#mayhem writes

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Genya knocks on the door - once, then twice. No response. She knocks harder. Saints damn it, is this girl in a coma?

The person inside mumbles something Genya can’t quite hear. It sounds hostile, frustrated maybe. She doesn’t give up, though. She is not going to let this girl - Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner, apparently - be late for her presentation to the King. No way. She is not going to take the fall for some girl who can’t wake up early.

After a solid minute of knocking on the door, the person inside (presumably Alina) calls out, “All right! I’m coming!”

She stops, relieved.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Genya snaps. “Open. Now!”

The door swings open, revealing a girl in a nightgown. She looks about Genya’s age, and absolutely filthy. Immediately she sees why the Darkling had sent her. Sun Summoner or not, she can’t be presented to the royal family like this.

Looking Alina up and down, she sweeps past and into the room. “All Saints. Have you even bathed? And what happened to your face?”

She swears she doesn’t mean to be so critical constantly. It’s just a habit.

Alina flushes, and her hand goes to the bruise on her cheek Genya had pointed out. Now she’s closer, Genya can tell that the illustrious Sun Summoner is covered with blood and dirt, and she smells of horse shit. Saints. If she’s Ravka’s last hope, then Ravka has no hope.

She turns to look at the group of women who had been assigned to her this morning. “Draw a bath. A hot one,” is her first instruction, then, thinking out loud: “I’ll need my kit.” This isn’t the normal Tailoring she does - this will need a bit more effort than just getting rid of a single wart on the Queen’s face. Another thought occurs to her (it should be obvious given she’s just demanded Alina be bathed, but she wouldn’t trust any of these people to find their way out of a paper bag), and she instructs her team, “And get her out of those clothes.”

As Genya pulls bits and pieces out of her pockets, setting them on the dresser, the servants descend on the poor Sun Summoner, practically dragging her towards the bathtub and ripping her clothes off. It’s a reminder that having status doesn’t necessarily mean palace life becomes any less vicious. Not that she needs that particular reminder.

Alina fights back, batting away everyone’s hands. So dramatic. Genya almost has to admire it. Or she would, if she wasn’t in such a damned hurry.

The servants redouble their efforts.

“Hold her down if you have to,” she says under her breath, rolling her eyes at the melodrama of what’s unfolding in front of her. The servants don’t hear her, but Alina does, and her eyes widen. Damn. Genya hadn’t been serious.

“Stop!” she shouts, backing away from the servants. “What is going on?”

She looks at Genya. Everyone’s looking at Genya, even the servants, debating the chain of command; does the Sun Summoner outrank Genya? Whose orders do they follow?

“Who are you?”

Genya sighs deeply. “I don’t have ti-”

“Make time!” she demands. “I’ve covered almost two hundred miles on horseback. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a week, and I’ve nearly been killed twice. So before I do anything else, you’re going to have to tell me who you are and why it’s so very important that you get my clothes off.”

Well.

When she puts it like that, it sounds almost reasonable.

(And it’s irrelevant that this filthy, blood-coated girl actually looks really quite pretty now.)

She takes a deep breath. Composes herself. Pretty or not, it doesn’t matter; she doubts the King will share her judgement. “My name is Genya. In less than an hour, you will be presented to the King and it is my job to make you look presentable.”

Alina deflates. All the fight goes out of her, and she just looks shocked and faintly terrified. Frankly, Genya can’t blame her. “Oh.”

I have arrived at the Little Palace. The journey was difficult, but I survived thanks to the Darkling’s protection, so you don’t need to worry about me. When I got there, they sent somebody known as a Tailor to alter my face - I was furious, but apparently it was necessary. Then they had me brought before the King. I will say no more on that. I have no idea who will read this letter before it is sent, and I have no wish to be accused of treason.

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Dear Lada,

I called a storm outside the throne room, and every noble who had come to watch was hugely impressed. I saw somebody faint in the crowd.

I wish you could be here with me.

Yours, Zoya.

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Dear Lada,

My training has begun, and it’s dreadful. My primary instructor is an old woman named Baghra, who likes to hit her students with her walking stick. My friend Nadia told me that when she first began training as a Tidemaker, Baghra released a swarm of bees on her to encourage her to use her powers.

