaz hasn’t a clue. Now they just need to get him out of here with whatever valuable knowledge is worth breaking the standoff with the Shu. 
Kaz pushes him into a doorway, out of sight of the blasters. “Stay down.” 
The boy whimpers. 
Nina steps forward, hands raised in a deceptively helpless gesture. “Calm down. We’re all friends here.” 
“Stand down or we will open fire,” the trooper repeats. The entire line readies their weapons. Their blasters might be unreliable and clunky, but with so many firing, they’re bound to hit something. 
“You don’t want to shoot us.” Nina tries again. 
“That’s what you’ve got?” the second monk asks incredulously. 
She glares at him. Kaz watches Inej palm a blade and twirl it effortlessly in one hand. The harsh sunlight glints off the edge of the blade: steel instead of a laser edge many prefer. He knows she likes the way the old fashioned blades feel in her hand. They look like they belong in her grasp. 
Nina steps forward again, closer and closer to the troopers. “You’re not going to shoot us.” 
“Hand over the pilot.” The trooper says. From across the square, Kaz can hear the gun prep to fire. This isn’t working. 
“Yeah. That’s not going to happen,” he drawls from the back of the group. The second monk glares at him, but Kaz just twirls his kane, unbothered. It was going to come down to this anyway. There’s no point holding it off as more backup and fire power arrives to support the troopers. 
Shadows fall across the square and Kaz gets his first look at the notorious Khergud soldiers who have kept Jedha independent for the last two years. “Imperial Troopers. You have no authority in our city. The pilot is ours.” 
Nina, her monk, and Inej grow tense at the new party. Beside him the pilot starts to mutter under his breath, rocking back and forth. 
This actually works to their advantage as the troopers are forced to divert their attention. The Khergud fires directly at the troopers before jumping into the air. The troopers open fire, most on the Khergud, judging them to be the bigger threat. 
Inej seizes the moment to dive forward into the fight, taking out two opponents in moments before she’s engaged by one of the Shu soldiers. She moves like an acrobat, twirling through flailing limbs that breeze past her. She’s a force of nature. 
Kaz is distracted from his awe by a guard landing a few feet away and leaping for Wylan. He dispatches the soldier with a few whacks of his cane. He crumples under a well-placed hit to the temple. 
More troopers race toward the noise. They stop around the corner of an alley, firing from their protective spots and forcing the monk and Kaz to step back to cover. They lob a grenade into the square. Kaz takes two steps forward and hits it back with the metal head of his cane. It soars in a perfect arch back to the troopers, who scramble for cover too late. 
The monk nods in acknowledgment and moves to relieve Nina from her two enemies. Inej falls back as she takes out her opponent and the rest are distracted by Nina and the monk. She moves to stand alongside Kaz, stretching out the muscles she just used as she slips her blades back in their many holsters. The explosion rocks the block which takes out one contingent of troopers but they're met with more troopers and Shu, crawling out of the cracks like cockroaches. 
A moment later shots arc over their heads, rapid fire, each one hitting its target and leaving the recipients incapacitated.  
Kaz relaxes infintestimently. He'd been prepared to dive for cover. His hand twitches toward Inej but he knows she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need him trying to tackle her and throwing off her center of balance.  
A figure emerges along the roofline, a rifle resting against his shoulder. “There were an awful lot of explosions for people who were supposed to be blending in.” 
“I hope you’ve got an exit plan, Brekker,” Nina says. She diverts to the Imperial pilot after a glance at the monk. 
He nods and moves for the alley. “This way.” He glances at Inej and up at the roofline. She nods and follows his tacit directions. Kaz leaves her to do what she does best: cover them from the shadows. 
Kaz walks with purpose through the streets. Now that fighting has broken out, it appears that no one is holding back. Shu are fighting stormtroopers, troopers are fighting the Khergud and civilians are running for cover. Jesper’s  and Inej’s shadows move with them. The monk - who Kaz Brekker suspects is the Druskelle Nina mentioned before she went dark - leads the charge, with his long legs that eat up the ground in long strides. Nina covers their escape with a simple bo staff. 
“Where are we going?” The monk asks as he fires off a round of shots. 
“Left!” Jesper shouts as he crashes to the ground on the back of a Khergud soldier. “I don’t know why we ever thought this was going to be a quiet mission. And I still say we need a demolition expert.” 
“We’re spies, Jesper,” Kaz growls over the sound of battle. 
Jesper shoots him a cocky grin over his shoulder. “But this is so much more fun.” 
“There’s something wrong with you,” the monk mutters. 
“Kaz.” 
He looks sideways, unsurprised to find Inej at his shoulder, silent as always. He follows her gaze upwards and nearly stumbles to a stop. “Jedha doesn’t have a moon.” 
Nina and the monk stumble to a stop. Jesper glances up for a moment. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. It appeared out of nowhere. It’s too big to be a ship but moons don’t move.” 
“That’s it,” Wylan whispers. The pilot suddenly jolts into motion. “We have to go. Now!” 
Kaz is forced into an ungainly run. He tries not to notice Inej hovering at his elbow, keeping pace with him as they race toward the ship. The Imperial pilot is ahead of them all, heedless of laser bolts. Jesper yanks him back by the collar to direct him to the correct ship. 
As he reaches the ramp, Kaz starts to hear screams. 
“Jesper, get us out of here!” Kaz yells. Inej hits the control to shut the ramp as Jesper guns the engine. 
“What do you think I’m doing, Brekker? Buckle up. This ride’s about to get bumpy.” 
... 
The whole world has turned upside down. Matthias isn’t sure what he’s doing, to be perfectly honest. Staying with Nina was a mutually beneficial proposition. They were stuck on a foreign planet, where the only people they could trust were each other. He’d become accustomed to their partnership and been shocked by how much he relied upon her. Now, looking at this ragtag group - so different from the ordered discipline of the elite Druskelle guard - Matthias is at a loss for how the Resistance has managed to become a thorn in the Empire’s side. 
He will admit that they were, like Nina, surprisingly capable and effective. However, he can’t hide how scandalized he is by their lack of any sort of recognizable chain of command. The trio moves like his old unit in that they’re so familiar with each other, they don’t need to shout out commands. But their actions of Jedha display an alarming disregard for a cohesive plan and seem to thrive on the chaos of the moment. 
“What was that?!” The boy with the cane asks, turning around to stare at the group before his eyes zero in on the unfortunate pilot. 
Matthias hasn’t gotten much from the boy, except that he stepped back from the fighting yet was clearly capable of surviving physical confrontation. Nina and his two companions seemed to defer to him as some sort of leader, which spoke to a sharp mind. Nina called him Kaz, which would indicate one of the high level members of Rebel Intelligence. He’s heard him referenced as a nightmare or a demon, spoken of in whispers and myths more than anything else. 
All in all: Matthias expected someone older. 
“That was the Death Star,” Wylan whispers. His eyes look haunted. 
Matthias frowns. “Impossible.” He starts when five sets of eyes jerk towards him in the silence of hyperspace. He grits his teeth. The word wasn’t supposed to be spoken out loud. “They’re decades away from creating that technology.” 
Wylan is shaking his head. “No. They found a scientist. Got him to create what they needed. I...I was able to get away. To warn the Rebellion. It’s a planet killer.” 
“A planet killer?” The small girl repeats. 
“Is that even possible?” Nina glances at him for confirmation. Matthias has no answer. It was only an idea when he was with the Druskelle last. Brum used to talk about it, but it was never close to a reality. Not then. 
“Why don’t you ask Jedha?” Kaz says. 
“We don’t know that it destroyed the whole planet,” the small girl points out. 
The boy doesn’t look away from where he stares out the window at the white streaks of stars passing in hyperspace. “At the very least, we know it destroyed the city. If the Empire has a weapon like that, we’re left defenseless.” 
“That’s why I was sent to find you,” Wylan says. He freezes when all eyes turn to him and he curls in on himself from his spot beside the pilot. Matthias has spent years in Imperial bases and has no idea how this pilot managed to get into the program, let alone became important enough to have access to this top secret project. It seems highly suspect to him. 
“Sent?” The boy asks, finally turning so his whole body faces the pilot. Matthias does have to admit he cuts an intimidating figure even as he leans on his cane. 
The pilot swallows. “The scientist. I was supposed to get to a contact they had with the Rebellion. There was someone I was supposed to connect with...the Wraith? But I got redirected…” He frowns. The more the pilot seems to search for words, the harder they seem to come. 
Matthias has seen this before. “He was captured by the Khergud. They most likely probed his mind using Bor Gullet. That’s how they dealt with any Imperial or Rebel spies they found.” He leans back against the steel hull. It actually feels good to be back in space again after being grounded for so long. 
It feels like freedom. 
The boy looks at Nina. She nods in confirmation. “It’s true. We only escaped detection because of the temple.” 
“Because all she would talk about was the Force,” Matthias mutters. He adjusts his muscles so they’re loose and he can react in an instant if needed. Nina drops into the space beside him, using his shoulder as a pillow as she settles in like a cat that can get comfortable anywhere. 
“I saved your life,” she says without opening her eyes. 
He grunts and doesn’t let his smile emerge.  
“The Wraith,” Kaz repeats, focusing on Wylan again. “What were you supposed to tell them?”
Wylan still looks nervous. “Well, I was supposed to pass on...a message...There’s a way to destroy it. A weakness.” 
“A weakness?” 
Wylan yanks at his hair. It’s useless to try to force him to remember more in his state. Matthias watches the trio of rebels to see what they’ll do at this obstacle. 
“He didn’t tell me,” Wylan whispers, clearly realizing this might not endear him to his rescuers at this point. “I was supposed to...bring someone back. They wanted...they wanted someone to rescue them, and they would share the weakness. I was just supposed to be the messenger. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” 
Kaz scowls and glances at the girl who looks at the man in the pilot’s seat, all having some sort of silent conversation. Matthias watches the interaction with interest.  
“Where is this base?” Kaz finally moves closer, crouching so he can look Wylan in the eyes. 
“Eadu.” 
Matthias vaguely recalls the outpost. Far from most of the known universe, it’s one of the Empire’s research bases. There’s not a huge platoon placed there for protection. It’s a secret base, kept out of the way, and by necessity sees few changes in personnel. There were a couple training missions on the planet to diversify the team’s experiences and analyze security procedures. 
“We don’t have anyone on Eadu,” the girl notes. 
“Because Eadu’s on lockdown. Nothing in or out that isn’t high level.” The boy flying the craft throws over his shoulder. “Out of the flight academy, I only stopped there once because they needed a supply run immediately. They didn’t even let me off the shuttle. To be a pilot there, you’d have to have some pretty impressive clearance.” 
Matthias alters his assessment of the crew that got them off Jedha. To get through the Imperial Flight Academy is impressive. The man also demonstrated impressive aim and combat skills. Despite not being highly regimented, they do appear to be a solid team. He glances down at Nina. 
“So in order to get the information on the weakness, we have to go to Eadu,” the girl says. She’s twirling a knife in her hands, one with a true steel blade like he hasn’t seen in ages. Her comfort with it is another mark in their favor. 
“Jesper’s right. It’s impenetrable. We haven’t managed to get anyone on the inside.” Kaz taps his fingers on the head of his cane. 
“So we go.” The girl shrugs. “We redirect. We need to find a way to beat this thing or millions more are going to die.” 
“Procedure is to report for further orders. We’ve got the pilot.” Kaz looks at her with a heavy look. 
“Matthias can help.” Nina elbows him as she speaks up. 
He scowls down at her as everyone turns to stare at him. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes to betray him. 
“I’m not a traitor.” Matthias glares at the lot of them. 
“You’ll help,” Nina says with a self-assuredness he’s come to hate over the last couple of years. Because as irksome as it is, she’s usually right about these things. They both know it. 
“We’re supposed to just trust a stranger on your word?” Jesper asks. 
“Get twisted, Fahey. You know my word is good.” 
Kaz and the woman - whose name Matthias still doesn’t know - have another silent conversation. She turns to look at him, her eyes speculative. Kaz leans closer to her. “You think you can do this?” 
She doesn’t take his eyes from Matthias. Her knives continue the casual twisting in her hand. She shrugs and looks back at the mastermind. “It is our kind of job.” 
Kaz nods. “Jesper, alter course. Van Eck, help get him close without being seen. Matthias, you need to tell us everything you know, and quickly.” 
“Why should I?” 
“Because if you don’t, I’m going to make your life very unpleasant.” 
“How do you even know the pilot is right? How do you know there really is a weakness? This could be a trap.” It sounds like the kind of thing Jarl Brum would think up to capture Rebel spies.
“Faith,” Nina says. “This is the right choice.” She finally sits up and stretches. 
Matthias rolls his eyes at her religious display. He sighs. “I can tell you what I know. It could still be a trap.” 
“The pilot is Wylan Van Eck. He’s on my list of potential informants. He became an Imperial pilot because of familial connections. It’s how he has access to sensitive information. We know they’re working on something on Eadu. If this is what he says, then we need that information.” The girl explains it in an even voice. 
“And if there isn’t a secret weakness?” 
Kaz and Inej exchange a long look.  
“Then we find another way to blow it up,” Jesper supplies. 
Matthias isn’t sure he likes the looks of glee on their faces. 
“So how do we get in?” 
The girl turns to look at Matthias, her dark eyes just the slightest bit terrifying now that he’s actually getting a good chance to size her up. She tends to fade into the background and let her comrades take charge, but definitely is not to be underestimated. He stares at her and then glances at Kaz. 
“Inej is a ghost,” Nina says. “She can get in and out without anyone noticing.” 
He looks her over, still assessing. This moment, more than any in the last two years of surviving, feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff. The last two years he could justify to his superiors: he was surviving a hostile planet, he had to get close to Nina or he would have died, he was trying to learn the secrets of the Rebel scum. This was different. If he does this, he’s helping the Rebel cause. He’s actively going against everything he’s ever learned.
Nina hits him in the shoulder, as if sensing his internal conflict. She twists upright to look at him and raises an eyebrow in challenge. 
He can hear her voice in his head, berating him for his strict no-nonsense rules and his consuming hatred for anything that goes against the order of the Empire. There were countless debates as they marched through Jedha, each an intellectual exercise. He can honestly say that he doesn’t believe the Empire is never wrong, but is that enough to make him give up their secrets? 
“They murdered everyone in Jedha,” she whispers to him softly. “Lin, Mauri, Katya…” She closes her eyes against the pain. 
He wants to wrap her in his arms and pull her close. Nina feels everything so deeply, unable to stop herself from connecting with everyone she meets. He wants to protect from that pain, to comfort her. Those lives lost today. They were innocents. People that should have been protected and instead… 
He opens his eyes and nods his agreement to Nina. 
She grins, life and joy filling her back up as she bounces around in her seat, the way she gets excited whenever they found something reasonably sweet on Jedha. “Matthias meet Inej. Inej, meet Matthais. He’s a little shy but he knows what’s at stake.”
It’s like shedding a piece of armor or throwing off the last vestiges of who he once was. There’s no turning back now, and he has surprisingly little regret as he opens his eyes and asks the first damning question: “Where do you want to start?”
<hr>
Inej barely remembers those early days with her family living in the heart of a city. She gets flashes of memories - playing with dolls, toddling after her father, parties full of boring adults who couldn’t care less about her. What she thinks of when she remembers her family is what came after: the travelling band of performers they joined. It’s there that she felt comfortable. The troupe was her family: they encouraged her, taught her tricks of the trade, and were the ones who trained her as an acrobat. They travelled from system to system, performing in cities and small villages alike, on hot planets and cold. She had careful rules to follow about her interactions whenever they landed. 
Despite all the restrictions, she remembers feeling carefree. The caravan was her domain and she was empress. The day her life changed was just like any other. She remembers her mother running a hand over her hair, whispering that they were going down into town. Her sleepy head full of cotton can’t remember her exact words, just the feeling of warmth, the comfort of routine. Only recently - on her eighth birthday - had she earned the right to sleep in instead of joining her parents’ customary outing.  
Sometimes in her waking hours, she forgets that happened years ago and in her half-waking state she thinks she can still hear her mother’s soothing whisper and her father patting her hand as he tucks her treasured stuffed bear under the blankets of her bed so she has company. 
Inej’s eyes fly open as the harsh lights of simulated daylight jolt her unrelentingly from her sleep into the cold reality of her life. 
She rolls up to a seated position and runs her arm over her sleepy face. She makes no effort to make herself presentable and glares at her arm with the repulsive peacock feather tattoo. It’s been eight years since that morning when her whole life burned around her, her whole extended family vanished in the blink of an eye and she was sold into the slave markets of the Hutts before she was even aware what that meant. 
“Inej Ghafa, the mistress will see you now,” a mechanical voice says over the speaker hidden in her room. Luxurious drapes and curtains cover the mechanical aspects of the room, but can’t hide the prison-like nature of a room without windows in a pleasure house. This has always been Inej’s cage. 
Of course, to the Empire, this isn’t slavery. She has an indenture that she’s working off, this was a choice she made. Inej stands. The words are bullshit. It’s a pretty story told by those who believe themselves to be above such terrible things just because they use different words. Inej is old enough to know what happens in the different rooms of the pleasure house she currently calls home, but still too young to be expected to participate fully. But she knows her days are numbered. 
Girls in this trade grow up quickly. She’s still a tease, only suffering a a groping hand here, a leer there, the occasional bit of voyeurism which makes her skin prickle and means she can never feel comfortable in any room, including her own.
Inej dresses with practiced movements in the ridiculous trappings Madam Helene requires. There are far too many bells on the outfit, too many dangling bits that can tangle for it to really be the exotic outfit Helene claims the clients want. She hates the way the silk feels against her skin when it used to mean the soothing comfort of performance attire. 
For now, her role is to just be an ornamentation for the pleasure house, but madame makes sure she knows what could happen the moment she steps a toe out of line. She’s not above selling Inej off before her time, the cost of which would do nothing to lower the exorbitant cost of her supposed indenture.  
Inej keeps her head down and walks quickly to the main room. In the early hours, there are few patrons who might be looking for a companion, but Inej has learned to keep her head down in any case. She’s short and skinny - underdeveloped to most tastes - so aren’t many interested in her and the ones that are she should avoid with even more care.  
There’s a boy in the room with Helene: a boy with a familiar cane. Inej is so surprised to see him that she forgets to look away meekly when his dark eyes meet hers. She tilts her head in curiosity. Last she saw, he was slipping out of a back hallway which she knew allowed Helene to eavesdrop on clients as they spent the night with girls, or that she offered to well-paying customers who took pleasure from that sort of thing. 
He looks just as cold as he did that night, but she vividly remembers the surprise in his eyes when she spoke from over his shoulder. He wasn’t a regular customer at the brothel but he was on good terms with a couple members of the staff and she’d seen him exchange kruge for information on more than one occasion. Last she saw him, she’d offered him help. 
“Ah, there’s my little Suli Lioness.” Madam Helene smiles benevolently, but her perfume chokes Inej as she wraps an arm around her. “Inej, do you know who this is?” 
“They call him Dirtyhands,” she answers, voice proper and meek as Helene likes. All the other girls have told her not to ask questions any time she tries to find out more. She can’t help but wonder if offering herself to him was a mistake, but she knows this place will kill her if she doesn’t find a way out. 
“Hmm…,” Madame hums. She turns to the boy with a set face and Inej’s chest tightens in apprehension. “I’m afraid your offer will not be accepted, Mr. Brekker. Inej is precious to me.” Her bejeweled fingers dig into Inej’s shoulder. “I couldn’t possibly part with her.” 
The boy raises an impeccable eyebrow. “I was under the impression our negotiations were finalized.” 
Helene releases an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, you silly boy. Did you know the Empire has offered quite the reward for you?” 
Inej tenses. She knows that Madame is fickle in her alliances, but she’s never openly invited storm troopers into her house: they don’t pay well. 
“You’d better run, little boy, if you want to get out of here before they can grab you.” 
Two doors into the main room slide open with a whoosh of air to reveal armored bodies with blasters levelled at the boy. Inej’s quick eyes note that the door closest to Brekker has no guard, instead being left clear if he wants to escape. If she were him, she would be running but instead he looks bored as he stares back at Madame. He lifts his wrist to check his time piece, an old fashioned analog device that hasn’t been used in decades. 
There’s a pulse of static followed by a volley of blaster shots. Inej jerks down out of the way but is shocked to see that none of the shots were aimed at them. 
“You should have taken the money, Helene,” the boy shaking space dust from his jacket. “We could have continued this lucrative partnership.” 
Madame pales and looks around at the rumpled crew of men who are all standing around. Most have holstered their guns, but a tall dark-skinned man walks up to them and gestures Helene back away from Inej. Madame drops her grip as if she can’t get her distance fast enough. She turns to the boy. 
“Please! You have to understand, the troopers would have killed me if I didn’t.” 
The boy looks at her impassively before shrugging. “Per Haskell is still willing to buy out her indenture. I’m sure we can agree on a more reasonable price.” 
Inej snorts. She can’t help it. They’re literally haggling over the price of her indenture after not killing one another. Frankly, it’s ridiculous. The boy looks over at her. Although his face is a mask which reveals no secrets, Inej sees a hint of amusement lurking in his dark eyes before he focuses again on Madame Helene. 
“Congratulations,” the dark-skinned man who shooed Madame Helene away says, leaning down to her, even as his eyes stay on the boy and madam. “You’re being rescued.” 
She looks around at the rag tag group she’s now willing to bet are Rebellion spies and wonders if this will actually be any better. Beyond them, she spots a couple of Helene’s girls with their bloodshot eyes, thin skin and haunted looks. It’s enough to remind her that is it. This is what she wants: a chance to save her father and get revenge on the Empire which has caused her so much pain. 
Inej straightens as much as she can. It looks like she’s joining the rebellion. 
<hr> 
Three years later… 
“You ever wonder if Kaz is actually a demon?” Jesper asks speculatively. He points his blaster to the sky and stares down the barrel. It’s in the best possible order he can make it. The sights are calibrated, the lazer refined and the trigger pull smooth. He couldn’t ask for a better weapon. 
Other than it’s partner, which is still in his holster and also freshly taken care of. 
“You’re supposed to be watching his back, Jesper,” the Wraith’s voice reminds him, tinged with annoyance. 
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, rolling over so he can look over the side of the building to where Kaz is meeting with his contact. “You know, I’m still not sure why all three of us need to be here for one pilot.” 
“If you want, we can always switch positions,” Inej offers. “You can play get-away pilot.” 
Jesper snorts as he lines up his sight again. “Yeah, right. That’s all yours, spider. Besides we needed the sniper position here, remember?” 
There’s a long suffering sigh over the radio and Jesper grins. Through the scope his eyes bounce to Kaz. He can’t see his face, but Jesper knows he’s got that stone face of annoyance, which, as it turns out, is not so different from his normal ambivalent face except that it includes the slight twitching of the vein at his temple. 
Inej claims he’s seeing things, that it’s all in Jesper’s head. According to her, Kaz’s tell has to do with his eyes or some other sappy thing like that because they’re both secretly in love with each other. Jesper thinks they’re both idiots and he likes to think that one day, if he makes a bad enough joke or an inappropriate enough comment, that vein on Kaz’s temple is going to burst. 
He thinks it's good to have goals like that. It makes the dirty work they do for the Rebellion more palatable. 
“I still think it would be better to have me on the ground,” Inej grumbles. “You know I’m no good at the piloting stuff.” 
“You’re the one who wanted to come. If I recall, Per Haskell offered you leave and instead you came here.” Jesper notices the stiffening of Kaz’s shoulders. His informant is still calm, if a little jumpy-looking, so he knows that’s not the source of the tension. His eyes scan the street and see nothing alarming. 
Jesper hasn’t asked but he knows there’s something going on here that they’re not sharing. Inej has been wound tight since they started to hear rumors of an Imperial weapon strong enough to take out a planet. While it was still just a rumor, Kaz and Inej were chasing the thread down with a vengeance. It’s what brought them back to this city world where they had found Inej three years ago. 
Now if only his sneaky little cohorts would share the secret with him. That would be great. 
Jesper grumbles to himself. Like that would ever happen. He looks through the scope of his rifle. The tell tale of white of stormtrooper armor catches his eye and Jesper focuses on the location. The odd trooper presence in a city like this isn’t necessarily something to make note of. It happens on occasion, but this is a pair and he can spot another pair making their way in what looks to his eyes like search patterns. 
“Heads up, Kaz. We might have company.” Jesper says as he keeps an eye on the soldiers. “Moving in pairs. Looks like a search pattern.” 
They’re too far away to hear the words that are spoken, but Jesper can guess what it is from here: “Hey! You there!” 
He watches as Kaz drags their contact into an alley as the storm troopers converge from two directions. 
“I’ve lost sight of you, Kaz.” Jesper sights the troopers through his scope and taps a finger against the trigger. Killing troopers brings more attention than Kaz likes. They work in secret. “Exit strategy?” 
Through Kaz’s comm he hears the panicked pleas of Kaz’s contact swiftly silenced by a laser bolt. He grimaces at the additional body count as Kaz’s gravelly voice comes over the comm. 
“I’ve got it. Jesper, join Inej. Meet me at the rendezvous point.” 
He takes one last look at the troopers closing in on the alley and then stands. If Kaz needed help, he would ask. The man had a thousand and one plans. There’s no way he didn’t account for a way out of this trap. It sounds like he’s probably climbing, a feat considering his bum leg from when he landed on it wrong a couple years back and it never healed properly.  
“You know, for once I’d like one of these missions to go smoothly,” Jesper mutters under his breath as he hightails it back to the ship. He stows his blaster and keeps it from sight as he moves through the crowds. Seedy cities have been a second home to him for years, since he left the Imperial flight academy, if he’s being honest. He liked the anonymity the city gave him. It always felt better than the emptiness of the moisture farm he grew up on. He hates the heat and the sand. 
Oh, God, the sand. 
He walks aboard the ship with the swagger of a drunk who won big at the betting table. He nods jovially to those he passes. There are a couple glances down to the pistols at his waist, but that’s normal on a large port like this one. Intergalactic travel to major cities has always been fraught with trouble and this one isn’t especially savory. They don’t have the clearance for savory. 
Inej sits on the ramp of the ship, sprawled out across it like a cat. She opens her eyes as he arrives and stretches. “Ready to go?” 
“Shouldn’t the get away pilot be ready to run?” Jesper teases as they walk up into the ship and Inej diverts to the cockpit, starting the take off procedure. 
“I spent the last hour bemoaning my terrible coworker who insists on gambling at each port and always staggers back drunk, occasionally with unexpected company. I’ve already got tower clearance to leave. And taking off won’t set any red flags with the Empire so we’re clear.” 
Jesper drops into the copilot chair as Inej goes through engine checks. “You did all that?” 
“You’re not the only one capable of sweet talking people, Fahey.” She shoots him a look and he chuckles. 
“I remember when your first attempt to blend in. Didn’t you end up stabbing someone?” 
Inej scowls at the memory. “And no one has tried to grab my body since then without a threat of a knife point.” 
Jesper chuckles. “Fair enough.” He shifts as they fly high enough to leave the atmosphere and then drop back down, drifting through the carefully mapped out empty space of blind spots that allow them to drift down to the meeting point. Despite it taking them almost no time to get there, Kaz is already sitting against a crate on the roof of a run down building, cane held out in front of him with his hands crossed on top. 
Jesper moves back toward the loading bay and opens the doors. He leans against the side of the doorway as the ship turns to face Kaz. “Hiya, honey. Miss me?” 
As always Kaz rolls his eyes at Jesper’s attitude as he climbs the ramp. “We’re clean. Any trouble at the port?” 
“Nope,” Inej reports from the cockpit. “Just a couple nosy traders looking for a good time. Sent them after Jesper.” 
“Har har,” he shoots back as the ramp closes with a firm whoosh of pressure stabilizing. He turns to Kaz who has dropped onto the bench and closed his eyes. His lame foot is extended slightly in front of him, a tell that it’s aching from the exercise of escaping the troopers. Jesper can also see where his blaster sticks out from under his jacket, the clip of the holster no longer in place. He definitely used it. “Did you get the intel?” 
