🌙

Her teeth were chattering, and her clothes completely soaked through when Jesper finally made his way back. He was under an umbrella, talking with a man she’d never met, but the smile dropped from his face when he noticed her.

“Saints, love,” he sighed, “you didn’t have to cover for me. I was going to be right back.”

She sniffed, brushing her wet hair back from her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m going in.”

Jesper frowned, eyeing her red nose and pale skin. “Go get yourself something warm to drink before you head to the Slat.”

She nodded and walked away, holding her arms close to herself in an attempt to keep warm.

The Crow Club was bustling that night, as many people snuck in to hide from the rain and then found that they enjoyed the games and drinks inside. Y/N spotted Kaz at a booth in the corner of the room, seated with Anika and Inej. She sighed as she walked over, her shoes squeaking with each step.

Kaz was going over plans for a job he was sending Anika and Inej on, trying his best to focus on the maps in front of him and not the fact that his girl should have been back nearly an hour ago. As much as he wanted to assume she was just caught in the rain, or lost track of time in a bookshop, his mind always feared the worst.

When they first agreed to be together, he had been a mess of dread and worry every second she was away from him. He knew that the Barrel was harsh for anyone, and that it would be worse for anyone who was with him. It was too easy to get to him through her. Now, nearly two years later, they had grown past his fits of anxiety, but that didn’t mean the sick feeling in his stomach everytime she was gone had just disappeared.

“Kaz,” her voice came out weak and raspy as she spoke. He jumped, having been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed her until she spoke.

His gaze softened when his eyes landed on her. He frowned at her wet hair and sickly, color-drained skin.

He got up from his seat, taking off his coat and placing it over her shoulders. Once she had it on, he rubbed his gloved hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her up. “Angel,” he muttered. “You should have waited it out.”

He thought she had walked back in the rain, not stood out in it for an hour. She shrugged, deciding it wasn’t worth correcting. “‘Was tired. Wanted to come home.”

Kaz nodded, his eyes drifting back to the table and the plans on it. He sat back down in the booth, pulling her with him. Inej and Anika gave her small smiles, greeting her as she sat down.

Y/N and Kaz had been together for a few years, and in that time they had helped each other with their traumas greatly. However, it was still a habit for her to sit a half a foot away from him, as she didn’t want to overwhelm him while he was working.

The club was alive around them, and Y/N found that she much preferred to watch the card game going on just in her field of vision than whatever Kaz was discussing with the others. She leaned her head on her hand, trying to ignore the chill settling her bones. Instead, she focused on the warm hues of the club, the warmth of Kaz’s jacket, and The scent of bourbon, smoke, and cologne that surrounded her. She wanted to go to her bedroom, read a book, listen to Kaz rant to her about an upcoming job, or just lay with him without saying a word. But he was working, and she knew she couldn’t bear to be apart from him any longer than she already had in one day.

After a short while, Inej and Anika left them, apparently deciding to leave the couple alone as soon as Kaz would let them. He folded up the map, observing his girl from the corner of his eye. He grimaced as he looked at her shivering form and drooping eyes, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

He froze.

She was still absolutely freezing, soaked hair dripping onto her forehead. Before he could even think about being concerned, his skin was covered in goosebumps and his mind filled with a dizzying panic. She felt wet and freezing. She felt like death. She feels like Jordie.

But she needs you. He knew that she needed to be warmed up. She was shivering more with each passing minute, and he had begun to fear she had hypothermia. But he knew he couldn’t do it anymore. Not with the horrible, unbearable images forming in his mind. Kaz felt wave after wave of nausea pass through him. The waters were rising.

And she noticed. The way his hands shook, his eyes flickering back and forth in panic. She sniffled, hurt seeping deep into her bones. She had always run hot, and though he never said it, she knew it was part of the reason Kaz had been able to feel her skin much easier than others. She was mentally berating herself, realizing that now she must have felt the opposite. Cold and lifeless. She knew he couldn’t bring himself to make her leave, and instead he was slowly sliding away from her without even noticing. She decided she would do the job for him.

As she stood up, his eyes widened in fear, and his voice came out in a rasp much shakier than normal. “I don’t know, I can’t -“

“It’s okay,” she mumbled, pulling his coat off her shoulders and placing it on the seat next to him. She gave him a small pained smile. “You don’t have to explain it. Get some rest tonight. I don’t want to deal with you being sleep deprived tomorrow.”

With that she was gone. Kaz gripped his cane as he debated going after her. Guilt flooded his veins as he realized what her words meant. She was going to see him tomorrow because she wouldn’t see him tonight. She was going to stay in her room. And for once, one of their problems had not begun because he was being too cruel or indifferent. It was because he was afraid.

And she knew she had caused it. She thought that she would help him by leaving him be for the night. But it just made him worse. How did she not know that she was the only thing that made the waters lower around his feet and evaporate into thin air? Now that she had gone, and had no intention of coming back, they were rising overhead, leaving him gasping as he tried to recollect himself.

“Wait,” Kaz’s voice came out strained. “Don’t leave.”

But she had probably already reached her bedroom. She was probably already asleep. Kaz struggled his way up the stairs of the Slat, reaching his office and kicking the door once he was inside. He looked at her untidy side of their bed, the book she had left on the chair by the window, and the scented candles she always lit when she thought the stench of the Barrel was too overwhelming. His soul ached for her. His brother’s body continued to pass through his mind. He took off his gloves, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. Suddenly the pile of paperwork on his makeshift desk seemed a lot more appealing.

They both had restless nights of sleep. Y/N was tossing and turning on her cot all night, trying to fight off the chill in her bones and longing in her heart. She just wanted to sleep in her bed upstairs. But she also thought that he wouldn’t be able to be near her so soon again. She wanted so badly not to miss him, but it felt like her body was begging her to spring up the stairs into his office.

Kaz had passed out on his desk with bank statements and files as his stiff, uncomfortable pillow. When he woke up in the morning, he had slept two hours later than he normally had. And he hadn’t even woken up on his own. Instead, it was by Inej, who had tapped on his desk.

“Kaz, you need to wake up,” her voice came out gentle and calm, but her eyes betrayed her fear. Kaz groaned, not opening his eyes. Inej frowned. “Kaz, it’s about Y/N.”

His head snapped up, his eyes hard and determined as he looked up at her. “Tell me.”

While Kaz had been woken up this morning, Y/N hadn’t. The rain drops on her forehead had been replaced with sweat, and her once freezing skin was now burning to the touch. She was sick. So bad that Nina wouldn’t leave her side and no amount of medicine or heartrending was helping her to wake up. Instead, she rolled back and forth in bed coughing and sighing through a fitful sleep.