I got in a fight with a stuck-up Sun Summoner girl. Her name is Alina and she has been at the Little Palace for ten years. Somehow, this makes her think that she is better than me or anybody else, and she resents the fact that I am getting all the attention. It’s hardly my fault.

During one of my training sessions, the teacher asked me to choose another student to fight against, so I chose her. Everybody told me that she was bitchy, and I saw it myself when I was first introduced to her. She threw me down first, so I punched her, and she blinded me. This was two days ago, and I am only just beginning to recover my vision.

The Darkling was furious with her. I saw her cry after he reprimanded her.

I hope you’re reading this. It’s been two weeks since I last wrote, and I’ve had no reply.

Yours, Zoya.

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Dear Lada,

Is everything alright at home? I hope Liliyana is okay.

I’ve settled into some sort of routine here at the Little Palace, but they want me to perform at the winter fête next month. The Fabrikators are building an entire stage for me outside in the grounds so that I can summon a storm.

It’s all very exciting, but the Little Palace is hardly what I imagined. The food is terrible, and there’s so much in-fighting. You would think that the Second Army would be united against its common enemies, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Corporalki hate Etherealki, who patronise Materialki, who resent Corporalki, and so on.

Wish me luck for my demonstration!

Yours, Zoya.

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Dear Lada,

I’m starting to worry about you. Surely somebody would have informed me if something truly bad had happened to you, so I’m trying to stay positive for once.

I’m writing this as I’m waiting to perform at the winter fête. The last week or two have been a blur, and there’s so much I have to tell you.

First of all, the Darkling wants to find me an amplifier. But not just any amplifier - Morozova’s stag. Baghra says it’s a myth and he’s stupid for believing in it, but he thinks it’s real and I should have it. He says that if he manages to find it, I might be powerful enough to save Ravka from the Shadow Fold. Sun Summoners have tried for decades to destroy it, but he says if I can learn to summon lightning, that might work better.

Also, he kissed me. I can hardly believe it. I have no idea what to think. On one hand, I should be repulsed. On the other hand, it’s nice that somebody is paying attention to me, you know? I’ve never felt wanted the way I do now.

Don’t tell me I’m making a mistake. I know I am. But I don’t care.

Yours, Zoya

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Dear Liliyana,

You might have heard some of the news from the last few months, but I want to tell you my version of the story.

Yes, Lada and I found Morozova’s stag. I would have taken it as my amplifier, but the Darkling got there first. He killed it and put its antlers around my neck to control my power. It’s okay. I found a way to sever the connection. Unfortunately, he used me to expand the Shadow Fold first.

That’s the bit I’m sure you already knew.

I’m back at the Little Palace, and this time I’m leading the Second Army. The Darkling has gone rogue, and he ran away, taking many of the older Grisha with him. But I’ve taken charge of everybody who remained, and officially been instated as General. I’m also engaged to Prince Nikolai, and that’s helped me gain the respect of everybody at court.

I miss you every day. Would you like to bring the children from Keramzin to live here in Os Alta? I’m sure the royal family wouldn’t object.

Yours, hoping to see you soon, Zoya.

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Dear Liliyana,

I am so sorry. I thought it was such a good idea to invite you to Os Alta.

I didn’t realise that both Palaces would be destroyed by the time you got here.

Lada is with me, and we are both safe. It took a while. I was briefly kidnapped by the Apparat - please do not worry about me! I’m perfectly alright. We’ve moved to a secret base, and I probably shouldn’t give away our location. Rest assured that we are safe. (As safe as we can possibly be, in the middle of a civil war.)

Next week we are planning on taking a tour around Ravka, to win support for our cause against the Darkling. The plan is to mostly visit West Ravkan nobility, but I can arrange for us to come to Os Alta. Assuming you are still there, and haven’t found somewhere else to stay. Assuming that you are still alive and safe.

Please still be alive and safe.

Yours, Zoya.

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Dear Liliyana,

I want to believe that what I saw was a hallucination, or some kind of vision, that the Darkling sent to me so that he could torture me.

But deep down I know you will never read this letter.

Everything has changed since the last time I wrote to you. I don’t even know if you read that one. I hope you did. I hope you know that I love you.