Kaz nods. 
“Where are we headed?” Inej asks. From the body of the shuttle, Jesper sees her hand hover over the hyperspeed settings, preparing to change the destination of their jump. 
“The pilot is on Jedha.” 
They both freeze and you could hear a pin drop in the shuttle. Jesper glances at Inej and sees the same worry painted in the lines of her face. “Are you sure?” 
Kaz finally opens his eyes and leans forward. “It’s been confirmed. That’s the second source and this one claims to have actually seen the pilot.” 
“But he’s a defector, why would he go there?” Jesper asks. 
“Jedha’s not a stronghold for the Empire, but they do trade there.” Kaz answers, as if that explains the reasoning. 
“But it’s a Shu stronghold. They’re cut off. We haven’t had contact in years.” Jesper glances at Inej in the cockpit. “Nina was there when the communications shut down. She wasn’t able to get out and no one’s been able to go in.” 
Kaz rams a gloved hand over the top of his cane. “That isn’t strictly true.” 
Inej whips around. “What?” 
He sighs. “We have a way onto the planet. The problem will be finding the defector and getting him to talk to us.” 
“And getting off planet again,” Jesper cuts in. “Or have you forgotten how the Shu seize whoever and whatever they want? There’s a reason we don’t have an outpost there.” 
Kaz stares at him with those cold, blank eyes and then turns toward Inej. “Set the course.” 
For a long moment, Inej doesn’t move. Her fingers tap against the control as she gazes at Kaz with an inscrutable expression on her face for a moment before she turns back to the controls and the ship lurches into hyperspace. 
Jesper crosses his arms as he faces Kaz from across the ship. “You knew we were headed to Jedha.” 
Kaz stares back at him for a moment and then closes his eyes. He leans back against the side of the ship. Jesper wishes he was surprised about the lack of communication. 
He sits down next to Kaz. “This way on to Jedha...does it have anything to do with Nina?” 
Kaz cracks open an eye. He looks Jesper over and shuts them again. “She was able to get one message out since the Shu shut down. The last message that got out - the one that opened a path - the agent was lost. Haven’t heard anything since.” 
“Nina?” 
“Under orders to lay low.” 
“Are we taking her out with us?” 
Kaz’s hands tighten on the head of his cane. “We’ll see.” 
<hr> 
There was something happening. Nina looks around the marketplace covertly as she examines the fruit in the stall in front of her. It’s the same bland, slightly bruised fruit that they always have. Two years on this desert planet and she’s still not used to the blandness of the food. She’s missing the lush variety of Aldaraan and the sweets she used to eat by the bushel. There’s no sweets here in Jedha, especially not in the mostly abandoned temple. 
She exchanges a coin for two shrivelled pieces of fruit and a smile with the vendor. She slips off the main thoroughfare and into the archway that leads into the dilapidated temple. Like most of Jedha, it’s covered in a fine layer of sand and dust, and shows the wear and tear of years of war. 
She tosses a piece of fruit to the tall and skulking shadow that leans against the archway. Matthias catches the fruit of the air. He pulls a wickedly long knife from behind his back and cuts the fruit into meticulous pieces, eating with precise movements to stop the juice from creating a sticky mess. 
Nina is far less careful. She bites into the fruit and does her best to stop the overripe fruit from spilling juice down her chin. It’s a messy process and her fingers will end up coated in sugary sweetness. It’s her little act of rebellion that makes Matthias shake his head in her direction, when his eyes aren’t sweeping the plaza. 
“There’s something in the wind,” he says as he slowly eats another slice of his fruit. Nina’s is almost gone. She’s sad for that. 
“Rumors.” Nina glances at the gangsters on the corner of the street with their strange metal suits. They’re looking antsy, searching the street. “There’s not much chatter. Something about an Imperial pilot. Broke through the Shu blockade.” 
Matthias’s eyes drift back across the crowds of people. Nina rearranges her robe and leans against her staff. Two years posing as acolytes of the temple and proselytizing about Sankts has her accustomed to her character. No one bothers with a monk spouting ideas of an old religion they no longer believe in. 
“The Empire is still confined to their kyber shipments,” Matthias observes. He casually cuts the seeds from his fruit. “Their shuttle routes haven’t been altered. The Shu though.” His eyes dart to their locations around the square. “They’re looking for someone.” 
“A defector,” Nina says. 
Matthias finally looks over at her in surprise. “Yours or mine?” 
“Does it matter?” she asks. “Either way, we need to find them before anyone else.” 
“Do we?” Matthias grumbles and slips his knife back into the sheath hidden somewhere on his person. “It’s not like anyone’s come to get us in the last two years.” 
Nina rolls her eyes. They’ve had this argument before. “Come now, druskelle. Where’s that attitude of dedication to the Empire?” 
He snorts. “It died two years ago.” One of the Shu guards moves and Matthias’s attention strays. “Think it’s important enough that they’ll risk their peace with the Shu?” 
Beneath the question is the unspoken one that neither of them have put words to, but they both know is lingering in the back of their minds: Is this defector more important than they are? Nina’s last mission was to get a contact off Jedha to the Rebellion. Matthias had saved her from capture by the Shu and they hadn’t been able to risk an attempt to leave Jedha since then. The Empire had some sort of deal with the Shu that allowed them access to the Kyber mines but that was it. 
“Perhaps it’s time we went to collect tithes, Brother Helvar,” Nina announces. She pulls up the hood of her robes and leans on her staff as she walks out from the temple. Matthias follows behind her with grumbled complaints under his breath. The occupants of the city are familiar with their dynamic, although they’re sure to vary the times they depart the temple. Routines are too predictable. 
Matthias doesn’t speak even as Nina stops to talk with every friendly face she sees. For the first year, he had complained at every moment, even as she explained to him the importance of blending in, of becoming part of the populace. Now he even lets the children climb on him when she stops to share a story about the saints. 
“They’re jumpy,” Lin shares with Nina in whispered tones, her eyes darting around the square even though there don’t appear to be guards around right now. “Jan said he saw stormtroopers preparing to enter the city.” 
Nina performs a blessing on an elderly man. “Any idea what they’re looking for?” 
“A pilot.” Lin shifts her daughter around on her hip. “Imperial pilot. You don’t want to get between the troopers and their goal. The Shu are looking for him too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of their way.” 
Matthias moves closer. “And the pilot?” 
Lin glances at him and then back at Nina. She’s always been more skittish around men. It’s a look Nina’s uncomfortably familiar with and one she knows speaks to a violent past interaction. The way she grips her daughter just a bit closer breaks Nina’s heart. 
Nina nods encouragingly. 
“Down by the old refractory.” Lin freezes up as soon as the words escape her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise at what she just divulged. She darts away in a panic, leaving Nina and Matthias to continue to serve the poor with their usual tithes. 
By unspoken agreement, Matthias follows Nina’s lead as she takes them on a winding path. The last year and half of long meandering routes work in their favor as Nina leads them with more purpose. 
It feels good to have a purpose again. She hasn’t had contact with the Rebellion, but if this is big enough that the Empire is willing to fight the Shu for the interloper, then it’s big enough for the Rebellion to also be looking. The Empire has the strength to use brute force. The Rebellion will send Kaz Brekker. Per Haskell would be an idiot to send anyone else. 
As they get closer to their destination, Nina slows her pace and purposefully plays up her monk persona, passing out alms and blessings in equal measure. Matthias moves gruffly in her wake, watching her back in a way that might be suspicious if it hadn’t been his stable characteristic for the last two years. The Shu are used to their dynamic of the devout believer jaded sceptic. They had adopted the personas for safe passage before the Shu blockade and been forced to maintain it since then. 
It was useful, despite neither Nina nor Matthias being well versed in espionage. 
By the time they reach the old refractory buildings, Nina and Matthias are moving at a crawl, speaking to every person they see. Nina’s eyes scan the faces for one that looks out of place, one that screams uncertainty or distrust. 
She gets pointed down a dark alley by one of the urchins after she shares with him one of her precious jojo beans. It’s the closest she can get to her sweets in this city. She glances at Matthias and he nods. His body is intentionally relaxed, ready to move as necessary in response to a threat. 
Nina leads the way into the factory, looking around carefully as they move into the space. She breathes in deeply and sinks into the meditative state. The air around her settles, buzzing with the life force of the inhabitants of the city. In a couple of breaths, she narrows it further so she can feel the interior of the building. 
Matthias mutters under his breath, something about religious mumbo jumbo and insanity. 
Nina turns sideways and opens one eye to glare at Matthias. He rolls his eyes and gestures at her to continue.  
Her use of the Force is unrefined, based more in the faith that it will work than on actual knowledge about what she’s doing. It’s an old religion and the order they’re with is still respected even if not believed in. Okay, so maybe respected is pushing it. They’re disregarded as religious fanatics who don’t do much of anything. 
She follows the light of the Force through the factory, letting it guide her feet, trusting it to protect her from bumping into any of the clutter. Dimly, she senses Matthias grunt as he moves something out of her path before she hits it or it hits her. She keeps her focus on the life signature that shines like a beacon, coming to a stop once they’re in sight of the huddled mass. She opens her eyes and peers into the gloom. 
“We’re here to help you,” Nina says. Her soft voice carries around the large space. She ignores Matthias’s mutter about talking to herself. 
“Who...who are you?” A tremulous voice asks. It sounds younger than Nina expected, more uncertain. She thought a defector would be more hardened, more convinced of their path to go against the Empire in such a way. 
Nina squats down to look at the hunched over figure. Matthias has one hand hovering over his hidden firearm, the other on a dagger. She’s deep in her meditation of the Force and senses no danger from the huddled figure. 
“You’re the pilot, right?” Nina asks instead of answering. 
His eyes look her over, lingering on her and Matthias’s matching robes. “You’re priests?” 
He inches forward. There’s enough light cast on him that his Imperial uniform catches her eye, answering the question he avoids. She smiles softly at him and holds out her hand. Behind her Matthias shifts, disliking her proximity to perceived danger, if she has to guess. 
“Word on the street is you’re a defector. We’re here to help.”  
<hr> 
Wylan doesn't think he's ever been this cold in his life. Which is bizarre because this is a desert planet. You'd think it would be warm but instead he's found himself huddled in dark corners, scavenging like a rat for scraps for the last couple days while he tries to escape notice from the Shu. Jedha was supposed to be a safe haven for him, somewhere the Empire couldn't touch. The Shu had tried to grab him first, had detained him and demanded answers to their questions about the Empire. His protests that he wanted to defect fell on deaf ears. Then they'd dragged him into a cave with a beast they called Bor Gullet. 
It's a blur after that. 
He remembers waking in a cell to garbled words, a blurred hologram of his father glaring disdainfully down at him. A comment about the Empire being grateful to the Shu. Wylan doesn't know how he escaped. There's a memory of loud noise, a flash of heat, and dirt. Then it's all dark and cold. 
He'd avoided people after that, stuck to shadows, and only ventured out when the emptiness of his stomach threatened to eat him from the inside out. 
He doesn't even know how long it's been since he escaped the cell...or was released...he doesn't know. 
Then the woman appeared, like an angel out of the darkness and she promises salvation. 
Wylan knows enough of his father's games not to immediately trust the gesture. "Who are you?"  
“We’re with the Rebellion,” she says with a smile. 
The monk behind her rolls his eyes and turns away. They don’t look like any monks he recognises. The only person he’s heard of who truly follows the old religion is the Darkling and Wylan’s not so unfortunate to have ever seen him in person. “You don’t look like Rebels.” 
“He’s right. We don’t,” the man tells her. 
The woman looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in a glare. “Matthias Helvar.” She turns conspiratorially back to Wylan and there’s a friendly glint in her eye that makes him want to trust her. “Once he was the most devout of you all. Rose through the ranks of the Empire almost as high as they come. You want out of the Empire. We can help.” 
Wylan’s eyes drift over the man’s features and there’s something that reminds him of the way General Brum’s men carry themselves, the elite of the troopers he’s only seen from a distance. Wylan wants to string words together but they slip away like soap and water. 
“Will you come with us?” She prompts, yet again. 
He can’t combine the fears and hopes and questions into coherent sense. All he can do is nod in agreement. Whether they harm him or save him, he’ll be dead or caught if he stays here on his own. He needs allies and he’s not in a mental state where he can do much of anything himself. 
“Good,” she says. She pulls him forward and manhandles Wylan into a monk’s robe over his tattered pilot’s uniform. “I’m Nina. This is Matthias. We’re going to get you out of here alive. Good?” 
Wylan nods. She shoves a basket into his hands and drops additional bits of clutter from the warehouse floor into it. 
“We should be heading back,” Matthias rumbles. 
“Walk between us,” Nina instructs, pulling the hood of his robe up. Matthias mimics the movement. “Don’t make eye contact. Don’t talk to anyone. Just stay in step with us. We’ll speak for you if it comes to that.” 
Wylan has enough sense to nod along. He knows talking will only give away his current state of complete confusion. He can see the looks Nina and Matthias exchange in response to his silence. He’s not so lost that he doesn’t understand what’s going on but the thoughts take too long to reach his lips and disappear like fragrance on a breeze. 
The ground is dusty and uneven under Wylan’s feet. It captures his attention as he walks, so different from the metal hallways and corridors he’s used to walking.  His feet catch from where they scrape the ground and he tries to tell his body to lift his feet higher, but they don’t seem willing to respond any more than what they do by instinct. When was the last time he walked on anything that wasn’t steel? 
He’s so preoccupied by swirls of dirt that he walks right into a wall. 
Well, not a wall, but the giant monk - Matthias. He bounces off the man’s back, which feels like the equivalent of walking into a wall. The man doesn’t even move in response to him walking into him at full speed, but Wylan almost falls on his butt, and would if it wasn’t for Nina catching him. 
She steps past him to stand next to Matthias. She pushes him further into the shadows behind Matthias as she looks past him to see what’s grabbed his attention. Wylan shuffles sideways and ducks down so he can look around the hulking figures. 
The white helmets break through his current haze and Wylan stumbles backwards. The Storm Troopers followed him. He can’t allow himself to be captured, not after he finally escaped that place and his father’s restrictive control. 
“Wait!” Nina whispers harshly, but Wylan’s body is moving without his consent. The urge to get away is too strong. It drives him, haltingly, step-after-step through twisting and confusing alleyways. He’s not sure where he’s going except away. If he can get to a port, he’s sure he can fly a ship. 
Another flash of white Imperial helmets send him careening in another direction which leads him into a square. The sudden exposure leaves him disoriented and he spins around looking for another exit as a child is ushered into one house and shutters are slammed shut. Wylan gulps. He walks back and turns, running into someone for the second time. This time the person rocks as he crashes into them, but Wylan’s still the one wheeling back. 
He blinks at the man, carrying some sort of stick. He looks like he could belong here except that his eyes are too intent. It’s the kind of gaze you couldn’t stand for too long but are also scared to look away from. It takes him a second to notice the tiny girl at his side. She’s looking around, causally flipping a blade in her hand. The other rests on a blaster. Now that he realized that, Wylan notices the man is also armed. 
“Wylan Van Eck?” The man asks. 
Wylan blinks at him in shock. He’s helpless to do anything but nod. They’re not Empire and they don’t look like the Khergud who grabbed him, so they can’t be that bad. Or at least are likely better than the alternative.  
“Right. Time to be off. Let Jesper know we’ve got the package.” The man turns abruptly. 
Wylan glances at the girl who steps aside and gestures at him to follow. He hasn’t decided if he will when there are footsteps behind him. He twists back to see who’s following and breathes a little easier when the monks appear. Maybe monks are better than whoever the man is.  
Maybe he’s dead anyway. 
“Oh good. You’re here.” The man says. “We can all go then.” 
Nina smirks from where she’s bent over catching her breath. “Nice to see you too, Kaz. Been ages.” 
<hr> 
It’s convenient that they were able to find the pilot and Nina in one place. He would have trouble getting Inej and Jesper out of here with just the pilot. They’d had no communication with Nina, no way to get in contact with her once they were in the atmosphere. Kaz takes it in stride and moves back the way they came. The rest will follow and someone will make sure the pilot comes along with them. 
It would have been a fantastic escape. In and out with no trouble whatsoever. It would have been too lucky for him, so the storm troopers that come streaming racing around the corner where Nina and her friend emerged are hardly a surprise. The real unlucky bit is that they also appear in the two other access points to the square. 
The pilot looks ready to bolt. Nina and the second monk steps forward. Kaz respects the bulk of him and hopes that he’s good in a fight. If it were just him and Inej, they would split up and meet at the rendez-vous. The pilot is going to be the issue. 
“Halt. Surrender or you will be terminated.” 
Inej pushes Wylan behind her and toward Kaz. The boy curls in on himself. How he ever got up the courage to desert the Empire, Kaz hasn’t a clue. Now they just need to get him out of here with whatever valuable knowledge is worth breaking the standoff with the Shu. 
Kaz pushes him into a doorway, out of sight of the blasters. “Stay down.” 
The boy whimpers. 
Nina steps forward, hands raised in a deceptively helpless gesture. “Calm down. We’re all friends here.” 
“Stand down or we will open fire,” the trooper repeats. The entire line readies their weapons. Their blasters might be unreliable and clunky, but with so many firing, they’re bound to hit something. 
“You don’t want to shoot us.” Nina tries again. 
“That’s what you’ve got?” the second monk asks incredulously. 
She glares at him. Kaz watches Inej palm a blade and twirl it effortlessly in one hand. The harsh sunlight glints off the edge of the blade: steel instead of a laser edge many prefer. He knows she likes the way the old fashioned blades feel in her hand. They look like they belong in her grasp. 
Nina steps forward again, closer and closer to the troopers. “You’re not going to shoot us.” 
“Hand over the pilot.” The trooper says. From across the square, Kaz can hear the gun prep to fire. This isn’t working. 
“Yeah. That’s not going to happen,” he drawls from the back of the group. The second monk glares at him, but Kaz just twirls his kane, unbothered. It was going to come down to this anyway. There’s no point holding it off as more backup and fire power arrives to support the troopers. 
Shadows fall across the square and Kaz gets his first look at the notorious Khergud soldiers who have kept Jedha independent for the last two years. “Imperial Troopers. You have no authority in our city. The pilot is ours.” 
Nina, her monk, and Inej grow tense at the new party. Beside him the pilot starts to mutter under his breath, rocking back and forth. 
This actually works to their advantage as the troopers are forced to divert their attention. The Khergud fires directly at the troopers before jumping into the air. The troopers open fire, most on the Khergud, judging them to be the bigger threat. 
Inej seizes the moment to dive forward into the fight, taking out two opponents in moments before she’s engaged by one of the Shu soldiers. She moves like an acrobat, twirling through flailing limbs that breeze past her. She’s a force of nature. 
Kaz is distracted from his awe by a guard landing a few feet away and leaping for Wylan. He dispatches the soldier with a few whacks of his cane. He crumples under a well-placed hit to the temple. 
More troopers race toward the noise. They stop around the corner of an alley, firing from their protective spots and forcing the monk and Kaz to step back to cover. They lob a grenade into the square. Kaz takes two steps forward and hits it back with the metal head of his cane. It soars in a perfect arch back to the troopers, who scramble for cover too late. 
The monk nods in acknowledgment and moves to relieve Nina from her two enemies. Inej falls back as she takes out her opponent and the rest are distracted by Nina and the monk. She moves to stand alongside Kaz, stretching out the muscles she just used as she slips her blades back in their many holsters. The explosion rocks the block which takes out one contingent of troopers but they're met with more troopers and Shu, crawling out of the cracks like cockroaches. 
A moment later shots arc over their heads, rapid fire, each one hitting its target and leaving the recipients incapacitated.  
Kaz relaxes infintestimently. He'd been prepared to dive for cover. His hand twitches toward Inej but he knows she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need him trying to tackle her and throwing off her center of balance.  
A figure emerges along the roofline, a rifle resting against his shoulder. “There were an awful lot of explosions for people who were supposed to be blending in.” 
“I hope you’ve got an exit plan, Brekker,” Nina says. She diverts to the Imperial pilot after a glance at the monk. 
He nods and moves for the alley. “This way.” He glances at Inej and up at the roofline. She nods and follows his tacit directions. Kaz leaves her to do what she does best: cover them from the shadows. 
Kaz walks with purpose through the streets. Now that fighting has broken out, it appears that no one is holding back. Shu are fighting stormtroopers, troopers are fighting the Khergud and civilians are running for cover. Jesper’s  and Inej’s shadows move with them. The monk - who Kaz Brekker suspects is the Druskelle Nina mentioned before she went dark - leads the charge, with his long legs that eat up the ground in long strides. Nina covers their escape with a simple bo staff. 
“Where are we going?” The monk asks as he fires off a round of shots. 
“Left!” Jesper shouts as he crashes to the ground on the back of a Khergud soldier. “I don’t know why we ever thought this was going to be a quiet mission. And I still say we need a demolition expert.” 
“We’re spies, Jesper,” Kaz growls over the sound of battle. 
Jesper shoots him a cocky grin over his shoulder. “But this is so much more fun.” 
“There’s something wrong with you,” the monk mutters. 
“Kaz.” 
He looks sideways, unsurprised to find Inej at his shoulder, silent as always. He follows her gaze upwards and nearly stumbles to a stop. “Jedha doesn’t have a moon.” 
Nina and the monk stumble to a stop. Jesper glances up for a moment. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. It appeared out of nowhere. It’s too big to be a ship but moons don’t move.” 
“That’s it,” Wylan whispers. The pilot suddenly jolts into motion. “We have to go. Now!” 
Kaz is forced into an ungainly run. He tries not to notice Inej hovering at his elbow, keeping pace with him as they race toward the ship. The Imperial pilot is ahead of them all, heedless of laser bolts. Jesper yanks him back by the collar to direct him to the correct ship. 
As he reaches the ramp, Kaz starts to hear screams. 
“Jesper, get us out of here!” Kaz yells. Inej hits the control to shut the ramp as Jesper guns the engine. 
“What do you think I’m doing, Brekker? Buckle up. This ride’s about to get bumpy.” 
<hr> 
The whole world has turned upside down. Matthias isn’t sure what he’s doing, to be perfectly honest. Staying with Nina was a mutually beneficial proposition. They were stuck on a foreign planet, where the only people they could trust were each other. He’d become accustomed to their partnership and been shocked by how much he relied upon her. Now, looking at this ragtag group - so different from the ordered discipline of the elite Druskelle guard - Matthias is at a loss for how the Resistance has managed to become a thorn in the Empire’s side. 
He will admit that they were, like Nina, surprisingly capable and effective. However, he can’t hide how scandalized he is by their lack of any sort of recognizable chain of command. The trio moves like his old unit in that they’re so familiar with each other, they don’t need to shout out commands. But their actions of Jedha display an alarming disregard for a cohesive plan and seem to thrive on the chaos of the moment. 
“What was that?!” The boy with the cane asks, turning around to stare at the group before his eyes zero in on the unfortunate pilot. 
Matthias hasn’t gotten much from the boy, except that he stepped back from the fighting yet was clearly capable of surviving physical confrontation. Nina and his two companions seemed to defer to him as some sort of leader, which spoke to a sharp mind. Nina called him Kaz, which would indicate one of the high level members of Rebel Intelligence. He’s heard him referenced as a nightmare or a demon, spoken of in whispers and myths more than anything else. 
All in all: Matthias expected someone older. 
“That was the Death Star,” Wylan whispers. His eyes look haunted. 
Matthias frowns. “Impossible.” He starts when five sets of eyes jerk towards him in the silence of hyperspace. He grits his teeth. The word wasn’t supposed to be spoken out loud. “They’re decades away from creating that technology.” 
Wylan is shaking his head. “No. They found a scientist. Got him to create what they needed. I...I was able to get away. To warn the Rebellion. It’s a planet killer.” 
“A planet killer?” The small girl repeats. 
“Is that even possible?” Nina glances at him for confirmation. Matthias has no answer. It was only an idea when he was with the Druskelle last. Brum used to talk about it, but it was never close to a reality. Not then. 
“Why don’t you ask Jedha?” Kaz says. 
“We don’t know that it destroyed the whole planet,” the small girl points out. 
The boy doesn’t look away from where he stares out the window at the white streaks of stars passing in hyperspace. “At the very least, we know it destroyed the city. If the Empire has a weapon like that, we’re left defenseless.” 
“That’s why I was sent to find you,” Wylan says. He freezes when all eyes turn to him and he curls in on himself from his spot beside the pilot. Matthias has spent years in Imperial bases and has no idea how this pilot managed to get into the program, let alone became important enough to have access to this top secret project. It seems highly suspect to him. 
“Sent?” The boy asks, finally turning so his whole body faces the pilot. Matthias does have to admit he cuts an intimidating figure even as he leans on his cane. 
The pilot swallows. “The scientist. I was supposed to get to a contact they had with the Rebellion. There was someone I was supposed to connect with...the Wraith? But I got redirected…” He frowns. The more the pilot seems to search for words, the harder they seem to come. 
Matthias has seen this before. “He was captured by the Khergud. They most likely probed his mind using Bor Gullet. That’s how they dealt with any Imperial or Rebel spies they found.” He leans back against the steel hull. It actually feels good to be back in space again after being grounded for so long. 
It feels like freedom. 
The boy looks at Nina. She nods in confirmation. “It’s true. We only escaped detection because of the temple.” 
“Because all she would talk about was the Force,” Matthias mutters. He adjusts his muscles so they’re loose and he can react in an instant if needed. Nina drops into the space beside him, using his shoulder as a pillow as she settles in like a cat that can get comfortable anywhere. 
“I saved your life,” she says without opening her eyes. 
He grunts and doesn’t let his smile emerge.  
“The Wraith,” Kaz repeats, focusing on Wylan again. “What were you supposed to tell them?”
Wylan still looks nervous. “Well, I was supposed to pass on...a message...There’s a way to destroy it. A weakness.” 
“A weakness?” 
Wylan yanks at his hair. It’s useless to try to force him to remember more in his state. Matthias watches the trio of rebels to see what they’ll do at this obstacle. 
“He didn’t tell me,” Wylan whispers, clearly realizing this might not endear him to his rescuers at this point. “I was supposed to...bring someone back. They wanted...they wanted someone to rescue them, and they would share the weakness. I was just supposed to be the messenger. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” 
Kaz scowls and glances at the girl who looks at the man in the pilot’s seat, all having some sort of silent conversation. Matthias watches the interaction with interest.  
“Where is this base?” Kaz finally moves closer, crouching so he can look Wylan in the eyes. 
“Eadu.” 
Matthias vaguely recalls the outpost. Far from most of the known universe, it’s one of the Empire’s research bases. There’s not a huge platoon placed there for protection. It’s a secret base, kept out of the way, and by necessity sees few changes in personnel. There were a couple training missions on the planet to diversify the team’s experiences and analyze security procedures. 
“We don’t have anyone on Eadu,” the girl notes. 
“Because Eadu’s on lockdown. Nothing in or out that isn’t high level.” The boy flying the craft throws over his shoulder. “Out of the flight academy, I only stopped there once because they needed a supply run immediately. They didn’t even let me off the shuttle. To be a pilot there, you’d have to have some pretty impressive clearance.” 
Matthias alters his assessment of the crew that got them off Jedha. To get through the Imperial Flight Academy is impressive. The man also demonstrated impressive aim and combat skills. Despite not being highly regimented, they do appear to be a solid team. He glances down at Nina. 
“So in order to get the information on the weakness, we have to go to Eadu,” the girl says. She’s twirling a knife in her hands, one with a true steel blade like he hasn’t seen in ages. Her comfort with it is another mark in their favor. 
“Jesper’s right. It’s impenetrable. We haven’t managed to get anyone on the inside.” Kaz taps his fingers on the head of his cane. 