Kaz’s heart dropped as he watched from the doorway. Sickness had destroyed so much of his life, he would not let it take another person from him.

Nina turned to him. “Kaz, are you listening?”

He blinked a few times, regaining his state of mind. “What?”

“Do you know what happened to her?” Nina asked, exasperated.

Kaz went silent, thinking of the night before. Before he could come up with a response, Jesper spoke up from the corner. He looked worried, and paler than usual.

“Uh, well,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I left my post at the door last night —I swear it was only for a short while— and when I got back she was waiting for me.”

Kaz stiffened. “Sorry?”

“I didn’t ask her to, boss,” Jesper continued explaining. “She must have felt anxious about it. But the rain and the cold must have gotten to her, you know she doesn’t ever bring a coat when she should.”

Kaz glared at him, causing Jesper to sink back into the corner. “How many times have I told you not to leave -“

“Stop!” Nina shouted, her arms up in the air as she looked back and forth between her two arguing friends. “You two both know you don’t actually care how she got sick!”

“If he hadn’t -“ Kaz started, but Nina quickly cut him off.

“I don’t care! Do you want her to get better?” She asked.

Kaz spared his girl another glance, and immediately regretted it. It looked as if someone had sucked all of the life out of her normally colorful disposition. Everything about her had always seemed extreme to him. Her warmth, her patience, the feelings she gave him. But now it was extreme in the opposite way. She was cold and harsh. Normally looking at her would make him feel calm, now it made him sick.

His voice was raspy as he replied. “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought.” Nina nodded. “Now, I don’t know what’s wrong, so for now I’m going to keep her fever down and help her rest. Jesper if you could go out and buy some soup -“

Jesper quickly pushed himself off the wall in the corner, practically running to the door. He was halfway down the hallway when Kaz called after him.

“Jesper.”

Jesper crossed his arms as he came back to the room, ready to deal with the worst from his boss. However, when he got there, he didn’t see the glare or the scowl on Kaz’s face. Instead, the man was holding out a wad of kruge to pay for the soup, his worried eyes not leaving the girl on the bed.

As he took the money, he mumbled. “I’m sorry, Kaz.”

And then he was gone.

Nina looked up at Kaz while she held her hands over the sick girl on the cot. “It may just be from the cold, but in case she has the plague, I’m going to need people to stay out of here.”

“She doesn’t have the plague.” Kaz said, his voice hard. He was pulling up a chair next to the cot.

Nina persisted. “Kaz, I have no reason to say she doesn’t have it, so you should get out of -“

“She doesn’t have the plague.” He repeated. Nina would have asked again, but she was too shocked by the tone of his voice. This time he spoke, it was as if he was begging, not ordering. Nina couldn’t find it in herself to disagree with him.

Kaz put his head in his hands while Nina worked. The idea of her being sick made him feel anxious, but the fact that she might have the plague was killing him. She couldn’t die the same way Jordie did. And she couldn’t make other people sick that he cared about. He wouldn’t let it.

He would hire every single Grisha and doctor and Kerch if it meant she would get better. He was Kaz Brekker, and if he wanted something to happen, it would.

But looking at her, he couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t true. He knew he could get anything he wanted, but never what he needed. What he needed was to get over his phobias, he needed to feel safe, he needed his brother, and those had all been taken from him. What was he going to do if she was taken from him too?

The next few days were absolutely torture. Nina tried her best to make the girl heal and rest, but her sickness had other plans. She continued to toss and turn in a fitful sleep, only waking up periodically to eat a bit, but she was too delusional to speak.

Nina had figured out that Y/N had the flu, but she was completely lost on why it was hitting her so hard. Or rather, she had a guess, but she didn’t want to say it out loud.

And Kaz hadn’t moved. His head lay on the edge of the cot, just far enough not to touch her, but he wasn’t asleep, he just could barely stand to look at her. At first, he was cursing himself, Jesper, and even Nina for letting her get like this. But now that days had passed and his girl had gotten worse and worse he had resorted to begging. He never believed in any higher power, but he would beg to every saint and deity he knew if it meant she might be okay.

He was absolutely drained, even more so than usual. Panic jolting through his nerves and nausea sitting at the pit of his stomach had kept him awake at all hours, unable to eat, drink, or even think. He hadn’t made a sound in over a day when he finally decided to speak again.

“Why isn’t she getting better?” He croaked, sitting up and staring at the woman beside him with red eyes.

Nina jumped in her seat, she could have sworn he was asleep. “It’s just the flu, but there’s a lot of reasons it could have gotten this bad.” She took a deep breath. “Um, her fever is very high when I’m not manipulating it, which is her body’s response to the illness. I imagine when she was in the rain it struggled to keep her temperature up. But, it also seems like her body didn’t have the nutrition it needed to fight off the illness.” Nina was momentarily silenced by the dark look that passed over his face. “Did she eat that day before she went to sleep?”

Kaz ran a hand over his face. Remembering how she came back after being out all day, how she always forgot to eat and he always reminded her, how she had gone upstairs and straight to bed when he couldn’t even look at her because of a bit of rain.

“No. Probably not.”

“It’s okay,” Nina said softly, noticing the unfamiliar glint of guilt in his eye. “She’s just tired. I think she’ll get better soon.” She brushed a piece of hair out of Y/N’s face. “She has to.”

Whether it was Nina’s tireless efforts or Kaz’s begging that did the trick, Y/N’s fever lessened greatly over the next night, and she fell into a peaceful sleep rather than the fitful, delusional bouts of rest she had been getting over the past couple of days. She had gotten so much better, in fact, that Matthias was able to convince Nina to go into her own room and get some rest.

Kaz, of course, stayed, though he felt some weight lift off his shoulder. He couldn’t think of anything other than wanting her to wake up. To see her smile, and hear her voice again. She woke up in the evening to grant him his wish.

Her eyes opened slowly, and though she remembered the events of the past few days, she found herself confused about where she was. She felt like shit, and her mind felt foggy, but she still found a clear line of focus.

“Kaz,” She whispered, looking at the man resting his head on her cot.

His head whipped up, his features visibly relaxing when he realized what was going on. He felt as if his nerves were draining out of his body. She looks healthy. She looks alive.

“I’m so hungry,” She spoke again, before grimacing at the pitchy sound of her voice. “Saints, I sound like a voice cracking little boy.”

A smirk formed on his lips, which he covered with his hand as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Maybe you should drink some water. Get something to eat.”

“You’re always telling me to do that,” she huffed, her voice still croaky.

“It is possible I would stop if you would stop being so stubborn and eat a meal for once.”

