A/N: ah! its finally finished! it took me awhile to settle on a plot that i liked and that i felt did the au idea justice but, once i did, i was really happy with how it came along. i also had way too much fun finding ways to incorporate little bits of ravkan language and nods to the actual books in her as well. i will say, it is a bit longer then i originally anticipated. i wanted to give proper background and information and when i considered cutting it or shortening it, it just didnt feel right! and there is a bit of kanej because i am incapable of writing anything soc without it.
PS: thank you to the lovely @kingnikolaiofravka for the original idea! and thank you for being so cool about me falling in love with your idea and running with it!
Word Count: 4373
~~~
When he was a boy, Kaz was told stories of Grisha.
Depending on who you heard them from, you received different tellings. Though, all stories were, by nature, the same. They told of men and women who could heal any wound, who could bend wind and water to their will, could reshape metals with a simple wave of their hand. Some stories were darker; the Grisha could kill with a single blink, could set your body ablaze and simply watch you burn, could render you helpless with nothing but gasses and powder.
Like most children, he was afraid of the unknown and the magic they seemed to possess was foreign and strange. It wasn’t until he saw one of them work that he truly understood.
The man was an Inferni, working in the fields near the Rietveld family farm, burning the soil to help improve the harvest. Kaz had been running through the fields before supper and gotten turned around in the expanse of golden stalks. He had just begun to panic when he heard the sound of footsteps, a soft warmth emanated from his left.
Kaz walked closer, peeking through to see a man in the clearing up ahead. He was tall and thin, wearing clothes about as clean as Kaz’s. Fire flicked around his wrists and hands, the flint never far out of reach, as long streams licked at the ground, burning away the remnants of dried crops. Without even realizing, Kaz had started walking closer and the man took notice. His arms fell and the fire ceased, as he spoke, his accent was odd and difficult to understand. Kaz was ceratin he wasn’t from Kerch. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
“I-I-” Kaz stuttered, feeling as though he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
“Well, Otkazat’sya?” The mans tone was short and though he couldn’t understand the word he had used, Kaz didn’t think he heard anger.
“I got lost. I was just trying to get back home- I didn’t mean to-”
“What is your name?”
He was tentative but was certainly not trying to anger the man who could create fire. “Kaz.”
“I am Alik.” Alik tucked his flint into the pouch worn around his belt and crouched in front of him. “Where do you live, Kaz?”
“On a farm near here. The Rietveld’s.”
“Da, da. Come with me.” Alik patted Kaz’s shoulder as he stood and began walking back through the way he had come in. Kaz scrambled after him, keeping a short distance between them as they walked. To him, it felt as though he had been gone for hours. The sun was orange on the horizon and the last bits of the summer day were fading quickly. Kaz was glad to have Alik with him.
With a sudden rush of confidence, Kaz felt a question bubble up . “How do you do it? The magic?”
“The fire?”
Kaz simply nodded, quickening his pace to walk beside Alik.
“It’s just there. But it isn’t magic, it is a science.”
For some odd reason, Kaz understood what he meant. It wasn’t learned or taught, it just was. It helped make the shapes of him, like blood and bone. Kaz had always felt as though he was the problem, never fitting in, never making friends, but maybe it was just who he was. It was just there all along.
When they approached the Rietveld farm from behind, Kaz breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Alik.”
The man waved with his thin hand, dismissing the thanks. “Just be sure to know where you’re going next time, da? It might not be me who finds you.”
Kaz tilted his head a bit, going to speak, but Alik had already walked through the high stalks, disappearing into the moonlit darkness.
As he walked back toward to house, Kaz felt a new sense of surety settle in his chest. He glanced over his shoulder at the backdoor, then spun to see in every direction, ensuring no one was around to see him. He stuck his arms out and focused all his energy on them, calling toward something, anything, to respond. His cheeks grew hot and he realized he had been holding his breath. Kaz let out a huff and dropped his arms to his sides, clearly disappointed.
“What’re you doing out here?” Jordie’s voice sneered from behind.
Immediately, his cheeks flamed. “Nothing!”
His brother laughed. “It was obviously something.”
“Leave me alone, Jordie.”
“Oh come on. Don’t be a baby!”
