𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 — give me a reason

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 "𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖, 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 costumes..." Inej's voice was a mere whisper upon the cold wind, thawing it like the spark of a flame. She did a substantial job at hiding whatever fear may have been brewing, Aleksa could scarcely find even a hint of dread, "Heavy cloaks, hoods. That's all the Fjerdans will see. A Zemeni fawn. A Kaelish mare..." Inej swallowed, the next words almost begging to fizzle out and die right there, "A Suli lynx."

 Aleksa might not have seen the things Inej had, she might not have been forced to tie bells at her ankles and wear silly frocks of silk over her flesh... but Aleksa knew men. She tied strings to their limbs and with her words she became a puppeteer — her face was an asset, her soothing voice that could become as sweet as caramel only favoured her.

 Men would fall to her feet in an instant, like pitiful dogs begging for a scrap of food. Aleksa knew how unforgiving they could be, however. She knew there were men that would follow her siren's song until their knees hit the stone below them, until their hands trembled with the need to caress her skin — but there were some that took before she had been willing to give.

 Some thought it was their right to caress a callused finger over her frame, some thought that because her words were laced with lust and potent with cherry, they could act on whatever brutish desire flooded their heads and blurred their vision.

 "Some of them don't see us as people." Aleksa muttered back to her Wraith, trailing her own finger over the pearl-like scars dusting her knuckles like a brief wash of powdered shimmer, "They only see what we can offer, what they can take. A lot of them are insecure and think nobody would ever willingly touch them — they'd be right, of course — and so they try their luck and grow angry when we fight."

 Inej blinked — it was rather easy to forget that while Aleksa paraded about with fingers grazing men's arms, her voice a sweet coo that could coerce them into starting wars... some could grow blinded by her charm, they'd think they had a right to her pink lips and pretty flesh.

 Kaz had been listening only a few steps away, all of them had been. The bastard had felt his jaw grow tight even when Inej had mentioned the things she'd endured, the way people walked into the Menagerie just to steal the innocence and dignity of young girls — he might have been a cruel boy, crafted from Ketterdam and built by the Barrel, but Kaz Brekker knew how it felt to have the unwelcomed touch of another... Saints, he had the brain to know that stealing such things from girls — children — took a very special kind of monster.

 But when Aleksa had spoken, his cold and pale fingers had curled, trimmed nails tore into his own palm. It wasn't something she shared often — her own misfortune with the dogs that followed her as though she were merely meat — and yet when Aleksa would look to Inej all in the hopes of offering comfort, she told all that she could. She made sure that their Wraith knew she wasn't alone, ever.

 While Inej's brows curled, Kaz's furrowed. Inej wanted to comfort, but Kaz wanted names. He'd be rather capable of finding them, and with such kruge soon to be at his disposal — should they make it out with their lives — he'd have every resource he'd ever need.

 Perhaps he could have one of them buried beneath his own home. Perhaps another could lose all of his fingers and have them framed above his childs bed, to remind them that nightmares were not the only monsters lurking in the dark.

 Kaz clicked his tongue, banishing those thoughts for now. Instead, his uneven gait brought him closer, "It's a risk."

 Aleksa's head turned to him ever so slowly, on her tongue lingered the usual rebuttal she'd spit, 'and seeking Pekka Rollins out, wasn't?'. She truly did wish to slap the words against his cheek like the stinging palm of a hand, instead she stayed true to herself and kept her lips sealed.

 Kaz was certain the silence she supplied was far worse than anything else she could have pummeled him with.

 Inej felt her lips curl inwards, swiftly recalling something she and Jesper had once giggled about like a couple of children. 'Mum and dad are fighting again' it was an apt thing to say then just as it was now, Kaz was their leader, and it wasn't merely an assumption to know that every single crow respected Aleksa far more than any second-in-command would ever deserve.

 Still, Inej spied the brow climbing Aleksa's head and refrained from echoing their dearest sharpshooter, "What job isn't?"