She sniffled. “What?”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “I said, it is -“

“No, sorry, I heard you,” she giggled. “It’s just sometimes when you tell me things I pretend I couldn’t hear you so I can hear your voice again.”

Kaz rubbed his eyes to cover up the flush that covered his face. Once he composed himself, he looked up at her, having to stifle a smile at her face peeking out of the thousands of blankets Jesper had piled on her. She yawned, and suddenly the bags under her eyes seemed so much more prevalent.

As Kaz frowned, Y/N observed him. Even in her cloudy-minded state, she could tell that he was not doing well. Something must have happened while I was stuck in here. The lines on his face seemed to deepen, and he kept having to brush his hair from his face.

She spoke up again, her eyes narrowed on him. “You look like you’re gonna pass out from sleep deprivation.”

“You're the one who’s been sick for days,” He scoffed. “If I’m sleep deprived then what are you?”

She pulled her blankets up further, nuzzling deeper into her pillow, as she continued to stare at him. A small smile had grown on her flushed face. “Well-rested.”

Kaz looked away, deciding that if he held eye contact for a second longer he might have actually lost his mind. He forced the smile that was growing on his face into a smirk, not wanting the girl to have the satisfaction of making him so endeared.

His train of thought was broken when she linked her pinky with his hand. He wanted to curse her for how attentive she was to him. They had gotten past the stage where all they could do was link pinkies a while ago, and yet she could tell by his body language that anymore right now would overwhelm him. He hated how easily she picked up on his emotions, considering how much he hid them. However, having someone understand him without questioning was something he was coming to love. Something he couldn’t live without. He had the air knocked out of his lungs again, thinking of how many times in the past week that he had to consider her death.

“Kaz, what happened while I was asleep?” Y/N asked, a concerned look on her face. She was done joking with him when there was clearly something wrong.

“Nothing.” He replied. A moment passed of her just staring at him with a disbelieving expression. “What?”

She blinked a few times. “Sorry, I just had a dream that you told me some absolute horse shit.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine,” he insisted, looking away. “You’re the one who was sick. You’re the one who -“

His voice suddenly cut off, as if even his vocal chords couldn’t stand the tension he was causing himself.

Her eyes widened, filled with concern. “What, Kaz?”

He looked away from her. You’re the one who scared the shit out of me. He couldn’t keep himself above water this time, and if it weren’t for her light touch keeping him anchored to reality, he knew he would have drowned. He slipped his pinkie out of hers and grasped her hand tightly, his eyes glossed over. His voice cracked lightly as he spoke. “You looked just like him.”

Her heart dropped as she quickly sat up. “Kaz -“

“I felt just as weak as I did that day.” He said, his voice trembling in a way that had her heart beating a mile a minute. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

She frowned at him, hesitantly lifting her hand to cup his jaw. He shuddered at first, and she nearly pulled it away before he gripped her wrist with his free hand, keeping her there.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

He gulped, daring to look in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what, love?”

“Like you pity me. It’s sickening.”

She sighed. “I care about you, Kaz. Don’t let your fear blind you to that.”

He closed his eyes, taking in a large gasp of air. Remembering who he was with. Feeling grateful she was okay. Allowing his love for her to calm him the way it always had. She observed him closely, tracing his cheekbone with her thumb. They stayed like this for a moment, before he suddenly pulled her into him by her wrist. His face was in the crook of her neck, gripping her like his life depended on it, taking deep breaths. After a few moments, he mumbled, as if reassuring himself, “You’re okay.”

She held him, running her fingers through his hair.

You hadn’t seen him during the battle, but from you know of the Eternals (admittedly, not too much), you understand that it doesn’t diminish his strengths towards the group. Five fighters, five thinkers is a mantra often heard amongst them.

“You are Druig,” you say, stepping over what you think used to be a Deviant arm.

“You know me.” By now, his smile has settled into more of a… smirk. Mischievous. Teasing. Amused? Either way, it holds until you are within a breadth of him and your weapon is sheathed at your side. “But I don’t know you,” he continues, and then there it is again. “Beautiful one. You came with the Asgardian king?”

By now, you understand that your king is already making himself known to the matriarch of the Eternals herself. In a way, the woman reminded you of your queen, raised and borne of witches, warm as the sun but cunning as a snake.

“I did,” you confirm. When you tell him your name, you find yourself revelling in the way it feels in the air between the two of you as he says it - the way the syllables roll off his tongue.

Beautiful, beautiful one.

800 A.D.

The second time you encounter Druig, he presents you with one of Idunn’s golden apples. To this day, you still have no idea how he acquired such a thing, although you suspect it may have something to do with the friendship he’d been able to maintain with Loki over the centuries.

“Hello, beautiful one.” This time, you don’t startle at the sound of his voice - although it is much closer than the first time, spoken at a low murmur right by your ear that you can still hear clear as day, even with all the revelries taking place in the tavern you’re both in. You turn your head just slightly and there he is.

“Hello, Druig.” This time, you’re out of your armor, and he dons local-wear in shades of black and grey fitting him in a way that does make your mouth run dry for a moment. You still indulge him in the best smile that you can, even as you take a sip from the mug of ale beside you. “How kind it is for an Eternal to grace a mere warrior with his presence.” It’s all in good jest. It always is.

He tuts anyway, reaching into his robes for… something, even as his eyes never leave your face. “I think we’ll have none of that now. Besides, I hear you’re moving up in the world, babysitting that prince of yours.” When you dig an elbow into his side for that comment, he only laughs again. “Guarding,” he corrects.

“That’s more like it,” you affirm, stopping to raise your mug as Thor makes another rambunctious announcement for cheers. Teenagers. By the time you’re back to focusing on Druig, the hand that had been withdrawn into his robes is back out, presenting you with a perfectly round, perfectly golden, apple. The startled laugh that you let out isn’t unlike the one you’d given him during your first meeting, and you accept the offer with a slightly reserved glee. “And how did you acquire this?” you ask him, admiring the apple in your eye and pressing your lips to it before taking a bite.

“Does it make me the apple of your eye?” The one-liner is enough to get you to choke on the apple for a moment, and Druig graciously allows you the dignity of a recovery before he continues. “It is said that those apples are the source of the Asgardians’ immortal youth and beauty. Is that true?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him as you take another bite, humming contemplatively. “Is this your way of saying you’d like me to be more beautiful?”

“Oh, beautiful one, never.” He even puts a hand over where his heart would be. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Mmm. That wasn’t a bad save on your end, Druig.” You catch the way his gaze flickers from the apple, then to your lips. You hold the apple out to him. “Would you like to try a bite, then?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you shake it lightly in front of his face. “This isn’t an offer made lightly.” it’s enough to break him out of his trance, because he smirks again and settles into his seat more comfortably, giving you a slight nod but grasping your wrist when you try to hold the apple out to him.