“So we go.” The girl shrugs. “We redirect. We need to find a way to beat this thing or millions more are going to die.” 
“Procedure is to report for further orders. We’ve got the pilot.” Kaz looks at her with a heavy look. 
“Matthias can help.” Nina elbows him as she speaks up. 
He scowls down at her as everyone turns to stare at him. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes to betray him. 
“I’m not a traitor.” Matthias glares at the lot of them. 
“You’ll help,” Nina says with a self-assuredness he’s come to hate over the last couple of years. Because as irksome as it is, she’s usually right about these things. They both know it. 
“We’re supposed to just trust a stranger on your word?” Jesper asks. 
“Get twisted, Fahey. You know my word is good.” 
Kaz and the woman - whose name Matthias still doesn’t know - have another silent conversation. She turns to look at him, her eyes speculative. Kaz leans closer to her. “You think you can do this?” 
She doesn’t take his eyes from Matthias. Her knives continue the casual twisting in her hand. She shrugs and looks back at the mastermind. “It is our kind of job.” 
Kaz nods. “Jesper, alter course. Van Eck, help get him close without being seen. Matthias, you need to tell us everything you know, and quickly.” 
“Why should I?” 
“Because if you don’t, I’m going to make your life very unpleasant.” 
“How do you even know the pilot is right? How do you know there really is a weakness? This could be a trap.” It sounds like the kind of thing Jarl Brum would think up to capture Rebel spies.
“Faith,” Nina says. “This is the right choice.” She finally sits up and stretches. 
Matthias rolls his eyes at her religious display. He sighs. “I can tell you what I know. It could still be a trap.” 
“The pilot is Wylan Van Eck. He’s on my list of potential informants. He became an Imperial pilot because of familial connections. It’s how he has access to sensitive information. We know they’re working on something on Eadu. If this is what he says, then we need that information.” The girl explains it in an even voice. 
“And if there isn’t a secret weakness?” 
Kaz and Inej exchange a long look.  
“Then we find another way to blow it up,” Jesper supplies. 
Matthias isn’t sure he likes the looks of glee on their faces. 
“So how do we get in?” 
The girl turns to look at Matthias, her dark eyes just the slightest bit terrifying now that he’s actually getting a good chance to size her up. She tends to fade into the background and let her comrades take charge, but definitely is not to be underestimated. He stares at her and then glances at Kaz. 
“Inej is a ghost,” Nina says. “She can get in and out without anyone noticing.” 
He looks her over, still assessing. This moment, more than any in the last two years of surviving, feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff. The last two years he could justify to his superiors: he was surviving a hostile planet, he had to get close to Nina or he would have died, he was trying to learn the secrets of the Rebel scum. This was different. If he does this, he’s helping the Rebel cause. He’s actively going against everything he’s ever learned.
Nina hits him in the shoulder, as if sensing his internal conflict. She twists upright to look at him and raises an eyebrow in challenge. 
He can hear her voice in his head, berating him for his strict no-nonsense rules and his consuming hatred for anything that goes against the order of the Empire. There were countless debates as they marched through Jedha, each an intellectual exercise. He can honestly say that he doesn’t believe the Empire is never wrong, but is that enough to make him give up their secrets? 
“They murdered everyone in Jedha,” she whispers to him softly. “Lin, Mauri, Katya…” She closes her eyes against the pain. 
He wants to wrap her in his arms and pull her close. Nina feels everything so deeply, unable to stop herself from connecting with everyone she meets. He wants to protect from that pain, to comfort her. Those lives lost today. They were innocents. People that should have been protected and instead… 
He opens his eyes and nods his agreement to Nina. 
She grins, life and joy filling her back up as she bounces around in her seat, the way she gets excited whenever they found something reasonably sweet on Jedha. “Matthias meet Inej. Inej, meet Matthais. He’s a little shy but he knows what’s at stake.”
It’s like shedding a piece of armor or throwing off the last vestiges of who he once was. There’s no turning back now, and he has surprisingly little regret as he opens his eyes and asks the first damning question: “Where do you want to start?”
... 
Look out for Part II on 9/9!
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ramibvnd · 3 years
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Genya the Heartbreaker
This is my fic for the Mini Bang 21 hosted by @grishaversebigbang
The Materialki from Gang 22: @vigittarious (Zoya) @gigi-drxws (Genya and Alina) @hivertoautumn (Genya) made amazing art!
Summary: The Tsar hosts a ball in the palace and Genya is excited. However, suddenly she‘s the center of attention because two well known people court for her. The decision is not easy and for once Genya wishes she wasn‘t so handsome and charming because the gifts from her admirers become a bit too much.
Find the fic on ao3 here!
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The court was buzzing due to the excitement of the coming ball, Tsar Nikolai had announced five hours ago. It had been a while since the last time a big and glamorous ball was held in the palace. After her duties in the palace were done, she would search Alina and together they would harass the dressmaker until they made special gowns for them. She couldn’t help but smile when she thought about her best friend and didn’t pay attention to where she was heading anymore, which resulted in her stumbling into David Kostyk.
“Saints, David, I’m sorry”, she apologised and brushed imaginary dust off his kefta.
The durast looked as if he was about to piss his pants though. With a harrumph he adjusted the collar of his kefta and inhaled deep: “No need to apologise, this was my fault. I’m happy to see you though.”
Her eyes darted from his eyes over his body and back: “Yeah?”
“Would you be my partner for the ball?”
The question came out of the blue, even though Genya knew that David had a little crush on her, and her jaw dropped. She didn’t deal with that question yet.
“Give me time to think about it, ok?”, she exhaled and patted on his shoulder, before she rushed off. Her cheeks were burning and she hid it by letting her hair fall over her face, which made her run in person again. This time it was Zoya Nazyalensky, the commander's dark hair shined in the chandelier’s light and her blue eyes fixated Genya and that made her blush even more.
“Excuse me, commander”, the tailor mumbled and tried to pass the tall squaller but to her surprise she was held back.
“You’re red like a tomato”, Zoya meant with a judging look, “But anyway. I wanted to ask you, if you want to join my side for the ball.”
Zoya Nazyalensky was one of the most intimidating grisha Genya knew, but also one of the most attractive. She would love to be Zoya’s partner but she would also love to be David’s partner. Hence, Genya could only answer: “I’ll consider it, but I feel honoured.”
“Someone already asked you'', Zoya asserted and glanced past Genya, as if the other person would be there. The etherealkis’s eyes narrowed and she tightened her grip around the tailor’s arm: “Don’t make me fight for you, Genya Safin. Whoever is my opponent, they will lose.”
“Amazing”, Genya gulped and pushed past Zoya, this time the commander didn’t hold her back.
The next day began with nervousness for the corporalki. She didn’t want to go out of her dorm to see what Zoya would do. Because Zoya would do something, for sure. Eventually she was forced though, because someone knocked against her door. Bracing herself for the worst, she opened the door but only looked into a servant’s bugged face. He was holding a huge bouquet of flowers in all forms and colours. A tag was attached to one and when Genya turned it around, she read: Good morning, dearest Genya.
It was David’s handwriting. Then, to her horror, a second servant showed up, also with flowers, but this time from Zoya. As long as the gifts stay flowers, I can handle it, the tailor thought but she felt that this was only the start.
After breakfast Genya set off for her patients’ chambers but halfway there, she was headed off by David.
“What an incident, I meet you”, the durast smiled shyly and made Genya doubt that it was an incident, “I have something for you.”
Kostyk pressed a hair decoration into Genya’s hands and because she dealt with such things every day, she instantly knew that it was worth a lot. It was gilded and rubies were embedded in the delicate shape.
“Thank you”, she said, unsure how to respond to it, “But I cannot accept that, it’s worth too much.”
“Nothing is worth too much for you”, David said softly and closed Genya’s hands around it, “Just take it. I had fun crafting it.”
The following hours, the jewellery on her desk reminded her that she would need to make the decision between David and Zoya soon. Eventually the morning was over and she grabbed some food in the dining hall, to eat it with Alina outside at the pond. On the practice field was as always a lot going on, Botkin training young grishas and some Infernis were lightning up straw dolls. She enjoyed watching it, until she spottet Zoya approaching her, a determined, slightly angry expression on the beautiful face. The squaller stopped a few steps away from her, brought her hands together and before Genya could process what was happening, a small storm gathered. Zoya let it expand into a bigger cloud until the wind pulled at Genya’s hair and every single person on the field was watching. Fascinating was that Zoya had mixed some sort of blue powder into the air, so that the wind was visible and it looked as if the storm had a life on its own. It deformed over and over again, from a tiger to a wild horse. Nazyalensky’s expression was concentrated, but there was an affectionate sparkle in her eyes. At the end of the demonstration, the storm collapsed into a rose and rested at Genya's feet. Zoya smiled at Genya and brushed a red lock behind her ear: “Perhaps this makes the decision easier for you.”
Then the commander spun around and walked away, leaving Genya on the spot.
“Alina”, Genya sighed and frowned, “I have a serious problem and you are laughing? I’m worried about what Zoya will do to David when she finds out, that he’s her opponent.”
“Genya, be happy that two of the most handsome and powerful people openly run for you”, Alina grinned, “Nikolai surpasses you in the amount of admirers, but except for him you are the unbeaten top. Enjoy it.”
Genya opened her mouth to say something but closed it, because she figured that whatever she would say, it wouldn’t make Alina stop laughing. Instead she bit into her sandwich and tried to forget her admirers.
Harder though than done though, because when they returned to the little palace, the news that Zoya Nazyalensky gifted Genya Safin flowers made out of her power, got around the golf course. Some grishas smiled about it, mostly the one’s that already had a partner, but the majority threw the tailor one or two jealous looks. Zoya was almost everybody’s secret crush and having her openly running for your hand was dream material. To Genya’s relieve also this day was over at some point and she walked back to her dorm, exhausted from avoiding David and Zoya all day long, when she crossed path with Tsar Nikolai.
His mouth transformed into a wide smile as soon as he saw her and he hugged her: “Genya, I hear a lot of things about you. For once, someone else is the hotter topic here, it’s refreshing.”
“It’s not”, Genya sighed “Why can’t they just act like normal people.”
“Because you are a commodity in demand, sweet heart.”
Genya snorted and clapped Nikolai’s a: “I am no commodity.”
“I know, this was just a stylistic device to illustrate the situation”, Nikolai assuaged, “And I think there’s someone who has to say something to you.”
He nodded to the floor in front of them and Genya was tempted to turn around and run away when she saw David. He was holding a letter and definitely waiting for her. It turned out to be a poem and it was actually quite good, but she was way too tired to really listen.
It had been two days since Zoya’s storm and David’s poem and Genya savoured the silence. She didn’t need to wolf her meals down and use the secret corridors to walk through the palace in order to not meet anyone who might make something crazy to get her favour. However, her lucky streak ended the moment the freshly recruited grishas entered the dining room while breakfast.
The whole room went dead silent when the young grisha with the blond braids stepped forward and declared: “We’re here to perform a song for Genya Safin.”
Before they started Genya buried herself under the table and wished she could make herself invisible. Across the room she saw David, observing the scene with an irritated expression. Considering Zoya’s position it was a bit unfair - she could make Ravka sing for Genya, literally, and David had no such resources.
They made eye contact and suddenly she was very grateful that she had someone to look at who didn’t laugh or stare at her in disbelief because the grishas began to sing an ancient love song.
The moment the last singer closed their mouth, Genya stormed out of the hall, ready to strangle Zoya for this action. Too much was too much. Eventually, she ended up sitting at the pond, trying to make slates slide on the water. By tomorrow she would need to have chosen her partner, because the evening after was the ball and tomorrow was also the day she and Alina would get their outfits. As she thought of her best friend, an idea formed in her head. What if she did the most unexpected out of all? Excited about her idea she headed back to her friend’s dorm and opened the door, hoping Alina would be there but she wasn’t in sight. She would see her anyway at dinner at the latest and her concern could wait until then. With a content smile she went to her own dorm and opened the door.
“By all the saints”, Genya whispered and stared at the cannon. The chase was engraved with the pictures of Saints and other figures of the old Ravkan tales. The metal was altered, so it was white instead of silver and the holding sparkled golden. The inspiration was definitely coming from Genya’s kefta and the work would’ve only been done by a grisha. And she only knew one grisha who would first off, send her a cannon and second off, be able to create a cannon. Pretty confident that she would never have any use of it, she walked around and lay on her bed, to take a nap.
Read the rest on ao3 akdjakdj
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serene-victory-77 · 3 years
Text
The Rodent Whisperer Of Ketterdam
This is my piece for the Grishaverse Mini Bang of 2021, thank you to @grishaversebigbang for hosting this event! @offrostandflames 
My wonderful Materialki/Artists amazing and lovely pieces:
Frisslimbim’s Art and Instagram and Offrostandflames’ Art and Instagram
Summary: Kaz Brekker is known throughout the Barrel for his various schemes and skills. But there's one particular talent no one in his life is privy to, and it's going to help him get 30 million kruge. Crack Fic, Short And Sweet!
Fic:
Kaz walked away from the meeting with Jan Van Eck, his mind racing.
He’d accepted the deal, accepted 30 million kruge for breaking into the Ice Court and stealing a scientist with a drug that could change the world.
But Kaz wasn’t an idiot. It was too risky for humans, and only his best people could maybe do it. He didn’t like his chances.
There was no way he was gonna risk human error.
He hesitated. There was another option, but did he really want to instead use them?
Kaz thought about it for a long while as he made his way to the Slat. They were brave, they were many, and their relationship ran deep.
If he was being honest, they probably were his best, despite Jesper and Inej’s skill.
And humans…. Humans wouldn’t ever be able to succeed, he figured.
He knew what he had to do. He knew who he could trust.
Kaz closed the door behind him as Inej left the room. He looked around.
“Calling a meeting,” he said, tapping his cane thrice on the floor.
There was a rustle within the walls, the pitter patter of dozens upon dozens of feet. They came out of the walls, climbed through a cracked open window, found their place among the rafters and on top of his desk.
They were Kaz’s army, grown since he was nine and now an unknown force in his arsenal.
The Great Order Of Mice and The Virtuous Rat Society.
They named themselves.
He waited a little bit longer for them to all get settled.
“Thank you for your fast arrival,” he said, grabbing some cheese and crackers, as well as some bowls of water, setting them on a platter on the floor. “I have a big job for you all,”
The rodents chittered between themselves before looking up at him curiously.
He hesitated. “It involves leaving Ketterdam for a colder climate. It’s very dangerous. You might need the entire colony,”
The rodents stopped nibbling to stare at him. One of the bigger rats squeaked in confusion.
“Yes, I know, that’s a lot of you, and you guys aren’t used to being outside Ketterdam. But the reward is 30 million kruge ,”
The entire assembly went silent before wild squeaking ensued.
Kaz held up a hand. “Quiet, please, don’t alarm the Dregs,”
They calmed down again but all stood on their hind legs, nibbling their food while staring at him with wide eyes.
“I will tell you what it entails, and we can decide your reward if you agree. We’ll need to do some extra training to handle the colder weather, but that will wait a bit,”
They nodded, and Kaz settled down to explain what he could.
The briefing lasted two hours, and then the next night he had to go and break Helvar out of prison for more details to give to the army. They seemed to be in general good spirits about the entire thing, despite Kaz’s warning of danger and ice.
When he came back with all of the information he had gathered, including several small copied versions of the maps and diagrams Wylan had drawn, the real training began.
“No, the keys are going to be more complex than anything you see in the Barrel,” Kaz shook his head and laid out several old complicated door knobs and keyholes. “Show me how you’d open this,”
The rat squeaked determinedly and set to work.
“Even if you’re stealing from them, you can’t go around being sloppy,” Kaz frowned, straightening the bowties of a group of mice. The mice wore black ribbons, the rats gray, and The Council Of Rodents red. “I do not dress sloppy, and you shall not either. You are representing all Ketterdam rodents with this mission,”
They nodded seriously and let him adjust their ribbons.
“Make sure to take baths!” Kaz called after them once they were done. “You do not spread viral infections to other countries, alright!?”
Affirmative squeaks.
“It’s going to be cold, but your feet are grabby so we can’t cover them. You’re already used to Ketterdam cold, but this is different entirely,” Kaz warned them. “I tried finding some ice for you to practice on, and I’ve got...” he put several boxes atop his desk, “You guys some coats. There should be enough for all of you and are in different sizes, everyone in single file,”
The Council Of Rodents was following Kaz around town as they decided what treats he would be buying them with his share of the money.
He watched with hidden pride as the mice distracted the bakery shopkeeper and a group came from the left flank to pry open display cases and steal bread.
“They’ve come so far,” he whispered to one of the older rats that was standing on a ledge near Kaz’s head. It nodded in agreement.
A customer tried to bat away one of the rats with her purse, and a group of them jumped on her face in revenge.
“So far,” he nodded, pleased.
At the end of the week, in the hours before the sun had even risen over the sea’s horizon, Kaz stood at Fifth Harbor.
“Is everyone here?” he asked, looking over the crowd of rodents.
Two tardy mice ran from behind a shop and squeaked in apology.
“Alright, then. That ship over there is manned by someone who works for me. He has been instructed to leave you all alone and not bring a cat on board the ship. I’ve set aside barrels of cider, water, seeds, fruits, cheese, and crackers for you in the hold of the ship, so do not steal from the humans,”
One of the rats snickered and Kaz sighed. “Yes, I know I usually tell you to steal from the humans, but work with me here,”
They nodded.
“Does everyone have their maps?”
The rodents rummaged through their tiny leather pouches and waved their small maps at him.
“Weapons?”
Needles flew up into the air.
“No one is missing their coat?”
No negative squeak.
Kaz nodded. “Well, then, everyone. The ship departs in forty minutes. The journey will take a few weeks, and you’ll have to wait a while once you arrive. Do you remember what day you have to go to the Ice Court?”
Chitters confirmed they did.
Kaz took a deep breath. “Then, off to the boat with you. I trust I’ll be seeing you in two month’s time. No mourners,”
They squeaked back their best rendition of “No funerals,”, taking their individual time to pat his shoe in affirmance, and scrambled towards the boat.
Kaz stood and watched the boat until it departed.
As an extra safety measure, he ended up sending some guard crows to travel with the ship. Just being careful.
The great part about not sending humans to do your job is that people have a lot harder time figuring out which boat you’re going on, so Kaz had fun getting rid of the Black Tips that had failed to do any damage, as his army was already far out at sea.
Kaz had been training the rodents for a long time. He’d long since taken in stride that for some reason, not only could they understand him, but they could actually communicate back, and they were his secret weapon in everyday life. If things were too risky or complicated for Inej, he sent them to find out people’s secrets and bring back the information he used to control people like Geels.
He didn’t typically do big jobs with them though, they were too valuable to put in danger like that, but they were the only ones he could trust to really get the job done.
Still, despite his confidence in their abilities, he worried.
The next few weeks there were only about a couple dozen rodents from both the Order and Society, the ones that were either too young or too elderly to handle the trip, but they could still do work around Ketterdam, and news of what Jan Van Eck planned to do infuriated Kaz.
He wasn’t gonna not give his army their rewards, so while he waited for them to come back, he went about ruining lives.
Kaz found himself spending a lot of time with Wylan, Nina, Matthias, Jesper, and Inej the following weeks, one part because they were working on tearing down Wylan’s father, and one part because he had nothing else to do. The mouse and rats that were still there had taken to also watching Kaz’s companions.
He found a red fabric scrap and handed it to one of the mice, and later on, they came up to him, showing off the now rather dress-like piece.
“Who are you supposed to be, Nina?” he asked.
Affirmative squeak.
Kaz rolled his eyes and the mouse flicked their tail at him in contempt.
“Actually, you kind of have it down,” he noted, and the mouse sniffed haughtily before clambering away.
“Where’d you get that?” Kaz asked a rat playing with some gambling chips. “Better not be from the Crow Club,”
The rat showed him the Dime Lion insignia on the chips.
“Oh, you can always steal from them. But why the gambling chips?”
The rat twirled and did a little motion with its hands.
“Jesper? Really?”
He found a large, rather grumpy rat watching the Nina Mouse one day. He didn’t even have to wonder who that one was taking inspiration from, and instead handed Matthias Rat a piece of ice.
A small mouse had taken to stealing matches and trying to light small fires.
“You are not a demo expert,” Kaz told the mouse. “I don’t care how many hours you’ve spent watching the Merchling,”
The mouse squeaked sadly and Kaz frowned.
“Fine, you can mess with the matches, but have Jesper Rat watch over you,”
Wylan Mouse seemed to sigh but went with Jesper Rat anyway.
One of the smallest mice had taken to riding on Kaz’s shoulder whenever Kaz was walking the streets at night. At first, he’d wondered why, knowing he didn’t need to be watched over, but then he found that that mouse had been collecting needles, sharp metal bits, and even a small human-sized knife, and Inej Mouse was established.
A little longer than two months later, he stood on Fifth Harbor once more, the Five of Rodents waiting alongside him. A crow had arrived two days ago, with a note from the rodents that they were on their way, but complications had occurred.
He worried about numbers lost, or maybe that some of them had been imprisoned, but that wasn’t the result.
They came from the ship's hold like an ocean, carrying a small boy through pure willpower.
Kaz raised his eyebrows. “Welcome home, everyone. That doesn’t look like an old scientist to me,”
A group of them came forward, clambering over each other to explain what had happened.
“One at a time,” Kaz scolded, looking them over. It seemed that their numbers were almost intact. Clearly, some had been lost, but all in all, the casualties were minimal. He was relieved.
They explained what had happened, and Kaz sighed. Well, the old man was dead, but at least they had the son.
“Kuwei, was it?” he told the Shu boy. “Don’t speak to anyone about them,”
The boy just nodded nervously, looking more confused than anyone Kaz had ever seen.
A mouse piped up and Kaz turned incredulously. “You did what to Pekka Rollins?”
There was a gleeful chitter and Kaz smirked. “This is why I trust you guys,”
One of them asked about the reward.
“Yeah, I know,” Kaz told them. “Things got a little bit messy with Jan Van Eck, but now he’s in jail, and you guys have your own house fully stocked with food,”
A triumphant orchestra of squeaks filled the early Ketterdam morning, and Kaz grinned as the army ran onto the streets of the Barrel, pitter-pattering away.
--
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geekywritings · 3 years
Text
Rise of a Queen - Nikolai Lantsov x OC PART 8
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When Taya opened her eyes the next morning, she wasn't sure if she was actually awake or had just started another dream. There were flowers right in front of her and as she turned, there were even more roses. Slowly she sat up, looking around in both shock and awe. The entire room was covered in flowers. Roses in all colors, lilies, sunflowers, and even her favorites, orchids. Nikolai, and she had no doubt it was his doing, had apparently raided the royal gardens or all florists of Os Alta for this. But there was no sign of him in the room. Instead, Taya spotted a letter in the bouquet closest to her, unfolding it eagerly.
"My beloved Taya,
I did not forget about the flowers.
When you wake up, I will most likely be on my way again. I want to check on our parents and try to persuade some of the Grisha to come back. We could use some good Materialki specialists here and I hope to bring back a Healer to look at your wounds.
Somewhere underneath those flowers, I also bought a few books for you to read while you wait. Please take your medicine and rest. And do think of me.
Your Nikolai."
Your Nikolai. It sounded too good to be true, but it was true after last night. They hadn't said a word about love, but the kiss had spoken more than 1000 words. She could still feel her body shiver pleasantly at the mere memory of it.
Suddenly the door opened, revealing one of the maids, who had been bringing her food during the last few days. She was having trouble navigating through all the flowers with her tray of food and medicine, grumbling about having told His Highness not to spread them on the ground.
"Good morning, My Lady. How are you feeling today?" It was the same greeting every day, which Taya returned with a smile.
"Much better Mrs. Podlak, thank you.", she said, allowing the elder woman to set the tray down before her on the bed. There was tea, the dreaded medicine, and her beloved Syrinki.
"Let me open the window for you. The smell of these flowers is overpowering.", she continued, now fighting her way to the tall window. "I told him a bouquet or two would be enough...", she muttered to herself and Taya had to stifle a chuckle. It was so like Nikolai to exaggerate. But she also had to admit that she was quite surprised. The sleeping potion she still took in the evenings really knocked her out for she had neither noticed Nikolai getting up nor the big surprise being set up all around her.
"I do actually love the scent.", she called to Mrs. Podlak, but the maid had already decided that fresh air was in order. And it did indeed feel good, as a warm breeze came through the open window. "Has Nikolai been gone for long?"
"His Highness set out just before sunrise with the two Squallers. He did not say where he went and when he would be back."
Taya nodded to the answer and began her breakfast. She knew where he was and if things went smoothly, he could be back within a day. Until then, she would actually try to follow his request and rest up. At least she had some reading material now.
_____________
In the end, Nikolai returned the following day, his first destination being his chamber, where Taya was still confined to his bed. But he did not arrive alone, being followed the young man in the damaged red kefta, whom Taya recognized from the Little Palace. He had been the only Healer among the group they had found and he was probably among very few Corporalki still present. Most others had either deserted or followed the Darkling.
The prince walked up to his beloved, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. "I see you enjoyed my surprise.", he began with a grin, before nodding to his companion, who obviously looked rather taken aback by the sea of flowers in the room. "Taya, this is Andrej Borisov. I'm going to leave you in his capable hands, while I quickly speak with the generals."
It was just a quick greeting, but Taya didn't mind. She knew Nikolai to be more than busy right now, being the one in command in his parents' absence. And there was plenty to do with city fortifications, repairs and the search for Alina. Taya was just sad that she couldn't be of more use. Though perhaps with Andrej's skills, she could be up and about much faster.
________
"Why did you stay behind?", she asked, after Andrej had started his work on her shoulder. She wasn't sure how he did it, but he placed his hands over her wound and she could feel her body pull and burn slightly, but not enough to cause extreme pain.
"Sonya, Gregori and Alexander are my friends. I could never leave them behind.", was all Andrej said. Taya didn't know who these people were exactly, though she vaguely remembered an Inferni in the group being called Sonya, but she did admire him for his loyalty.
"I hope the three of them are alright."
Andrej nodded. "They are. Sonya stayed behind at the Spinning Wheel. She found a way to be useful there with her skills. And the Twins are constantly flying back and forth or accompanying His Highness." Ah, so those were the names of the Twins, Taya thought to herself.
"And what do you want to do?", she asked Andrej, who stopped his work for a moment to check on the progress. A moment later his hand was back above her shoulder and she could feel the strange sensation in her flesh again.
"I want to help.", Andrej said simply. "I did what I could at the Spinning Wheel, but when his Highness told me I was needed here, I agreed to come. Besides, I wanted to see what it would feel like."
"And how does it feel?", Taya was genuinely curious.
"Strange... I grew up in the Little Palace. I thought it was the safest place for people like me. Turns out, it wasn't... But it is still my home and I think that I would like to return there."
Taya reached out, placing a hand on Andrej's arm. "We will make it a home again. For all Grisha. And while I can't promise that it will be the safest place in Ravka, we will take precautions this time."
For the first time since he came in, the ghost of a smile passed over Andrej's face. "We will see."
He went back to his work and a good half an hour later, he stood up again, allowing Taya to dress. "Your wounds are healing well. I could not mend them completely in one go, but give it another day and you will be able to walk around normally again."
She was immensely grateful for his help and even more grateful for the knowledge that she would only be confined to the bed for a short while longer.
______
A week later, Taya was already running around normally. She had put all her dedication into rebuilding and fortifying the Little Palace, even going as far as using all funds she had at her disposal. Compared to the fortune her family possessed as a whole, it wasn't much, but it was still more than enough to procure materials and pay people to help. A few of the Materialki returned from the Spinning Wheel to aid in the rebuilding of their former home, but they still relied on outside workers for some construction work.
During that time, Taya became closer to Andrej, Sonya, and especially the twins. While the Healer and his Inferni friend were constantly traveling back and forth between the Spinning Wheel and the capital, Alexander and Gregori spent more and more time in the Little Palace, only ever leaving to accompany Nikolai on some trip or another. At one point Taya revealed her own abilities to the twins and the two, after their initial surprise, agreed to train her.