 "Kaz, how are you and Matthias going to get through?" asked Nina. "We might need you for locks, and if things go bad on the island, I don't want to be stranded. I doubt you can pass yourselves off as members of the Menagerie."

 Aleksa would have certainly appreciated if they made the effort to. She could see it now; the big brute Matthias Helvar dressed like a daffodil as tulle and silk swished around pale skin while feathers akin to those of a peacock would twist around Kaz's arms. It would be a sight... perhaps she'd request it of them the next time they asked for her delightful help in saving their lives.

 "That shouldn't be a problem," said Kaz. "Helvar's been holding out on us."

 Aleksa rolled her eyes, toppling backwards against the roof as her eyes peered upwards. Matthias' arms were crossed, his face painted with shock and utter irritation, "I thought we were past this, druskelle?"

 "We're — I'm not —" Matthias heaved a sigh that deflated his entire body like a balloon. His fingers were dragged over his cropped hair, glaring at Kaz with as much malice as he could muster "How do you know these things, demjin?"

 Kaz hitched a single shoulder, his lips almost curling as Aleksa snorted at the Fjerdan's use of the word Demjin. He supposed she probably agreed with the druskelle, "Logic. The whole Ice Court is a masterpiece of fail-safes and doubled systems. That glass bridge is impressive, but in an emergency, there would have to be another way to get reinforcements to the White Island and get the royal family out."

 "Yes," said Matthias in exasperation, almost sounding like a pouting child. "There's another way to the White Island. But it's messy." He glanced at Nina. "And it certainly can't be done in a gown."

 Aleksa hummed in disagreement; she was certain that a few coils of silk wouldn't ever stop her from swallowing the path ahead in darkness, "Are you speaking from experience, Helvar?"

 Matthias only grimaced.

 But Jesper spoke before Matthias could defend his steadily reddening cheeks, "Hold on," His hand rose in the air, boney fingers wiggling like vines scaling the length of a trellis, "Who cares if you can all get onto the White Island? Let's say Nina or Aleksa sparkles Yul-Bayur's location out of some Fjerdan higher-up, and you get him back here. We'll be trapped. By then, the prison guards will have completed their search and are going to know seven inmates got out of the sector somehow. Any chance we have of making it through the embassy gates and the checkpoints will be gone."

 Aleksa watched as Kaz's eyes swiftly darted towards the glass dome; he'd likely found some sort of way to get his slippery self through the guards and gates. His thin lips parted, "Wylan, how hard would it be to disable one of these gates?"

 Wylan moved to the bastard's side, his head tilted softly to the side, the singular copper curl hanging before his eyes didn't seem to bother him at all, "To get it open?"

 "No, to keep it closed."

 "You mean break it?" Wylan shrugged. "I don't think it would be too difficult. I couldn't see the mechanism when we entered the prison gate, but from the layout, I'm guessing it's pretty standard."

 "Pulleys, cogs, some really big screws?"

 "Well, yes, and a sizable winch. The cables wrap around it like a big spool, and the guards just turn it with some kind of handle or wheel."

 "I know how a winch works. Can you take one apart?"

 "I think so, but it's the alarm system the cables are attached to that's complicated. I doubt I could do it without triggering Black Protocol."

 "Good," said Kaz with a sharp nod. "Then that's what we'll do."

 Aleksa was rather thankful that Jesper seemed to be of the same mind as she; the Zemeni boy gawked as though he'd seen one of Morozova's amplifiers himself, "I'm sorry, isn't Black Protocol the thing we want to avoid at all costs?"

 Nina bobbed her head, her own lips twisted into an uncertain frown, "I do seem to remember something about certain doom,"

 They were on a suicide mission. Kaz wanted to kill them all. Aleksa peered at him, watching as he nodded along rather vacantly to the squawks of worry from his crows; he didn't seem at all fazed.

 Kaz remained placid as he turned back to them. His eyes rather pointedly landed on each and every crow for a short second, before falling to Aleksa who returned the stare with something stonier than he'd seen — he knew she liked to bite whenever rage billowed in her bloodstream but Aleksander had certainly done the job when it came to teaching a person how to swallow it until the time was right.

