WALKING THROUGH THE crowded streets of Ketterdam alone, Freya couldn't help but fidget. She fixed the cuffs of her long indigo coat, ran the pads of her fingers over the braided crown of her hair, played with the leather band holding Tolya's knife to her waist, and at times even found herself tearing at the dry skin of her fingers.

These streets had made her anxious even when she had Nikolai walking beside her, even with Tolya and his giant towering form or Tamar and her fearsome axes. Now she was alone while Nikolai went to do whatever it was that he'd planned to do with the rich merchant living on the other side of the city. Freya was glad she wasn't joining him. She didn't think she could look Aleksei in the face while knowing Nikolai was about to use him for his own gain.

The likelihood of the boy coming out of this unharmed was slim to none. Maybe Freya was a coward, but she did not want to be there to watch.

The smoke-tinged air of a forge filled her nose, and she knew she was getting close to her destination. Just ahead of her, a round bronze sign swung in the air. In the centre of it was an impeccably shaped anvil and hammer, and under it in fine golden lettering: Steelfire forge. Freya did not hesitate before entering the building.

The shop itself was placed on a crossroads, at a perfect corner by one of the busiest streets that Ketterdam had to offer. One side of the building was extended by a roof, held up only by pillars instead of walls. It provided perfect shelter for the forge situated there, and for whoever would be working it during the day. The interior of the building was where the shop itself could be found. Racks of various tools and materials could be found, and a long counter stood at the far back wall. An open ledger was sprawled over it.

Freya would have thought the owner was stupid for leaving it out just like that, had she not known to whom the shop belonged. And the protection he carried. She looked over the empty shop. She hadn't expected to find him here, not in the middle of the day. The sound of a hammer hitting metal from the outside forge told her where he was. She slipped between the columns, feeling a grin start to pull at her face.

The man at the forge noticed her immediately from the corner of his eye, past experiences making him cautious of any movement, no matter how small.

Henrik looked up at her, the mostly healed scar on his forehead furrowing with his surprise. Freya grinned broadly.

"What are you doing here, vis?" He put down his hammer and reached for a wet rag to wash his soot-covered fingers. Vis, Freya had laughed the first time she'd heard it. It was the Kerch word for fish, Henrik's oh-so-clever response to Nikolai calling her the Siren in front of him once. It had, rather, unfortunately, stuck. She was convinced the man only called her it because he'd seen how offended she had been in the beginning. It did not bother her anymore, rather amused her now.

"Sturmhond has some business in the city." She could not refer to Nikolai by his princely name here, still. It would be dangerous, even if she knew she could trust Henrik to not go running to the next person who offered him money for information with it. There were plenty of people who could recognise her, or think they recognised her, and pluck up anyone she spoke to off the streets. It was why she was so coy with everything she said if it held some importance to it. "I wanted to see you while I was here."

Only Djel knew when she would be in the city next.

Henrik grinned and tossed the rag aside. "I am glad you did. You know you're welcome here whenever." He looked towards the door as if waiting for something. "I'm afraid you caught me at an unfortunate time. Neith is coming to take me to the Crow Club, something about Kaz and a new plan of his."

Freya had only heard the name Neith when she was here last time. The girl was apparently close to Brekker, almost his second hand. She hadn't shown her face around though, apparently not in the city at the time. Henrik spoke of her with fondness whenever he mentioned her, so Freya didn't think she could be as bad as Brekker. However, Henrik spoke of his crime boss friend with a lot of fondness too.

With a wide gesture of his hand, Henrik bade her enter the part of his shop that wasn't covered in soot. Freya felt the relief of the cooler air almost immediately. She followed him behind the counter, where he had a rather large space available for them to both sit.

"You didn't tell me your forge was so extravagant," Freya couldn't help but point out the quality of the space. The wood of the counter was polished mahogany if her mind served her right.

Henrik let out a chuckle. "Everyone needs a blacksmith, and there are few in the city as good as me." As if to illustrate his point, he picked up a thin piece of metal and moulded it into a smooth glistening ball of iron. He's a Durast, Freya thought, of course, he's good. Sometimes, Freya almost forgot about Henrik's powers. He rarely used them as openly as he had just then, preferring to be careful in a city still sometimes crawling with drüskelle. After his previous experiences of being their prisoner, he likely didn't want to try again.