Quickly, a routine had formed. Nikolai and Taya would wake up early together and share a quick breakfast, before going separate ways. She would work at the Little Palace and he would try to run the kingdom. In the afternoon the two would gather in the war room, where Nikolai devised strategies with his generals to prepare for another attack by the Darkling, while at the same time evaluating the messages he received from the search parties he had sent out in the quest for Alina and the others. Afterward, they would eat together again and then fall into bed, utterly exhausted just to wake up at sunrise again to begin the routine anew.
It meant that they didn't have much of a honeymoon phase, where they could explore and enjoy their newly discovered feelings for each other, but the brief moments they had were enough for now. They knew when other matters took priority and Nikolai was immensely grateful for Taya's understanding. Many women would feel abandoned or not graced with enough attention, but his love found ways to occupy herself and do her fair share of work. And it didn't go unnoticed either. The rumors about her being his mistress soon made way for gossip regarding the possibility of Taya becoming his wife and future Queen. Although he tried to pay the whispers no heed, it did make him proud to hear servants and nobles alike acknowledging her skills and potential.
What bothered Nikolai however was the lack of progress they were making. While the damages in Os Alta were quickly being taken care of, the building of more aircrafts and the search for Alina were at a standstill. They lacked materials to continue production and the sun summoner and her following were still swallowed up by the earth itself. It was frustrating, to say the least.
__________
One afternoon, Nikolai was leaning over a collection of sketches he had made for some new aircrafts, all light and fortified with the newest guns, trying to find ways to reduce their production cost, while also still sulking about the rather ineffective meeting with his generals just an hour ago. Taya had not been present, because she had been busy at the Little Palace. More Grisha had returned and she was making sure they were all settled in. It was a relief to hear that life was returning to normal at least a little bit and Nikolai knew that they needed the Grisha to keep the capital safe. They were mostly left with Etheralki and Materialki at this point, but a handful of healers had also rejoined their former little family along with two Heartrenders.
Suddenly the door of the library opened and his eyes went wide, as he saw Taya walk in, wearing a royal blue kefta, embroidered in the telling silver of the Squallers. She was smiling brightly, even doing a small twirl before him to show off her newest garment. "I got it as a gift today.", she announced. "The twins said I earned it." So it was official now. No hiding her true powers anymore.
Nikolai had tried to imagine what she would look like in the kefta once, but the reality was so much better. She looked regal in it, powerful and confident and absolutely perfect. He got up to examine her in detail, appreciating her from all angles, his mood instantly lifting. "You look beautiful.", he assured her.
He received a kiss as a thank you, before she joined him at the table to get a quick summary of what she had missed during the meeting. It really wasn't much.
"We need more funds.", she summarized all their growing problems into one simple sentence. They had to expand their search, buy more materials and strengthen their borders and production sites. Taya had used up almost all of her private fortune, and Nikolai was weary about taking too much from the treasury without his father's approval. He had his own fortune as well, but that was currently being invested into a secret project to assure a strong Ravka in the future. For a second both stared at the table, before speaking at the same time.
"I could do some business as Sturmhond."
"We need to hold a ball."
Silence again, as both blinked, before a chuckle escaped them. "I assume yours will take less time, but what do you plan to accomplish with a ball?", he asked curiously.
"The financial support of the noble families of Ravka. Gather them here, show them that the capital is safe again and that they can only keep their lifestyles if we manage to defeat the Darkling, find Alina and show military strength at the border."
"It was only a few weeks ago when you told me that I don't need the support of the nobles just yet.... How quickly times change.", he mused. "I will have to convince my parents to return as well."
"No, don't.", Taya said firmly, taking him by surprise. "The nobles need to follow and respect you. Their money will flow into your projects and you are the new hope for Ravka."
Nikolai felt a weight settle on his shoulders, that he had not known before. The weight of a crown he wasn't even wearing yet. His wish to save the country, however, was stronger than any fear of responsibility.
"What would I do without you?", he asked, reaching across the table to take her hand into his.
"Spent a few months at sea most likely, robbing Kerch traders in the name of the crown.", she replied with a smile. Nikolai felt his own lips draw into a smile at that.
"Probably.", he admitted. "It did work great before to amass a fortune." Turning more serious again he asked: "Do you think the nobles will return to the ballroom after what had happened there?"
"Eventually. But now might be a bit early. So we will hold the ball outside between the Grand and the Little Palace. Invite Grisha, spread some of your ships out. It will provide a sense of safety and a quick possible escape. At the same time, they can see where their money will go."
He was positively surprised by her wit and planning. Suddenly the thought of her as his Queen hit him. He had heard the possibility being thrown around for a while now, but hearing her plan to assure the future of Rvaka made it feel right. She was perfect for the role, no doubt. Her family name and fortune made her an adequate match and her intelligence and compassion would serve her well on the throne. The fact that he also loved her was just the icing on the cake.
But he would not offer now. Not until he was certain that there still was a country to rule side by side. And for that, he would have to face another dreaded ball.
__________________
The event took place a week later and had been a nightmare to organize. Sending letters to all the right families, getting varieties of his inventions onto the grounds, making sure there was enough food and drink and entertainment offered, as well as having the Palaces look even more splendid than usual was not what he had wanted to do in times like these. It even felt wrong to hold a spectacle like this while his friends were still missing and the Darkling still out there.
"If you pull a face like this all evening, nobody will offer you anything.", Taya said, drawing him out of his thoughts. She had come in without him noticing and got to work buttoning up his uniform. He would have to be the Prince again today. The charmer and the businessman, so he needed to look the part. So he was dressed in the royal red and gold his family loved so much and felt strangely silly in it.
Taya, on the other hand, was a sight to behold. She had opted for blue again, her favorite color, and the dress flowed on her like water, the silver embellishments adding to the magical effect. She had curled her hair again, putting it up in an elegant style and adding a silver tiara and jewels for good measure. They needed to look richer than they really were tonight.
"You look absolutely stunning.", he told her.
"And you look absolutely uncomfortable.", she just replied. "Smile and relax."
"I can do one of the two."
"Then smile." It was easier said than done. "Maybe the news I have will help. Everyone agreed to come tonight. Even Count Fedjor and his family. And I send word to my parents and they send out some invitations as well to their business partners."
Those were good news indeed and they reminded him once again how grateful he was to have her. "Well, then let's go and get our hands on their fortunes, shall we?"
__________
The ball was a great success. The nobility relished in the chance of holding a grand social event again and were easily susceptible to Nikolai's charm. Getting showered with attention and compliments from their future Tsar loosened their pockets and the presence of soldiers and Grisha alike gave them a sense of security. The aircrafts received ample amounts of admiration as well and especially the men were eager to invest in such technological advancements.
While the guests enjoyed themselves, Taya and Nikolai were hard at work. Always going from one person to the next, engaging in just the right small talk, and indiscreetly asking for financial support. He took care of the traditional families, while Taya used her charms on her father's long-standing business partners.
It was the early morning hours when the last guests began to leave, some of them even taking up the offer of being flown home on one of Nikolai's aircrafts. They didn't have enough Squallers to offer everyone the chance, but only a few were curious enough to try in the first place.
"I think that went rather well.", Taya said, sounding rather pleased. They were standing in the middle of prettily lit chaos, but they had accomplished what they had set out to do. "And I think this was the first ball that I didn't have a single dance."
"I distinctively remember you hating dance lessons."
"True, the lessons were a pain, but actual dancing is one of the few joys at every event."
They had shared dances since his return, but none as an actual couple. The idea came suddenly and he acted upon it right away. "Then would you offer me this dance, my lady?"
Taya laughed. "The musicians have already left."
"Show some creativity, my dear.", he bowed down like a true gentleman and offered her his hand. Still amused, she took it and allowed him to draw her into the first steps. To fill the silence, Nikolai hummed a random song they had heard that night and Taya eventually joined. Together they waltzed over the grass, elated by their success that night, getting completely lost in it. They didn't even notice as servants arrived to begin cleaning up, all looking perplexed or smiling at the sight of His Highness with his chosen lady.
Suddenly the first drops started falling from the sky, quickly followed by more. Within seconds, it was a proper rain shower and while the servants rushed for cover, Nikolai and Taya continued their dance. Their humming turned into laughter, as he spun her around before drawing her back close to him. They were absolutely drenched, but Taya had never enjoyed a ball more.
"I love you."
His words were almost drowned by the rain, but she heard them nevertheless. She wasn't sure where it had suddenly come from and it was unlike any declaration of love she had ever read about in books, but it was perfect. Because those words were coming from him.
"I love you too, Nikolai."
He pulled her towards him, his kiss almost desperate. They were pressed against each other, the rain still soaking their hair and skin, but neither cared. Taya's arms were around him, holding onto his jacket at his back. Their kiss got more frantic and they only broke apart when there was no air left in their lungs. Blue eyes stared into hazel and suddenly he pulled her along.
The way back to his room took longer than expected. Every few steps they were locked in a kiss again, with him pressing her against the closest wall or door. At one point they knocked over a vase with flowers but didn't even fully notice.
Taya didn't understand the fire that was suddenly burning within her, but she wasn't about to question or let it go. She wanted Nikolai close, wanted to feel all of him to show him how much she really meant those words she had said. And he seemed to feel exactly the same.
Once in his room, they began to tear at each others' clothes, trying to get them off their wet bodies. He was shirtless and working on her corset when he stopped for a moment as if his thoughts cleared for a second.
"Are you sure?", he asked. Taya's heart swelled with love at his concern for her, but she nodded. "Stop asking questions and kiss me."
He did, hungrily and passionately, his hands finally removing the corset. He slowed down only when she was fully nude before him, taking his time to take her in fully with his eyes. She was slender, but with just the right womanly curves, which he explored with his hands. He wanted to memorize every detail of her and get to know her body's secrets.
Soon they were on the bed and she was shivering against him, as he slowly learned just what she liked. There was a moment when he was about to ask her again if this was what she truly wanted, but before a word could escape him, Taya drew him into a kiss.
"No nonsense.", she said. "Make love to me, Nikolai."
The words alone were ecstasy for him and he wasted no time to fulfill her wish. They made love several times that night. Wild, slow, passionate, and intimate. And by the time the sun rose, both were exhausted. Stil entangled, they closed their eyes and sank into a much-deserved sleep.
_____
@imma-too-many-fandoms​
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Child of Blood and Salt - Chapter 3
It would be fair to say that a coughing Inej, a murdersus and bloodied Kaz, and a strange dark haired girl who looked like she’d been through the ringer to be the burglar that would have broken into the Van Eck Mansion. Jesper glazed quickly at his boyfriend beside him to make sure he wasn’t going crazy and that the two deadliest people in Ketterdam and some random pirate chick just hadn’t broken into their house. “Ya,” Anya said passing Kaz while dusting herself off already making herself at home in the mansion, “You definitely missed me.” It was Wylan who spoke next, now giving Anya a curious look. “Saints Kaz! What-” “Sorry to barge in,” Kaz cut off now giving Anya a deadly stare that if Jesper had received would of sent him running to the hills , “but we needed a safe place to hide out.” “From what!” Jesper said, now looking over their bloodied and bruised bodies. “Sandwatch,” Kaz said, giving a look to Anya and leading the group to the main sitting room.” Jeseper and Wylan were left in a state of utter astonishment, and caught up just in time. “You know what, call me crazy, but haven’t we all been here before. I thought I had settled into a life of ease and comfort!” Jesper explained. “Ya,” Kaz said, now making himself comfortable and shooting Anya a pointed look, “I did too. But I’d really love to hear your excuse you promised me” “Who is this?” Jesper mouthed to Inej who shook her head just as easily confused. “Come on!” Anya explained to Kaz, who both now seemed to forget there were three other people in the room in the heat of their argument. “I think we're overdue for a family reunion,” Kaz scoffed. That's when Inej noticed. The dark hair, the same chocolate brown eyes. She would kick herself for not noticing it sooner because now it was so obvious. Even their noses looked the same. They were related. “I’m in a bit of a situation,” Anya starts. “An understatement.” “Kaz, please,” “No, no, because this is what you do An, you show up at unexpected moments and rain down hell wherever you go. And who's there to fix your mistakes? Me. ” Kaz exploded jumping out of his chair. “And what- what happened to you sailing around the world. Aren't you supposed to be pirating around on Sturmhond's boat right now? Whatever happened to that? And what about that house in Nova Zem?” Kaz looked accelerated, Jesper and Inej had never seen him worked up like this before. The room was dead silent as Wylan, Jesper, and Inej silently waited on the edge of their seats to see how the story played out. The housekeeper was now bringing out more kavs and glasses which Jesper accepted happily.
“Kaz” Anya said, now losing her humorous energy, “I’m one of Sturmods most trusted crew members.” She explained looking Kaz in the eyes. “I know.” Kaz didn't let his surprise show but said “and how does this change anything?” Anya opened her mouth to say something but words to tell Kaz all the things that she was hiding could't find her.
“Okay!” Jesper finally exploded, “I’m sorry Kaz, but can someone please explain what in saints name is going on here!” Kaz and Anya were finally broken out of their transe of anger and stared at Jesper as if they just realized they all were there. She sighed. “You're Jesper, the sharpshooter, right?” Anya gestured to him, to which he gave a nod. “So that means you must be...Wylan,” Anya continued, “And of course you’re Inej.” She finally turned to Inej who could now clearly see that resemblance between Kaz and Anya in the better lighting of the Van Eck Mansion. “And you are Kaz’s sister,” Inej said with confidence. Jesper spit out his Kavs with a loud unpleasant sound and Wylan's eyes widened in shock. Anya stood still, not denying the accusation. “Wylan, please tell me I’m dreaming, this is all a dream. There is not a female verson of Kaz Brekker in our living room. ” Jesper said turning to Wylan who rolled his eyes and turned to Kaz, “Kaz, I never knew.” “Yes, well that wasthe point wasn’t it.” Kaz said with an annoyed glance at Anya, who rolled her eyes. “But, you’re Grisha,” Inej said with confused glances between the siblings, “aren't you?” Anya opened her mouth to respond but Kaz got there faster. “She was tested when we were children,” Kaz explained, “Before our parents died. You were to be brought to the Little Place but our parents struck a deal with an orphanage in Nova Zem, a place where Grisha children could live in peace, outside the second army. It's wear she grew up .” Kaz sat down again now knowing he couldn't keep his secret sister from his crows any longer. “We met years ago, and Anya had gotten a position of Sturmhond's crew. We had other meetings throughout the years, it’s where I went those two weeks last year.” It was all making sense to the crows now, but Anya’s head was down listening to Kaz tell her story. “That's where I thought you were,” Kaz said, turning to his sister, “Look, Anya I have enough on my plate as it is. I'm sure you have more than enough resources to fix whatever problem Sturmhold - Nikolai - has gotten himself into.” Anya finally looked up at her brother, cane in hand, sitting in front of her in a big leather chair. Inej was standing by his side, a look of concern on her beautiful features. Wylan was looking like he was in a state of shock sitting next to Jesper who was looking at Kaz like he was dressed in rainbow colors and juggling baby tigers. Anya knew then that if she was going to get her brother's help she needed to come clean, about everything. “I’ve never been Novia Zem, Kaz” She said after a long moment of silence. Kaz’s head shut up quickly. “No,” He reasoned, “after you were tested-” “No Kaz. There is no secret magical place where Grisha children can be who they are outside of the second army. It’s fiction.” There were no tears in her eyes but her face displayed a look of trauma as she recounted her story. “There was a slaver in town, he offered our parents a lot of money if they would give me up. You know we were poor, we were really poor, and besides they were always terrified of my power, I displayed it so young. So, they took me, but the slaver he wasn’t, well he wasn’t really a slaver was he. Markin Yaroslavovich.” “Wait,” Jesper piped in, “I’ve heard that name before. Something about a raid on his estate in The Wandering Isle, but that's all." “Most people don’t know him, always kept under the radar.” Anya said and she gave a harsh dark laugh suddenly changing from her humorous demeanor. “He called himself a “collector” of Grisha. He was maniacally obsessed with our power and collected corporalki, like myself, and Etherealki and Materialki from all around the world. It was his life mission to create his own army, outside Ravka. That’s where I grew up, in a dark palace along with thirty other helpless Grisha. You think the conditions of the Little Palace training was bad, this was- it was hell. He experimented on us, controlled us, wanted something like Judra Palm to make us, him, more powerful. More than half of us died. Luckily he wasn’t able to get his hands
on it the judra parlm tho. Then finally when the second army got wind of what was going on they sent a rescue mission. Only three of us survived the escape, me, a squaller, and one durast. When we got to Ravka, they said we could go to the Southern Colonies and the squaller and durast did, but I- I don’t know I couldn't go to the colonies and not use my power, it was all I’ve ever known. So, I stayed.” Anya finally met Kaz’s eyes who she’d been avoiding though her own speech. “I’ve one of the best Heartrenders in the second army Kaz. I used my full name and now I’m training new Grisha in the second army. But, I am on Sturmonds crew, Nikolai does need some grisha backup every once and while.” Kaz didn't yell or glare at his sister, but listened carfully just if she was reading him a bedtime story. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kaz said now speaking, “How did I- how did I not know” “You're used to knowing everything about everything Kaz, but Yaroslavovich was an expert of not being noticed and the whole mission was covered up by the second army, but I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. When I first met you I was traveling with Sturmhond and I just didn't, I couldn't relive it then.” “I don’t blame you for anything, Anastasia.” Anya smiled at this. “But that doesn’t explain-” “Why I’ve shown up unexpectedly with people trying to kill me, yes I know. Can Van Eck and the Sharpshooter be trusted?” “Debatable, but we’ll probably need them for whatever scheme you're planning.” Anya cocked her head in agreement. “Nikolai’s been taken.” At that Jesper spit up, yet again, his drink. “Who-” Inej cut in. “His brother Vasily, he’s always been jealous of him, but most importantly he wants the crown and he’ll do anything to do it and that means killing his brother. Nikolai, as Sturmond, was on one last recon mission before returning to Ravka, and he was ambushed. Vasily, is playing it off as a tragic accident and the whole palace and army is with him. Only me and a couple other Grisha, Zoya, Nadia Genya,a durast named David, and heartrender twins Tamar and Toyla know the truth. I left a days ago, and they are probably already questioning everyone. It’s hell at the palace now, Vasily has got everyone in a tight grasp and he's not letting go.” Kaz nodded his head, the life changing information unfazed his cold features. “How do you know that he’s not already dead? I mean why not just assassinate him and finish the job why kidnap him?” “They need him. He’s the only one who knows the secret plans for the peace treaty with Fjerda I don't even know them. They can’t risk killing him without that information, but they’ll do a lot to get it out of him. David’s narrioided down his location somewhere in Novyi Zem,” “That’s a pretty big peraminter.” Wylan piped in now sitting up in his chair. “I know, but I have several contacts there so I think I can narrow it down a bit when we get there, if you are still in.” “And what exactly would be our role in your little king rescue mission.” “I have none of Ravka’s resources with me, plus we will probably be breaking into a heavily guarded place, isn’t that your guys' thing.” “Know that does sound like fun.” Jesper said “There’s also the added benefit that you’ll be saving the entirety of Ravka from a Vasily rain. So what do you say, big brother, wanna rescue a king?”
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sunlitangles · 4 years
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Prose and Cons
I had the pleasure of also writing a fic for the @grishaversebigbang! Please go check out the other wonderful fics written by my fellow Etherealki. 💙
Thank you to my Corporalki @jdobrski and my sensitivity readers @niecity, @nekonamicosplay, and @wybiegowritey
And my talented Materialki (please check their pieces out and show them some love):
@ninaaswaffles x
@artzy-lia-art x
@dingy-doodles​  x
@protec-kuwei-yul-bo x
Summary: When his father kicks him out of America in disgrace, Wylan leaves for London looking for opportunity. He loves telling stories and sharing knowledge, so when the publishing company Crows Publishing accepts his application as a writer, he is overjoyed. There’s only one problem- Wylan can’t physically write. The solution to this stumbles into his life as Jesper Fahey, the anonymous author of popular war-time novels and coworker. They quickly enter a co-writer relationship, but maybe Wylan wants it to be more. The pair starts to get closer, but it isn’t long before Wylan gets caught up in the secret goings of the Crows Publishing company.
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316439/chapters/64080943
Keep reading after the cut for chapter one! 
“Mister Van Eck, I simply must inform you that you are not qualified for this job,” said the man. Wylan sighed and glared at the stout man sitting before him. “Mr. Rollins, I really need this job. I don’t have anywhere to go, and I-” Wylan started but was quickly cut off. “Van Eck, I couldn’t give a damn. Now, please see yourself out of my office,” Mr. Rollins said, spit flying out of his mouth. He didn’t give Wylan another look, proceeding to make a ‘shooing’ gesture and turned back to his records. Wylan grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.
Wylan stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in his tweed blazer. He grabbed the strap of his leather bag as Mr. Rollins lit a cigar. The beady gaze of the older man followed Wylan out of the office, and as Wylan stepped outside into the cool autumn breeze, the noisy bustle of London streets overwhelmed him. Wylan resisted the urge to plug his ears, which were not accustomed to the din. The countryside was never this loud. He missed the scent of the rolling fields, the clean autumn breezes, and the subtle hints of life on the farms nearby. He sighed disdainfully and stepped into the chaotic streets of London.
The intricately built buildings arched high above Wylan, seemingly watching his every move. What am I supposed to do now? His bag thumped against his side as he strolled the uneven cobblestone, dodging other pedestrians in long coats and large skirts. He was alone in this damn city with no steady source of income. If only my dad could see me now, Wylan thought, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth. He walked down Fleet Street, a sour expression stuck on his pale face. He strolled past the brightly lit shops of 36th street, the warm smells of the bakery wafting towards him. He stopped in front of the shop, observing the buttery pastries and golden rolls in the shop window. The soft light emanating from the bakery illuminated workers bustling around inside, putting more dough in the oven and piping thick jam on top of fluffy cakes. His mouth watered at the sight of flakey scones and he longed to taste at least one warm confectionery but tore himself away from the shop, turning back to the crowded streets. He certainly didn’t have the money for those types of luxuries yet.
He continued down the street, avoiding the large skirt of a beautiful fair-skinned brunette who strutted as if she owned the town. Her red dress flaunted her generous, soft body. She was fairly plump, and Wylan could tell her corset was laced far larger than customary. He stared as she bounced down the street, entering the bakery with a wide grin on her face. The other patrons stared after her, their expressions a mix of disgust and confusion. Wylan grinned to himself.
Loose pebbles skittered down the path as Wylan continued to make his way down to the run-down hotel that he called home for the time being. He’d managed to make enough money doing odd jobs between university classes to keep himself out of the streets, but if Wylan didn’t find steady work soon, he’d surely be down on his luck. He hurried down the cobblestone streets until he reached the hotel. The front needed a new paint job and windows were in a serious need of cleaning, but the rooms were in good enough condition. He stepped inside the lobby, which was empty save for a Suli family who waited on the moth-eaten couch and a tall, well-dressed man speaking quietly with the concierge. Trudging up the stairs, Wylan searched for his room number, turning right and then forward. He slid his key into the lock, taking off his jacket as he stepped into his hotel room.
He examined his belongings, anxiously making sure nothing was missing. Earlier in the week, he had experienced a run-in with a maid who had taken a liking to rifle through his belongings, looking through his music notebooks and pockets for spare change. He sighed in relief as he realized none of his belongings were swiped. Wylan could hear horses trotting along the street below him, barkers shouting at passerby and the mumble of conversations over watered-down tea and lumpy rice pudding. He still couldn’t believe he was in London. It felt a lot bigger, even though it was barely big enough to fit a fraction of America. He sat down at the tiny desk in the corner of the room, lit by the setting sun. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, illuminating his fiery copper-red hair. Setting his head in his hands, he rubbed his temples, willing the stress of the day to disappear.
He had no idea how he was going to sustain himself for much longer. The funds that his dad had sent him off with were running low, and it would only be a few more weeks until he would be kicked to the streets with only the clothes off his back and a university scholarship, forced to feed himself and fend off the rats and pests that lurked in the dark alleys. According to his calculations, he would be able to afford his room for three weeks if he cut back on his food budget and skipped meals. He groaned as he pushed himself out of the creaky wood chair, the moth-eaten upholstered cushion leaving dust on his nice black pants. Brushing himself off, he collected his school work from his leather bag. Thick leather-bound books and spare pieces of paper stared up at mockingly, the neat font gleaming under the setting sun. Rubbing his eyes, Wylan attempted to make out the words written on the crisp pieces of parchment but gave up after a few tedious moments.
Mind still preoccupied, Wylan grabbed his flute. The cool metal was familiar to his smooth hands, the brass instantly calming his nerves. Grabbing a few sets of sheet music that he had already memorized, he brought his flute to his mouth and began to play.
As the stars twinkled in the midnight blue sky outside his window, Wylan fought to ignore the rumble of his stomach. He had played for hours, taking breaks to try to read the work he was assigned but he quickly gave up; the frustration consumed him as simple words mocked him. He craved a flakey pastry from the bakery he’d passed earlier, but the almost non-existent weight of the money in his pocket reminded him that indulging in such luxuries would not suit him well. He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt, wondering if he could afford to buy potatoes at the grocer. Deciding to go food shopping tomorrow, Wylan got himself ready for bed, humming under his breath as the crows chirped in the distance.
*** The streets of London were never quiet at night, Wylan had soon realized after his first night at the hotel. The drunken steps of men stumbling out of bars and their loud, slurred voices filled the streets night after night near the gambling halls and pubs while the sound of horses trotting through the cobblestone alleys mixed with quiet sighs of private theatricals. Tonight, Wylan caught wind of a few conversations, most of them noisy neighbors complaining about the prices of tea and whatever was in the paper that morning. Curling up on the window sill, he felt the cool London air blow into his room.
“Brekker said he would be here by now,” mumbled a gruff voice. The voice was coming from a stocky man, leaning against a building with a few companions by his side. The man to his right drawled in a kaelish accent, “Damn that kid. I can’t stand him.” “Did you hear what happened to Thomas today?” a blond man asked, rolling his neck. Fiddling with the pistols at his hips, a Zemini man replied, “Did Brekker con him?” The blond man nodded and replied, “Got ‘em good, too. I heard he got all of Thomas’ inheritance. Didn’t even see it coming.” The group of men continued to converse, loudly complaining about “Brekker”.
Wylan tuned out the rest of the conversation, opting to watch the early morning carriages drive across the roads. He watched rats scour the streets below, rotten apple cores littering the darkest corners of the alleyway. A young couple took a stroll along the other side of the street, speaking to each other in earnest. Wylan wondered what that was like. To have someone to tell everything to. Try as he might, Wylan’s father never could seem to get Wylan interested in the town girls. He just didn’t fancy any old girl, right? That had to have been the explanation for his blunt taste in women. They were just so peculiar. He often felt as if he never really liked any of them.
“Damn Brekker, can’t seem to keep his nose outta people’s business,” complained the man with the kaelish accent, snapping Wylan out of his daydreaming, “Do you reckon The Dregs will write something about Thomas?” Wylan knew that The Dregs was a popular newspaper in London, published by Crows Publishing. The Zemini man snorted and replied, “It’s a newspaper and publishing company.” “So? They can’t possibly know everything.” “You would be surprised, and I don’t read their shit. You’re the one reading penny bloods from Crows Publishing.”