That’s not how I want to taste it.

It’s the first time you hear him in your head - and really, you shouldn’t be so startled. It’s not as if you don’t know the things he can do, haven’t seen him bring human conflicts to a standstill with a mere thought. And you can feel him in your head, too, sometimes, never prodding, never prying, just… there.

You like it, you think.

So does he.

Before he can close the distance between the two of you - before you can invite him to bridge the gap, you hear Thor call your name with a raucous laugh, mug raised to the heavens, inviting with a “Come drink with us!”

To Druig, you offer a shrug and an impish grin of your own, rising from your seat and offering him a bow as you make to leave. “Duty calls, then.” Rather than look upset, he just plucks the apple from your hands, eyes never leaving yours while he takes a generous bite.

Then one of the Warriors Three has you by the arm, the same time that you see one of the other Eternals bids Druig to rise - Kingo, you recognize, and he says something to Druig that has him scowling and shrugging his grip off as his cheeks redden slightly.

You feel his gaze on you for the rest of the night.

2013

By now, this isn’t even the third encounter you’ve had with Druig - not even the fourth, the fifth, even the hundredth. You lose track by now, centuries blurring together. Centuries of Heimdall keeping a watchful eye out, telling you where Druig has landed himself, where to go when he opens the Bifrost for you. Centuries of meetings (hardly clandestine) as Thor distracts his father from the fact that his loyal bodyguard is almost nowhere in sight, of Loki conjuring mirages of you that get better by the decade, of Lady Sif and her Warriors Three making false alibis for you, of your queen giving you a knowing look whenever she passes you by.

You know how you must look, trekking through the Amazon rainforest and into the now-familiar encampment. You pay no heed to the stares that some of the men and women pin you with as you pass, don’t think twice about the golden glow in their eyes that flashes and passes.

When you reach the building at the opposite end of the encampment, you don;t even enter. Part of you isn’t even sure you have the energy to open the doors, so you just settle at the foot of the wooden doors and lean against one.

The door to your left opens not a minute later, and in your peripheral vision, you see Druig standing there, clad in dark pants and a sleeveless grey top. He crouches next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours affectionately, and you pretend like that will be enough to make you keel over, swaying to the side in a dramatic motion.

“Oh, stop that.” When he steadies you, there’s no real bite to it. “And not even a hello for me, beautiful one?” You sigh, as though burdened greatly.

“Hello.” He presses his forehead against yours and you smile a smile that feels more real than anything you’ve mustered over the past few days. You feel him squeeze your arm, and you don’t tense, but when his hand goes over a fresh injury over your ribs that has not healed, it earns him a loud “ow” and a slap to the shoulder. “You’re a fiend,” you start.

“You’ve been in battle,” he says, and truly, your lover is brilliant. Astounding. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Only in my heart,” you jest, and it partially works because you see his lips quirk up before he settles back in a more serious expression. He waits for you to continue, and he doesn’t even need to use his abilities to know that there is more on your mind that you want to say. “We lost,” you begin to say, and his eyebrows shoot up, because he knows you and you never lose a battle. There have been so many fights to be fought, and none to lose.

“The Dark Elves,” you manage to continue, and the two words sit heavy in your throat, like they’re trying to choke you before you can finish what you want to say. “Queen Frigga was killed. So was Prince Loki.” And despite what your king says, despite the terrible things Loki did, he was still a prince of Asgard. From children to adolescence and to adulthood, you’d watched them both grow, sometimes alongside Druig, sometimes not.

Druig, who doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t offer words of empty comfort, who can feel what you feel in this moment, who looks at you now the way he looks at his humans sometimes - worried for them, wanting to interfere, wanting to keep them safe. So you press a hand to his cheek, opening your mind and heart to him, smiling as he leans into your touch.

I’ll be okay.

You will mourn. You will move forward. He, too, knows this.

2021

You feel Druig before you see him. You know his touch in your mind - have known it for eons, could feel and recognize it across the span of time and space.

My beautiful, beautiful lover.

The words are whispered into the embrace of your mind, softly becoming you to turn and look. You do so, only after you’ve set the crate of harvested and fished goods on the trunk of Valkyrie’s truck. The sight of Druig standing at the end of the pier, the ocean wind and spray whipping strands of his hair out of his face, has you holding your arms out for him.

You laugh when he reaches you and he pulls you into an embrace, one that literally sweeps you off your feet. “Beautiful one,” he says, and you can hear the laughter in his voice as he presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Did you miss me?”

“Did you miss me?” you counter, pulling back just enough that you’re able to get a look at his face. Eight years apart should be inconsequential to the two of you, who are fated to live for millenia, but it feels like an eternity of a lifetime. “I didn’t know you could venture out of that forest of yours, beautiful Druig.”

“Only for you,” he says, always quick with a retort. Witty or otherwise. “I even had to pack a jacket.”

“Yes, you did,” you agree, finally taking note of the studded black leather that he dones. Running a hand over one of the studs has you shooting him a very amused look, and he retaliates with a tug to the knitted sleeve of your new sweathers.

“I see that you’ve taken up the fisherman chic. Is that the fashion of New Asgard? I’ll be sure to dress more appropriately for the occasion next time.”

“Cheeky.” You’re only partially aware to the knowing look that Valkyrie gives the two of you before she is driving back to town, the two of you left to privacy. “Come on, you,” you add, linking your arm with his as you begin to lead him away from the water and up to one of the hills overlooking the town.

“How is Thor?” he asks you, and though it’s been many years since you were called to the duty of watching over the prince - no, now the king - of Asgard, your heart aches for the boy you watched grow into the man of loss you know today.

“Not the same,” you tell Druig, your footsteps coming to a stop as he moves himself in front of you, facing you. He keeps your hand clasped in his as he moves it over his chest, and you can feel the beat of his heart even through the jacket he wears. “He lost - we lost - nothing is the same.”

It’s hard to put into words, you think. You think of the person you were when you first met Druig, think of the naivety of that youth. You wonder what it is like for him now, to see the edges of that person chipped and worn away, eroded by the winds of love and loss.

When he brushes a strand of your hair out of your eyes, when he presses his forehead against yours, you feel some of those broken edges start to knit together again.

I’m sorry.

I should have been there.

I’m sorry I’m rooted to Earth.

“You’re here now,” your murmur, your eyes still closed. “You’re always here when I need you.” For that, he presses a kiss to your forehead before stepping back. He makes sure not to let go of your hand.