The door to the shop opened so roughly it almost banged against the wall beside it. A rather short and lithe girl came rushing in, dark brown curls rounding around her bronze face. Freya did not have to look at her for too long to know who she was.

Neith paused only for a moment when she saw Freya, her umber-gold eyes staring at her with cautiousness. Then she took in the pale hair, the indigo coat and the burn on Freya's jaw, and she visibly relaxed.

"I didn't know you were having other visitors, Rik," she said, and her voice reminded Freya of the evening breeze against her skin. Henrik shrugged.

"I didn't either," he responded, with no real malice in his voice. "Sturmhond is in town." It was a short exchange of information, one that might've made Freya uncomfortable had she not fully trusted Henrik. Maybe she was foolish for letting him say all her secrets to a girl she'd never even met before, but she needed to believe that not everyone was out to torment her. For her own sanity, Henrik and this girl who looked more like an innocent child than a criminal would not throw her to the wolves.

Neith walked over to the counter, eyeing the same ledger Freya had moments before when she herself had arrived, then jumped up and seated herself on the counter. She crossed her legs and rested her in her palms.

"I won't drag you away immediately then," Neith sighed, rather content to be perched on Henrik's shop counter like a cat. "Kaz can wait." At that, Henrik snorted a laugh.

"When had Kaz ever waited for anything unless it served him?" Neith smiled in a way that told Freya the answer was never. The two of them chatted a bit more, Freya sometimes tossing in her own remarks or short laughs. It wasn't until almost a half hour later that someone else entered Henrik's shop.

Freya spotted the fur cloaks and glistening axes of drüskelle officers, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Her muscles painfully tensed as she slowly turned to look back at Henrik with fearfully wide eyes. She wasn't sure how he managed it, but Henrik's expression didn't move a single bit. A professional mask fell over his face, but he kept a soft smile as if whatever Neith last said was amusing.

The young girl perched on his counter didn't react at all, as if the presence of witch hunters didn't unease her at all.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" Henrik asked the drüskelle, straightening his back. He truly appeared like a normal businessman in Ketterdam. The Fjerdans looked around the shop for a few seconds before walking over to the counter. Freya did not turn to look at them, unwanting of their attention.

She had to appear as any other customer, even if it wasn't the case. She heard the telltale sound of a weapon's belt being unbuckled, and then a heavy metallic thunk broke the air. A sharp axe lay beside Freya on the counter, still connected to its place on the drüskelle's belt.

"My blades need sharpenening." Was all the man said in broken Kerch. Henrik nodded, picking up the axe with all the tact of an experienced blacksmith. He asked the man a few questions, things that were no doubt standard before he carried the axe into a room in the back. While Henrik was gone, the drüskelle turned to look at Freya and Neith. His eyes hardly strayed towards the younger of them, barely even taking into account her non-Kerch appearance. It was normal for Ketterdam to be crawling with foreigners, though Neith had no accent to speak of when she spoke the language, so it must've been her parents who were the foreign ones.

Once the man's gaze fell upon Freya, however, he paused. The burn of his stare was as searing as the Inferni flame that had once touched her face.

"You are Fjerdan, are you not?" he asked in their native tongue. Freya raised her face towards him but forced herself to still show him deference, as any Fjerdan woman would to a man who protected them from the evil Grisha. That is what he would expect, and she had to be exactly that.

"I am," she responded, all too aware of the accent on her pronunciation. She would never be rid of it, she knew. No matter how much it stung. "Though I have not been there in a long time." The man tilted his head to the side curiously. "My father was a merchant. When my mother passed, he took me with him on his travels."

She hoped the explanation would ward him off. It was a common enough story. Many merchants took their whole families with them when they travelled to distant countries. But the man was not so easily dismissed.