Wylan knew about the penny bloods that were taking the country up by a storm. His neighbors often gossiped about them with their friends and family, and his classmates read them at school. They formed clubs where they would read them aloud and catch up on the latest episode. Wylan joined a few of those clubs, enjoying the way the writing sounded and taking note of the masterful ways they were written. The most popular penny bloods were written by a man named Kit Young starring a plot of war- novels and by the sounds of it, they were almost the most popular penny bloods in London, second only to a series of detective penny bloods published by the Dime Lions publishing company. Wylan heard that they told tales of crime and detection in America, but he didn’t find the descriptions as intriguing as the bloods written by Kit Young. Wylan participated in one of the clubs for Mr. Young’s stories and he latched on to every one of his words, but he had to stop going to the clubs as he needed to find work more than participate in leisure. He laughed bitterly as he thought about the war bloods and continued to ponder the on-goings of Crows Publishing.
Wylan had dared to hope that he could potentially be hired at the publishing company. He imagined conversing with his coworkers, and hopefully friends, about the latest stories and articles looking to be published. He imagined laughter spilling out of him and his coworkers and them sharing a mutual love for stories, him hopefully writing successful penny bloods that took the country by a storm. He wondered what he would do if he met Kit Young, and how he would praise the man for writing the stories that kept almost all of London intrigued. He let his imagination roam free until the sun rose over the gray city.
***
Though he was drowsy from his lack of sleep, Wylan tried to pay attention to the lesson his English professor was droning on about. He had yet to read the book assigned and he tried to understand what Professor Williams was saying about the metaphors in the book, but the encounter he witnessed from last night had been playing on repeat. The name “Crows Publishing” stuck out to him and kept nagging in the back of his mind. Wylan got chills down his spine each time he thought about how “Brekker” worked the gang and how disturbingly good he was at getting what he wanted. Doodling on the piece of paper in front of him, Wylan continued to ponder the mystery of Crows Publishing. Professor Williams announced that he would be calling on students, effectively breaking Wylan out of his stupor. Wylan silently prayed that he wouldn’t be called on as his professor scanned the room for participants. Though of course, Professor Williams decided it would be the perfect time to call on him.
Locking eyes with Wylan, his professor said, “Mr. Van Eck, what did you think about the relationship between Victor and his monster?” Wylan gulped nervously, the room feeling awfully hot and stuffy. “I found their relationship, uh, quite intriguing.” Professor Williams raised his eyebrow in expectation, “Anything else, Mr. Van Eck?” “Uh, I thought that Victor treated the monster unfairly and that maybe the author was commenting on the times,” Wylan said, balling his hands into fists. He thanked the lord that Mary Shelley’s work was popular enough for him to have known the plot. His breathing began to get shallow, and he focused on simply breathing in and out to avoid getting too worked up.
Professor Williams sighed, nodded, and called on another student. Wylan felt the eyes of his classmates burning holes into the back of his head. Wylan shifted uncomfortably, digging his fingernails into his sweaty palms. He focused intently on the paper in front of him, fighting the blush creeping up his neck and heating his ears. He silently wished for the floor to open up and devour him; anything would be better than sitting here embarrassed.
As the class ended and students were packing up their belongings, Wylan felt a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him from exiting the classroom. “Van Eck. Hold on,” said Professor Williams. A few moments after all the students had sifted through the door, he leaned against his oak desk, crossing his ankles and watching Wylan intently. Wylan gulped and settled his hands on the strap of his leather bag. “You wanted to see me, Professor?” Wylan said, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. “In fact, yes, Mr. Van Eck. Your performance in my class has been… less than satisfactory. I am quite aware of your, ahem,” Professor Williams cleared his throat, “difficulties with reading and writing, and I would like to help you.” Wylan looked towards the ground, “I’m sorry, Professor.” “I have a tutor willing to help you. I hope you accept this offer, as I truly think it would help you.” Wylan nodded, “I accept. Thanks.” Professor Williams smiled slightly. “Let me know when you’re available and I will let your tutor know. Don’t worry about the finances, I have it handled.” Wylan walked out the classroom, cheeks hot. His professor was paying for his tutoring sessions, and Wylan couldn’t help feeling useless. He wanted to think that the tutor could help him, but he was too overwhelmed by the fact that another human being had to know about his inability to read and write. Wylan silently decided to somehow find a way to pay his professor back; his search for a job becoming his top priority.
***
Professor Williams had found Wylan a tutor, all right. He was a 19-year-old boy with hints of patchy peach fuzz along his upper lip. His blonde hair was gelled back and he wrote a purple bowtie, rather than the standard university’s blue. Wylan sat down at the library table his tutor, Joost, had found. Joost pulled out an intimidating stack of books and Wylan eyed the stack nervously. “I think we should start with the book Professor Williams assigned to us. Do you have a copy?” Joost asked with a pretentious air in his voice. Wylan smiled, narrowing his eyes. He already disliked Joost.
“I do. It’s required, you know,” he said, the fake smile slathered on his face. If his jab affected Joost in any way, he didn’t show it. Joost eyed Wylan up and down, waiting for him to pull out his book. Wylan gritted his teeth and grabbed it out of his bag. Joost smiled and opened his heavily- dog eared copy. “Let’s start with chapter one. Do you know what happens?” Wylan bit his tongue to stop himself from lashing out at the blonde boy. “I don’t remember.” Joost cleared his throat arrogantly. “Then open your book to chapter one.” Wylan groaned internally as he began his slow descent into hell. He tried to read the words printed on the smooth sheets of paper, attempting to keep up with Joost’s monotone droning. After ‘reading’ the first chapter, Joost looked at Wylan expectantly. “Now, can you finally tell me what happens in this chapter?” Joost looked at Wylan intently, and Wylan dropped his head into his hands, pulling on the strands of his hair. This was clearly not going to work.
*** No matter how well-intending Joost was, he was not the tutor for Wylan. Wylan endured two grueling weeks of his pretentious personality and he couldn’t stand how Joost treated him like the scum under his shoe. Wylan sagged in his seat, pretending to read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as Professor Williams directed them to a certain part of the book. He glanced at the pages, scanning the words printed on the cream pages. As the rest of the class went on, Wylan avoided eye-contact with Professor Williams and Joost. He couldn’t stand the way Joost kept glancing at him. Wylan silently hoped that the class would be dismissed quickly.
Professor Williams held Wylan back at the end of class, grabbing his shoulder as he tried walking out of the door. “I take that tutoring with Mr. Van Poel didn’t go well,” his professor said after the students cleared out of the room. Wylan internally rolled his eyes, heat crawling up the back of his neck, “Joost was… fine.” Professor Williams pursed his lips. “I’ll find you another tutor, Wylan.” Wylan nodded, embarrassed of his additional request, and quickly thanked him and sprinted out of the room. As he rushed down the hallway, he felt his spirits deflate. Wylan couldn’t believe he’d already needed a new tutor. He already felt bad enough that his professor was paying for it, and now he’d complained about his old one? In times like these, he thought that maybe it was a good thing he could no longer disgrace the family name.
***
The library he’d agreed to meet up at was on campus, and it stretched a sizable distance. It had a big, arching front doorway and, once inside, beautiful oak shelves lining up the tall ceilings all the way to the back. Wylan held down a shaky breath thinking about the words lining those pages, words that he couldn’t read. It was almost suffocating. There were about fifteen people spread around the library’s common area, including a plump, whiskery little man sitting at the front desk. Wylan shuffled his way over. “Hi, sorry, I’m looking for a- um,” he glanced at the slip with the address and his tutor’s name, a name that he already memorized but he looked at the slip nonetheless, “Jesper Fahey?” “Always great to meet a fan,” called a rich, deep voice behind Wylan. He spun on his heel, coming face to face with a tall man with a rich-umber complexion. The confident expression on his handsome face made Wylan’s heartbeat quicken. “Hi, I’m uh- Wylan Eck Van. Uh- sorry, Wylan Van Eck. I’m assuming you’re Jesper Fahey?” Wylan said, stumbling over his words. “That’s my name,” the stranger said, raising his eyebrows in amusement, “And nice to meet you, Wylan.” Wylan reached his hand out for a handshake, but Jesper started down the hallway, looking for a table to sit at. The whiskery man stared at Jesper and went back to reading, smoking his cigarette when Wylan turned back to him. “Uh- wait up!” Wylan called, dashing to catch up with Jesper. Finding an unoccupied desk in the middle of the library, Jesper sat down, pulling out various books from his worn messenger bag. Wylan sat down, mimicking Jesper’s actions. “So…” Wylan started, glancing around the musty library, “What subject should we start with today?” Jesper looked up from his bag, pulling a textbook out. “I was thinking we could do English. Professor Williams told me you were struggling with the reading assignment?” Jesper confirmed, and Wylan glanced down at his hands, heat flushing his cheeks. Clearing his throat, Wylan replied, “Yeah. Something like that.” Jesper gave him a wide smile and said, “It’s fine, Mr. Van Eck. So, how far are you into the book?” “I haven’t- um, I haven’t started it,” Wylan clenched his fists tight, “I can’t read… it. I can’t read.” Jesper’s playful smile dropped just enough for Wylan to feel embarrassment flood over him. “Oh,” Jesper simply said, scrunching his eyebrows, “Well, we can either read it together or I could give you a brief summary. Williams said that we should be at chapter four by now so I highly recommend the summary.” Jesper winked. Wylan took a deep breath and felt the tension leave his body. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
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grishaversebigbang · 4 years
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#20 - The Ass Breakers
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Project Info
Gang name: THE ASS BREAKERS
Title: the quest for waffle house
Synopsis: Having moved to California after being freed from a foster home in Virginia, Nina is missing her life on the east coast, and most importantly, Waffle House. Horrified that her Californian friends Inej and Jesper have never even heard of the best waffle chain ever, Nina takes them on an epic road trip across America in search of some decent breakfast food, along with the chance to get with the girl she’s always had a crush on, a boy running from his father, and maybe a taste of her old life again.
Wylan wants nothing more than to run. He feels trapped living with a father who is ashamed to have a moron for a son. When Jan Van Eck announces that Wylan will be studying at an all-boys boarding school in a small town in Virginia, he feels a flicker of hope for a better future, but the road leading up to it is long and dangerous.
Short excerpt:
“Are you kidding me? Of course I knew. You two obviously have something going on.” Jesper smirked. “I’m offended that you didn’t tell me earlier,” he said, placing a hand on his heart. 
“Tell you—Jesper, this is a new thing! I just figured this out like, yesterday, you can’t just invalidate my awakening like this!” Nina protested.
Yesterday? Well, Jesper had thought he was dumb, but at least he knew when he liked someone. At least, he was pretty sure.
He’d thought it was obvious. He’d sort of suspected this was going to happen, had prepared for inevitably becoming some sort of third wheel. It was okay, of course. Nina and Inej were his best friends. He couldn’t ever be jealous of them.
“I just—god, I know it’s never gonna happen. I shouldn’t let these feelings last any longer, I just needed to talk to someone,” Nina sighed.
Did… did Nina actually think that Inej was straight? Sure, she’d only ever dated guys (that Kaz guy was something else), and might have said, at one point, that she was straight, but Jesper wasn’t born yesterday. Obviously she wasn’t and she just didn’t know it. She listened to Girl in Red, for God’s sake. (That was Nina’s fault, and Inej had said at one point that she wasn’t gay, she just liked her music, but still.)
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Inej was actually straight. Jesper was pretty confident in his gaydar, but if Nina of all people thought differently…
He could have comforted her better, but all Jesper said was, “It’s okay.” He pulled Nina into a tight hug. “We bisexuals stick together.”
Nina snickered, a muffled sound against his chest. “Solidarity.”
“You’re my best friend. I love you. Thank you for telling me.”
Gang Introduction 
@fricklefracklefloof
Role: Etherealki
Short introduction/fun fact: alex keeps calling me a wylan and jesper kinnie i hate her
@artisticaperture
Role: Materialki (art)
Short introduction/fun fact: I’m 5’0” tall.
@corpsecro
Role: Materialki
Short introduction/fun fact: teachers be like “i heard you smuggled a dead rat to class.” bruh it was a lizard
@tessavioletandchill (Alex!)
Role: Corporalki (Beta)
Short introduction/fun fact: To simp or not to simp, that is the question. I have a bald Timothee Chalamet profile picture and have the energy to make a semi-famous vine that people say isn’t that funny. Fear me. 
@blue-artisces (archie)
Role: materialki (artist)
Short introduction/fun fact: I like being a gay cowboy (yee haw). I also have a SLIGHT addiction towards bad puns (I created our amazing gang name btw).
@tsaritsa-zoya
Role: Corporalki
Short introduction/fun fact: im lyn, she/her, & i enjoy breaking ass. my favorite food is rice # asian tingz
@starw1sh
Role: Materialki/Artist
Short introduction/fun fact: I love REALLY niche historical events and topics
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lay-d-l · 4 years
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Zoyalai Modern AU
This spring I joined @grishaversebigbang and for whatever reason I signed up as a writer. Not a very smart idea it was very stressful and I don’t even like it that much, but y’know, next year, I’ll be ready. 
I worked with incredibly talented people who are, generally the sweetest human beings you could meet. 
Materialki:
@someofgennie x
@edmeom x
Corporalki:
@shelbychild
Fic summary: Zoya was living day for day, not caring really, not after him. After she bumps into a guy at her favorite coffee shop, her life gets interesting again. Will she let herself feel again?
you can find my fic here *it’s not there yet, so if you wanna see it, keep reading*
It was a wet Tuesday morning; it had been raining all night and I wasn’t feeling like going out. But things happen 24/7 and that means reporters, like me, work 24/7. I wiggled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Seeing what I saw, I groaned. It's Zoya's-Famous-Bed-Hair. Once, in junior year, I woke up late and didn't have time for hair and makeup. So, naturally, I put on the first thing I got my hands on and ran out. Which is usually okay, right? Yeah, well Os Alta Speciality School has uniforms. Though, they’re not like Ketterdam ones. In Ketterdam, it's regular pants-shirt-jumper; in Os Alta they wore keftas. That's not the point, though; the night before, Genya and I were out, partying, so I wore clothes from last night's party. The principal suspended me for the day. This morning, I braided my hair, took my laptop, and left for the Dragon Scale. Dragon Scale is a coffee shop just around the corner from my apartment. Since I started drinking coffee when I was fifteen I have always gone there; it felt safe. Mostly because no one, not even Genya, knew about it. Just like every other day, it was almost empty. One person at the counter and a few others scattered in the back. I went to the counter and Anna, the barista, smiled at me. "The usual?" she asked. "You know it," I smiled back. "Could you bring it to me though? I have a lot of work today." Not turning from the shelves she said, "No worries." With that I went to sit by the window. I liked looking at people as they passed by, even when it's not a busy day. I opened the laptop and started writing: the elections are nearing, are you ready to decide between our two competitors? Is it going to be the cunning Petyr or the sly Nikolai Lantsov? I was never into politics, but Shelby, my publisher, insisted I write about this year's election. I love my job, I really do, but this is incredibly boring and the campaigns don't start until a few weeks from now, so when Anna brought my frappe, I looked to the street. I was like a less smart Sherlock Holmes. Meaning I can't really deduct, I just notice how people walk and dress, or if they have any ticks. Like if their left shoulder is lower than their right one. There was a woman in a hot pink coat, which was an unusual choice considering not many people wear bright colours at this time of year. A pig tailed girl who had stuck a lollipop to her mother's jacket. And a guy who was trying so hard not to be seen, but who obviously failed. With nothing else to do I packed my laptop, took my cup and went out. As I was turning to say bye to Anna, I bumped into a wall. I said, "Really? Couldn't have told me I'm going into a wall???" She started laughing hysterically. "What?" "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm no wall." I turned around. He definitely wasn't a wall. "Witty remarks are really unnecessary." I said. He put his arms up in surrender. "I am sorry that I bumped into you though." “Don’t worry, it could have been someone not as pretty as you.” “Thank you, I think. I’m going to go now. Bye Anna!” as I was walking out I heard Anna talking to the man.
Next day, I was sitting in the park, trying to write something on the elections but it was a no go. I was closing my laptop when I felt someone sit beside me. I looked to my right and saw the guy from the coffee shop. “What does ‘Z’ stand for?” “What are you doing here?” I asked, “Are you following me?” “No, I was walking, and I saw a familiar face, thought I say ‘Hi’. What does ‘Z’ stand for?” “It stands for Zebra.” “Really?” “No, of course not, it stands for Zoya.” “Oh that’s a nice name, is it yours? What does it mean?” “Yes, of course it’s mine. It means ‘life’”I said. “And you are?” “Nikolai.” he looked at his watch, “As much as I liked this encounter, I must go now.” “Bye?” He bowed to his waist, “Farewell.”
I snoozed my alarm three times, but it kept ringing. Then I realised it's not a regular alarm, it's a Genya alarm. "What is it, Kostyk?" I said into the phone. "Oooh!" she exclaimed, "Kostyk, that sounds nice. Not used to it though." "I know that's why I said it. What's the rush?" "It's Saturday." "Oka-" "ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU FORGOT OUR WEEKLY MEETING???" "Don't yell," I said. "Of course I didn't forget, you'd kill me if I did. I just didn't think it'd be this early." "Early?" she asked, "Zoya it's 11:00 in the morning!" "Oops? Okay, well, I'm obviously awake now, so what were you thinking of doing?" I asked. "The Zoo! Winter is coming, and I want to see all the summer animals before they stop going out." "Sure, meet you at the park in two hours?" "Yeah, love you!" she said, and hung up. I got up and went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was empty, guess I forgot to go to the store. So I decided to go to a bakery down the street, hoping they still have something warm. Luckily for me, they did. I bought two dollars worth of mini-whinnies and got back home. It was a relatively sunny day, so I sat at the balcony. And for a Saturday, it wasn't really busy. Besides Genya days, Saturdays are usually the farmers market days too. Most people don't have time to buy groceries during the week. I looked up to the Grand Palace. Tourists always said it was the most beautiful building in Os Alta, but I could never see it. It's not ugly, I just found the Little Palace more interesting. The Grand Palace is like any other palace ever, with big towers and shiny roofs, I can see that in any place that had a royal dynasty. But only we have a huge library with a fountain next to the royal Palace. I looked at my watch and yelped, I'm gonna be late!, I thought. I changed from my sweats and tee, and put on jeans, a jumper and boots, In case it rains. Took the leather jacket and keys from the hanger and ran out. The park wasn't far from my apartment so I walked. When I got to our usual meeting spot, Genya was already there. I waved apologetically. She rolled her eyes: "At least you're here, let's go!" "Fine, fine, I'm going!", I laughed. We sat in her car and went to the zoo. During the ride we talked about what we did during the week, how's married life and how's David in general, but all that was dropped the moment we walked through the gates of the zoo. First we saw the birds; pigeons, eagles and those funny colored ones that sing. Next animals were sheep, llama and deer. Their cages were around a pavilion that had horses and ponies you could ride, but those are mostly for kids. Few years back, Genya asked if we could ride but they wouldn’t let us. She said “it wasn’t fair that only kids can do fun stuff…” and continued to tell me how when she has kids they will be free to do whatever they want. We walked next to the deer cage. David loves them so every time we’re here we tend to stay a bit longer. Today we saw there was a new addition to the family. On the cage it said she was a doe named Lola. Next stop were the ostridges and the emus, we skipped those, mostly because one ostridge bit me a few years back when I tried to feed it. Genya got it on camera. On the other side of the sidewalk were the bison, and we always acted as if they were the flying bison from Avatar: the Last Airbender. We named all of them Appa. The seals were sleeping so we went to the reptiles instead. Most of the snakes were also sleeping, as was the aligator so we decided to skip the hippoes too and went to see the wolves. Though they didn't pay attention to us as they were eating. The monkeys were mostly shitting onto their hands and throwing it at each other… The petting zoo was empty so we had all the little goats to ourselves! When I was a kid, and my mom still my mom, I tried to take one of the goats with me home, but I couldn’t carry it alone so it stayed in the petting zoo. When we got to the bears most of them were in the water, but there was one who went in circles around his pond, like he was trying to catch fish. Lions were lying around, hyenas were laughing at the visitors, which is not creepy at all… At that point we got tired and went to the big pond where the ducks and the swans are. I sat on a bench while Genya bought ice cream. “Strawberry?” she asked. I just nodded. "So," she started, "you're not seeing anyone, right?" I choked, "What?!" "Are you seeing anyone?" "Where is that coming from?!" "David recently got together with a childhood friend and when he got home, he said you'd like him and that you should go on a date." she said, casually. "Genya, you know I'm not the one for dating…" She touched her eye-patch and looked away. "I know, but just try? I mean, just meet with him, then decide what to do. Not everyone is like Alex…" I sighed, "Sure, wh-" "REALLY?", she exclaimed. "Yes, chill. Who is he?" "Oh, oh… I have no idea. David just called him Sobachka, but-" "Genya…" "But he can't be bad if he's friends with David. If you don't feel like staying, I'll pull you out." "Okay, Pinkie Promise?", I asked, and she smiled, "Cross my heart, hope to fly!" We threw the rest of our cones to the ducks, passed the safari animals, and finished this year's last visit to the zoo. Next to the zoo is an empty parking lot that has a small adventure park. Ever since I befriended Genya, after the zoo we go to the ferris wheel and the bumper cars.
Since I agreed to go on a blind date I decided it was best to do it in a familiar setting. So I told Genya that I wanted it to be in a coffee shop near my flat. I put on my battle armor, jeans and a sweater, and went out. The streets were empty, even for a weekday. I went into the shop and looked around to see a familiar face. Anna, behind the counter, Gennie in the corner, drawing probably. I sat in my usual place next to the window and waited. Anna came by the table. “Hey, what can I get you?” I looked up, “Nothing yet, I’m on a date…” “That’s a new one, how did that happen?” “I was out with Genya and she suggested it. And it’s Genya, she thinks he’s good, and she would not stop until I said yes so I’m here to see what happens.” She smiled, “Well, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” “Yeah,” I said and looked behind her, “Gennie’s calling for you.” She turned around, “Oh, I better get that, she’s trying out a new technique.” Then she left. The set time was 17:00, I came a little earlier, just in case. I took my phone out of my pocket to see the time. He’s late. Door opened and Nikolai came in, he looked around and rolled his eyes when he saw me. He came and sat at the chair opposite of me. “Honestly Zoya, is it not tiring to follow me? You could just ask for my number.” I scoffed; ”Don’t flatter yourself I’m here for a date.” His eyes widened, “Come again?” “You thought you were-” “You’re a friend of David’s.” “What? How do you know that?” I asked. He scratched his head, “I, oh Saints…” “You’re my date, aren’t you?” “I would seem so.” I frowned, “Hey, don’t look so pissed I didn’t know either.” “Do you want to do this?” I asked. “I don't see why not.” he said. “I have no expectations, we sit and talk. If we click, cool. If not, we had an interesting afternoon. Deal?” He put his hand out. I shook it; “Zoya Nazyalenski, nice to meet you.” “Nikolai, my pleasure.” he smiled. Anna came by again, “This, it’s hilarious.” she said. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks that.” Nikolai replied. She laughed; “ What can I get you?” “I’ll have a Frappe.” I said, “ What do you want?” Nikolai looked at me, then at Anna, “I’ll have what she’s having, and a plate of biscuits.” Anna nodded, “Coming right up.” “So,” I started, “do we start again, or do we just continue where we left off?” “We continue, can't pretend like you’re not my biggest fan.” i laughed, “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. On another note, how do you know David?” “We lived in the same neighborhood when we were kids.” he said, “One day, when we were 8, there was an explosion in his garage. I was playing in my backyard when it happened, I came running to see what happened, to see if he was okay. Spoiler alert he was, but I think he burned his eyebrows off.” “What happened?” I asked eagerly. “When?” I sighed, “What caused the explosion?” “Oh.” he looked confused, “I don’t know. I never asked. And how do you know David?” “I’m afraid my story isn’t so interesting, we met at highschool.” “You went to the same school?” “Yes but we were on different courses. I took journaling, he took engineering. He wasn’t social, I barely knew him before my best friend, his now wife Genya, worked up the courage to ask him out in junior year.” “Yeah, he definitely wasn’t a social butterfly. I was really surprised when I heard he was getting married.” “But I didn’t see you at the wedding.” I stated. “My father got sick, I couldn’t come” “I’m sorry to hear that.” he smiled; “I’m not, he’s an ass” “Who’s an ass?” Anna came with our order. “His father.” “My father” we said at the same time. I looked at him and smiled, he winked at me. “I see where you get it form” He gasped; “you didn’t” “I did.” Anna facepalmed. “I can see this is going great, so I’m gonna go.” “Thank you Anna.” Nikolai said. She waved him off. “Since we’re basically playing 20 questions, what else do you want to know?” I asked. He looked out the window, “Cliche, but, what is your favorite season and why?” “Winter, because there is nothing better than a wool jumper. My turn. Why does David call you Sobachka?” “This got very personal, very fast.” “Oh,” i said, “I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” “No it’s okay, no one is ever that direct with me.” he said and ate his last biscuit. “Why? Is it because you’re in this year's elections?” “I thought you didn’t recognise me.” “Oh please, I’m writing an article about you and the other guy” “Huh, he really is ‘the other guy’” he said. “So, are you going to tell me what’s behind your nickname?” “Right, ugh, I’m not my father's son, my mom cheated. Not many people know this. The ones who do call me Sobachka, y’know, like a dog.” “That’s rough buddy… So it doesn’t bother you?”I asked. “No, not really.” I chuckled, “Not many people are like that.” Indeed they are not.” he looked at his watch, “This has been fun, but I’m afraid I must go now. I would like to see you again.” “I would like to see you too.” I smiled.
I was walking down the stairs when I heard my phone ring. “Hello?” “Hi, is this Zoya?”said the voice. “Yes, and you are?” I sighed as I got to the bottom and went to check my mailbox. “Is my voice so plain to you that you do not remember it?” “Nik, it’s not like I have your number saved in my phone. How may I help you this fine evening?” “I was wondering if you are free tonight? For a stroll in the park.” “We saw each other two days ago!” “Please? I need a friendly companion.” he paused, “We’ll eat doughnuts?” “How dare you use doughnuts against me?! Of course I’ll come. Meet in front of the Little Palace fountain in an hour? “Done. I’ll see you there.” I smiled fondly. “Bye Nik.” During the past few weeks I have been seeing him more and more. One Saturday he and David tagged along on our weekly meeting. I got out of the building and went across the street. There were lots of cars so I decided against calling a taxi. It wasn’t a long walk to the Little Palace, but I had to go to the Library first. There weren't many people in the Library so it was a quick stop. The Librarian, Kuwei, is a friend of Nina’s so I paused to chat with him, but he had work to do so I left him to it. When I got to the fountain, Nikolai was already there. I kissed him on the cheek and sat next to him. “What’s up?” He picked up a bag and gave it to me, “Doughnuts first.” “Honestly I don’t know how can someone not like you.” I said and took a bite of the doughnut. “So good…” “Me or the doughnut?” he asked. “What?” “You said it’s good. Me or the doughnut?” “Oh,” I laughed, “definitely the doughnut!” “HA-HA, very funny. Look I didn’t want to ask you, but I really need help with my speech.” I wiped my mouth to get rid of any leftover sugar and took out a notepad out of my bag. “Sure, what's it about?” “Well, this showing is supposed to be about children. Their education, the schools, hospitals, even orphanages.” he rubbed his neck. “That’s great, children should be taken care of, we know that first hand.” “Yeah, but I don’t know how to phrase it. I thought you could help with that.” “Of course. You’re gonna tell me everything that you want to say, we’ll write that down and work our way from there.” We were working on the speech until the sun went down. I looked up at him and said:”It’s getting late, I should go…” Nikolai scratched his head, “Yeah, no, of course, we’ll see eachother on David's birthday, right?” “Yes. This has been fun, I’d like to be more involved with your campaign if you’ll have me.” “You’re always welcome, always.” he hugged me, “I’ll see you in a few days. Bye Zoya.” “Bye Nik.”