 She made no spiteful comment, and thus Kaz ploughed onwards, "Not if we use it against them. Tonight, most of the Court's security is concentrated on the White Island and right here at the embassy. When Black Protocol sounds, the glass bridge will shut down, trapping all those guards on the island along with the guests."

 Nina squinted, "And Matthias' route off the island?"

 "They can't move a major force that way," Matthias conceded through gritted teeth, as though saying the words truly sent a spike of pain racing through his flesh, "At least not quickly."

 Then Kaz just had to irritate Aleksa further. He gazed out at the White Island, his head tilting until strands of black fell over his lashes. His eyes were unfocused, lips parted ever so slightly in the middle... Why did his scheming face make her want to grin, again?

 "Scheming face," Inej whispered.

 Jesper nodded, "Definitely."

 "I wanna punch him so bad." Aleksa muttered in a child-like huff, arms coming to cross over her chest... and yet her eyes never strayed from his flicking eyes. The way bitter brown scaled the horizon, picking apart everything he could possibly find.

 Inej grinned, "Punch or —"

 "— I'm going to bury you in the snow, Inej Ghafa."

 Jesper couldn't help but snort; even if he'd once looked at Kaz Brekker in a manner not so unlike the Shadow, the sharpshooter simply couldn't help but glance between them with acceptance. It was always them, it had been from the moment Kaz had declared Aleksa as a member of the Dregs.

 Dirtyhands and the Shadow. Kaz Brekker and Aleksa Morozova... It just seemed to make sense. A match made in hell, to be certain.

 Kaz blinked, "Three gates in the ringwall," Kaz said. "The prison gate is already locked up tight because of Yellow Protocol. The embassy gate is a bottleneck crammed with guests – the Fjerdans aren't going to get troops through there. Jesper, that just leaves the gate in the drüskelle sector for you and Wylan to handle. You use it to engage Black Protocol, then wreck it. Break it badly enough that any guards who manage to mobilise can't get out to follow us."

 So, he did have a plan. Aleksa could spy that little glint in his eyes, the way embers seemed to bounce from oak as he'd turned to them all — but this plan was even rockier than the one he'd just blown to pieces.

 "I'm all for locking the Fjerdans in their own 'fortress'," Jesper said, his fingers planted at his waist as he longed for the safety and solace his prized pistols offered. He missed them like a child missed their favourite ratty blanket, "Truly. But how do we get out? Once we trigger Black Protocol, you guys will be trapped on that island, and we'll be trapped in the outer circle. We have no weapons and no demo materials."

 Kaz's lip curled at the edge, just the slightest tick and certainly more than enough to make him look far more crooked than usual, "Thank goodness we're proper thieves. We're going to do a little shopping – and it's all going on Fjerda's tab. Inej," he said, though his eyes seemed to stray from Wraith to Shadow, "Let's start with something shiny."

 Beside the glittering glass dome, Kaz laid out the details he'd managed to concoct in his mind — strange how with the briefest of stares over the horizon he could fortify a solid — albeit dangerous — plan even minutes after the last one had fallen into shambles.

 Aleksa was truly willing to do whatever it took to secure their prize. Thirty million kruge split between the seven of them... she could finally own something that was truly her own. She could wave off Inej as the Wraith finally set off to find her family with freedom whispering in her ears. She could watch Jesper finally face his father once more... and she could... well, the plan had always been to stay by Kaz Brekker's side as he took Ketterdam into the palm of his gloved hand.

 The plan had been to watch Pekka fall... But was that all folly? Was Aleksa merely kidding herself? She'd promised to be by his side through everything because... because there was something there. There was enough of whatever it was between them for guilt to ebb its way in when she and Nikolai had spent the night together, but if she told the Bastard of her true feelings, if she no longer hid away behind the ruse of flirtatious words and sugar-sweet smiles... would he return the favour?

 Perhaps it wasn't quite the best time to think of such things, thus Aleksa drew her gaze back to Kaz, watching as his eyes narrowed with every detail he spilled, as his fingers seemed to curl, missing the solace of his leather gloves that Inej still had yet to pass his way.