“I have something for you, you know.” His other hand is already reaching into his pocket.

“SHould I be worried?” you ask, only in slight jest. “Your gifts are wonderful, really, but you do like to play things on the mischievous side-” Your words die in your throat when you see the golden apple he produces for you, glittering in the sun that’s starting to break through the clouds. “Oh. Oh, Druig.”

“You won’t demand the ways I acquired it for you?”

“You’d just evade the question - oh, Druig.” As he presses it into your palm, you have to breathe in sharply and blink back the stinging in your eyes. He shrugs a little, trying to play it nonchalant, even as you have to press your face into his shoulder so you can compose yourself without looking at him.

“People on Earth like to do this with a ring,” he says, suddenly, voice slightly louder to be heard above the wind. “A gold on. I thought-” you feel him shift his weight, and you squeeze his arm to steady him. “I thought this would be better.”

“Do you have a question you must ask of me?” Finally, you lift your head to look at him. “Beautiful Druig.”

“You’re the beautiful one,” is his automatic response, and the word, the endearment, has always been so natural. On the battleground. In a tavern. The past, and the present. This gift that he’s given you.

He is Druig, the Eternal. And he calls you beautiful, because he loves you.

Druig Taglist

@gemmywrites

@scmndr

@slksk

Arriving in Ketterdam and falling into the company of Kaz Brekker was a whiplash. She had to grow into the new sense of danger, the lurking idea that fate was never on your side.

We make our own destiny, Kaz had told her one night as he peered into her eyes. She could still remember vividly sitting in the bushes with him, her whole body trembling as the minutes ticked down until her first heist.

When she’d nearly gotten sick from nerves, she expected a cold snap from Kaz, that hawk-like gaze staring in disappointment. But that didn’t happen, none of it at all. You can choose what you do with your life, he’d said, kneeling by her side. Hold your fate in your hands.

For the first time in that dark city that twisted and turned like a coil of snakes, she’d been given an option. He’d dropped a piece of wisdom into her hands, handing over the knowledge of determining your own life.

Right then, gazing at Kaz as he reassured her through those strange metaphors, she knew her fate wasn’t with some prince riding in to save her. It was with a Kerch king who’d teach her to save herself.

Y/N loved the Slat, sure it wasn’t a castle with grand ballrooms or pristine decor but sleeping in till mid-morning after a night full of adrenaline was glorious. Laying on her back, allowing her limbs to fully lengthen out, she watched little rays of sunlight trickle in through the window as it rose in the morning sky. It’s brilliant light poured between the dark sooty buildings of the Barrel like water running through a stream full of rocks.

Faintly, she could hear the pitter patter of crows hopping along the roof tiles just over their heads. In the distance, sailors called to one another in booming cries as heavy crates and cargo were tediously loaded onto trading ships. Ketterdam was constantly seething with activity, the city never at a complete rest.

But she and Kaz were. Rolling her head to the side, Y/N took in every inch of Kaz’s sleeping form. His face was nuzzled into the pillow, his lips slightly agape as he drew in shallow breaths. The sharp lines of his face always looked softer in the golden morning light, the scars littering his skin disappearing under Y/N’s touch as she gently traced them with her fingers. Hard lines etched there by sneers were brushed to the side, leaving behind a person who only looked like goodness could be held within their heart.

Letting out a soft exhale, Kaz’s eyes softly blinked open, adjusting to the light spilling into the room. As his gaze met Y/N’s, a smile loopy on sleep stretched across his face.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, voice even deeper and raspier than usual. His warm breath fanned tantalizingly across Y/N’s face, drowning her in everything Kaz.

“Sleep well?” she asked, scooting a bit closer and melting into the soft sheets underneath her. The room always smelled of Kaz, that smoky scent of the city that seemed to cling to him.

A storm cloud passed over Kaz’s eyes as gazed at her. A slight shake of the head was his answer. No. Y/N frowned, dismayed. It seemed like no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much he dedicated himself to improving, Kaz couldn’t outrun the nightmares. They lingered in his mind like a parasite, feeding off his newfound happiness.

Gently, Y/N reached out across the small minuscule divide between them. Her hand found its home in his, her fingers brushing against his in little comforting strokes.

And just like every rough night, his hand encircled her wrist, fingers resting right over her pulse. Y/N could practically see the tense muscles of Kaz’s ease as he followed the rhythmic beating in her wrist. Silently, she watched him return to a state of ease, his gaze now softly running over her face as his fingers never left.

“Was it worse…?” she trailed off. Prying into his thoughts made her skin crawl but she needed to know. She needed to know he would be okay, that they would be okay.

Kaz sighed, simply gazing at her in silence. Gently, he nodded as the apple in his throat bobbed nervously.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, sounding frantic. “I won’t let them take you away.”

“Won’t let who, Kaz? What are you talking about?”

Y/N propped herself up on one arm in alarm. Kaz was never the type of person to worry aloud. I’ve got everything under control, was the mantra he repeated like an oath to everyone around him.

“The stadwatch,” he drawled, pulling on the cold demeanor, letting go of her wrist, and rolling himself out of bed.

“You haven’t said a word about the stadwatch,” she sputtered, completely lost, “I thought you were paying them to look the other way.”

“A new captain,” he said, dragging his hands over his exhausted face. “They’re coming after me… us… the whole crew.”

“Then we do what we always do; keep fighting until they strike us dead.”

Kaz stubbornly shook his head, “No. No, Y/N. I’m not going to dig my claws into you and drag you down with me. I won’t do that to you or any of the others”

Y/N could feel her fingers begin to shake as she held the soft sheets between her fingers, running her nail right alone the carefully sewn hem. This was a nightmare unlike anything else she’d seen in Ketterdam. This was the end of their road, the one she had once thought ran endlessly for miles and miles.

“Are you saying…” she whispered, voice quivering with so much fear her mouth couldn’t seem to form the horrible words.

“I’m turning myself in,” Kaz filled in.

The air grew heavy around them, pushing down until Y/N felt like she just might cave. Shrugging on a shirt, Kaz slowly did up the buttons, ignoring the way his hands shook violently.

“I won’t let you do that,” she choked out. “I’m not… I’m not going to let you just… just leave me. They’ll lock you up for Saints know how long.”

“Save yourself, Y/N,” he snapped. “I’m a lost cause, I’m the fish they want to catch. There is no out for me. But there is for you. You can walk out of this damned city and start a new life. Jesper can go back home to his father. Inej will get to go find her family and Nina and Matthias can go run off together to start one.”

“And you’ll what?” she snapped. “Rot away? We were in this together— I’m not going to leave you the moment things get tough.”