With a nod of his head, he asked, "Are you married?" He gestured to the braided locks of her hair. Freya bit down hard on her tongue. Unmarried women in Fjerda were expected to wear their hair up, while the ones with a husband could do as they wished. She'd kept with this tradition even when she was in Ravka, always wearing it tied back or braided. It was more practical that way too in training.

She still wore it up now, if only because she knew she and Nikolai could never marry.

"Yes," she lied so easily it frightened her. "I was here to have his blade sharpened as well." She gestured to Tolya's knife strapped to her side. Fjerdan women rarely carried weapons, though she hoped he would excuse it on account of her being alone in a foreign city.

The drüskelle examined the blade at her hip. "Your husband is Shu?" he asked, though he did not seem angry, which Freya could only be glad for. She had expected the question. After all, Tolya's knife was typically Shu, with red and orange ornaments hanging from the pommel, which bore a certain resemblance to the Shu dragon.

"He was the son of a merchant my father worked with. Unfortunately, when my father passed, it was due to an illness he caught in Shu Han. When he died, I was left alone with no true knowledge of how to handle my father's business. My husband's father took me in and I married his son soon after." Her heart beat painfully against her chest.

Henrik returned from the back, and Freya took that as her cue to pretend to check the clock that hung on the wall.

"If you'd excuse me, I must return to my husband," she said, turning from the drüskelle to leave with only a slight nod to Henrik as if the two barely knew each other. She did not know how he could look so calm, almost comfortable. She was sure her fear had to show in her eyes, at least. Especially when the Fjerdan man took ahold of her upper arm to pull her to a stop.

The air rushed from her lungs as she gasped it out, preparing herself for a blade between her ribs. Instead, the man quickly let go, and when Freya twisted her neck to look back at him, he almost looked ashamed of himself. It was then that a small weight fell from her chest. He believed her story. He thought he was just a woman born in Fjerda. Otherwise, he would not look so sheepish about grabbing her arm, something unacceptable when the two did not know each other.

"Forgive me, madam. But me and my companion will accompany you. It is not safe in these streets." Neith let out a quite offended scoff, as if she herself was not a member of a gang; Brekkers symbol tattooed on her wrist for all to see. "We would not be doing our duty if we allowed you to go alone."

Freya nodded and allowed the two drüskelle to lead her out the door and through the streets. She and her husband were meant to meet at the main square, she told them. It wasn't a lie, not entirely at least. Tolya and her truly were meant to meet there, along with Nikolai when he was finished with whatever business he wished to conduct.

When they reached the square, she had to hide her sigh of relief. Tolya stood by one of the tea vendors; clearly Shu in origin, just as he was. She sped up her walk, intent to reach the safety of his vicinity before the drüskelle decided something was off about her anyway and dragged her off onto their ship. She doubted anyone in the city would care.

"Tolya, I am glad you are here already!" she forced herself to cry out excitedly. Tolya looked at her confused, raising a brow as if to ask what had gotten into her when he caught sight of what was behind her. He tensed only for a moment, his warrior training allowing him to relax. Freya latched herself onto his arm in a way only a wife would to her husband, hoping the smile she flashed him was that of a girl in love and happy. "These two gentlemen were kind enough to escort me. I met them at the blacksmith's."

The big Shu man nodded at the two drüskelle, speaking in heavily accented Fjerdan. "Then they have my thanks." He and the two men exchanged a few more words before the drüskelle departed. Freya kept her broad grin on her face and her grip on Tolya's arm until they were out of sight.

Then she felt herself sag and let out a hoarse cry, the tension reaching a crescendo before it crashed down into relief so strong that she shook with it.

"Are you alright?" Tolya asked her, keeping a hand loosely around her upper arm as if she would fall to the ground any moment. "They didn't hurt you?" She shook her head, but almost heaved as she straightened her back.

"Djel, I feel sick." Tolya nodded his head.

"Let us go back to the Volkvolny then." He frowned in the direction the drüskelle had disappeared off to. "No one will touch you there." Freya shook her head, turning towards the tea vendor who stared at them with barely hidden worry. She wondered if he spoke Ravkan, though she doubted it with how unsure he looked with their conversation.

"We are supposed to meet Nikolai here." He would be worried if he arrived and neither of them was to be found.

