#grishaversefic

AU where Matthias doesn't die and Nina retains her Heartrender abilities, and they can return to Djerholm in a time of peace...

The culling of the seagulls beckons Nina toward the waterfront, tugging at that place inside that can feel the mess of life before her.

"What's the rush for?" pouts the druskelle a few steps behind her.

"The rush," she stops only for a moment, to impress on him the importance of their journey, "Is that we're going to miss all the fun!"

"Fun? In Djerholm?" In two long strides, he catches up to her. "Wait, I should know you could find fun even under a rock in Tsibeya."

"I make a point of it." She grasps his hand without breaking her stride. "Now come, we musn't miss the one week of the year this cold bloody country of yours allows itself an ounce of fun."

"We have fun!" Matthias holds a hand over his heart, as if in feigned offense. "We have village dances, and -" He stops at the look on Nina's face.

"Was that sarcasm?!" she's stopped now, open-jawed.

"What?" A word in Ravkan he had yet to pick up perhaps?

Nina imitates his hand-over-heart gesture. "I have taught you something!" she jumps from the ground in excitement.

"Oh-" Matthias thinks for a second. Maybe he had let the drusje rub off on him a bit.

He didn't mind so much anymore.

As they approach the quay, the street widens and they are greeted by the warm smells of freshly baked bread, sweets, the punch of spiced cider, all echoed by the tang of salt and sea. The watery winter sun makes the harbor appear glassy past the blur of color and light.

Nina loosens the reins on the power inside her, drinking in the feeling of life surrounding them. Carts line the high street as it tumbles its way down to the harborfront. Shopkeepers and traders display trinkets, wools and linens, spices, tools, furs, fresh meat and winter vegetables, small bits of jewelry and dried flowers, anything that may be needed in the preparations for Vinetkalla.

Matthias offers his arm to Nina with a raised brow. She takes it with a contented sigh, not quite believing after all this time that they finally get to do this. This completely normal thing, surrounded by completely normal people going about their completely normal lives. They'd spent so much of the last few years, all the time they'd known each other, really, fighting: Barrell bosses, a handful of corrupt and poorly-opinionated governments, witch hunters, that sly cane-carrying snake, not to mention each other. It's hard to forget that much of that fighting had taken place just a bare glance from here. They had spent countless hours back in Ketterdam pouring over maps of these very streets, but being here now, with no maps, no plans, no secrets, was much changed. Much better.

As they wander down the street, Matthias points out a stall flush with wool garments. "That," he says to Nina, "is what Fjerdan wives wear at Vinetkalla." Nina stops to look more closely at the stall. Really? They know layers of clothing don't have to look so...frumpy, right? The stall is stacked high with bobbly wool vests, skirts, and shawls in traditional, dark Fjerdan colors, the combination of which Nina imagines could only cause one to look like a stifled pile of dusty yarn.

"Isn't that...lovely," Nina fakes a smile for the shopkeep, who she can tell from his heartbeat and wide grin is eager to sell. But she has never been able to hide her true feelings from Matthias, skilled as she is. As they continue on, she says, "You know it gets cold in Ravka too, right? And we don't feel the need to drown our women in wool to keep them warm?"

He smiles knowingly, the slightest tug at his lip curving into a smirk. She is very pretty when she has a point to prove.

"Oooh!" Nina cries, suddenly pulling Matthias from his thoughts and toward a stage set up in the square, where a large crowd is growing and a somber-looking man is taking the stage.

Nina snatches up two steaming cups from a cart near the back of the crowd before hurriedly tossing the woman behind it a few coins and dragging Matthias to a seat. She plops down, eyes focused as if she were trying to burn a hole through the back of the stage. She can't do that, right?

Thoroughly confused, Matthias waits a moment for an explanation. None comes.

"What's going on?"

"Shhh..." Without breaking her gaze, Nina reaches a finger to place over Matthias' lips, taking a sip of her drink with the other hand. The somber man starts speaking.

"Welcome, ladies and gentle folk, to the Tale of Djel and His Messengers." Polite applause scatter across the crowd. "This afternoon, you will see..."

Nina leans over and whispers to Matthias, "If our plans worked, there may be some new 'messengers' in the play now. We just have to hope there's been enough rumors to catch public attention this close to the Ice Court."

The somber man concludes his introduction and two young women walk onto the stage, dressed in blue. They begin waving their arms in arcs as if they were dancing, and blue streams of paper flit about behind them. The somber man begins his tale, of water rising up to save a village.

Realization dawns on Matthias. Those are drusje. Grisha. Well, not real Grisha, but women pretending to be Grisha. Here. In Djerholm. As the messengers of Djel himself. And a whole crowd of Fjerdans is ok with that.