Kaz sighed as he gazed at her, now leaning against the wall. “I’ll happily rot in Hellgate if it means you can stroll out of this city without a single scratch. We can’t be together anymore, it’s dangerous.”

Staring into those beautiful eyes of his, Y/N knew the argument was a lost cause. He was too stubborn and far too righteous to have his mind changed. She could feel the passion within her dissolve, melting back into the bed filled with dispose.

“There’s no other way?” she questioned once more. Her voice no longer held any power, only laced with a sharp sense of grief.

“Believe me, if there was I wouldn’t be doing this.”

Quietly, he sat beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a few moments, they just looked at one another, acknowledging what they may be losing and what they may be gaining in the upcoming hours. Grief rolled through Y/N’s heart like a black ink, staining anything it happened to touch.

It hurt. Why did life have to be so unfair? Why did she have to lose him? Just the thought made her chest constrict and her shoulders sag under the pressure. Gently, she reached out and ran one hand along the side of his face, relishing in the warm feeling of his skin, the slightly raised lines of scars.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I hope you know that.”

“I do,” he whispered in response. “I won’t ever forget it.”

“Then I need you to trust me, Kaz. For years, I’ve followed your plans blindly. It’s time for me to take the lead.”

“Y/N—”

“Stop and listen. I’ll die before I let anyone tote you off to Hellgate. I can get us out. I just need you to trust me,” she said. A bit of the strength returned to her voice, the desire to fight flooding back into her muscles.

And now it was on him- her wonderful guiding light. For a while, he saved her and then taught her to do it herself. Now it was time to return the favor.

The shrill sound echoed in his ears like vultures twisting and turning over a dead carcass, calling their friends to the feast. It felt taunting, a personal mockery of the way he couldn’t reach her. Stumbling down a dark alley blindly, he followed only the sounds that tumbled from Y/N’s lips. It was his own personal macabre lighthouse guiding him to her.

Kaz didn’t possess a single idea of where anyone was at. His hands ran along the sharp edges of wooden crates, the black leather gloves preventing splinters from finding a home in his fingertips. The taste of sea salt was heavy, coating his tongue with every ragged inhale. Waves crashing against the cobblestone streets of the harbor were the only normal sound, the other thing grounding his heart that beat doubly as fast.

Over the crashing waves and Y/N’s nauseating screams, he could hear the triumphant yells of men, celebrating the fact that notorious Dirtyhands had fallen right into their trap. He’d been a fool, he knew that. A fool who hadn’t triple checked, made five different backup plans, or verified the information that found its way onto his desk. A fool who was distracted by a certain girl who always peered over his shoulder, jokingly notating his maps of the city and various mercher’s homes.

In many ways, he still was that fool, now only stupidly limping through a harbor, searching for one thing instead of guaranteeing safety. Instincts begged for him to find reinforcement, to find Jesper who was firing shots only feet away, Matthias and Nina who were stuck together like glue, or Inej who was surely lurking in the shadows, daggers in hand. Yet Kaz simply plowed ahead like a warship cutting through wild seas.

Was he dreaming? Kaz hoped so. He hoped that this was all just a horrible nightmare, morbid images tainting his mind as he slept comfortably at the Slat, a heavy quilt pulled up to his chin. He wanted to wake, to make the grief that slowly bit by bit was turning his heart black go away. Desperately, he wanted the fear surging through his veins to not be his own. Anything was better than reality, better than knowing he was afraid.

He felt like that little wide-eyed boy he’d once been, the one that was entranced by magic tricks and little toy dogs. Kaz felt lost again in the way he’d once been. He was yet again the boy who scuffed his worn shoes on the jagged edges of cobblestone, who held onto his own shoulders when his older brother was no longer there to hug.

Kaz felt once more, distinctly like a Rietveld. The rage, loneliness, and regret that held hands with that name rose inside of him like a tidal wave, threatening to swallow him whole. He hated the fear that coincided with the old him, that chilling feeling he’d felt when sleeping on the streets alone, knees hugged to his chest. There was a weakness to it, leaving him scrambling for a meager scrap of the legend he’d crafted which now faded, falling away like the mask it was.

One loss was all it took. One loss for Brekker to become Rietveld.

He was a lonely soul, strolling along harbor’s docks, falling into motion with the click of his cane and following the pull of those screams. Jesper’s bony hands, those spindly fingers digging into the muscles of Kaz’s shoulders was the only thing rocking him back into reality.

“Kaz?” he asked, “Kaz, we need to go. You good? Not shot? You're pale enough to be, Saints.”

“Y/N, I need to…” Kaz’s words were a muttering jumble of panic, ones he could hardly recognize as his own.

“They’ve got her. It’s over. We need to go like… right now.”

“But Y/N…”

“If you don’t shut up, we’ll have three bullets through our brains quite shortly.”

“Then we welcome death with open arms for it is an old friend.”

“Yes, yes. Please feel free to rattle off your poetry — but only once we’re in the clear,” Jesper said, speaking like a patient father consoling a tantrum-throwing child. With soft pushes and nudges, he guided Kaz through the harbor.

Kaz just simply felt wrong. Everything was wrong. Inside he was hollow, a shell of the person he was only an hour ago. His brain swam around mindlessly in a burky bog while his skin erupted in tingles, like millions of beetles scuttling across his skin. And Jesper’s touch felt even more wrong than usual, like if those gangly hands lingered long enough they might leave behind a bruise black as soot.

The path ahead felt like a thick fog, walking through a maze of gray mist. He’d never quite felt this way; so lost, so hollow. The haze only parted when Jesper allowed their stomping footsteps to come to a spot at a small corner of the harbor where the crew had managed to gather.

“Where’ve you been?” Matthias hissed under his breath, throwing a wary glance over his shoulder.

“Fetching our favorite oddball mastermind,” Jesper chirped before lowering his voice a few octaves, flinching at another round of shots being fired off. “I think he’s concussed. Or confused. Maybe both?”

“I’m completely fine,” Kaz snapped, trying his hardest to keep his brain above the waves of confusion.

“Someone please make him be quiet. They’re searching for us,” Wylan whispered.

“What an astute observation - would never have thought that,” Matthias replied.

Jesper readjusted his grip on Kaz, trying to keep the boy upright as he seemed to lean to one side. “Ooo, is the big man using big words now? Astute, really? Would you like a cookie?”

“For Saints sake,” Nina groaned, shoving her way in between their little crowd, “can we not bicker? Not when Kaz is in shock at least.”

“Shock?” The others all spoke at once.