“Botkin is making a reunion.” “What, when?” “I don’t know, some time after today.” Genya said. “Hold on, how do you know that?” “Didn’t he call you?” “Not that I know. Wait let me check,'' I took my phone from the table and looked at my phone log, “Oh, right I do have a missed call from an unknown caller. But do I really have to go, I mean I’ll see everyone I like tonight.” Genya sighed, “Zoya, it’s a party, you are going, you are going to have fun.” “But-” “End of discussion.” “EnD oF dIsCuSsIoN” I mocked her. “Oh, piss off. Just don’t be late.” “That’s you Kostyk. Gotta go, love you!” I ended the call. We are celebrating David’s birthday tonight, I had to go and buy him a gift. A normal person would have done that by now, but I just love to do everything last minute. I dressed up, took my wallet and went out to the hardware store. It started to rain during the taxi ride, I was, naturally unprepared for that, thus making me a bit damp when I entered the store. One of the older workers came up to me and said:”A bit unexpected, isn’t it?” “You have no idea.” I replied. “How can I help you?” “It’s my friend's birthday, and he likes to repair regular household items, or just make up new things, so i thought to buy him a new tool kit because his old one is really worn out and probably very rusty or just damaged.” “Right.”he said, “Would you like a completely new tool box, or separate objects and a tool box?” I looked around, “Well, if it were for you what would you get?” “Is there a price range?” “Not really, no. But let’s not make it more than a weekly paycheck.” After a series of isles and relentless explaining of different brands of the same monkey wrench, he recommended a box with wrenches of all sizes, seven different screwdrivers and some kind of special doorknob key that is also in different sizes and very useful. When I bought the tool box, I went to the liquor store to buy Genya’s favorite wine, but the rain hadn’t stopped. I was dripping wet when I came to their apartment. I knocked, twice, when David opened the doors, he went in for a hug, I put my finger up “No, no, we’ll do that when I’m dry.” He shrugged. “If you say so.” “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” “Thank you Zoya, come on in.” he let me through.I pointed my finger at Genya, “See, not late! And not the last one to get here.” “Not to burst your bubble, but you are the last one.” it was Mal. I looked around, Mal and Alina were on the couch, Nina sitting beside them. Toyla was on  the armchair next to the couch. Tamar and Nadia were on the loveseat opposite the couch, near the kitchen. Leoni and Adrik on the floor beside them. Genya was on a stool, her back turned. “No I'm not, Nik isn’t here”. I took off my jacket, and sat on the edge of the couches arm rest.. “Nikolai isn’t coming, his father got worse. Didn’t he tell you?” “No…” I took my phone out of my pocket, “I really need to get this serviced, don’t I?” Nina raised a glass and said: “Yes, yes you do.” I stuck out my tongue to her, “Shut up.” “To change the topic, Zoya, are you going to the reunion?” Leoni asked. I groaned. “Yes… But I don’t really want to.” “Why is that that?” “I don’t like people from highschool, plus, half of them hate me because I acted like a bitch. “ i said, “You all are enough for me.” “That’s cute.” Adrik said. I smiled, “Yeah, cute. And honestly what can we do there and not here? I mean the only highlight of that reunion is Botkin.” Genya looked at me, “Zoya. You are going. You can Ask Nikolai to come with you.” “I doubt Nik would say yes. It’s a highschool reunion full of people he doesn’t know.”   “You’d be surprised.” said Alina. “And with that comment we conclude this topic...” I said.
“That’s enough talking about food, It’s making me hungrier than I already am.” David said after an intense discussion of ‘Are Waffles Better Than Pancakes’. If you ask Nina, they are. Though, for Nina, waffles are better than anything. David stood up, “The boys and I will go to Jess’ to get pizza, you try to be nice and leave some wine for us, okay?” We started to laugh, “We’ll do our best.” said Tamar. “Oh, do you think Darina’s working?” asked Tolya. “Why?” asked Mal. “Well, she likes to draw, if she’s working, we could ask that she draws David with ketchup on one pizza, and write ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ on the other.” “Huh, could be fun.” said Adrik, as he went after the others and walked out of the flat.   “Bring umbrellas, it’s still raining!” yelled Nadia after them, “Idiots…” she muttered. I looked at Genya, “Kostyk.” “What?” “Go bring out the good wine.” I said. “Ooh, yes, bet! Alina, with me, we need to find the wine.” They stood up, and went to the kitchen. "Okay," Tamar started, "so there's this game Tolya and I used to play as kids, when the boys get back do you want to try?" "Yeah, sure." I said and turned my head towards the kitchen, "Girls, Tamar has a game idea, come here!" They stumbled back to the living room. Alina sat down and asked "What's the name of the game?" "Um, I don't really know? We always called it Nervous Breakdown, cause no one would believe Tolya, but I think it's called Werewolves." she said. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" yelled Leoni. "I think I know that game, but we called it Mafia. You played it with cards?" Genya sighed, "That's great and all, but we don't know how to play." "True." I pitched in. "Okay, so this is kinda complicated so no interruptions and questions are after I explain how the game works, cool?" Tamar asked. "Yes mom." we said in usion. "Genya, go grab the cards, rest of you sit around the table." When Genya got back and sat down, Tamar started to take the playing cards. She started explaining: "Point if the game is to find out who's the werewolf. We sit in a circle. Everybody has a card that's in front of them, that's your card and there's a card in the middle. After you see what's your card and  what role are you playing you put it down and don't touch it. You put your hand next to it and close your eyes. Then when I say your role you wake up and do your roles part "Since it's seven of us there's eight playing cards. Two Jokers, they're the werewolf, they change the middle card with anyone's card and touch the person who's card they changed. But they touch with the card not the hand. Nod if you understood." We all nodded. "Then there's a Queen, she's the helper for the werewolfs, she wakes the same time as them and does nothing during that time, but when we all wake she tries to convince the rest of us that she's the werewolf so we'd kill her instead of the real werewolf so that the werewolfs would win. "Then there's the Jacks, he's a psychic, he can see anybody's card and the middle one, but he doesn't touch and he can't see his card in case it's been changed during the werewolf time. "Next up is King, he's a thief. He changes his card with anybody's card and touches the person who's card he changed. And then there's the Aces who are villagers and do nothing." she finished. I looked at all of them one by one and started laughing. Everyone was throwing a fit, there were a lot of spilled drinks. "No joke now, I think we could try, but everytime someone makes a mistake we drink!" Nina said. "You're gonna be the first one!" We started laughing again. And after a few more useless tries, we got serious. They all had so many questions that took a long time answering, boys got back with food before we could even play. So as we ate, we tried to convince them to play, but it was useless since they were drunk off their minds. To be fair I wasn't much better. We spent the night eating and drinking. Mostly drinking. And eating. It was getting late, most of the group left. Alina, Mal and I were still at the flat. David and Mal were talking in the kitchen, Alina was in the bathroom. Genya and I were on the floor.“Zoya?” “Yeah?” “You’re drunk, right?” asked Genya. I looked up and back down, the room was wobbly. “Yeah, definitely.” “Do you like Nikolai?” “Of course I like Nik, he’s a great friend.” She shook her head, “Do you like Nikolai? Like, like-like.” “Oh…” “Well?” “I- no. Maybe, how does one know that? Is there a test I can do online?” Genya started squealing, “HA! I knew it!” She turned toward the kitchen, “I raise my bet to 20 dollars!” But I didn’t hear that. I was thinking of Nikolai, of his face when we see each other.
I came home from Genya and David’s. I showered and put on my pajamas. I fell asleep. I woke up. My phone was ringing. It’s election day. I fell asleep. I woke up. I tried to write. I tried to eat. I fell asleep. I woke up. I got another text. “We won the election. -Nik”. I fell asleep. I woke up. I failed to write. I failed to eat. I fell asleep.
When I finally decided it was time to get out of the house, I went to Dragon Scale. It was extremely windy outside so I put on a beanie. When I walked in, my head was bowed, I went full face into someone. “I’m so sorry.” I said and continued forward,when someone took my hand. I turned around and saw Nikolai. “Zoya.” “Hi.” “Why didn’t you answer my calls? Genya said you were alright but you scared me to death!” I just stared, "Zoya, talk to me!" "Can we go and sit?" I asked. He followed me as I  went to the corner booth and sat down, Nikolai a few steps behind me. "I got really drunk at Genya and David's. And I said something to Genya. And I got scared, because if it's true it might end bad for me, just like last time." "What are you talking about?" "i was in many relationships, but none were very serious until I met this guy, it was years ago, when I was in highschool. He was older than me, and I really liked him, at the beginning. But as it went on I realised he was being toxic. It… escalated." "Ecsalated how? Did he hurt you?" Nikolai asked. "No, not me, but Genya. You know that eye-patch she wears?" He nodded. "He did that, I don't know how, I was at work when it happened. I asked her to tell me but she refused, I just stopped pushing." I bowed my head. "Zoya." I looked up. "Nik, if I were to tell you that I was in love with someone, what would you do?" "I tell you that I'm happy for you and that he is an extremely lucky guy." He looked kinda sad. "And what if I told you that I'm in love with you, what would you do?" He shot up in his seat. "What?" I smiled, "I'm in love with you Nik." "I-" "Do with that what you will, but I don't want it, this, to ruin our friendship." "I'm afraid it did." He got up, leaned across the table and kissed me.
Next month was full of TV screening and restless nights as Nik and I wrote his speeches. But Botkins' reunion was soon, so he would take a few days off to have fun. I spent every free moment with Genya and Alina, shopping for the reunion. As much as I didn't want to go, shopping was fun. Genya found a dress in the same shade as her hair and Alina found a bodysuit in black and gold. I had a really hard time finding something I like. But the day before I found a perfect dress in victorian blue. Nik wore a gray suit and had this beautiful waist coat. When we got to the ball room in the Little Palace, it was already full, but we kept close to the outer ring. Most of the people were dancing, even Genya and David, but I went to talk to Botkin. "Mr. Botkin." He turned to face me, "Oh, Zoya dear, how has life been treating you?" That was his signature line, "Good. I just wanted to see how have you been doing?" "Never better dear." he looked behind me, "Now go off, there's a handsome young man waiting for a dance." "What?" I turned around and saw Nik. "Oh, thank-" he was already off to talk to someone else. I walked towards Nik. He bowed, "May I have this dance?" I looked around, nobody seemed to notice us. "Yes, yes you may." The music changed to a slow dance. We twirled around, and around. Once we stopped, I realised we were alone on the dance floor and there was a light on me. I turned to face Nik, but he was kneeling on the floor. "Nik," I said carefully, "what are you doing?" He took a box out of his inner pocket and opened it. Inside was the most beautiful emerald I have ever seen. I knew what it ment. “Would you do it?” he asked. I looked up at him, puzzled, "What?" "Well, y'know…" "No, I don't." He sighed: "Make me the happiest man alive. Would you do it?" "Yes." He got up and hugged me, I thought I was going to fall over, when these balloons started falling from the ceiling. I kissed him. "I love you." I said. He smiled, "I know." And kissed me again. When all the balloons fell, Genya came through. "Do you like it?" she asked. "What? Wait, how do you know?" "Oh silly we all knew." I looked around to see my friends standing around us, laughing. Mal said: "We had a bet on when are you getting official." Tolya raised a hand, "I won!" "You lot are unbelievable! Come one, you are being punished, this is a group hug!" That night ended up to be one of my favorites.
I didn't want to wait. We booked a venue for our closest friends. Genya bought me my wedding dress for "being strong, and being my best friend". It was a floor length dress with long sleeves. Top of my hair was in a bun, while the bottom part flowed in the wind. Alina even bought me a crown. I was walking down the aisle when someone came bursting in. I turned to see who it was. "I don't know why am I surprised, you always were a bitch." Genya answered, "What do you want Alexander?" Nik ran down to me and took my hand, "That's him?" he whispered. "Yes, stay here." I told him. "What do you mean "what do I want"? Isn't there a part when I get to the object?" I looked at him. "Alex, if you do not walk out right now, I'm gonna call the cops." "They didn't stop me then, they won't stop me now." "Ugh, you're so full of yourself." I said. Long story short, the cops stopped him. We continued with the ceremony. The priestess looked at me, then Nik and said: "If you went through that, on you wedding day, you can go through anything. Are the vows really necessary?" We shook our heads. "Then, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." And oh boy did he kiss me.
We're at McDonald's. And we're celebrating. Genya took her milkshake and stood up. Everyone followed her. "For our friends, may they have a long, happy life. Cheers!" There was a long choir of cheers going around. I sat back and looked at Nik and his Happy Meal, "Is it too early to get a divorce?" He looked me and said, with his mouth full of french fries: "Why'd gou go dhat?"
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booklovingturtle · 4 years
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A Sweet Suli Spice (Kanej GVBB)
A/N: AH I can’t believe the time has finally come for me to share this with you all! I had so much fun working on this in the midst of the worst and most stressful semester of my life!
Shout out to my gang, Spice of Life, for making this so much fun bc they are all so talented and easy to work with! The Corporalki both understood my writing which made the revising/editing process really smooth. They made sure the fic you’re about to read is actually understandable. They read this more than once and in the midst of their own crazy lives which I will never not be thankfull for. The Materialki are ridiculously talented. You HAVE to click their links to check out their work. I know they all worked really hard on them and it totally paid off.
Also big thank you to @grishaversebigbang​ for hosting this and being a terrifying yet wonderful Master of Tides.
Please feel free to comment, reblog, or message me your reactions to this! It’s the first super long pic that I’ve ever written and I’m really proud of it. Okay enough rambling…ik y’all just want the fic!
Corporalki: @ninxszenik , @ethereal-magia
Materialki: @theartistwitch  @wavesofinkdrops @xan-drei
Masterlist: Don’t have an Ao3 but I do have a master list of all my fics.
Summary: Inej Ghafa hasn’t seen her family in four years. Not since she’s been taken. Now that it’s been so long since she’s seen them, Inej is scared and nervous to go back. One night, while sitting on the rooftop, Kaz asks her to teach him Suli. That inspires Inej to fight her nerves and finally find her family. She asks Kaz to go home with her and he takes this opportunity to learn more about her and her people. Once home, Inej is faced with a guilt of her past, the fear of family’s reactions, and the hope of finally being ghar (home).
The heart of Suli culture flowed with spice-flavored blood and beat to the sound of performance drums. It hummed through Inej’s body every time she whispered her native language to herself under Tante Heleen’s ring-clad fist. She stored the precious words so deep inside of her that she feared the garbled sounds of Kerch would drown out their melodious syllables.
Once she was under the employment of the Dregs, she would practice Suli as often as she could. Some nights she would stare into the mirror, barely recognizing the woman in front of her as she spoke in Suli to herself. She would even write letters to her family in the beautiful script they had taught her. Those letters were always burned before the ink could dry. The content didn’t matter to her. She didn’t write them for the sake of filling a paper with impossible hopes and dreams. She wrote them because she feared losing her mother tongue. It was an irrational fear that she had never been able to vocalize to anyone before. Well, at least before Kaz came into the picture. He had asked her one night if she could teach him Suli and noticed, as he always did, the change in her face at the mention of it.
“I understand if you don’t feel comfortable teaching me. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Kaz reached out to place his hand on her leg.
Inej watched his pale, scarred knuckles rest on her knee. They had made their way up to the roof of the Crows Club, as they usually did when Inej was home. Whatever time wasn’t spent up there was used to carefully test the idea of being together.
“It’s not that I don’t feel comfortable. It’s that…” Inej’s words wandered away from her. She watched the way his thumb moved along the inside of her knee. It was such a small touch for someone else; for a different boy and a different girl that touch was meaningless. For them, it was everything.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“No. I want to. I’ve spent so many years away from Ravka and most of my people. I only ever get to speak Suli when I’m working with the Dregs or helping people escape a sinking slave ship. For years, I was afraid that one day, I would wake up and forget the language entirely.”
“Is that possible?” His deep voice sounded raspy but soothing against the black night. “Not to lose it in one day, but for you to just forget Suli that easily?”
Inej nodded slowly. “I already have.” It broke her heart to admit it. “When I first arrived to Ketterdam, everything came to me in Suli. Dreams, thoughts, speech. I had to learn to filter my words into Kerch. Now I find that more and more of my thoughts and dreams come in Kerch than they do in Suli.”
Kaz was silent for a few heartbeats. Inej felt as if she had stripped herself bare in front of the entire Barrel. It was odd to feel that way around Kaz now. He had seen and touched parts of her that no one else was ever given permission to. Kaz knew her like no other person could, yet this was a part of her she hadn’t accepted about herself, let alone explained to him. There was an intimacy that came with talking about her culture that made her feel exposed.
“The language is not the only thing that ties you to the culture, Inej. You will always be Suli as long as you carry it in your heart.”
Tears surprised Inej by burning the back of her eyelids. “Come home with me,” she spoke through the lump in her throat.
He looked taken aback. “Home? You mean Ravka?”
She nodded. Inej had felt confident the first time she asked the question, but the way Kaz was looking at her now made her doubt her request.
“Yes. To Ravka. To my family. I-I’ve been thinking about going back for a while now. I even asked Nina for her help in tracking my family down.”
“I didn’t know that,” Kaz’s eyebrows came together in a way that meant he was already calculating things. She recognized that look: scheming face.
“You may be Dirtyhands on this island, Brekker, but that doesn’t mean you’re privy to everything east of Kerch.”
Kaz grinned wickedly. “Maybe not east, but we all know that I was able to conquer the North quite easily.” This was also a new side of Kaz that she had gotten to know over the last few months: one that was playful without an edge of cruelty attached to it. The air around them changed and Inej no longer felt the sadness that usually came with thinking about home.
“We conquered the Ice Court together. With the help of some friends, which you had to beg for help from, if I remember correctly.”
Kaz looked appalled. “I never begged.”
“So you admit that you did need our help.”
“Need is a strong word, Inej. The only things I need in this world are food, air, and you.”
It was her turn to look speechless. Kaz was rarely ever so direct with her about his feelings for her. She knew, of course, that he cared for her as she did for him. It was one thing, however, for her to know it and another for him to be so forward about it.
“And because I need you, Inej, my answer is yes. I want to go to Ravka with you. I want to go everywhere and anywhere with you. We’ll conquer the world together if that’s what you want. I want to be wherever you need me to be.”
Kaz’s words echoed in her head. She would hear them every time she thought of home. Her real home. Thanks to Nina’s help, Inej was sailing to Ravka within months with Kaz by her side.
The Wraith soared through the water and, in what felt like one night’s rest, Inej’s crew was docking The Wraith in Os Kervo’s main dock. From the stern of her ship, Inej could hear the sound of her crew talking and moving. The water lapped against the underside of her ship, gently rocking her reflection back and forth.
Inej prayed in Suli as she strapped Sankt Petyr and Sankta Alina to her forearms. She tried to quell the anxious shake of her hands while Sankta Marya and Anastasia were readjusted on her thighs. Sankt Vladimir fit snugly into her boot, making Inej wonder what her mother would say at the sight of her in Fabrikator-made boots, not Suli slippers. Sankta Lizabeta with her rose-engraved handle sat at her belt, hidden under the folds of her black Suli wrap.
When not in front of a roaring crowd, the Suli were a reserved people. Despite Tante Heleen’s disgusting portrayal of her culture, Inej still loved the vibrant colors of Suli dupattas and embroidered kurtas. When she felt the jerk of the anchor settling into place, Inej realized how long it had been since she dressed in chiffon and silk. She didn’t recognize the Suli woman staring in the mirror staring back at her. For one, the sleeves were tailored to be much longer than she would have normally needed during Ravkan summers. However, she didn’t want anyone to see the network of scars that decorated her skin from years of violence. The second thing that threw off her reflection was the way she’d styled her hair. Though she performed with her hair in a braided coil, Inej knew her mother loved it best when it was wild and loose. Finally, the last time she had seen herself like this was when she was still an innocent girl who yearned to grow into a talented acrobat.
Inej was now so fundamentally different from that child. If anything, the dupatta she was wearing felt like a costume.
Knocking forced her to turn away from her damned reflection.
“Adara aaen,” Inej called out, already knowing who it would be before he stepped into the room.
“I assume that means ‘come in,’” Kaz’s slim figure filled her doorway. He was dressed in an inmanulate suit as usual, gloved hands resting on top of his crow’s head cane and a smirk on his face.
“What?” Inej hadn’t realized the words had come out in Suli instead of Kerch. It was rare for her to mix the languages up like that. The fact that it had even happened spoke of her nerves. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to translate everything into Suli to get some last minute practice.”
Kaz’s arrogant look slipped and he shook his head. “No need to apologize. I love hearing you speak Suli.”
Inej forced a smile to her face. “If the Saints allow it, soon that’s all you're going to hear.” She looked out the port window, watching the lazy rays of sun dance along the sky. Somehow the Ravkan sky seemed to shine brighter than the Kerch one.
“Don’t slip away from me,” Kaz prompted her gently. She realized that she had started to float off into her own thoughts, something she’d found herself doing more and more the closer they’d gotten to shore.
“Are you ready?”
“No. But I don’t think I ever will be.”
“We don’t have to do this, not if you don’t want us to. I’ll go and ask Getz to take The Wraith right back if you’ve changed your mind, or we can take a trip to Nina’s instead. Whatever you want to do, I'll be here for you.”
Inej shook her head. “I might be terrified, but I want to do this. I just feel out of place in a Suli outfit after not having worn one in so long.” Her fingers pulled at one of the tightly knitted seams.
Kaz leaned his cane against the wall, closing the door behind him. He went up to Inej and turned her to face the mirror. “I don’t think your parents will be any less happy to see you if you wore a dupatta or a kefta or a sack. They’ll be too excited to see you.” Kaz’s arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her body into his. Inej felt his warm, solid chest against her back. She inhaled his calming smell, grateful for his presence.
“In Suli, we have a saying for people who have betrayed their kind, who have disgraced them or turned their back on them. Kadema mehim. It’s the worst sort of punishment you could receive for your actions.” She shuddered at the thought of ever hearing those words said to her. Inej herself had only ever used them once.
“I am not the same little girl who was taken from them. They might realize that and see me as forsaken. As someone who has turned away from the Saints.”
Kaz brushed her hair off to one side to rest his head on her shoulder. Kaz’s reflection towered over Inej’s own in the mirror. His sable eyes looked stubborn and unwaveringly serious. “You are many things, Inej, but a traitor is not one of them. It’s true that you are not the same girl you were when they knew you. But they will see that you grew into a brave, strong woman who will stop at nothing to do what is right for the people she loves.
“They will see that you have fought against all the odds and have become an unstoppable force that they should feel blessed to have in their lives. They will love you, Inej. It is impossible for them to not love you.”
This time she didn’t stop the tears that slid down her cheeks. She took a shuddering breath and placed a hand against his jaw. The sharp line was lined with light stubble, but that didn’t stop her from running a finger against its curve. Her fingers traced the scar beneath the right edge of jaw, thinking about the other scars that peppered his skin. Many of those scars earned alongside her.
“They will love you, too, Kaz.” Inej knew that he was almost as nervous as she was to meet her family, though he would never voice it out loud.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He kissed her cheek and pulled away. “They might think of me as the man who corrupted their daughter.”
She shook her head. “No, they will think of you as the man who has made their daughter too happy to put into words.”
Kaz stared at his gloves, refusing to make eye contact. “Will they? Have I?”
It was her turn to reach out to him. Inej wrapped her hands around his neck. “Yes and yes. You have made their daughter happier than she ever thought possible.”
Kaz’s hands tentatively grabbed her waist. His eyes were on her lips but he didn’t move. Not until she did. Inej leaned up, catching his mouth with hers. The sounds of the crew and the ocean were replaced by the sound of her heart in her chest. Kaz was always gentle with her. His kisses were soft like the petals of spring and sweet like caramel. He held her like there was nothing that could ever separate them.
Inej sighed, melting into his every touch. It was impossible to feel anxious or scared in his arms. His fingers pressed into her silk wrap and Inej released a gasp. Kaz took that opportunity to take everything she gave him. Her skin suddenly burned. The sweetness was still there, dancing with a fiery spice that surprised her. They had rarely ever held each other this long without the waters swallowing him up.
His hands buried themselves in her long hair. Inej reached into his jacket, feeling the muscles beneath his white shirt. Kaz then broke away, breathing hard and shuddering. His face was flushed and his lips looked deliciously swollen.
Inej, realizing what they had done, began to apologize for having been too forward.
“No. It wasn’t you. Believe me, it wasn’t that.” Kaz shook his head, gloved hands holding hers against his chest.
“But if it wasn’t...why did you stop?” Inej could feel a blush spreading across her cheeks.
“I really didn’t want to,” Kaz’s gaze made goosebumps dance across her skin. “But we need to leave soon if we want to make it to Ivets before dark. And to be quite honest with you, Wraith, I’m not sure how far we would have gone this time. I really didn’t want to stop.”
Inej laughed. “Neither did I. It’s okay. We’ll have time another day. We have the rest of our lives to do that and so much more.”
“Captain,” Getz called from outside her door. “The crew’s settled and waiting for your orders.”
“Duty calls, Wraith.” Kaz’s smile was as sharp as ever. He adjusted the tie she’d crinkled.
Inej pulled her shoulders back, stepped through the doorway and told her crew that they could do as they pleased for a few hours. Within the next hour, she and Kaz were on their way to Ivets, the city where Nina had informed Inej her family would be performing for the next week. Every road they passed brought her closer and closer to her family. Inej could hardly contain her excitement and nervousness. While passing a crowded marketplace, Inej almost barreled into a group of children running across the street.
“Whoa, Inej,” Kaz called as he held her back from stepping into the walkway. “Careful. I know you’re excited to see your family, but even I think it’s a little much to trample a few children along the way.”
“Could you imagine that after getting back to Ketterdam, the Wraith and Dirtyhands voyaged all the way to some unknown city in Ravka just to run over a few children?” she joked, though her voice wavered enough for Kaz to notice.
“When you put it like that...” Kaz’s eyes had the same spark in them that always appeared right before a job. “While that does sound tempting, I think my bloodthirsty reputation will survive despite having let them live.”
By sunset, Inej could hear the pounding of Suli drums. They had passed through the heart of Ivets’ main city before reaching the boundary of an open field. A golden tent heavily embroidered with thick swirls rose high over the clearing. Inej’s breath caught in her throat at the familiar sound of Suli folk music floating outside of its flowing entrance. Sweet curling smoke filled the air with the smell of fried dough, glazed fruits, and…
The smell of her family gatherings to celebrate the Saints. She envisioned her mother, kind and beautiful, carrying baskets full of fresh vegetables for dinner. Her father, strong and brave, chopping potatoes alongside his wife. Her cousins fighting over plates of food. Her aunts handing out sticky sweets. Her uncles setting up place settings.
The music reminded her of the first time she stood on a tightrope. The bottomless drop that yawned beneath her and the open sky that blanketed her. How it felt to be covered in performance glitter and to curl her hair to fall around her round cheeks. She remembered scrapping her hands on trees, trying to beat her cousins to the top. How it felt to look over the Ravkan landscape and see nothing but endless opportunities.
After years of darkness, years of bloodshed, years of the staccato sounds of Kerch, Inej Ghafa was finally home.
Home...and rooted to her spot at the edge of the circus grounds. Ravkans stood in line, waiting to be let into the performance tent; the same tent that she had spent countless days in during the early years of her life. A bronze-skinned man stepped out of the tent, dressed in loose fitted black pants and a thick, colorful coat. His voice was deep and stern as he hollered the rules of the performance out into the crowd of people.
Inej stared in wonder, unsure about who the man was. Chaacha Jilé was the one who used to tame the crowds before they entered the performance area. The man at the entrance was not her uncle.
“Hanzi,” the name came to her with a jolt.
Inej was suddenly flying. Or at least that’s what it felt like as the grass was crushed beneath her racing feet. One minute, she was standing beside Kaz and the next, she was running straight to her cousin, pushing through the crowd of guests until she stood at the very front.
“Hanzi,” she said again, this time facing the man whom she now recognized.
Her cousin’s words died on his lips and he froze, arms limp at his sides as looked at her. “Inej?”
A sob escaped her. She could hear the sound of the crowd’s confusion but she didn’t care.