Kaz spun on him, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not a baby.”
“You sure are acting like one.”
“I said leave me alone.” The sense of surety from before remained, now flowing through his arms and legs, bouncing back and forth in his ribcage. As he clenched his fists at his sides, he seemed to grab hold of it. It was no longer ebbing and flowing, it was constant.
Jordie’s eyes went wide, with what could only be fear, and his hands scrambled to his throat; he coughed and sputtered, never breaking Kaz’s gaze.
“Jordie?”
His brother gave no response, only gasped for air.
“Y-you’re just playing, right?”
Jordie’s eyes began to roll and his legs buckled. He fell hard to the ground, landing straight on his knees, still clawing at his neck.
“Da!” Kaz shouted, finally breaking his gaze and uncurling the fists at his side. He ran to the backdoor, throwing it open, and racing to find their father.
“Da, please! Hurry!” He tugged hard on his arm, pulling to where his brother lay outside. Jordie’s chest now rose and fell in short, rapid pulses. He had turned to lay on his back, gulping down air in a panicked manner, like he was afraid it would leave him again. There were red marks on his neck from where he had been desperately scratching, as if trying to force the air through a new way.
“What happened?” Their father commanded. He crouched down beside Jordie, helping him sit up before examining him further.
“He couldn’t breathe!” Kaz replied. “We were talking, and then- and then he started coughing!”
Jordie turned to Kaz, correcting his description of the events. “We were arguing,” his voice was ragged and thin, he had to stop to take long breaths. “And then Kaz got angry, and I felt like someone was squeezing my throat…”
Kaz began to defend himself. “It isn’t my fault, Da! I didn’t do anything! I couldn’t have!” And it was true. He hadn’t even laid a hand on Jordie, only thought about how angry he was. He hated when Jordie called him a baby, and it happened often. Whenever Kaz cried, wouldn’t share his toy, begged to play with Jordie and his friends in town… Kaz had heard it one too many times.
His father said nothing more on the subject then. Only lifted Jordie up and helped him inside, telling Kaz to come in for dinner as well.
Kaz stood there alone for a few moments more, staring at where Jordie had just been. He replayed everything in his mind, trying to remember what had happened. Had he missed something in his memory? Had he seen it all differently?
As he thought, he realized the feeling in his limbs remained. It was a pleasant hum through every inch of him and he found it oddly familiar, like it had always been there. He didn’t need to reach for it anymore, it was simply there; but he wasn’t sure what to do with it. An unpleasant idea crossed his mind. Maybe it was me. Maybe I did hurt him. Maybe the feeling hurt him…
Quickly, Kaz scurried inside, pushing down those thoughts, trying to force himself to forget them entirely. As they sat down for dinner that night, there seemed to be a cloud hovering over top of them all. His father kept looking between the boys, as if he knew something they didn’t.
***
In Ketterdam, Grisha were closer to property than people.
They were bought and sold, like they were nothing more than a piece of machinery or an ornament in a merchers collection of treasures. The indentures were common, as they were a pretty way to make slavery sound more appetizing, to both the government and incoming, desperate Grisha.
Even as a boy, Kaz had been instructed to keep hidden; his ability was to be used only when most necessary, for everyone's safety. When they moved to the city, there were times when he’d go weeks without it. His skin would go pale, shadows formed under his eyes and cheekbones, and his clothes hung off him more so than before. Jordie would worry when he wouldn’t eat, would say he looked more and more like a ghost everyday, but Kaz didn’t care. All he could think of was the hum he felt beneath his skin that wanted more, he wanted more. After Jordie was gone, Kaz quickly learned that it was the best weapon he could have ever asked for.
When the alleyways of Ketterdam were swallowed by shadow, Kaz would strike. He waited for an unsuspecting victim to walk by, so long as they looked promising, and dropped them unconscious with a wave of his hand. He’d then scurry out of the dark, picking away at their persons, leaving nothing on them but their clothes. With a quick run back to the comfort of his hiding spot, he’d bring them to and let them ponder on what possibly could have happened.
After Kaz joined the Dregs, he grew more careful. He saw the same people everyday, walked the same routes, did the same jobs; he couldn’t risk anyone finding out he had been harboring such an profitable secret. Still, to keep himself well and, quite frankly, entertained, he found ways to use his power that raised little attention. It started with a few girls.