"Nikolai will be fine. He will know to check the ship first before he goes guns blazing across the city." Freya knew that. He wasn't some sort of fool, but that did not mean she wanted to cause him to worry pointlessly. She was with Tolya now, and not even the burliest of Fjerdan men could combat him. His skill with a sword  along with his deadly Heartrender abilities made sure of that. "Freya, it is best if you rest. You are shaking all over."

She was, that much she could admit. If someone were to hand her a pen right at that moment, she would no doubt drop it because of how uncertain her fingers felt. Maybe it was better if she left this wretched city. She could go and sit with some of the crew for a while. Yes, that would be good. And in the evening, when Nikolai returned, he would make everything go away.

"Alright," she sighed her agreement. "Let us go to the ship." She did not see Henrik again for the rest of her time in Ketterdam.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Nikolai did not return to the ship in the evening, rather only an hour and a half after the whole ordeal with the drüskelle, rushing onto the ship like someone would set his coat on fire if he took too long. Freya heard his loud thudding footsteps making their way towards their room, giving her enough time to sit up from the bed where she was lying on her back, attempting to forget all about that afternoon.

The door burst open and Nikolai rushed in, his half-ginger, half-golden hair frazzled and sticking to his forehead with humidity and sweat. The tailoring was already fading away, giving her some glimpse of her Nikolai under that boisterous captain facade.

"Are you alright?" he instantly asked, closing the door behind him with a gentleness he hadn't offered it on his way in. "Nothing was done to you?" His hands cupped her jaw, moving her face left to right, looking for any new cuts or bruises. When the only thing he found was the old, long-healed burn, he moved to her arms, checking them just as thoroughly, as if he expected them to be shattered to pieces.

"I am fine," she replied, grasping his hands in her own to stop his frantic movements. "I am only shaken. They were convinced enough by my story." She tugged at Nikolai, bidding him to sit down on the mattress beside her. He did it instantly, carefully as if he would hurt her or frighten her. Freya ran a thumb over the top of his hand, over each knuckle.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. You shouldn't be alone in such a situation," he sighed, the tell-tale shadow of guilt twisting his face. Freya raised a brow at that.

"And what could you have done? Taken two Fjerdans twice your size in single combat?" The corner of Nikolai's mouth shot up in a smirk.

"Oh, you'd be surprised by my charming ability to talk anyone down, milaya." She couldn't resist the urge to kiss that stupid grin off his face. He melted beneath her touch when her lips moulded against his, exhaling a satisfied sigh.

"I know your charm well enough, I think," she said between two kisses. Nikolai was splayed on the bed now, only keeping himself up by the support of one elbow, his other arm too preoccupied with digging into her hair.

"That you do," he exhaled the words as though he hadn't had a gasp of air in his lungs for years. Freya fell back on top of him, letting herself forget about the drüskelle and the boy soldier she'd all but allowed to be sent to death.

She would worry about the Sun Summoner tomorrow, she told herself. She could dwell on the future of Ravka and the chance of seeing her friends again, for the first time in half a year, at a much later time, when the mirth from Nikolai's touch and presence was all but gone.

A/N

Here's the update I've been promising for literal weeks now! I'm so sorry for not updating sooner but I was dealing with school and someone stealing whole plotlines from this book. I'd just like to warn everyone about them because they came to me wanting to be mutuals and talked to me about my stories, only for major and important plotlines and character-defining traits from my book to suddenly appear in theirs, I have blocked them now and I don't want anyone to go and harass them, but I thought it was good to let everyone know regardless, so they don't fall victim to this person's actions as well (I wasn't even the only person they stole from, they stole from my friend as well). Their username is madeleine_claire

I'd also like to thank chainbrekker for helping me deal with this whole thing because OH BOY was it an emotional rollercoaster.

Also a reminder that I am still studying for med school entrance exams so I am not as active here, but if you guys want content for this fic and my other fics, you can follow me on Instagram (black_fyres for fandom edits, blackfyreswp for fanfic edits) and tiktok (also blackfyreswp) as editing is much quicker than writing whole chapters!