“Hanzi,” was all that she could say.
His face broke into a smile. A roaring shout came from him as he yelled in Suli. “Inej! Inej is here! Masi Calla! Chaacha Baraz! Inej is home!”
Tears streamed down her face at the sound of her parents’ names: Calla and Baraz. Mama and Papa. Inej waited anxiously as the longest few seconds of her life passed. She could see from the sliver opening in the flaps a flurry of motion. She caught her name be repeated and questions thrown. Hanzi shouted again, tears in his own eyes.
Inej’s whole world froze as Mama and Papa came through the entrance. They stepped out, first looking at her cousin with an agonizing look of hope and confusion on their faces.
“Mama. Papa.”
They turned towards Inej as she called out to them. Her mother’s face was more wrinkled than it had been when she’d been taken. Her hair was still long and elegantly braided to the side. Her father’s beard was mixed with grays where it was once solid black. He was clutching his wife’s shoulder, eyes landing on his daughter for the first time in four years.
“Inej.” He didn’t say her name like Hanzi had. He said it with such certainty and conviction that it made Inej’s knees give out from under her.
Before her body could fully hit the ground, her parents’ arms were around her. She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around her father’s waist.
“Esfir,” her mother whispered in her ear. Inej couldn’t describe the relief and joy that flooded through her at the word.
Esfir was Suli for ‘little star.’ Late at night, they used to tuck her under her covers with a kiss. Her mother used to say that Inej was her little star and her father would explain that she was their guiding light.
Inej didn’t know how long they sat in the damp grass, crying and hugging and whispering to each other.
“I’m home,” she would say.
“You’re home.” One of them would repeat.
“I prayed to all of the Saints that you would find your way home to us.” Her father said.
“They called us fools. Said that we would never see you again. They told us that you were taken too far for us to ever reach you again,” her mother cried.
“Never,” Inej promised. “I will never be too far to come back home. The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true. My heart is here.”
After some time, Inej realized that the rest of her family had come outside of the tent. Night had fallen and the crowd was now gone. Her older cousins looked as if Sankt Juris had come down to blow his blue flames. Disbelief filled their faces. Some of her younger cousins looked just as shocked, though less afraid of her. Inej also noticed the soft coos of the newest editions to her family. One toddler who must have born within the first year she was at the Menagerie. Two more who looked as though they came along while she was in service with the Dregs.
The Dregs. Kaz.
Inej pulled away from her parents, realizing who else she had forgotten about for the second time that night.
“Mama. Papa. I didn’t come here alone,” her words scratched against her throat. She hadn’t realized the tears had dried out her voice until that moment.
Inej turned around, knowing that Kaz would have waited as long as she needed him to. He still stood towards the edge of the trees. Inej called out to him in Kerch.
Kaz came forward, trying his best not to look like Dirtyhands under the cover of night with his crow’s head cane and thick gloves. Though he no longer needed them with her, Inej knew that he wasn’t ready to hug every member of her teary-eyed family.
Kaz stood beside her. Inej took his hand in hers and squeezed tightly.
“This is Kaz.” Inej had practiced this speech so many times in her head. She had carefully racked her brain for the proper words in Suli to say what she needed to say.
“Kaz and I...we have been through too many things together to explain in one night. Most of the last four years have been cruel and lonely. Kaz has been one of the few good things to come into my life since I was fourteen,” her words choked off. “I ask that you be kind to him and embrace him as a part of my life. He has saved it in many ways over the years. In some ways, it is thanks to him that I am here.”
Her father stood from where he was still crouched in the grass. He approached Kaz, looking more serious than Inej had ever seen him look in her life. He stood a few inches shorter than Kaz, but still managed to look down at him.
“Do you speak Suli?” Baraz asked him.
“No-” Inej was cut off by Kaz.
“Not fluently, but I am learning.” Kaz shocked her by responding in fluid Suli instead of Kerch. He gave her side-eyed look, clearly enjoying the shocked look on her face.
Her father nodded. “Then I can thank you properly. For helping my daughter return to us.”
Kaz bowed his head. “Inej is the wisest, most determined person I have ever met. She would have found her way back to you with or without me.”
Baraz laughed, “Esfir is just like her mother in that way. Nothing stands in the way of her and what she wants.”
Inej smiled in relief. “That is true. And right now, what I want is some stuffed peppers and goulash made the proper Suli way.”
Her mother laughed, standing to embrace Inej once again. “You can have whatever you would like, Inej.”
“My turn!” Hanzi called out from the cluster of cousins closest to her. Inej turned to find him now barreling towards her.
Inej froze for a second, not feeling entirely comfortable with the tight embrace. She tried her best to laugh through the rush of panic. It hadn’t even occurred to her until that moment how her homecoming would be full of physical touching that she wasn’t entirely ready for.
Her arms didn’t move from her sides, but at least she didn’t pull away until he did. Hanzi didn’t seem to register her tight shoulders.
“I can’t believe you’re really back, Inej! What took you so long? Adja has been driving me crazy. She thinks that she’s in charge now because she can do a handstand on the highwire, but now that you’re back, you can prove to her that you’re in charge. I even reminded her that you used to be able to do an entire double front routine on the high wire without a net.” While her older cousin may have gotten older, he still rambled half made up tales as though he hadn’t aged a day.
“I don’t even have the energy to explain how wrong that is,” Inej shook her head at her cousin’s infectious joy. Hanzi had always been one of her favorites because, no matter what, he could always tell some ridiculous story to make her laugh.
“First of all,” a female voice interjected, “I’ve been able to do a handstand on the high wire for years. Second, all I said was that you weren’t in charge, Hanzi.” Adja said from behind him. She was only two years younger than Inej, but she had been terrified of the high wire. While Inej had danced around it barefoot, Adja refused to step onto one.
“Come on, Nej. Remind Adja who the real master is!”
“No,” Calla stood in between her daughter and her nephew. “Inej has only been with us for a few minutes and already you are trying to get her in trouble,” her mother chided Hanzi.
Kaz chuckled from behind her. It was clear from his expression that, while he wasn’t able to understand all of their conversation, the sound of an upset mother seemed to be universally understood.
“Come, Esfir. We’re going to have a proper welcome dinner,” her mother nodded towards the rest of her family. “Disah and Remen, go to the Ivetan market…”
Inej allowed her mother to assign everyone their tasks while she looked back at Kaz. He was smiling, looking proud of her, but she couldn’t tell why.
“What?” she asked him in quiet Kerch.
“You didn’t pull away when he hugged you,” he truly looked proud of her. Inej looked towards Hanzi worriedly.
“No. I didn’t exactly hug him back.” It would have been a lie to act as though she wasn’t disappointed in her reaction to Hanzi’s embrace. It was an unexpected reality of what she had endured all those years ago. “Do you think they noticed?”
“He was too excited to have you back to notice,” Kaz shook his head. “That’s not the point. The point is that you didn’t pull away. It wasn’t easy, but you did it, Inej. You’re home and your family couldn’t be more happy to see you.”
She took a deep breath. She hadn’t even realized that her nervousness had started to creep up on her after Hanzi’s hug until now. For a while there, she had forgotten about all of her anxieties. Now that her family had split itself into their roles to prepare for her homecoming diner, she had a quiet moment to be reminded of them.
That was when Kaz, ever supportive and aware of how she was feeling, stepped in to ease her nerves. “Kaz, do you think I should tell them the truth?”
“You don’t owe anyone any explanations. You tell them as much as you want to. It’s your story to tell.”
Inej had known long before that night on the rooftop that she was in love with Kaz. She had known for quite some time. As she stared into his honest eyes, surrounded by the sounds of her family, Inej was reminded of how deep her love for Kaz Brekker went.
“What did I ever do for the Saints to bless me with you,” she wondered out loud.
It was hard to tell with the pale moonlight as her only source of light, but for a moment, Inej thought that she saw Kaz’s face blush. His gaze left her and landed on the starry Ravkan sky.
“I ask myself the same question about you every day that we are together, Inej.”
“Nej!” Adja yelled from the performance tent. “Masi Calla asked me to help you and your...friend...find new clothes.”
Inej looked down at her Suli dupatta. “What’s wrong with what we have on now?”
Adja eyed the Wraith and Dirtyhands with pursed lips. “You both look as though you’re going to a funeral. Tonight is a party, Nej. You need to be dressed in party clothes. Now let's go, Masi might cut the wire during our next performance if I don’t get you both dressed in time.”
Inej remembered how her mother used to fuss over her dirty silks when she came back inside from an afternoon spent playing outside. “You’re right. Mama would absolutely do something like that.”
“Where are we going?” Kaz asked her, keeping up with her hurried steps with his usual ease.
Inej glanced at him. “Oh, so you suddenly don’t speak Suli anymore?” They walked around the performance tent to the line of caravans far behind it.
Kaz smirked arrogantly. “I never said I did. Just that I was learning. You didn’t think that I was going to come and meet your entire family without at least attempting to familiarize myself with the language, did you? It’s not that difficult to memorize a few phrases here and there.”
She pushed him lightly with her shoulder. “How about on the boat? Were you faking then?”
Kaz shook his head. “Technically, I wasn’t faking. I know some words and phrases, but not everything. Not yet. Give me a few weeks with your family and I’ll be fluent.”
Inej rolled her eyes. “Not a chance, Brekker. My language is too poetic for a shevrati like you to con your way in that short amount of time. Memorizing a few parables is not the same thing as being able to use all the beautiful nuances we have.”
“It would be easier if I had some help from a beautiful and smart teacher.”
“You’re right. I think Hanzi would probably be willing to sign up.”
“It’s rude to speak in another language, you know,” Adja said from in front of them. The three of them finally stopped in front of Adja’s family caravan.
Kaz shot a glance at her cousin. Inej translated and he apologized in Suli.
“Not you,” Adja nodded towards Inej. “I meant Nej. She was always a quiet one, you know. At least you got her talking.”
Kaz nodded along pleasantly thought it was clear he didn’t understand. When Inej explained, his bitter coffee eyes looked amused.
“I wasn’t quiet, Adja. Hanzi was just usually screaming over me about nothing.”
Adja giggled and unlocked the door. “That is probably true. I was thinking, you should fit in my outfit from Sankta Day last year instead of just a normal dupatta. As for Ka-s,” she stumbled on his Kerch name, “He can borrow Papa’s performance kurta.”
Kaz looked somber, but didn’t argue. “Chaacha Micta used to make some interesting fashion choices,” Inej explained to him as her cousin went in search of the outfits.
“How so?”
Inej bit her lip, holding back laughter. “Let’s just say that he probably could take a few tips from Jesper.”
His eyes widened. “Inej-”
It was too late. Adja emerged from behind a curtain carrying multiple pieces of thick fabric. For Inej, she had a neatly folded Anarkali suit of rich burgundy. Sparkling gold embroidery lined the long, slightly flared skirt and traced the cuffs of the fitted sleeves. A light, white and gold wrap also came with the outfit. On top of it sat a pair of high heels that matched the wine-colored clothes. Inej took the clothes into her hands, feeling the soft yet firm fabrics that were saved for more festive clothing in her culture.
“It might be a little long for you,” Adja eyed Inej’s smaller frame. “But it will do.”
“Thank you, Adja.”
She shrugged off her cousin’s thanks. Her other hand still held Kaz’s outfit. He was standing dangerously still beside Inej. His face was blank of any reaction, but Inej could only imagine what was going through his head. While her outfit was designed with elegance and grace in mind, Kaz’s was made for a true showman. Or at least for a color blind one.
Chaacha Micta had a performance kurta that was radiant white with orange and green gems cascading down the sleeves. Sunset colored pants were folded to match the sparkling jewels. It was both bright and sparkly, two things Kaz hated in clothing.
“Dhanyavaad,” Kaz mimicked Inej’s Suli to thank Adja. Inej was reminded of how good of a liar he was because if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought Kaz looked almost excited to wear her uncle’s kurta.
Adja beamed, looking between the two. “I don’t think Chaacha Baraz or Masi Calla would be okay with me leaving you two in here alone to change but…” Her cousin broke off and shrugged. “If you brought, Ka-s all the way here, I have to assume that it is not the first time you’ve been left alone.”
Heat flooded Inej’s cheeks. She couldn’t meet Adja’s eyes when she nodded. “It’s okay. Mama and Papa won’t know if you don’t tell.”
Adja continued to look between them. It was the same look Nina had given them before Inej had actually opened up about her relationship with Kaz. A look that said that Adja could see something they couldn’t. She was used to getting that look from her friends or other Dregs, but it was a little unnerving to see that look in the eyes of someone she hadn’t seen in years.
“Just don’t take too long. Chaacha and Masi will seriously cut the rope if they find out about this,” she pointed between Kaz and Inej. She swiftly ran out of the caravan, giggling at Inej’s eye roll.
Once she was out the door, Inej’s focus was back on Kaz. His polite smile dropped with Adja out of sight.
Kaz spoke seriously, “Inej, you know that I care for you deeply. More than anything in this world, I care for you.”
Warmth filled her heart, but her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
“Because I care for you, I want your family to like me.”
“I already told you-”
“Yes, I know. I’m wonderful. A trickster god amongst men. But that’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what is it?”
Kaz looked at her in disbelief. “Do you even have to ask me that question? This,” Kaz raised the clothes in his hands to meet her eye level. “I’ve never seen anything so…”
Laughter burst out from Inej. She quickly moved to cover her mouth with her hands, but there was no concealing the way her body shook from amusement.
“That is a traditional Suli kurta, Kaz. It’s an important part of my culture.”
He shook his head. “I have seen kurtas. This does not look like that. This looks like some nightmare Jesper and Nina would have designed.”
“Poor Dirtyhands is too insecure to wear something so dazzling,” Inej placed a hand on his cheek. She ran a finger down the sharp cut of his jawline. “I’m sure you’ll look great. Not as good as Chaacha would in it, but a close second.”
Kaz’s eyes held a playful fury. His ebony eyes only ever fixed on her that way. It was a look that promised both a punishment and sweet reward for her words.
“If the Dregs ever find out about this…”
A wicked smile broke onto her face. “I can’t imagine how they would. I keep all your secrets.”
“Don’t even think about telling them, Wraith.” One of Kaz’s arms found her waist.
“Jesper, on the other hand,” her fingers moved to run through his hair. “Jesper is a bit of a big mouth. If this somehow got to him, I don’t think there is any way of stopping him.”
“I can think of at least twelve different ways I could stop him with this kurta alone.” His face moved closer to hers.
Inej turned so his lips landed on her cheek. “No time for that, Brekker. We have to get dressed.”
He sighed and gave the bedazzled shirt a weary look. “If you ever doubt how I feel about you, Inej, just remember this moment.” Before she could respond, Kaz gestured towards the room Adja had gone into to find the clothes. “I’ll change in there.”
Time and time again, Kaz reminded her of why she fell for him in the first place. He had seen every part of her and touched almost all of her, yet Kaz never made assumptions about her limits. No matter how far they had or hadn’t gone, Kaz always asked for permission. On the nights when all she could do was hold his hand, he never pushed her to go further. Even now, after what had happened on the boat and having had met her family, Kaz gave Inej the privacy she needed without hesitation.
With Kaz gone from her sight, Inej was left to unstrap her daggers and quickly dressed into Adja’s Anarkali suit. After a few minutes, Inej stopped hearing Kaz’s quiet cursing.
“I’m almost ready.” She called to him through the curtain.
He shuffled around on his side of the caravan. “This looks even worse than I imagined.”
Inej ignored him, debating whether or not to strap on her beloved blades for the feast.
“Inej?”
“I’m almost ready, you can come out.”
Kaz had been right. The kurta had looked worse than she had imagined. The shirt hung at little too loose from his slight frame, but the pants were too short for his tall stature. They stopped just above his ankles, showing a peak of his white socks.
“Oh.” Inej cringed. “You were not joking.”
Kaz looked at her intently. “You look beautiful, Inej.”
Inej had yet to see herself in the mirror, but Kaz’s reaction was all she needed to confirm what she had already suspected. Adja was slim like Inej but stood a few inches over Inej . The rest of her outfit fit as it was tailored to. The top complimented her figure while the bottom flared out into an elegant skirt that pooled around Inej’s feet more than she would have normally allowed. It wasn’t perfect, but she loved it regardless.
“Traditionally, I would have special Sankta Day earrings that have some sort of token to represent a Saint.” Inej absentmindedly tugged at her ears. “Though, I haven’t worn any earrings since leaving the Menagerie.”
His look softened. Kaz forgot all about his unfortunate attire. “Would you like to? I’m sure Adja would let you borrow hers.”
“The holes have closed by now. It’s okay. I don’t need them. I have these.” She slid Sankt Petyr, the dagger he had given her so long ago, into place. She tried to ignore the fact that it took her far less time to strap all seven of her blades into place than it had to properly dress herself in the Sankta Day skirt.
“I’ll tell Adja we’re ready.”
“Wait,” Kaz’s fingers intertwined with hers. He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a matingkia made of expensive gold and rich-colored stones. It was simple, as far as Suli headpieces went, with one clear diamond in the middle of a small ruby flower.
“Kaz,” Inej’s breath caught in her throat. “Where did you find this?” Her fingers curved delicately around the precious metal.
“A vendor in Ketterdam had a tent full of Suli jewelry. He has a Suli wife that makes all the items to sell.”
“Do you believe him?” It was more than possible that the vendor’s story was a ruse to get more money from gullible tourists visiting the island.
“I’ve met her.”
“You did?”
“Yes. When I asked her to make this one for you.”
The matingka felt heavier in her hand than it had moments ago. “You asked her to make this for me?” Inej tried to envision Dirtyhands entering a Kerch market to meet with an ederlly Suli woman. She thought of how long he must have spent picking the design, and then jewels to place in it.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered to him. “She’s clearly very talented.”
Kaz tried not to look too smug which was a change for him. “Only the best for my Wraith.”
“Sometimes we wear them for special holidays.” Inej debated whether or not to say the next part. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by making any assumptions. “These are traditionally given to Suli women by their father or husbands.”
She saw him nod nervously. “I know. The woman, Gintha, explained to me the tradition. She said fathers would give them to their daughters and pray that the Saints would give them wisdom as they grew into strong women.”
“Did she tell you why husbands give them to their brides?” She couldn’t deny the fear or eagerness that she felt waiting for his answer.
“To symbolize the love and respect he promises to show her every day after they are wed. The same love and respect that I have felt for you every day for too many years to count.”
Inej’s body was frozen with emotion. Love. Kaz loved her. He didn’t just love her. He respected her. Respected her boundaries and dreams and goals.
“Nej! Are you done yet?” Adja suddenly banged against the door of the caravan.
The reality of her situation flooded back to Inej. For a few moments, she had forgotten who she was. Where she was. Inej took the head piece, not bothering to hide her flustered look as she pushed Kaz back behind the curtain.
“Get out of those clothes. Hurry!” Kaz laughed and she realized how her words sounded. “No! That’s not what I meant. I mean change back into yours! My family will just have to deal with your Kerch suit during dinner.”
She rushed back to the door and let Adja in. “I’m almost ready.”
Adja looked her up and down. “It fits better than I thought. And Ka-s?”
“The clothes didn’t fit him so he’s changing back into his. Here,” she handed Adja the matingka. “Can you help me put this on?”
“Did he give this to you?” she pointed towards the curtain.
“Yes. Now help me put it on. I’ve never put one on myself. Papa only ever put it on me once.”
Adja waved her off. “It’s easy.” She spun Inej around and took a few hair pins from her own brown hair to fasten it into place. “There! Done! Just in time.”
Kaz walked into the room, looking much less miserable now that he was dressed in his own clothes.
“Tell her that her father’s wardrobe should be burned.”
“He says that he loved the kurta and is sorry that it didn’t fit,” Inej easily lied. “Also your tie is crooked again.”
He cursed under his breath and nervously put into place as her cousin spoke.
Adja beamed at her. “I don’t believe that’s true, but it doesn’t matter. Come on! Everyone is waiting for you.”
Inej’s stomach turned over nervously. She had been so overcome with emotions when she’d first greeted her family. Those emotions were starting to settle, but in their place grew the seeds of anxiety once again.
Inej and Kaz trailed behind Adja as they made their way back from the caravan section of their carnival to the performance area. Inej looked around the cool night air, keeping track of all the things that looked familiar and different at the same time.
She pointed to a smaller performance tent made of a thick white sheet. “What’s that?” she asked Adja.
“We started to tour with a second family about two years ago. Hanzi is engaged to the daughter of their paira vaala.” A breeze opened the flap of the white tent and Inej could see the bed of coals used for the paira vaala, or fire walker.
“Hanzi’s getting married?” Inej couldn’t imagine her cousin as she had last known him having a fiancé. He was always too loud and playful when around his family, but unearthly quiet around other girls their age.
“I know! We were all just as surprised as you were. Chaacha Jilē almost fainted.”
“He didn’t tell them that he was seeing her?” Inej’s surprise only grew. While she may not have gotten her parents’ permission before choosing to be with Kaz, her situation hadn’t given the option of choosing the favored Suli traditions.
“He didn’t even tell me! And I’m his favorite bhara. At least I have been since you…” Left? Were taken? Disappeared? Inej could hear the end of Adja’s sentence even if her cousin didn’t want to fill it in.
“I remember that,” Inej awkwardly filled the silence. She pointed to a section of tents reserved for carnival games. “Kila,” one of their older cousins, “once bet me thirteen kruge that I couldn’t win every game in the tent.”
“Kroog?” It wasn’t until the word left Adja’s mouth that Inej realized that she’d forgotten the Suli word for currency or money. It was such a small thing to forget, but it made her stop in her tracks.
“I-” she started to explain. “I’m sorry. I guess I just haven’t used that word in Suli in a few years. Uhm,” Inej racked her brain, digging deep into her memories to find the right word.
“What’s wrong?” Kaz, who had been silently listening to their conversation, spoke up. He couldn’t understand them, but he could see Inej’s face change. “I think I heard you say ‘kruge.’”
She shook her head, momentarily confused as Suli and Kerch collided with each other in her head. Rupe. The word finally came to her in a blunt memory. “I forgot the Suli word for money,” she said to him in Kerch and then explained it to her cousin again.
“Oh!” Adja didn’t seem fazed by her cousin’s slip up. “Kila was such a gambler. A terrible one too. Though I guess he doesn’t need to worry about that anymore. He married a wealthy Shu family. How he wiggled his way into that, I have no idea.”
Inej nodded along as Adja rambled. She was no longer listening to her cousin’s end of the conversation. Instead, she began filing through the mental dictionary in her brain. What other words had she forgotten?
Bread? Roti. Butterfly? Titali. Bowl? Katora. Horse? Ghora. Ocean? Samudara.
Random words were tossed and turned in her head. Adja continued to talk about their uncles and aunts. She went through family gossip as quickly as Nina went through maple-drizzled waffles. Inej didn’t hear any of it. All she could hear was the sound of her Suli-Kerch dictionary flipping page after page.
Torsion wrench? What was the Suli word for the little tool she had used numerous times to pick a lock? Had she ever known the word? Had she ever needed to use that word in her native language before? Would she even need to say torsion wrench during dinner tonight?
Ketterdam isn’t all that bad. At least I learned how to pick locks using a torsion wrench.
No, there was no way she could even imagine herself saying something like that to her family. Inej realized that she had let her nerves run a little too wild. Adja hadn’t even noticed when she said “kruge” instead of “rupe”. The odds of her family being upset with her for not remembering a word here and there were small.
Kaz tugged on the fabric of her skirt, drawing her attention to him once again. His dark eyes met hers, silently asking her once again if she was okay. This time she didn’t have to force a smile on her face to reassure him.
“How did Mama put together a dinner so quickly?” Inej said the moment the smell of paprika, garlic and bell peppers hit her. They had circled back around to the performance tent. Instead of it holding a crowd of entertained Ravkans, tonight, the tent would be used to spread out a Saints-worthy feast.
Adja beamed at her. “Masi Calla asked all of our masis and chaachas that were cooking dinner for after the show to add extra coals to the fires. Some of the food had to be bought from the markets so it won’t be exactly like you’re used to, but it’s all that we could get together so quickly.”
“It’s perfect. You could have fed me rocks and I would have been just as happy to be home.”
The heavy tent flaps were pulled wide open and she could see dark-haired figures moving frantically around the tent. The round seats used for audience members were stacked on top of each other. Inej remembered how long it took to carry the iron seats from the caravans to place them in their rows. She had been too small to carry them herself, so she would hold the bottom half of a stack while Hanzi carried the brunt of the weight.
The high ropes were still strung up from their looming poles. She itched to climb up and test her technique. The chaacha who had first taught her how to balance was strict about proper posture. Though she had no real use for it when sleuthing for the Dregs, she could still hear his sharp calls to straighten her spine or keep her gaze forward.
“Make room! Inej the Great has entered the tent!” Hanzi exclaimed. His voice cut through the flurry of her family’s movement. Inej realized why her uncle had stepped down to let Hanzi handle the crowds. His deep voice was effective when it came to getting a crowd’s attention.
Toffee and hazel eyes all met hers. All of her family, almost twice as many as earlier, froze where they were to stare at her and Kaz. His gloved fingers curved in hers, but no one seemed to care at that gesture as much as they cared about the dazzling headpiece sparkling in the candlelight. Her parents had tears in their eyes as if it was the first time they were seeing her again. Inej had to hold back tears of her own. She saw the circle of food splayed out around the lush carpets dragged from Saints know where to cushion the hard ground.
Sarma, stuffed peppers, bogacha, and xaimoko were still in their metallic cooking pots, steaming as if the fire had just been dosed from under them. Pirogo and xaritsa sat in porcelain crockery that Inej suspected came from the Ivetan market her cousin had mentioned. Silver kettles of chao filled the room with a lingering sweet smell. Dark cups of kafa were already served and in the hands of some to her cousins.
The meal flooded her with too many memories to catch at once. She was swimming in a stream of random memories. Her tongue burning from spicy stuffed peppers and then from chugging a fresh cup of chao in a vain attempt to ease the sting. Mama teaching her how to prepare the sarma properly. Papa stiring a pot of goulash.
“Why are you just standing there? Come! Sit!” Papa gestured to a spot right in front of Inej’s favorite platter.
She blinked back tears. No more tears. Tonight was for celebrating all that she had come back to, not for mourning the years she had lost.
“Some of it had to be bought so it won’t taste exactly like you remember but-” Her mother rushed to her side, holding her daughter’s hand and pulling her and Kaz towards her father.
“Mama, I don’t care how the food tastes. This is already so much more than I could ask for. Just being with you and Papa and everyone else is enough for me.”
Her mother’s dark brows furrowed. She took great pride in her cooking, as a Suli should. “Yes, yes, but still...If you had sent us some sort of message so we could have been prepared, the food would have all been ready. We would have canceled the show much sooner. But no, leave it to our little Esfir to show up as if the Saints had let her fall from their very sky at random.” The novelty of Inej’s arrival was definitely wearing off if her mother was already scolding her.
She laughed despite her mother’s pointed words. Inej settled in her seat comfortably. Kaz sat beside her, looking so out of place in this bright colored tent surrounded by equally colorful kurtas. She couldn’t believe the sight in front of her. Kaz Brekker being handed a steaming cup of chao in his crisp, black suit.
Her own hands were already clutching a plate overflowing with food. Her father had served her heaping spoonfuls of every dish that sat before her. He paused, looking at Kaz curiously.
“Eh...food?” Her father surprised her with the Kerch word. She hadn’t known he spoke any Kerch.
Kaz nodded, “Krpya.”
Her father looked excited by his answer. He piled almost as much food on his plate as he had on hers. Kaz was excellent at hiding his emotions, but there was no hiding the amusement in his eyes. He took the plate with open arms. Everyone, including Inej, watched as Kaz lifted a fork to take a scoop of the rice-stuffed green pepper. He didn’t even flinch at what she could assume to be the spiciest bite of food he’d ever had. He chewed slowly, ignoring the flush that creeped up his neck. Judging from the smell, her family hadn’t held back when it came to spices that night. Finally he smiled, thanking her father for the food.