“Clearly. Pale skin, looks like he might faint. Not to mention his heart’s rapid beat - it might as well burst.” She reaches out with her hands, tuning into the rapid crazed beat of Kaz’s heart and slowly began to steady it. But only before whispering under her breath, “And I think we all know why.”

Drawing in a ragged breath, Kaz shuddered as his heart rate fell to a perfectly normal rhythm. The murky waters in his mind seemed to evaporate, the hollow cavernous feeling in his chest simply washed away. And for the first time that evening, he felt more like himself. More like the person he was than the boy he’d been.

His accomplices all peered at him with curious gazes, wondering if their leader had finally snapped out of that loopy daze. Kaz straightening the cuffs of his coat was their answer. Simultaneously, all slightly smiled - some more than others - and let out huffs of relief.

“Better?” Nina asked with a lopsided grin. She was enjoying it a bit too much for Kaz’s tastes.

“Much.”

Standing up, he straightened his spine and pointedly ignored his muscles that ached in protest. He ran both hands over his jacket, brushing off the soot that settled on his shoulders in a thick layer. The burn of anger was beginning to seep through his veins, bringing back the familiar fire. Turning on his heel, he walked towards the sound of retreating footsteps, of the damn men that had outsmarted him scuttling back to their hideaways.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jesper exclaimed, jumping ahead to block Kaz’s path and throwing up two hands. “Where exactly are you going?”

“I’m going to go get her.”

“Y/N? Kaz, we’ll get her but… but, not right now. If we go after them now it’s a death trap.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Jesper raised one eyebrow, lowering his voice even lower. “It’s not that. It’s that I think you’re making decisions out of fear and that’s not a very Kaz-esque thing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Never make decisions out of fear, Jesper,” he mocked.

“Only out of spite,” Kaz finished, tugging on the edge of his glove so he’s sure it’s snug.

As Kaz pushed past, continuing on his way, Jesper fell into step behind him, tugging on the tails of Kaz’s coat to try to bring him to a stop.

“Well what is this then?” he demanded, “Fear? Spite? I think it’s more of the first.”

“What I’m about to do is of no concern to your thoughts.”

“It is if I think you’ll be dead before dawn.”

“If I am, just toss me in the river and wipe your hands clean.”

“Kaz—”

“Jesper, let me do what I need to do.”

As Kaz plowed ahead, he nearly faltered in his steps when Jesper didn’t follow behind him. Was he actually doing it? Was he actually able to walk away without Jesper mewling sarcastic words behind his back, pretending Kaz couldn’t hear? It was too good to be true and he quickly found that statement to be all too accurate.

Slender, weedy hands clasped one arm while large hands that might as well be bear paws grabbed the other. Like a floundering fish caught on a line, Kaz was yanked backwards.

“Let go of me.” It wasn’t just a statement, rather a frightening command and one the others pretended to not hear.

“I’ve never liked you much demjin,” Matthias grumbled, squeezing Kaz’s flailing arm until purple bruises felt like they’d soon make an appearance. “But, a soldier never lets his commander walk into death.”

Kaz practically seethed with anger, black tendrils of the emotion running through his veins, staining his pale skin. He felt the crawl of corpse fingers along his arms, threatening to pull him under a wave of death into a sea of rotting flesh.

“I said let go,” he seethed.

Jesper hung on tight, his slender arms wrapping around Kaz like twisting veins. “I’m not letting you go, buddy. I’d rather not see you taken to Reaper’s Barge tomorrow.”

Kaz elbowed and squirmed as much as he could, like a hare snared in a trap willing to snap its own leg to just be free. But Matthias was like a brick wall, not even giving up a flinch when Kaz sent a sharp jab right into the Fjerdan’s cage of ribs. Despite the flurry of kicks and shoves, the Sharpshooter continued to hold on tight, practically a leech attached to Kaz’s side.

“We’ll get her back in time,” Jesper said, a meager attempt to tone down the squabble. “A time when our necks won’t be on the line.”

“We don’t have the advantage,” Matthias reasoned.

Kaz wanted to say something, he really did. Wanted sarcastic words to drip from his mouth. But nothing came. His lungs merely constricted, fighting off that horrible icky feeling that creeped over his body like an infectious plague. He could feel the soreness of his throat, the boils appearing on his skin like a pox. The sound of lapping waves filled his ears.

And the screams. Those screams of the plague sirens; no, those screams of Y/N’s. His head throbbed at the sound, like his brain might just explode from the intensity of it all. It was too much — far too much.

No matter how much he’d kick or punch or throw his head around like a personal battering ram, it’d never be enough. He’d fight until he saw stars and his mouth filled with blood, but it would never change the past. It wouldn’t bring her back right here right now.

He crumpled under the weight of it all, going so limp that it was his friends holding him up instead of restraining. Fog rolled back into his mind, cloaking every sane thought in a cloud so thick Kaz’s fingers couldn’t reach it. It was a blur, a blur of screams and pain. He tried to croak out words, to insist that they let go of him; to insist that they find Y/N. But he simply blubbered like a fish out of water, mouth slightly opening and closing as it struggled for breath.

Kaz was once more lost in a sea of death; but now, with Y/N’s screams as the backdrop.

Drawing in a slow, rattling inhale, Kaz blinked awake to see the wooden ceiling of the Slat above him. The boards were bowed, discolored from rainwater seeping in long ago. Heavily woven webs adorned the corners, the spiders that made their home there scuttled around as if they were in the midst of playing a game.

His ears rang, the piercing sound like a knife going straight through his skull, and his arms ached, the tendons and muscles having been stretched beyond their typical boundaries. The slick metallic taste of blood still lingered in his mouth, surely painting his teeth a gnarly shade of scarlet.

Soft mumbles surrounded him like a cloak yet he couldn’t quite make out the words. It was all still a bit of a blur, the corners of his vision going foggy like breathed upon glass. But he knew who was talking. Jesper’s loud, high-pitched voice that seemed to have no concept of an ‘inside voice’, Wylan’s sheepish questioning tone, and Nina’s boisterous exclamations. Occasionally a deep grumble of objection arised -- surely Matthias.

Kaz typically hated lying around when there was work to be done; people to avenge and money to count. Yet now, he couldn’t will a single muscle of his to move. He laid frozen, glued to the uncomfortable wooden table top someone had set him upon. It was pathetic how aimlessly lost he was without her gentle guiding hand. All it took was losing her for him to crumple like a marionette cut loose from its strings.

When Y/N’s face appeared over him, her lips strung into that cocky grin he somehow hated and loved all at once, he swore he was hallucinating.

I’ve really lost it, he thought. The city’s finally broken me.