Kaz would catch them staring across the busy streets, curling their hair around their fingers and batting their lashes at him. The glance he gave in return was always small, just to keep their attention long enough to do his little trick. He’d ball his fist at his side, raising their heart rate and pushing a rosy blush up their cheeks. He could always tell by the looks on their faces how they’d responded. Some felt betrayed by their own emotions, others felt lovesick, their goofy grins constantly comical to him.
That grew into something different, a similar trick that proved more efficient with the Barrel’s uglier inhabitants. Whenever Kaz came up against a rival gang or the occasional lone thief who fancied themselves quite the criminal, he would spike their heart rates. His fingers now tapping once against the cane to trigger the change. He urged their hearts faster than the girls; they needed to be afraid, not in love. Sweat would bead upon their brow, sometimes with his help and sometimes without; their speech would stutter to a slur or even a stop, and Kaz would know that he had them.
All of these people had something in common; they were easy to fool, maybe even wanted to be. They all came for a show, for the preceding reputation Ketterdam carried. Kaz was only ensuring they all got what they came for, and in return he got what he wanted as well. They would remember the unexplainable sense of panic Dirtyhands had caused and he reveled in the reputation that began to build itself. The stories they told of Kaz Brekker, who made your heart pound with simply his gaze, reverberated through the city and beyond.
Good, he thought, let them talk.
His habit of wooing women dwindled as the years went on, realizing he preferred the look of fear in a mans eyes rather then the look of lust. But, after one chance encounter at the Menagerie of all places, he began to feel it for himself.
The way she sat in his windowsill and fed her crows, the way she watched the stars when she thought it was too dark for anyone to see her, the way she never shied away from telling him exactly what she thought… It all made his heart thump and, had he allowed it, he probably could have conjured a goofy grin himself.
The thoughts of her made him sick, though not because of the icy cold nightmares, but because then he’d have to admit that he cared for her, admit to himself that he wanted more than the Wraith simply sitting in his window. He couldn’t stop seeing her in his sheets, her inky hair swirling against his pillows, her hands running up his arms… Yet even still, he promised himself that his trick was never for her. She deserved better then him and certainly better then a cheap guise of affection.
Kaz had hidden his ability from even her. After so many years of secrecy, he found it impossible to even consider uttering the words aloud to anyone. Until, one night he was left without a choice.
It had only been the two of them on the canal that night. Inej was settled on top of a rickety apartment building, watching as Kaz waited for their target on the cobbled streets below. The man they were looking for was Harold Kerjach, an employee of Halleen with shifting loyalties. He had offered Kaz information, requesting a specific sum of kruge for his troubles. Though it was suspected that Kerjach wouldn’t come alone, neither of them felt too worried about needing more power then Dirtyhands and his Wraith could provide.
Inej caught sight of him coming in from the right. She nudged a pebble over the edge of the roof with her toe to alert Kaz of the man’s presence. With a little nod, he turned, looking both ways like a child crossing a bustling street before making his way forward. Inej carefully shimmied down the brick siding, clinging to a drainpipe. The next row of apartments couldn’t simply be leaped to as she would have liked, crawling down left her vulnerable. As she prepared herself for scaling the next building, eager to follow alongside Kaz, she felt the point of a blade jab the side of her throat.
A husky voice with hot breath crooned in her ear. “Look what I’ve caught. Brekker’s little spider.”
Her mind raced and with barely any time to think, she reached for the knife in her sleeve. The hilt had just graced her fingertips when another set of hands grabbed her arm. Inej nudged the blade back into place before it could slip free and clatter to the ground. Suddenly, she became keenly aware of the fact that she was surrounded. Three men stood around her, her front still snuggly against the brick wall of the second building. She was trapped.
A different voice spoke now, this time, coming from her left. “Come with us, pretty girl, and you won’t hurt too much tomorrow.”
Inej snarled, his words forcing memories of a gilded cage and blue silk into her head. She shoved her elbow toward him, praying the jab would land, and thanking her saints when it connected with his gut. Quickly, her other elbow did the same, freeing both of her arms. One leg kicked backward as she spun towards them, hitting the man across the knees, causing him to stumble back. Finally, she allowed for the comfort of her blades to slide into her palms.