Maybe it’s for the best that you died not knowing that in order to save Ravka, I would have to kill Lada. She is the third amplifier - the firebird, a descendant of Ilya Morozova. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Of course I want to save Ravka, to destroy the Shadow Fold. But I can’t lose Lada. I just can’t. I wish you were here to give me some advice.

It seems almost trivial that I have fallen in love.

I don’t think I ever told you about Alina. You never met her. I would have liked you to.

She’s a Sun Summoner, and anything I could say about her, you would laugh and tease me for. You would tell me I’ve grown into a romantic, just like you always predicted I would.

I think you would have liked her, if you’d ever met her.

She’s the only thing that’s keeping me going, knowing that I have to lose Lada. We march against the Darkling tomorrow, under cover of a storm.

I love you. I always will. I wish you were still here.

But no. Knowing Zoya's history of being notoriously bad with kids, her dad had decided to hire a babysitter instead of leaving her alone with her dozen younger cousins, but of course he'd said she had to stay. It was experience, or something. It would be good for her to learn to take care of little kids, and to get used to spending time with her cousins. He isn't wrong, exactly. After the divorce, now that her dad is moving in with the rest of his family, she's going to be living with her cousins until she goes off to college. If she can even afford tuition, let alone accommodation.

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Zoya's evening is fucking ruined. It's her own fault. If she hadn't bitched so much about having to babysit her cousins while her dad went out with his siblings, he wouldn't have found an actual babysitter, and she wouldn't have to spend an evening with Genya fucking Safin.

So he's right. But that doesn't make it any less annoying that not only is the babysitter he's found in Zoya's grade, she's also one of the few people Zoya absolutely can't stand. (Maybe 'few' is an exaggeration, but she and Genya have never gotten along. Ever since freshman year, when they met.)

Zoya's sitting on the couch in her new house, not sulking exactly, but strongly considering it, when the doorbell rings.

Her uncle goes to answer it, and she hears Genya's voice coming from the front hall. She asks all the right questions, judging by how impressed he sounds. Things about bedtimes and dinner and what are the kids allowed to do?

Then her uncle, the goddamn traitor, he knows she doesn't like Genya - he shows her through to the sitting room.

Genya beams at her. Fucking perfect Genya, with her golden eyes that look like something out of a fucking book, and bright red hair -

Anyway. Genya waves and says hi, still with that perfect smile plastered onto her face, and Zoya rolls her eyes and says hi back.

Her uncle leaves the room, and a minute later Zoya hears the door slam. So, she's stuck with Genya until her family comes back, which won't be til midnight, or something.

Genya sits down next to her. "Hey! How are you?”

Can Genya please stop pretending like they don't hate each other? It's not like this is some kind of one-sided rivalry. Every time Zoya wants something - every single time - Genya gets there first. Team captains, best grades - you name it, Genya beats Zoya for it. Genya hadn't even played soccer before Zoya decided she wanted to try out.

(And, okay, maybe Zoya's not wholly blameless here - she hadn't been interested in theater before she'd heard that Genya was auditioning for the lead role in the spring musical sophomore year, but Genya got the role anyway, so it doesn't count.)

"Fine, I guess," she says sullenly.

Genya sighs. "Do you have a problem with me, or something?"

"No." She stands up abruptly. "You should probably meet the kids."

"Yeah, good idea! Will you introduce me?"

And it's not like Zoya can say no, not without sounding like a complete asshole. So she introduces Genya to all her cousins, and entirely unsurprisingly, they all adore her. Every single one of them. How does Genya do it? They barely put up with Zoya, and now they're all over a complete stranger.

Fucking hell. Perfect, lovable Genya Safin. (And Zoya's still not over the unfairness of those eyes. Seriously, gold eyes? Should not exist.)

Of course as soon as the kids are done being enamoured with Genya, they start begging for dinner, so Zoya perches on the kitchen counter and lets Genya cook because yet again: obviously perfect Genya can cook.

The kids run off to watch TV, and Zoya's left watching Genya cook. It's almost mesmerizing, in a way, watching her make spaghetti sauce from scratch.