 The old plan had been built on stealth; the idea that they'd blend with the shadows just as Aleksa had always done.... The new plan was nothing short of utterly ambitious and perhaps a little too optimistic. But it seemed the Crows prospered under pressure.

 They wouldn't just be announcing their presence to the Fjerdans this time, they'd be screaming it — hell, they were ringing the damn bell themselves, all that was missing was a glaring and glowing arrow pointing to their targeted heads.

 Once more the crew would separate, and while it pained Aleksa to know that she couldn't be there to summon her dear littler monsters if one of her crows had their feathers plucked, it was all Kaz could scrape together. They were to time their movements with the chiming of the Elderclock once again, but this time there was far less room for error or detours.

 Aleksa curled her fingers, watching as the sliver of shadows slithering around the glass dome became elated. They writhed and bubbled like water boiling over in a pot. They were feeding her strength, pressing forth so that her body felt stronger, so that her skin glowed with as much might as Alina's hands had once done.

 Kaz had almost stumbled when he looked at her, watching as she listened with her eyes sealed shut, basking in the strength her own powers supplied... still, he managed to play off his little pause with the clearing of his throat.

 While Kaz explained their suicide mission, and Jesper made himself busy as he portioned up pieces of rope with the laundry shears he'd snagged, Wylan helped Aleksa, Nina and Inej prepare the disguises they were to drape themselves with.

 Using one of Kaz's lockpicks and the copper pyrite Jesper had managed to extract from the roof while a sweat broke out across his brow, Wylan traced his best imitation of the Menagerie feather on Nina's arm. Inej directed the boy, correcting the smallest of details — it had to be as best they could possibly get if they were to pass under the scrutiny of the Fjerdans.

 With an appropriate copy, Nina then sank the ink into her own flesh. Black bled into her skin, settling just below the surface — it was somewhat shoddy work; after all, Nina was a Heartrender, not a Tailor... but it would do what it needed to. Nina truly tried her best to smooth out the scars upon Inej's wrist, the little bumps of skin that puckered when Inej had sought out a man willing to burn off the markings she bore.

 It had happened some time ago, when Kaz had paid off just enough of Inej's indenture and had managed to get Heleen to nod her head upon his request of removing her marred flesh.

 The work on Inej's scars wasn't perfect, but they could only hope it was enough to get them through the gates. Nina then moved onto Aleksa, her thumb grazing the expanse of the Shadow's wrist, "No mark... It's strange to see a girl without one these days."

 "I had a golden cage, not a tattoo." Aleksa mused, watching Nina work would never grow tiring... It reminded her of Genya, of the way the Tailor would awake her fellow Grisha at the crack of dawn to ensure that her hair was the perfect shade of brown. Then, her thoughts darkened as she felt a chill against her neck, the low hum she remembered so clearly, "Aleksander wanted me pretty, I suppose. The perfect little Saint to stand by his side with Alina."

 "I'm —"

 "Don't tell me you're sorry. He's the only one who should apologise to me. He never did."

 "You were there, weren't you..." Nina's voice was smaller now, such an odd contrast to the woman Aleksa had grown to know and rather appreciate. She was loud and she was rude in the best way anyone could be. Nina looked up, "When he died?"

 There was far more to it than that. Simply being there couldn't possibly paint the picture of the day the Fold had toppled, the day the Black Heretic was finally defeated. It wasn't at all as simple as the stories that had been told; Alina Starkov, Sun Saint, soldier, and martyr. The girl that had slayed the villain of her story... all with his own blood right by her side.

 But was that truly how it had played out?

 Aleksa said nothing, eyes still cast on the mark laid over her wrist. She'd never been physically branded before, and though it was a fake and certainly rough around the edges, Aleksa already wanted to scrub the damned thing off.

 Nina cleared her throat, "Well, I'll remove them the moment we're in the harbour."