That seemed to be the cue her family had been waiting for. Everyone unfroze and went for a plate.
Kaz waited until they were no longer staring at him to reach for the tea. She had to bite back a laugh as he gulped down the entire cup.
“Spicy?” She asked, already knowing the answer.
Kaz looked at her as if she had grown an extra ear. “Spicy? Inej, I thought I was going to die.”
This time she couldn’t hold back the laugh. Everything about the night filled her with so much joy and laughter that Inej had to put down her food for a second. Her stomach burned from the giggles that shook her body. Kaz was actually blushing as her cousins closests to her looked at them.
“Kaz said the food almost killed him.” She explained to them. “The Kerch prefer their food much less seasoned. Mostly a hint of salt and pepper. It’s actually very sad.”
All of them broke out into smiles.
Her mother who was still standing behind them said, “Tell Ka-s that he’ll have to get used to real food if he’s decided to stay with you.” She placed a hand on Kaz’s shoulder affectionately.
Kaz, clearly not expecting the sudden touch, went still. His body tensed beneath the touch and his jaw tightened. Her mother noticed the change in his posture and jerked her hand back. She looked at her daughter quickly, but Inej could see the hurt and confusion in her eyes even if it was just for a second.
“It’s not you, Mama.” She rushed to explain for Kaz. His eyes had dropped to the plate resting on his lap.
“I told you that our life in Ketterdam wasn’t easy.” She tried to find a way of explaining without revealing too much of Kaz’s past. “He isn’t used to people touching him unless they’re trying to hurt him. Give him time, Mama.” That part was at least true.
Her mother nodded, looking apologetic but no less confused. This time she was looking at the visible scars along Inej’s arms. Her cousin’s outfit didn’t hide them the way her earlier outfit had.
Hanzi, who was watching the whole exchange from across the tent, spoke out. “What was it like, Nej? In Ketterdam?”
His father, Chaacha Jilé, used a serving spoon to give him a hard tap on the head. “Hanzi!”
“What? We were all thinking it!”
His father shook his head. “You know better than to ask that kind of question.”
“It’s okay.” Inej cut in before her uncle could use the spoon again. “Hanzi is right. You all want to know what happened. I don’t blame you.”
“See!” Hanzi pointed a vindicated finger towards Inej.
“Hush!” His father waved the spoon in front of his son.
She bit back a smile and continued. Inej looked at Kaz. His rigid spine loosened a bit, but he still looked a bit on edge. “I’m going to tell them.”
A small smile tugged on his mouth. “You know I support whatever decision you make.”
It was all the encouragement she needed. “Mama, Papa, you may want to sit down. It’s a long story and most of it isn’t pleasant.”
Her mother worriedly sat beside her. Her father put an arm around her shoulders, physically supporting his wife in the same way Kaz had just supported her.
“I was taken by slavers. They broke in and took me just as the sun had started to rise. They brought me to Ketterdam, where I was sold to a heartless woman who made me do unspeakable things for terrible men. Kaz worked for a group of young men trying to build a new business and went to meet with the woman at the request of his boss. I realized I could escape with his help, so I offered him my skills as an acrobat. He agreed to employ me legally and without having to do any of the things that I was doing there. He taught me how to defend myself. I worked as his spy and I was good at it.
“Ketterdam… it can be an ugly place that brings the ugliness out of even the best people. I’ve done things I pray the Saints will one day forgive me for; but I’m not the same girl I was when I was taken. If I was, I don’t think I would have made it through the first night in that city. I will never be that girl again, no matter how hard I try. And I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.
“I was able to eventually afford a ship and a crew to run it. Now, I'm the captain of a crew of people dedicated to keeping other people from having to go through what I went through. I hope that the work I do at sea can help weaken any shadows I have created during my years in Ketterdam.”
Inej had, of course, changed a few details in her story. There was no way she was going to tell her entire family that the “business” Kaz was running was actually a deadly street gang. She was also never going to explain to them exactly how good at her job she had gotten. They would never understand the things she had done. In fact, if they could see the crimson stains on her hands, they’d probably be so repulsed that they would kick her out on the spot.
Her mother was crying again. Her father looked heartbroken as if all of his worst fears had come true.
“Inej…” Adja spoke first. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
Inej was surprised to realize that she wasn’t in tears as she feared she would have been. “It’s not your fault.” She looked at her parents, realizing that they must have carried some guilt with her disappearance just as she carried the shame of the things she had done.
“Nor is it yours. We couldn’t have known those slavers were going to break into our home. You two did everything you were supposed to. When things were at their worst, I could hear your voices teaching me how to pray to the Saints. I was able to survive so long because I always carried the hope you taught me to hold on to. The hope that I would one day return to you.”
Her father looked furiously stubborn as he said, “And you have. You are home, Inej. That’s all that matters. We don’t care what you had to do to get here. As long as you are here with us again.”
“The Saints don’t punish actions done to survive.” Her mother agreed. “You don’t need to ask them or us for forgiveness. Forgiveness is earned, Inej, and you have been through more than enough to deserve it. We know you. We know you have a good heart. We love who you are now because it brought you back to us.”
“You will always be our esfir.” Her father held his daughter's trembling hands.
Those words were like the first bite of bread after a year long fast. Inej hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear them, or how much it would mean to hear them from her parents. Her father’s touch didn’t wipe away any of the blood on her hands nor did it take away the dark memories she would always carry. But it did make her feel hopeful for the future. For so long she feared that she could never return home; she feared her family would reject the woman she was sharpened into. Her parents didn’t look like they were ready to throw her out. In fact, they looked like they were ready to hold her tighter than ever.
“Wait a second,” Hanzi once again drew all the attention in the room back to him. “You said you were a spy and now a ship captain?”
Inej wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Yes.”
“And that Ka-s...runs a business?”
“Yes, Hanzi.”
He looked suspiciously between Kaz and Inej. Then at the leather gloves and silver crow’s head of his cane. His jaw dropped. “Inej, you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”
She bit her lip, unsure of how to answer.
“He knows, doesn’t he?” Kaz’s gravelly voice was full of pride at being recognized.
“Don’t look so smug. I don’t think he recognized you until I said that I was a ship captain.”
“INEJ!”
She turned back to Hanzi. He was almost buzzing with excitement to hear her answer. “Are you who I think you are? Is he who I think he is?”
Her mother narrowed her eyes at her nephew.“Inej is whoever she wants to be. As for Ka-s, he’s Inej’s...”
Inej looked to Kaz for the answer. They had never felt the need to use a word to explain their relationship. Everyone on their tiny stretch of an island knew better than to question Dirtyhands or the Wraith. Their friends didn’t need an explanation. What she shared with Kaz went deeper than anything she could describe.
“What?”
“They want to know what you are to me.”
“Then tell them.”
“What do you want me to tell them?”
“What do you want to tell them?”
“That you’re the person I love most in this world.”
His smile was blinding. “I’m more than okay with that answer.”
“Kaz is my heart.”
Adja cooed, clutching her heart. Her mother looked approvingly at Kaz. Her father looked relieved by the answer. Hanzi still looked unsatisfied by it.
“Why are you all just staring at us? Let’s eat!” She mimicked her father’s earlier remark. The silence was once again filled with her family’s celebratory cheers.
“Thank you for coming with me. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Kaz looked smug. “I love you.”
Inej smiled, looking around the circle of happiness brought together by a bond that went deeper than blood. “I love you, too.”
A/N Pt 2: Hi hello! If you happened to have read this before January 2, 2020 then you might remember that there used to be a long paragraph at the end of this fic where I acknowledged all of the cultures that I read about as inspiration to flesh out the Suli culture in this fic. Welp, because Tumblr enjoys to make life difficult, it actually decided to erase the entirety of this fic, leaving only the title. Why? I have no idea!!!! But that means I had to do everything and luckily I had all of the fic saved except for this second A/N bc I added it in right before uploading. While I’m incredibly annoyed by Tumblr glitch and am not able to fully write the original acknowledgment, I still want to give add a smaller version of the previous one.
All of cultures I drew from for this fic can be found listed here. The Suli language was a modified mixture of Hindi and Punjabi. The foods are mostly Romani in origin. The names are a mixture of Turkish, Hindi, Romani, and Slavic names. The clothing have all been specifically named. The head piece Inej wore was directly inspired by a South Asian maang tikka however out of respect for this real cultural practice, I changed the name/origin for the fic. Any parables/customs/religious beliefs explained in the fic are completely fictional that were either pulled directly from the SOC series or made up for this fic. Any connection/similarities to real cultural practices are completely coincidental unless I specifically said so. I believe that was everything important that I had in the original acknowledgment. I’m so sorry if anything was left out. If you do feel that I forgot to mention anything in this rewritten version, please let me know and I’ll do my best to fix it immediately! 
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looking-for-wisdom · 4 years
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Bleeding Hearts (chapter one)
a/n: this was a fic I did for the @grishaversebigbang! It ended up being roughly 33,000 words, the longest fic I’ve ever written. I loved participating in this event and working with my gang as well as the tides :)
Corporalki: @villainofthepiece​, @dregstrash 
Materialki: @bucumber​ X, @koelsong​ X [art may contain spoilers]
Summary:   Zoya has spent her life learning to survive a world of fairy tales. She knows better to rely on wishes and fate; those things only protected the nice girls, the ones all the stories were about. She was used to doing whatever gruesome task was needed to get by, but now, with her aunt’s life on the line, she has finally met a monster she’s struggling to beat. A monster that comes in the shape of a kind prince she can’t help to grow attached to. 
But that’s always been the case. The monsters are what you find when happiness is just within reach. But she’s strong and she won’t falter— she’ll do what’s needed, as she always has before, to save the only good woman she’s ever known. Even if it means plunging a knife into the heart of the first man she’s ever loved. Even if it means becoming a monster herself.
Ao3 Link: Bleeding Hearts
(chapter one under the cut)
What becomes of the girls whose parents do not teach them unwavering kindness and whose fairy godmothers are not magic enough to keep them from harm? What becomes of the girls the slipper doesn’t fit and the prince does not steal away from drowning in cruelty? There is no happy ending promised at the close of their story. So they learn, learn to swim through the abuse and lift a sword themselves, lest they become another maggot filled body in the graveyard.
Zoya had read the kind of stories where young women overcame their evil stepmothers with their obedience and compassion. Unfortunately, Zoya had no stepmother, just one horrible regular mother who had birthed her and spent every moment after shaping her daughter into an equally horrible side character in someone else’s story. It wasn’t that she was immune to draw of fairy tales and their promises of futures with a prince who called her lovely, but not every girl had that in her cards. Zoya glanced over the hand she’d been dealt. She was not sweet or innocent enough to be the damsel in distress. The game of fate was rigged— with every girl who was saved from misery a hundred others suffered in her stead. 
Shivering but far too afraid to risk asking her mother for a place by the fire, the childish part of her hoped. Winter’s might be less harsh if she was not so alone and unloved. But compassion was a rationed resource, like medicine and wheat. It might have been nice to have, but girls with no one to fight for them had to choose their battles, and unlike bread, kindness didn’t keep her alive. 
Sabina Garin had been wealthy once, many years ago, and like most who had never seen sacrifice, she underestimated its sting. It was easy to be fearless when one had never felt real fear in the first place. 
When her father had passed his inheritance had been split equally between his two daughters. Lilyana, the eldest sister had invested in a plot of land at the edge of town where she kept a small garden and a chicken coop. She built a home there, selling vegetables and eggs in town when she was in need of money, and she was happy. 
With her own cut, Sabina enjoyed the same luxuries she had in her youth. Seeing no appeal in farm work the way her sister did she resided in the house that had belonged to her father. At nineteen she married a handsome man with nothing to his name but a winning smile, and for a while, she was happy as well. At least, until the debt hit. 
Marriage for love is an appealing prospect, but the stories never talk about the bloody endings. No one mentions the way he yells when the money runs out. No one mentions the way she hoards the few jewels she has left because they’re the only thing that makes her feel like herself. No one mentions when the house is taken and she’s bloated and raging from the parasite inside her but he is nowhere to be found.
Sabina’s episodes began not long into her pregnancy. With no trace of her husband and no place to stay but an abandoned stone cottage at the edge of town it wasn’t long before she became unpredictable. It was a miracle that the child made it to its due date in the first place, though one could say it would be the first of many times Lilyana Garin would come to her niece’s aid. 
She had offered her sister help on many occasions, but Sabina had repeatedly refused Lilyana’s generosity. Pride, after all, was the only thing she had left. When Sabina became a danger to herself, however, the older daughter could stay away no longer. Though Sabina had no way of paying the housemaid who had worked for her father, Lilyana ensured she stayed the nine months until the child’s birth, hiding knives from the expecting mother and restraining her hands when she desperately clawed at her body until the skin was nearly gone. For months Lilyana held her breath, praying that her sister might be stabilized and the child would survive. 
And against all odds, her prayers were answered. 
The midwife said the birth went by with relative ease. The mother and child both handled the process exceptionally well. The only oddity was when she asked the mother for a name. Sabina had only sneered. “Call it what you will. It makes no difference to me.”
For the sake of simplicity, the midwife had given the child a placeholder name of sorts, at least until her mother came to her senses. She’d call her Zoya, just until Sabina saw fit to name the girl herself. 
She never did. 
So perhaps if it had been Zoya’s mother who fell ill, she wouldn’t have agreed to the witch’s terms. She couldn’t have cared less for her absentee mother, but when a letter reached Os Alta it brought news of the closest thing to family she’d ever had. 
Her young cousin, Lada, had written of her mother’s condition-- Lilyana had grown feverish and weak. The town’s medics estimated she had two weeks to live.
Desperation had a strange way of sending people deep into the woods where good, honest people lost their morals somewhere in the darkness. It had a way of turning skeptics into the arms of witches. But when it came to saving Lilyana’s life, nothing was too high a cost. Kill the prince. Carve out his heart and leave his body bleeding on the floor. Zoya wasn’t a killer, but a few towns away one of the few good people left in the world was dying. Zoya would have given her soul away a thousand times if Lilyana lived. 
The main square of town jittered with anticipation. The feeling filled Zoya’s chest, clamping down on her lungs and stealing away her breath. Gossip was sweet on the lips of housewives and young maidens, like the juice of an apple after taking a bite. Zoya was no fool; she knew what was on their minds. A few months earlier, the young prince Nikolai had proposed-- but not to a distant princess or nobleman's daughter. He’d given the ring to an orphan girl with no prospects or riches. Faces lit with hope and perhaps a bit of envy whenever they spoke of the prince’s fiance. She’d been from a town just carriage rides away from Os Alta. It could have been any of them. But yesterday, news had come that the girl had left Os Alta for good, leaving the promises of riches and romance behind her. Not a single person could figure out why. 
She’d been given a shot at a storybook ending. Zoya wasn’t gullible enough to believe her life would have been perfect, but when she thought of what her own future held, even she couldn’t help a pang of irritation. She would have taken wealth in a heartbeat over her fate. She shifted the basket she carried up onto her shoulder, the weight of it exhausting her arm at a rapid pace. With her other hand she lifted her skirts in a futile attempt to keep the mud from seeping into the fabric as it dragged along the ground. As she walked she overheard elated conversations.
“They say she was beautiful-- hair like starlight and a smile like the sun. It’s surreal, honestly, that some everyday girl won over a prince. She must be quite something,” said a girl she’d met only in passing, to a young blonde woman at the baker’s stand. Then, with a cheeky smile, added, “Maybe I'll find myself a princess soon with my winning looks.” 
Across the way a middle aged woman shared her own thoughts on the matter with her daughter. “Perhaps if you spent less time fooling around that could have been us! We’d have been rich, you idiotic girl!—”
Despite herself, Zoya felt a familiar chill go down her back.
Tiny people, wrapped up in their tiny lives, bound to accomplish tiny things. For perhaps the first time ever Zoya envied them. At the end of the city’s main road, after dozens of wooden merchant stands and civilians homes, were the woods. Travel in Ravka was unavoidable, but most families stuck within the cities borders as much as possible. The forests on the outskirts of town were places of darkness and witchcraft beyond the understanding of the standard civilian. However, there were ways to make navigating the woods less dangerous. Old wives tales said to carry black tea leaves in one’s left shoe or bury a lock of hair in the dirt before beginning your journey. Most nonbelievers opted for a professional guide. 
Zoya had no guide as she found her way between the brush and trees, though, nor was her shoe supplied with tea leaves. Her travels through the woods were not a situation of point A to point B. 
Zoya intended to find a witch. 
An hour in, Zoya had acquired a multitude of new cuts up her arms from low hanging branches and nearly destroyed what was left of her skirt by snagging it on thorn coated weeds. She’d also come across at least fifteen new types of bug she’d never seen before and honestly could have gone her whole life without. Zoya had learned to hold her own against all sorts of dangers growing up in Pachina, but that didn’t make her any less disgusted by the grimes and grudge of the Ravkan forest. 
She dragged onwards, a cool sweat gathering on her forehead and regrets filling her mind. Of course— hundreds of people go missing every year without any explanation and yet the one time she goes looking for trouble the death forest decides to be a normal lot of trees. Typical. 
“Don’t know how to handle someone who doesn’t fear you? Is that it?” She called out to no one in particular. “I didn’t realize witches were such cowards.”
Or perhaps she was just a stupid child, looking for magic where it didn’t exist. Perhaps those people had simply been mauled and eaten by bears and she was the idiot trying to be the next. 
The sun passed over the sky as she became more and more hopelessly lost in a forest where she seemed to be the only inhabitant. Honestly, witches had no respect for willing customers these days. She only realized just how much time had passed when dusk began to fall. Night was coming, and she had no idea how to get back to the city. It was one thing to be in the forest during the light of day, but trapped in the darkness with no food or water was something else entirely. 
The moon shone a sickening white glare onto the black dirt floor, seeming to take all the pigment from her skin. Zoya hadn’t been afraid of the dark for many years, but there was something… off about the way the darkness felt here, as if it was alive and feeding on any sort of life. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she tensed, waiting for something horrible but not knowing what. 
She stood, frozen, listening for any sound other than her own shallow breathing. But nothing moved, not even tree branches in the wind. She was alone. 
Which made it all the more terrifying when someone spoke. 
“What could possibly bring a lone girl to the woods at night?” said a molasses smooth voice from behind her. 
Zoya spun around and was greeted by a pale faced man with dark hair who was far too close for her to not have noticed his approach. Every instinct in her mind screamed to back up, but she forced her legs to stay in place. She would not be intimidated. She met the man’s void black eyes with a fearsome stare. “I’m searching for a witch with the kind of magic to help me,” she stated, voice like steel. “Tell me, would you fit that description?”
A sly smile curled across his face and sent a chill down her spine.
 “That depends,” he crooned, “what can you offer me in return, Zoya Nazyalensky of Pachina?”
Zoya felt a certain sort of dread sink into her chest. There was something wrong with this man-- he knew things he shouldn’t. She should have been afraid, but a morbid part of her was drawn to it. 
She wondered, despite herself, what would it be like to be him? She’d never feel small with a power like that at her disposal. She’d never be made a fool of. For a moment, the swell of her envy almost overpowered her reason, but then she thought of Lilyana. She was not here to find a way to be rid of her own weaknesses. Zoya shook the initial fog of his presence from her mind and reminded herself that for once, she would not be selfish. 
“What is it you want?” she retorted.
His smile did not falter as he considered. He slipped past her, like an ink spill with legs, so that she had to turn to keep sight of his face. Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he walked away from her, but just as she was about to call out for him to stop he paused and glanced back at her. “Well?” he asked. “Are you coming?”
Her mind was empty of a response, perhaps still caught up on the absurdity of what she was doing. Her legs, thankfully, had instincts of their own and carried her forward when he began walking again so she didn’t lose sight of him in the darkness. He led her through the trees, as if he was navigating a maze for which only he had the map. As lost as she’d already felt, it was nothing compared to the lack of an internal compass she had now. The forest had consumed her completely. 
This was insane. Her mind ran rampant with possibilities as the silence between them grew longer. She’d be murdered by this demon of the woods and no one would even hear her scream as he dismembered her. She should run while she still had the chance. 
Except, if she ran Liliyana died. 
So, she kept walking. They entered a clearing of land. At the center of the plot was a looming mansion of black stone and though Zoya was no expert on the woods, she had spent the day wandering its depths and knew for certain the building had not been there before. This man’s magic was dark, but it was also powerful-- she needed powerful. The dark haired man led her to the tall doorway of the structure and held open the wooden door. “We can discuss terms inside.”
She hesitated for just a beat. This could very well be the room in which he planned to butcher her and bake her liver into a pie. She considered this man she knew nothing about and what he was offering. If there was even the smallest chance he could help her, she had to take it. 
There was no going back. She stepped through the door frame and into the home of a witch.
Whatever she had expected, this was not it. She remembered the tale of witches with homes of candy to lure in naive children. She had thought she’d see cages filled with starving creatures and cobweb covered jars holding various gruesome substances. She had thought there would be a cauldron to brew potions that would cure dying aunts. To her surprise, though, there was nothing of the sort. The floors were a sleek black tile and the walls were covered in bookcases filled to the brim with titles in languages she didn’t understand. Golden lamps hung down from the ceiling, casting a warm light onto the sleek table in the center of the room filled with well kept paper and an ink well. Tapestries of the night sky made with painstaking care hung as the rooms most prominent decor. 
If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d wandered into the home of one of Ravka’s most wealthy nobles. 
She swung around to face the man, who had been observing her carefully since her first step into the room. “First things first, who exactly are you?” She asked, eyes narrowed. 
“Names are a powerful thing, Zoya,” he answered as he walked towards the desk at the center of the room. Something about the way he moved reminded her of black silk. “For now, you can call me The Darkling.”
Her lips pulled together in a tight line and placed a hand on her hips. For a moment she considered calling him out on his pretentiousness-- what kind of title was “The Darkling”-- but she restrained herself. In the grand scheme of things his name hardly mattered, and angering him didn’t strike her as the best way to get what she wanted.
He took a seat at the desk and gestured to the chair directly across from him. Smoothing her skirt as she sat down, she felt almost like she was at a business meeting in the town square and not trying to make a blood deal. “I’ve heard that magic can do things science can’t. Buildings are created without any regard for physics and wounds that normally kill are healed in a split second,” she began, an authority in her voice that she hoped hid the fact there was no real power behind it. “My aunt is ill. The doctors say there’s nothing to be done, but that is the opinion of a medic, not a magician. Can you save her?”
A certain rage sparked within her when he didn’t look her in the eye. She didn’t have the time to waste on a man who could do nothing for her. She had already lost a day to the woods, and here he sat, unimpressed and hardly listening. Part of her wanted to get up and leave right then and there if he wasn’t going to give her request the dignity it deserved, but she stayed seated, waiting. 
He spoke then. “I can,” Zoya’s breath caught half way in her throat. Hope crawled into her lungs and left no room for breath, “but it will cost you.” 
“I don’t care,” she responded, not missing a beat. “I’ll trade my life for hers, just name the price.”
He wasn’t smiling, but Zoya could almost see the grin in his eyes and felt like she’d just walked into a hunter’s snare. “I know you’re afraid of me, Zoya,” he said, and though she wanted to insist that some stranger in the woods didn’t scare her, her words fell flat, “but I have known you for much longer than you believe. Your familiar with a blade, aren’t you?”
Zoya swallowed the lump rising in her throat and nodded. When she was young she’d studied swordplay when her mother was away. Soldiers left home to begin their training at fourteen in Ravka, and for a girl whose home had been anything but stable, it had been an appealing opportunity. The issue was, the army was for men only. She’d hoped they’d see her skill and immediately make an exception, but when she was finally old enough to enlist she’d been turned away at the gate. 
How this witch knew that was beyond her. “I believe we can help one another. For you, I will not only return your aunt to health, but also give you the chance to pursue your dream,” he continued. “All I ask in return is that you rid Ravka of what is standing in our way. The Lantsov line has held this country back far too long-- I plan to lead us into the future, and I’ll need a general by my side. The only thing you need to do is get rid of the old crook’s heir.”
Zoya could barely breathe. It was all too good to be true-- first he’d claimed he could help Liliyana and then he’d promised her what she’d dreamed of since childhood.  She would have taken the deal in a heartbeat if he wasn’t asking her to commit treason in return.
“Vasily,” she breathed, but he only shook his head. 
“He’s not nearly competent enough to be a concern. Talents like yours should be spent on a real threat. The king’s second born, Nikolai, is much more clever than his brother,” said the Darkling. “I know you don’t trust me yet, but my intentions are good. You, of all people, have seen the state of this nation-- the hardship it’s people face. You and I are very similar: ambitious, strong,  and intelligent. We can change things.”
She chewed her lip and shifted in her seat, weighing the pros and cons. Zoya was many things, but she wasn’t a murderer. 
At least, not yet. 
Her rejection from the army had allowed her to keep her hands blood free until now. It wasn’t that she had any compassion for the prince, but there was nothing noble about slaughtering an unknowing victim. The honor of serving her country and protecting her people against an enemy who would kill her if she didn’t end them first was vastly different than what he was asking her to do. 
In the end, the morality of the proposal didn’t matter. If it was one life to save another, Liliyana was more important. The only question was whether or not The Darkling had any credibility to his offer. It was true she barely knew him, but for the first time since she had first encountered him he seemed fully sincere. A tug in her gut told her he was right. She didn’t know if they were as similar as he claimed, but something deep inside her made her believe his love for Ravka was as real as her own. 
And if he was telling the truth about that, then he was probably true in his claim that he could heal her aunt, too. Or, at the very least, she had to believe it was true. She feared she would not be presented with another opportunity like this.
It was the best chance she had, even if it would make a killer out of her. She stared him down, taking in the room that had appeared from nothing. “I’ll do it.”
She could repent her sin later by aiding this man in his journey to lead Ravka into an age of prosperity. That was for later, though. For now, Zoya just needed a plan.
The Darkling smiled knowingly, but as far as she could tell it was not mocking. Looking away for only a moment, he pulled a quill from somewhere she couldn’t see and handed it to her. 
“Find your way into the castle and get close to the prince. Trust will make him foolish. If you need to contact me, use that quill. The ink will find its way back to me. When it is time to put the plan into motion I will contact you. Until then, keep your wits about you.”
“Wait--” she interrupted, afraid he’d simply dissipate after giving his orders. “How am I supposed to infiltrate the palace? They don’t just allow anyone inside.”
“Nikolai has been in need of a new Etherialki for a few weeks now,” he answered, unphased. She tried not to wonder what kind of spies he must already have under the Lantsovs’ noses to have that kind of information. “You will be filling the position.” 
The servants of the Lantsov family were divided into three orders: Coporalki, Etherealki, and Materialki. Coporalki had a tendency to remain in the palace. They were responsible for keeping the palace functioning properly and were trained in the art of medicine. Materialki was the class of any sort of specialist working within the Lantsov’s walls. From chefs, to tailors, to blacksmiths, each played their part in making up the artisans category. 
Etherealki were traveling companions to the royal family and whatever rich guest happened to be staying with them. They accompanied their charge from dawn till dusk, braving and complication of man or nature along the way.They were known to think on their feet to quickly amend any problem their employer might encounter. It was, without a doubt, the most fitting role for Zoya’s skill set.
 “What about my aunt? She might not last long enough for whatever you’re planning to be ready.”
“There’s no need to worry-- deliver your end of our agreement and I swear to you that your aunt will live.”
He extended a hand towards her and she examined him one last time. Growing up, she’d been told to never trust witches, and here she stood, going into business with one. If life had taught her anything, it was that the worst monsters aren’t always supernatural in nature. For all intents and purposes, the Darkling seemed to have good intentions. More than that, he had the power to save her aunt. 
From every angle, Zoya came out of this deal with what she wanted. 
She held his gaze and took his palm in a firm handshake before gathering her things and heading back into town.
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