"You want some?" Genya asks after a while, snapping Zoya out of her daze. "There's enough pasta that I could make some for us as well, or if you want I could get us takeout after your cousins are in bed."

"Yeah, I don't know if I trust you enough to eat what you make," she says harshly. "Just because you're in my house, and my family seems to adore you, doesn't make us friends."

Genya shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'm assuming that means you also don't trust whatever I order from UberEats?"

"Pretty much. I'll get my own dinner."

God. Sometimes she makes herself sick with how bitchy she can be. There's no question that Genya deserves her enmity, but… does she always have to be so harsh?

She jumps down from the counter and stalks off to her room. Why couldn't Genya have been busy or something? And she's going to get paid for being here, antagonizing Zoya all night.

Over the sound of music in her headphones, she hears Genya call the kids for dinner. She doesn't move, though. Let Genya be the beloved babysitter, and Zoya the unwelcome interloper. She knows where she's not wanted.

Time passes. Zoya's not counting. From experience, if she counts down the hours until her dad gets home, it'll only go by slower.

She hears the sound of kids' feet on the stairs, and rolls over in bed to look at her alarm clock. Half past eight. Definitely bedtime.

Then nothing. No noise at all. Holy shit, is that even possible? She takes her headphones off to listen closer. Yep, somehow, perfect Genya has managed to get all Zoya's cousins in bed with no fuss. It's a goddamn miracle.

She waits a few minutes before settling down with a book, pyjamas on. But of course, because this night just had to get worse, the minute she gets comfortable, there's a knock on her bedroom door.

"What?" she demands.

The door opens slightly, and Zoya sits up to see Genya poking her head in. "I just wanted to say that I know you don’t trust me, or whatever, but there are some leftovers in the kitchen if you wanted some. Or I can order food. I don’t mind."

Goddamn. It would be so much easier to hate Genya if she wasn’t so nice all the time.

"How’d you get the kids in bed so quick?" she asks, avoiding the offer Genya had made.

She laughs. "Oh, I played a game with them. Kids tend to have a lot of energy at bedtime, but you can divert that by getting them ready for bed and doing something energetic at the same time."

"Shit. That’s smart. I’ll, uh, tell their parents, I guess. I won’t say it was your idea."

"Why not? Afraid they’ll ask me to come back and babysit again?" Genya says, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Zoya flushes. "Yes, actually."

"Really?" Genya takes a step into Zoya’s room, closing the door behind her. "Has it been that bad?"

She takes another step in.

"I just - I don’t want you here!" she says, then winces. Shit. If she’d woken up the kids -

Genya freezes.

"Oh. Is that really how you feel?"

Zoya’s never seen Genya cry. She’s not sure anybody ever has. She wasn’t aware Genya could cry. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but she’s never seen Genya express any kind of emotion at all. But she’s crying now.

Perfect Genya has tears running down her face from her perfect golden eyes.

Because of Zoya. Because of what Zoya said to her.

Shit.

She stands up and gets out of bed. Walks over to Genya.

What does she do now?

She tentatively rests a hand on Genya’s shoulder, but gets shrugged off immediately.

"If you don’t want me here, I won’t come back. Your family should be here in a few hours. We can stay out of each other’s way until then," Genya says, somehow holding it together enough to say all of that.

Zoya shakes her head. "That’s not what I meant - I mean, I did mean that, but I don’t think -"

What Genya’s suggesting is exactly what her plan had been up until that moment. But maybe that isn’t good enough. Maybe avoiding each other won’t fix this bitter hatred. Jealousy, Zoya supposes. She’s jealous of Genya.

"No, it’s fine. You hate me. I’m used to it," Genya says fiercely. "I just thought since I’m here, you could at least try to be civil and pretend like you don’t hate my guts for no good reason."

"No good reason?" Zoya spits incredulously. "Genya, I have every reason to hate you."

"Let’s hear them, then," Genya challenges. "Tell me why. I can handle it."

"You’re still fucking crying. I don’t think you can handle it."

"No, I want to know why you hate me when all I’ve done for the past three years is try to make you like me!" Genya blurts out, then claps a hand over her mouth.

What.

What the fuck.

"Huh."

"Nothing. Forget I said anything," Genya babbles, turning to leave. "This never happened."