 Aleksa merely nodded, bringing her wrist closer for scrutiny; the marking would pass off well enough... she could only hope that Inej's would too. She dragged a finger over the feather, Tante Helleens face in her mind — all those times she'd threatened the woman, all those times she'd told Inej to give her the word. Inej never had, and Aleksa understood exactly why. She wasn't Aleksa's demon to fight, to wrangle into a grave.

 Aleksa had fought her demon, and whilst she'd won... it still seemed to follow her wherever she went. Even now she could feel a cold gush of air drifting over her cheeks, she could feel those stagnant quartz-coloured eyes boring into her flesh.

 Before the ghost could so much as taunt her, to mock the marking seeping within her skin, Aleksa rose to her feet, hands hovering within the air for both Wraith and Heartrender to grapple for. They accepted her help, Nina groaned as she hobbled to her feet, and Inej seemed to wince as she finally placed her weight onto her feet.

 Inej had uttered that Tante Heleen would likely be the last to arrive whilst peacock feathers spilled out of her hair like a set of spider legs — she loved to make an entrance, however unwelcomed it may be. Even so, they needed to be in position and ready to move when the time came.

 As Aleksa remained there, hardly able to gather the courage to move her toes, she realised the girls by her side were much the same. They all hesitated, eyes roving over one another as they memorised features that none but themselves would ever mourn. Jesper's alight eyes and twitching fingers, Wylan's array of copper curls and splash of freckles, Nina's curled lips and rosy cheeks, Inej's signature coil trailing down her back while unfiltered kindness still gleamed within her eyes.

 Hell, Aleksa even managed to move her gaze to Matthias — thoughts of the pyre were gone, and the rage that had flooded her bloodstream had fizzled out. He was a Fjerdan, he had once been a druskelle and yet, somehow, Aleksa could only see an oversized brute who hadn't tried to make a move against them for their entire journey. He could have finally gathered his wits, knowing it was a fight he'd never win, or maybe he'd finally seen the crows as they saw themselves... A family.

 A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, a boy from the Barrel who had become something worse, and a living Saint haunted by the dead.

 They were a mess, each of them barefoot and shivering in soot-stained prison uniforms, features scarcely illuminated by the golden light of the dome. They were from all walks of life, they were Grisha and otkazat'sya and druskelle, and yet they were together. They were fighting side by side, planning as a team...

 It was hard to know what exactly bound them together. Was it greed? The thirst for kruge to fuel their dreams and additions? Was it desperation and the desire to be something better, to have a life outside of the Barrel? Maybe it was simply the fact that if one or all of them went missing, nobody would blink an eye.

 Aleksa thought of the people she'd left behind in Ravka, each of them dressed in kefta's and jewels. Each of them dining with silver spoons before facing one another on the training grounds. She'd told them never to look for her should something happen, that she was a thief and a Barrel rat, so that was the life she'd live and the death she'd face with a smile.

 Zoya had been particularly put off by that, and yet her lips had parted all the same just to say, "Now why would we look for you? You've caused us enough hassle as it is, abomination."

 But she'd said it with the faintest of smiles and a voice far too soft to possibly belong to the Storm Witch.

 Jesper spoke first, "No mourners," He grinned, teeth gleaming.

 "No funerals." They replied in unison, and even their resident druskelle muttered the words softly; he truly was becoming a crow and Aleksa was sure she could see his feathers beginning to sprout.

 "If any of you survive, make sure you toss money onto my grave. No flowers, please." Jesper said as he heaved two slender coils of rope onto his shoulders. He signalled for Wylan to follow him across the roof. He paused, however, eyes landing on Kaz. He swallowed, resolution seeping into his stomach — whatever he'd felt for the Bastard was gone now, pushed away and buried beneath the dirt. They were brothers, nothing more, nothing less.

He then looked at his beloved Shadow and Wraith; two girls that had reminded him time and time again that he could put down the cards and be something more. He could almost feel his own powers thrumming through his veins as he peered at Aleksa, "Bug and I will have open caskets, the world deserves to see our gorgeous faces one last time."