Inej heard the cock of a gun from the dark.
Kaz had been given useless leads before but this was almost too pointless. Harold Kerjach may have worked for Halleen but he didn’t even seem to know the combination code for the building lock. It had only taken one look for Kaz to realize something was wrong, but he couldn’t pick out a plan, couldn’t see where the hole was. Not until he heard the scrape of boots against pavement and the muffled struggle coming from the alley behind him.
Kaz cocked and raised his pistol in one motion, pointing it straight between Kerjach’s eyes. “You chose the wrong man to pull one over on.”
He needed the attention off of him and onto the barrel of the gun pointed at the mans head. Kaz gripped his cane tighter and the breath left Kerjach’s body in one swift gulp. He collapsed onto the pavement and, with a definitive tap of Kaz’s thumb against the crow’s eye, his lungs closed in his chest. Kaz held his gaze only until he was sure Kerjach lost his last breaths of life.
Kaz ran quickly in the direction he had come, turning the corner to a small alley, where he saw Inej struggling against three men. She had been pressed against a wall, lifted off her feet by the collar of her shirt. The other two pressed her wrists flush against the brick, leaving only her legs free. She kicked and scrambled, struggling for any blade she could grab and bucking her legs in an attempt to kick the man holding onto her collar. The one pinning her right wrist, the shock of his white hair nearly glowing in the moonlight, seemed to grow tired of her thrashing and pulled out a knife, slicing a thick line down the side of her neck.
Inej let out a hiss that nearly bordered on a whimper.
It felt as though time slowed for Kaz as he walked forward and grabbed ahold of a heart with his free fist. The man holding Inej’s throat froze, his eyes widening. Kaz squeezed again, this time harder. The man dropped her as he stumbled back, allowing Inej to catch a second wave of strength. She drove her knee upward, connecting with one of the men’s groin. It was this frantic moment that she finally looked toward Kaz. Her gaze was wild and, if he had to venture a guess, frightened.
Kaz lifted his hand in the air, slowly clenching his fingers as the man with the blade seized in his grip. The bloody blade fell to the ground with a clang, ringing through the alley. He walked around, making sure he would be the last thing this man saw. His arm twisted, left and right, slowing his heart with every turn. Then, with a quick shove, he sped it back up.
The stress the irregularity was causing was apparent. The blond coughed and sputtered, breathing heavily. Kaz’s vision tunneled, the world went quiet, and his fist closed tightly. He felt the mans heart burst, like a balloon with too much air; the sensation reverberated through him. Blood trickled out of his mouth, a crimson trail falling down the side of his chin before he slumped forward, hitting the ground with a thick thud.
As Kaz lowered his hand and remembered his place, he realized the eerie silence in his head had blanketed the entire alleyway. Inej stood a few feet away, staring at him with an unreadable expression. The other two men lay dead at her feet, one with his throat slashed and the other with blood pouring from his eyes and ears. Kaz wasn’t entirely sure what he had done and what she had, his panicked memory blurring most of it together. His gaze fell to the thick covering of blood down the side of Inej’s neck. It flowed down past the collar of her shirt, now torn and stretched, staining the fabric.
His voice was rough as he spoke. “Your throat.”
She didn’t respond, only stared, looking up at him with gentle eyes and stepping closer.
“Inej -”
“You’re a Heartrender.”
Kaz let out a breath and nodded. His response was matter-of-fact, knowing there was no way out of this now. “I am.”
Inej considered him for a moment longer. The confusion and curiosity in her eyes was crystal clear, like this was the first time she was truly seeing him. “Can you do what Nina can? Can you heal too?”
“Not as well.”
She gently unstuck a few strands of hair from the blood coating her throat, scraping the messy braid over her other shoulder. Inej knew that Kaz normally would have suggested that they go find Nina, make her deal with the slash in a quick and orderly manor, but she didn’t want anyone else to see her like this, she wanted him. “What about this?”