Suddenly, things are starting to make a lot more sense.

Zoya walks out of her bedroom door. "Well, I’m going to go eat leftovers. If you want to stay there crying in my bedroom, go ahead. But if you want to actually talk about what you just said, you can come join me."

Genya follows her down the stairs, thank god. They walk in silence to the kitchen, where the bowl of pasta is still sitting on the countertop with a serving spoon in. Zoya grabs it and brings it over to the table, getting a couple of smaller spoons from the drawer as Genya sits down.

"So? Are we going to talk?"

"Uh. Do we have to?" Genya says nervously.

"Yeah, I think we’re long overdue for a talk."

"Then sure."

Zoya sighs. "Let’s start with what you said a minute ago. What do you mean that you’ve been trying to get me to like you?"

Genya blushes a deep crimson. "I mean that I’ve… been trying to impress you, I guess? This is awkward."

"Oh. Like. As in. Impress me how? And why?"

Maybe it says something that Zoya lost the ability to string a sentence together the moment Genya said that she wanted to impress her.

"Like, you liked soccer, so I signed up for soccer so I could be good at something you liked. Shit like that, I guess."

"Oh."

"I thought I was being so obvious that I liked you."

"Oh."

She laughs nervously. "Are you okay? You sound like you're having an existential crisis."

"I kind of am."

Genya rests one hand over Zoya's, and she almost jumps out of her skin.

Hm.

"I guess I wasn't as obvious as I thought?"

"No! I thought you were just trying to sabotage me with everything!" Zoya says wildly. "What do you mean you've liked me since freshman year?"

"I mean I've always liked you," Genya says with a shrug. "Your confidence. The way you don't take shit."

Is she dreaming? Did she fall asleep in bed or something?

"Hold on. Liked as in romantically?"

"Yes, Zoya," she sighs. "As in romantically. And I get it if that makes you hate me even more."

Zoya pauses. It would be so easy to break Genya's heart in this moment. She watches as she wipes a stray tear from her cheek.

But holy shit, Genya likes her.

When Zoya realized that the beautiful girl in her math class freshman year was actually a bitch, Genya liked her. When Zoya stormed out of soccer practice because Genya got picked as captain, Genya liked her - she'd been trying to impress her.

And, well, maybe when Zoya auditioned for Lydia in Beetlejuice in sophomore year because she knew Genya was, she'd been trying to impress her. Trying to somehow get closer to beautiful, perfect Genya.

Maybe it's not normal that she's always thinking about how unfairly gorgeous her supposed enemy is.

"It doesn't."

Genya looks up at Zoya, golden eyes brimming with tears. "You don't hate me more because of this?"

Zoya swallows her pride and meets Genya's eyes. She really is beautiful.

"Actually, I feel the same."

"You're lying to me," Genya says immediately. "This is some kind of revenge thing."

"No. Genya, I promise it isn't. I know I've given you no reason to trust me, but… I wouldn't say I liked you if I didn't. And I do. Like you, that is. The first thing I ever thought about you was that you were beautiful."

Genya frowns. "Just beautiful? Zoya, I don't want -"

"But you're more than beautiful. You're smart, you're bold and outspoken, you're talented, you're warm and friendly and just - you're fucking perfect, and I think I've been in love with you since the moment you walked into our math class freshman year." The words just spill out of her, and she can feel her cheeks getting redder as she goes on.

"Zoya."

"Yeah?"

"You're an idiot. You know that, right?"

She laughs. "Yeah, I know that now. Be my girlfriend anyway?"

Genya's breath catches. "Of course."

And so Zoya leans in to kiss her, but -

"Zoya? Miss Genya? I feel sick," comes a voice from down the hall, and they both spring back and jump up.

This time Zoya watches as Genya consoles her third-youngest cousin, Sumaiya, and gets her back to bed in record time. Genya might just be the best thing that ever happened to the whole Nabri family, and Zoya's definitely going to make sure she gets invited back as soon as possible.

When they've made sure all the kids are safely asleep, they go back downstairs to the sitting room and sit next to each other on the couch. It's been almost five hours since Genya got here - since Zoya was sat sulking on this exact couch.

"So where were we?" Zoya asks, keeping her voice low.