 "Quite right, Jes." Aleksa managed, even though his little jest of death had something far worse than fear leaking through her gut. She grinned, as dazzling as they could all remember. Her cheeks were high and pink from the Fjerdan air, her nose scrunched and her skin positively glowing as the shadows around them twisted and coiled, "We're far too pretty to be enclosed."

 Soon enough, after a rather intense look that almost had Aleksa worried for Matthias, he soon swooped Nina away. Something had changed between the two of them after the fight with the Grisha, after they'd gone off to bury the bodies... They argued far less, and Matthias stared so much more.

 "You should give these to him," Inej spoke, finally drawing Aleksa's steady eyes from the Fjerdan and Heartrender. She brandished the leather gloves that had kept her hands free from blisters and burns amidst her climb. Kaz gloves. Inej took Aleksa's hand when the Shadow made no move to agree and stuffed them against her palms, "You don't have to say anything to him... Just take them."

 Aleksa ran her tongue over her teeth, hardly left with much of a choice as Inej soon strolled away, perching herself by the dome, dark eyes staring down at the floor they'd soon be scuttling across in frocks of silk.

 The gloves were tossed to the ground before him, no words, no looks at all to be spared. He seemed surprised; a tick of his brows hitching them higher as he took the leather into pale digits, seemingly coddling them. He slipped them on slowly, finger by finger swallowed and banished from sight.

 Aleksa moved then, her back ready to be turned to the Bastard that hadn't even the capability to form an apology. He'd played with their lives. He'd sent Inej into an incinerator, and now he couldn't even force a sorry from his sharp tongue.

 But Kaz couldn't stomach the sight again. There was just something about the set-in-stone features on her face, the way her jaw tightened as she spun from him that had his hand reaching without a second thought. His fingers curled around her wrist, effectively halting them both.

 He could feel it already, the sensation of water filling his throat, the urge to cough and splutter until his stomach emptied. He could smell it, the flesh, the bodies and the burning... Still, he swallowed and the words were finally uttered, no matter how much it pained him, "I'm sorry."

 He waited for her to face him like she'd done every time before. Prior to this, back in Ketterdam, he'd fill her room with tiny little things. From those glass bottles of perfume that should have been too sweet to stomach, yet only smelled just right on her skin, to paper bags laden with sweets. He never said the words because what did that ever accomplish before?

 He'd said it time and time again atop those ocean waves, as he clung to the body of his brother. He'd told Jordie just how sorry he was, sorry for being a burden that had to be taken care of, sorry for being a child who couldn't keep his hunger to himself. He cried and he'd wailed as he rocked upon the waters, begging for Jordies forgiveness... but it never came.

 Instead, all he saw was Jordie in his dreams. He'd scream and shake him as though Kaz was still just a child. He'd be forced to the ground, buckling as Jordies words hit him harder than a fist ever could.

 Sorry had never fixed anything.

 But this time, Kaz was truly willing to say or do anything if it meant Aleksa would talk to him. Her silence was uncommon, undesired by anyone. He hated it, he loathed it... he... he feared it.

 He said it once more, "I'm sorry."

 Aleksa inhaled sharply, the feeling of his gloved thumb smoothing over the flesh above her pulse, "For what, exactly?"

 He should have known she'd do this to him. Aleksa Morozova had always been imposing, able to part crows with a mere look, capable of bringing men to their knees with a smile. Kaz, it seemed, wasn't entirely unlike those people.

 He'd once scorned them for falling like miserable, besotted idiots. He'd roll his eyes when Joe would slide her a drink and place his own kruge into the pot, he'd glower as Dimitri gave up his seat for her when all she'd done is smile his way.

 He was worse, though, wasn't he? From letting her settle into his office, filling the air with rose to winking at him with those pretty eyes, never a jab falling from his lips in rebuttle. He'd stare as she took his coats, only to pass them back with wool laden in something sweet. He'd touch her, he'd let her touch him... he'd asked her to, almost begged.

 "I put you all in danger." Kaz said, and yet his fingers remained a moment more as his eyes busied themselves; they darted over the side of her face, watching as she stared outwards to the sky. The clouds were thick, the sky utterly pale, "I trusted that you'd get out... I should have told you."