But it hadn’t, not yet at least— and Kaz knew that the moment she spoke. Her voice was like honey, sweet syllables that sounded like they could soothe a sore throat - just like the honey tea he remembered from his younger years.

“Coming back to the land of the living?” she teasingly questioned.

Kaz paused for a moment, simply laying there and watching her. He could see a sense of hurt in her eyes, ones that mirrored his own. Sure he was giddy to see her, nearly not believing his own eyes, but his skin felt bruised. It still crawled with that wretched feeling, those bloated fingers wrapping around his throat with the intent of pulling him under.

But her eyes were something else, held something entirely different. She didn’t have the same demons as he.

“I tried to come for you,” he whispered. His throat felt raw as if he’d screamed for too long. His chest nearly seized with each breath as he whispered, bruised from the ache of grief. It was all too much, the guilt sitting upon his lungs like a boulder, splintering the ribs lying beneath.

Y/N’s hands were anxiously wrung in her lap, eyes flitting between Kaz and the random objects placed around the room; the endless piles of papers, stray daggers tossed about, empty glasses that once housed liquor long abandoned by Jesper. Coming to, the fog in his mind retreating, he realized he was on the desk in his office, the contents haphazardly swept to the floor.

“I thought you,” she began to stutter violently, tripping over syllables like her tongue was tied. “I… I thought you… you weren’t going to. They took me because they thought you would, that you’d want to keep all your little crows under your wing. And then you just… didn’t show. They ditched me after that, threw me out in the harbor.”

Kaz pushed himself up slowly, ignoring the way his muscles vehemently protested, until he could sit on the edge of the table. His fingertips traced over the table’s edge, feeling the grooves that felt like an etching of a map, the dip of valleys and highs of mountaintops. If only the world was really like that, right under his fingers and just prime for the taking.

“When you joined the Dregs, I told you I could not promise you pretty things like safety,” he stated.

“Kaz, I know how Ketter—”

“It’s not the city,” he swiftly interrupted, “it’s me. I have this… this…” Kaz trailed off and stared down at his hands covered with dark leather. Flipping them over and over, he contemplated on what to say.

Y/N silently watched him, her eyebrows furrowed and mind obviously abuzz with what she should say as well.

“I’m sick,” Kaz announced.

The word felt right, the only word that could describe the nauseating feeling that seemed to never leave. It dwelled in some hideaway spot in his body, ready to rear its ugly head the moment his skin felt the pin pricks of touch.

“I fainted. Fainted— in the middle of a heist. Not from the stress of it all going to actual shit. Not from the stress of you being snapped up, tortured for all I knew. Not from your screams echoing in my ears, taunting the way I couldn’t seem to reach you. Not from the possible concussion or the shock. I fainted because Jesper and Matthias restrained me. That’s why I can’t provide any of you a shroud of safety— because I’m sick.”

“I don’t think any of us want protection, Kaz,” Y/N said. “If any of us really wanted to play life safely, Ketterdam is not the place we’d be - I can tell you that. We’ve all got a devil lurking inside, tethering us to the Barrel.”

Kaz grew quiet, the kind that was rarely good and was typically the root of a scheme. But now he was simply contemplative, staring down at his gloved hands, the black leather that meagerly tried to tame the demon that couldn’t be trapped. In his mind, the nasty bugger was always two steps ahead, skipping freely as Kaz dragged behind, treading through the waist deep murky water that called him home.

“We can best this,” she whispered, little words of encouragement that plucked at the strings of his heart.

“I can’t. It’ll be with me until I’m in the grave.”

“You won’t know for sure until you try.” Abruptly Y/N stood from where she had been sitting, giving one little look around the room as she brushed her palms against the fabric of her shirt. Only then, did Kaz notice the blossoming of blood along a deep cut right across her palm. With a soft nod, she walked towards the door. “I’m sure you’re exhausted - get some rest.”

“Wait,” he called, just as her hand had begun to turn the doorknob. “Come back - you’re getting blood all over the floors. Blood is a pain to scrub out of wood.”

It was a lie, an excuse more pathetic than all the others he’d used to get her to stay a few more minutes in his office. To him, finding comfort in her presence was a sort of poison he’d become addicted to. It left him weak and yet desperate for the next dose.

Y/N returned to his side, looking down at her palms that were red with blood. As Kaz sat up, his legs dangling over the side of the table, she took a seat next to him. Her lips were curved in one corner as if she knew.

“You need those stitched,” he said and placed both feet on the floor, steadying his weight for the first time in what felt like years. His knee hurt horribly so but so did everything else in his body. The shock had fried every nerve, tightened every muscle and now he was paying the price.

“I can just go to Nina, really— she’s becoming quite good at sewing,” she answered, trying her hardest to be persuasive as Kaz searched through a drawer, plucking out his supplies.

Solemnly returning to her side, he tried to take account of it all— to dissect the feelings that writhed around inside like a coil of snakes. But one prevailed. I can do this.

“May I?” The question came as he carefully stripped his hands of his second skin.

Y/N nodded, the barest hint of a smile as he splayed her palms out flat, facing upwards towards the grim ceilings. Taking one hand in his, cradling it like an injured bird, Kaz found himself back in that sea, those waves threatening to pull him under. He could feel the chill of the harbor waters prickling his skin but underneath it all there was comfort, the warmth of her hand pressed against his.

“You can do this,” she whispered, her voice a glorious lighthouse in the midst of tidal waves.

“Keep… keep talking. It helps,” he stammered, taking up the needle and thread in his shaking hands.

Even at the prospect of a dodgy, tremoring surgeon, Y/N’s voice hardly wavered as she spoke. “Every day you surprise me, Kaz Brekker,” she drawled. “Some days you feel perfect, untouchable in every single way. It’s like you just tower over us. And then other days it’s… it’s this.”

Kaz glanced up from his procedure of prodding the frayed flesh with his finger, trying his hardest to figure out the best way to stitch the skin together smoothly. “What do you mean by this?”

A corner of her mouth turned up, resulting in a lop-sided grin that seemed to glow like pure sunlight. “I mean this. You feeling so human, like you’re one of us instead of some Barrel legend.”

“And which do you prefer?”

“This you,” she spoke, voice barely above a whisper as if their friends might hear her words if she spoke too loud. “This sort of you— the one I wouldn’t have doubted would come, the one who’s a friend instead of a boss.”

Drawing a deep breath, Kaz plunged the needle right beneath her skin, making a single steady stitch— the first of many. He felt like he was diving off a cliff, right into unknown territory. It sent a chill of anxiety through him but it also somehow felt good. He’d spent so many years victim to the curse inflicted upon his brain. This was the first time he felt even the slightest bit in control.