Genya smiles and blushes. "I don't know, why don't you show me?"

When Zoya leans forward and kisses Genya, this time there are no kids to interrupt. And when her family gets back, she's sorry to see Genya go. The only thing keeping her from clinging onto her and begging her not to leave is Genya's promise to plan a date.

The first time it happens is in a bathroom. Kaz changing Inej's bandage, his breaths short and sharp. Both terrified. It's only a moment of connection, of touch, before Kaz pulls away from her. She can't say she isn't disappointed. She also can't say she's surprised.

And then she leaves. Goes away from Ketterdam, which is all she's wanted for five years. Away from him, which is something she never thought she'd regret as much as she does.

She loves what she's doing now. Loves knowing that she's making a difference, stopping people from getting hurt.

She's just always conscious that without Kaz, it feels as if there's an ever-present hole in her heart.

So she comes back to visit, exactly one year, ten months, and seventeen days after she left. (Not that she's been counting.)

He's waiting at the dock for her, like he always is whenever she lets herself daydream about her return.

How had he known? Well, he's Kaz. He knows everything. She pushes away the thought that he came to the dock regularly, hoping for her to come back. That's not possible. This is Kaz. Resolutely unsentimental. (Even if he had told her that he loved her, right before she left.)

There's a wound on his face, dried blood on his jaw. Without thinking, she puts a hand to his face, fingertips brushing his chin as she inspects it.

This time, he doesn't pull away. Doesn't flinch at her touch. The wound isn't half as bad as it looks. So her worries were unfounded - he'll be fine.

Inej breathes a sigh of relief. Kaz will be fine. He always is. And she always worries that one day his luck will run out.

She goes to drop her hand, but before she can, she feels his gloved fingers on her wrist.

"Don't," he says.

"No?"

"I... I can manage this, now. I've been... working on my issues, let's say."

So she keeps her hand where it is.

Then - what is he doing? He takes off one glove, then the other.

He puts his own hand on her face, and even though he tries to hide it, she can see his smile. A small smile, one that doesn't come out very often. She's only ever seen it once or twice.

He looks so proud of himself, and her heart swells. There's a flutter of something in her stomach. For once, it isn't pure dread. Something else. Pure joy.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

She looks up at him, and hopes he can tell just how much she loves him from the look in her eyes. "Yes. Yes, this is more than okay."

He takes a shaky breath. "Actually, there's... something else that I think I'm ready to try. If you want to."

"What?"

"A kiss. This may sound unusually sentimental, but as I've been working through... everything, over the last two years, I've been finding more and more that I desperately want to kiss you."

Her heart stops, then starts again, thudding against her ribcage.

He desperately wants to kiss her.

He desperately wants to kiss her.

"Yes. Please," she says, her voice slightly breathless.

And he closes the gap between them, his lips on hers.

It's nothing like she's ever felt before. Inej has been kissed before, but not like this. Not as if she's everything somebody could ever want - and not just because of her body, or her talents, but because it's her.

Kaz loves her. She's conscious of everywhere they're touching - her hand on his face, and his on hers. His hand on the small of her back, holding her steady. She reaches up to run her free hand through his hair, and smiles with satisfaction at the shocked-yet-pleased look on his face.

She pulls away for a brief moment, to whisper: "I missed you. Every second of every day, I missed you."

"I didn't think you would," he admits. "I missed you too, though."

"Did you really?"

"Why do you think I was at the dock?"

Her eyes widen in surprise. "You- did you know I was on my way back?"

"No," he says, shaking his head almost sheepishly. "I hoped you would, though. Every day, I hoped. Selfishly, yes - I heard about everything you've done, and you do much more good out there than you ever did here. But I missed you."

It's as if her brain has short-circuited.

He missed her.

He hoped she would return.

He missed her.

There are no words for everything she feels. How she didn't think she would get to have this, not since she was a little girl. She'd thought she would have to be alone and independent forever.

But now she has Kaz to lean on, and that's exactly what she does.

She leans into him, relaxing. She lets him hold her, knowing he won't let go of her. His arms wrap around her waist, and she knows she never wants to leave him again.

After a minute, she looks up at him. "I want to kiss you again," she tells him softly. "May I?"