 "Yes, you should have." Aleksa sighed, her free fingers coming to soothe her own forehead. She rubbed the warm skin there for a moment, hoping to banish the ache blossoming, "If you had told me from the beginning we could have planned something. We could have accounted for this. I wouldn't have said a word to the others about Pekka, as long as I knew what the plan was."

 He stared then. For all of her shouting, her ranting and raving... she would have agreed with him? Revenge was a bitter word with bitter actions, something so very suited for Kaz Brekker. He'd thought she would have told him to leave it alone, to put aside whatever rage poisoned him at the mere mention of Pekka Rollins.

 That, Kaz decided, had been his most foolish moment above all. To believe that Aleksa Morozova wouldn't have been by his side, ready to watch as Pekka's blood ran across the dirtied floor... He could have kicked himself.

 How many times had she threatened Tante Heleen's life? How many times had she beaten and bruised idiots for even looking at Inej the wrong way? She spoke with sugared words, but she struck with thorned fists writhing with darkness. Kaz realised that he could have asked her to kill Pekka himself, and she would have — As long as she knew why.

 That was always the final detail. Aleksa would fight, she could maim a man and kill a brute with a grin on her face if it was well deserved. Perhaps he'd simply gotten used to the looks from Jesper and Inej in Aleksa's absence.

 The way their concern would become tainted with fear, the way their eyes would widen whenever he mentioned Pekka Rollins. He'd spit the name like venom, he'd curl his fists as though the man's neck was within his own palms.

 Aleksa was the one to break the tether between them. Slowly, carefully, she turned and pried her hand from his hold. Patches of flesh seemed to burn, as though his fingertips really had been blessed with claws digging within her skin.

 So much flickered over Kaz's face that Aleksa could hardly discern the emotions — vengeance, however, was something she knew well, "Kaz..." Her voice pulled him closer, just a step, but it was enough for their breath to tangle within the air between them, "You could ask me to drown Pekka Rollins and I would, if only to see you comforted. But I know you, I know that little phrase you utter. Brick by brick? That's what you want, isn't it? You don't want a quick death for him, you want Pekka to suffer as slowly and painfully as possible. You don't want him dead, you want him ruined."

 Ruined. It was an apt word, the perfect word really. Kaz didn't even feel his fingers curling closer to his palm, nor did he feel the shift of his face when a scowl smothered his features. Pekka Rollins, the man that had stolen from two children. The man that had ruined their lives. The man that had killed his brother.

 "I don't know the reason," Aleksa continued, "I haven't the faintest clue as to why you want him in a noose... but surely by now you should know that I'd stand by you? Haven't I always? Haven't I always searched for the logic behind your coldness and the harsh words you sometimes turn against us all?" Aleksa heaved a great sigh. 

 She searched for meaning because the unknown was frightening, but most of all... if she couldn't understand Kaz Brekker, then who ever would? "I trust you, and while I might question it from time to time, I trust your judgement. I'm alive, and so are the others... but you make some close fucking calls, Kaz. I'll always be by your side, but don't you ever gamble with their lives unless I know."

 Because she would protect them. If it was the cause of her final breath, if taking a bullet or a knife was what it would take to have Jesper live his life free from debt and gambling... if death was what life demanded of Aleksa just to keep her dearest Inej happy and free, it would be a fair trade, one in which the shadow would happily barter. But how could she possibly foretell when death came a-calling? How could those precautions be made if Kaz kept his devious lips sealed?

 Aleksa's steady look was unrelenting, "You won't keep plans from me, Kaz... Not when their lives are at stake."

 His answer breezed from his lips like a volatile wind. It thrashed, entirely unrelenting and unruly... he couldn't stop himself, "I won't."

 "Promise me."

 "I —" Kaz's eyes sealed shut and as ever, there he was. The pale face of his brother, his flesh tinged blue and grey, his face littered with firepox, his lips still red from the blood that had crawled the length of his throat. Kaz made such gambles to keep him quiet; it was a promise to Jordie that his death would be avenged no matter the cost.