Kaz had watched Nina work on different members of the Dregs on multiple occasions. He payed careful attention to the way her hands moved, the way she held their limbs, the look on her face… Late at night, well after everyone else had gone to sleep or left the Slat entirely, he’d sit alone in his room and dwell on his own body. Scratches, cuts, gunshot wounds, whatever the ailment, he’d sit by the dim lighting at his desk and try to piece himself back together. The scars were always thick and ugly, the cuts sometimes looking worse than when he’d first began. He had never truly gotten the hang of it; never felt as though healing suited the Bastard of the Barrel.
He considered her wound before carefully peeling the glove from his hand. Kaz forced a deep breath. Had the person in front of him been anyone else, he would have laughed in their face at the ask. Would’ve told them to find a medik before they lost too much blood to walk themselves home. But not with Inej. He would have done anything she liked, anything she asked.
His fingers were nimble and pale, shaking as they gently brushed against her. The nausea arose, like it always did, but this was different; it was a manageable feeling. He focused on the long cut, focused on her beneath his touch. This was the closest they had ever been. Kaz could feel her heart beat beneath his fingertips, the warmth of her shoulder that was nearly pressed against his chest; he listened to her deep breaths against the silence of the alley, hearing the hitch in her throat as he began working away at the thickest part of the cut.
After a few moments, Kaz had closed the edges of the wound. He wouldn’t be able to prevent a scar but it didn’t matter. He was fairly certain that Inej wouldn’t care about looks, she had only wanted to remain upright and conscious. He lingered a second longer, despite having finished, he couldn’t help but revel in having her this near. Eventually, he forced himself back from her warmth, swallowing down the image of his bare hand trailing up to her cheek, his lips gently meeting hers.
Inej hadn’t taken her eyes off him and even now, she remained determined. Kaz could see a question pulling at the edge of her lips, one dark brow raised high on her forehead. Her way of making silence palpable and, quite frankly, loud, irked him. He quickly grew impatient. “What is it, Wraith?”
Inej didn’t jump at his snap, she never did, if anything she moved closer, studying his face. “Do you do it on purpose?”
“What?”
She looked down at the concrete, in deep thought, then she looked back up, meeting his gaze once more. He saw the conflict in her eyes, the regret creeping in as she asked what she had been thinking. “Do you steal my breath everytime I see you on purpose?”
Kaz felt the world spin, his lungs seemed to give out all on their own. He couldn’t have heard her right. His trick wasn’t for her, it never had been but- had he done it without realizing? Had the feeling creeped into his hands without him letting it? A quick vision of Jordie clutching his throat flashed through Kaz’s mind.
Inej waited for his answer, appearing as still as always, though her eyes were stormy and filled with apprehension.
“No,” He began and, before he could think better of it, his next thought fell out of his mouth, hanging in the air between them. “But I feel as though I could ask you the same.”
She stood a bit straighter, a drop of hope running down her spine. Inej didn’t respond to his remark, simply stared at the boy in front of her. Somewhere, deep down, she knew that he wouldn’t have played a game such as that, not with her. Yet hearing the words come from his lips, made her heart thump even more. Kaz had not changed from earlier in the night, walking in along the canal to now standing among bodies in the alley, but Inej couldn’t fight the feeling that right now, she was seeing something new.
With a nod of his head, Kaz gestured toward the way they had come. “We should be going. Before someone sees us here.”
Inej followed alongside him quietly.
The moon, high in the air, reflected pretty ripples in the canal beside them. Kaz fought the urge to watch her as they walked, glancing down once, then twice, before giving in.
The light touched the bridge of her nose, the soft curve of her forehead and lips, her eyes shimmering with sparkles. Despite the blood now dried on her throat, she looked picturesque, like an oil painting that seemed a little too good to be true. It didn’t take long for her to feel his gaze, glancing upward with the gentle turn of her head. Kaz felt his heart thumping quickly in his chest. Once again, he felt like one of the girls he’d met on the street, his own grin bubbling under the surface.
He couldn’t stop hearing her voice in his head, asking if he had dug around in her chest like so many others. Without even realizing it, Kaz had once again given her the choice. She would always get to decide for herself, whether she stayed or went, loved or hated, touched or didn’t. Inej would always receive the best from him, the best of him, because she hadn’t given him the same choice.
Kaz would always be bound to lose his breath and feel his heart pound at her mercy, and as much as he hated to say it, he enjoyed it.