 "I don't know how you see us," Aleksa whispered, as she cast an eye to Jesper poking a boney finger into Wylans shoulder, the way Nina and Inej shared a look when Matthias cleared his throat, "But this group of idiots... especially the two of us, Inej and Jesper... we're family."

 Kaz blinked. He tried to keep that word from his tongue, to stop the poison biting at his flesh like maggots to the dead... it hadn't worked though, had it? Because Jesper Fahey was everything Kaz had seen in Jordie. Inej Ghafa held that tone he could so scarcely remember sliding from his deceased mother's tongue... and Aleksa...

 Kaz gritted his teeth and nodded just once, "I promise."

 Aleksa easily noticed the way his lips twisted at the mention of family, the way it always did whenever Aleksa would so much as hint at Jesper being a brother. He'd always had a blank face whenever she had mentioned Aleksander with stars in her eyes. His face would be void of a scowl, no line between his brows to be found... there was nothing. It was like he was burying something best left forgotten.

 The Bastard of the Barrel remained there, utterly silent as Aleksa waited for something, anything more to slip past his sour lips. He'd gotten everything he'd wanted; the promise of her presence, the reassurance that she would forever remain in Ketterdam, their home, with him.

 But Kaz Brekker, for all his devious planning and unrivalled wits, couldn't for the life of him figure out whether the soft words she'd spoken had any underlying promises. Whether the words she'd offered him, the delightful smiles and wicked grins, whether they were real or yet another figment of his imagination.

 He looked away, and yet the moment he heard her shuffle, ready to leave once more... "If we don't make it out, I want you to know..."

 "Don't," Aleksa whispered even despite the craving within the depths of her stomach. Hope was a fickle thing, Kaz had even said it himself. It was dangerous, volatile, and utterly all-consuming.

 His facade had broken then, the slightest crack in pristine porcelain, but it went as fast as it had erupted.

 Aleksa shook her head, amusement licking at her lips, "Tell me on the Ferolind. Tell me when we're out... Because it thinks it's time I told you something too... many things, actually." The depth of her feelings that chewed away at her heart were far too prominent to push away any longer. The way she stared into the distance, catching a glimmer of quartz within the eyes of a spectre, the way the war had ended with a blood-soaked dagger. Inej was right, she had to say something. She had to say everything.

 "But when we make it out, give me something, anything... I trust you with every ounce of my being Kaz, and I need to know that you trust me. I..." Should she ask it of him? Should she finally step across the boundary she'd respected for so very long and demand an explanation? Yes. Because it was about damn time, "I want — I deserve to know the man I'm fighting beside... and that all begins with your desire to destroy Pekka Rollins."

 Better terrible truths than kind lies.

 It was minuscule, the little tilt of his head he'd given her, the resolution within his eyes. But it was enough, it was more than enough for Aleksa to understand that he was willing to let her in, to let her closer. To understand the pain of his past, the regrets he wore like armour and the rage he brandished like a sword... it was more than he'd ever offered before.

 She took a step, and suddenly, watching as his eyes widened all swamped with whiskey in a sunlit glass, Aleksa rose her hand. The little cut she'd caressed was still there, still pink and covered in a layer of dried blood — she trailed her finger over it again, leaving Kaz a handful of seconds to turn away. He didn't.

 He remained still, muscles taut and fingers stiffened. There was a tremor that wracked his body, growing from his spine until it shivered across his chest, his neck and his face. His breath was warm, a harsh puff drifting from his nose when Aleksa allowed her other fingers to settle on his cheek.

 The divot of his cheekbones made for unsteady ground, but Kaz Brekker was warm. Amidst the chill of Fjerda, beneath that frozen facade... he was just a man with blood in his veins and a heart pumping ever so furiously.

 "Pretty boy," Aleksa breathed, fingers moving ever so softly across his flesh, "I'll see you on the other side."

━━━━━━━

DATE: 12-02-2025

:･ﾟ★ mhm, yeah, i love kaleksa tbh.

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