Mistborn: The Yellow Sun

by Hetoculus

Summary:

Vin and Elend, after defeating Ruin become the established rulers of The New Empire. Now they must navigate a new challenge, family life.

Notes:

So, yeah... I needed the happy ending for mistborn. I am coping and I am seething. So I wrote a happy slice of life with Vin and Elend being alive and parents,

More chapters coming.

Chapter 1: A New Face

Vin was warned that it would hurt, but this was agony. Was it supposed to hurt this much?

“My love, just burn a little pewter.” Elend looked at her, worried.

“No,” Vin said bluntly. In a way almost, glad the child was finally coming. She had not burned anything in the last nine months, no vials, no iron, pewter, steel, copper, bronze, nor any allomatic metal. She was worried that by burning anything she might somehow burn her own child despite everyone’s insistence of the opposite. None of them were women. Vin would rather not take her chances. She didn’t regret making herself waddle around awkwardly, sleeping only upright, or the sheer amount of pain she felt right now, and she certainly didn’t like the amount of attention she got just for being pregnant. I’m just pushing out a baby, something many women have done. She wasn’t special just because she was the empress, or the Ascendant Warrior like the church called her, or the hero of ages as everyone incorrectly assumed.

Ham adamantly refused to spar with her the moment the news was made public. By then she was eight weeks along. He felt guilty for even sparring with her that long. Breeze of course made it a habit to try and soothe her as he was doing currently, sitting in the corner looking absolutely horrified at Vin’s bloodied bed, the wet rags and bloodcurdling screaming. Still he stayed, and he soothed. It didn’t help much but the gesture was sweet. But the baby was finally coming, and she was relieved for things to go back to the way they were with a new face to join the crew.
She took another deep breath, midwives giving her something to bite down on, and she pushed again, the pain almost blinding her.

#
Elend looked at his wife, helpless. I defeated a god, and now he stared like a lost sheep at Vin screaming in torment. The best he could do was hold her hand while the birth was happening. Vin’s grip was so tight he had to burn a modicum of pewter to counter it. He tried again to encourage her to let go of her paranoia and burn even a little pewter, but his suggestion was lost to another fit of cries from Vin.

“Is…is this normal?” Elend looke down at the wet bucket, soaked in blood and rags. It had been eighteen hours, maybe more. He hadn’t kept track of time, nor did he know the complexities of birth, but, flaring Tin, he listened to Vin’s heartbeat faster, every squelch and muscle tense. He couldn’t be sure, but something was off. Something was wrong.

“Its…a particularly challenging birth my lord.” One of the midwives said reassuringly.

“Shouldn’t the child have come out already?” It made him sound impatient, but every second, every wail made him hope that it was just Vin’s paranoia rubbing off on him. “Maybe we should call a specialist, just in case.”

“Don’t worry your majesty, Sanni know what she’s doing.”

The old midwife, Sanni, came with a high recommendation. Her face furrowed, her eyes and hands intensely focused on no one and nothing but Vin. Sanni said nothing except barking orders at the other assistant midwives.

“Towel!” Sanni didn’t look away, her gloved hands outstretched expectantly. In away the old woman reminded Elend of Tindwyl. The commanding presence, the intense focus, under any other circumstance Vin couldn’t be with better hands. Yet something about the midwife’s demeanor perturbed him.
An hour passed. The older woman got up pushing a younger midwife to take over. She took her apron and wiped off all the blood and sweat from her brow. “Curse my arrogance!”

“Sanni what is wrong?” The old skaa woman grabbed The Emperor by his arm and led him away to a farther corner.

“Your majesty, to put it truthfully this birth has gone horribly.”

Elend felt something in the pit of his stomach well up, something he had not felt in some time, fear and possibly a little anger.

Sanni rubbed the bridge of her nose. “We need a surgeon right now. If we don’t do so with haste, there is every possibility that The Empress might die.”

“What if Vin burns Pewter?” Elend said desperately, “then she could endure longer.”

“Then she might survive, but that does nothing for the baby.”

“What does calling a surgeon entail?”

“They will have to cut the Empress open Your Majesty. That procedure alone might kill her too, but it will likely save the child.”

Elend didn’t know how to feel, but that didn’t matter right now. He simply turned away from Sanni and walked over to Vin. He looked at her, sweat stuck her short hair to her face, her breathing labored and hoarse from the screaming. He bent down and whispered one simple question into her ear. “Vin, we must take the baby out or both of you might die. You have two options.” Whatever her answer, Elend would trust it.

Vin nodded, “whichever one saves the baby.”

Elend walked towards the window and jumped out.

#
The surgeon, Ubaan, gasped and clung to Elend for dear life. The extra weight took some adjustment, but staying focused on Vin, Elend dropped the coin and pushed on it, burning enough steel to shoot him and his unwitting passenger above the rooftops of Luthadel. The terrisman squealed as they reached max height and began descending again, plummeting. Elend burned iron and pulled on the iron spikes of the palace, the combined weight of two men bent and threatened to tear the lining off of the roof, but it held.

They were propelled forward. We’re going to crash! Ubaan closed his eyes and braced. Elend threw another coin down. At this rate they would both splatter against the wall. The coin dropped and then dropped faster as he pushed on it to bring them back to the same height as- The Emperor dove through the window with the stunned surgeon.
Elend carefully pried the man’s fingers off his shoulders, flaring a little pewter to gently lower them. The Terrisman steadied his feet, too stunned to speak, hands shaking, and knees threatened to give way.

“Surgeon,” Elend asked. Vin screamed again in the background, which brought Ubaan out of his stupor. “My good man The Empress is in need of you.”

“I-How long has the labor been?” Ubaan tidied himself up, regaining some level of composure.

“twenty hours as of now.” Sanni stated, still focusing on the birth.

“Eight was the threshold, ten is dangerous, twenty is…” The surgeon dug through his now disorganized bag taking out a pair of gloves, and a leather cloth covered in thin, precise pockets, folding out into a full display of fine steel tools. “I take it My Lady you are an Allomancer?”

“YES! SHUT UP AND GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!”

Of course she is, she’s mistborn. Ubaan got the message and began measuring, and drawing the lines, gesturing to the midwives to help keep The Empress still. His hands shook, still thinking about the mistborn journey to the palace, the dazzling height and the near collision with the wall. Then, a calm soothing wave hit him, his hands stopped shaking, finding the twenty years he had been in practice. He took a glance back at the portly man sitting in the corner dry heaving. A soother, Ubaan never liked them, but now he couldn’t be more thankful.
He took a breath and went to work.

#
It came out to twenty-one hours. Vin screamed when she felt the cold steel knife cut into her lower abdomen, but at this point she was mostly numb to it. It had been twenty-one hours of agony. When the water broke it had been the afternoon, and as the painful night passed the sun rose to a new day. A bright yellow sun. One that Vin looked at, knowing that all those years of fighting would mean their daughter got to see it. The baby came out surprisingly fast afterwards.

“My love, please, take some pewter.” Elend grasped her hand, his eyes pleading. “It pains me seeing you in pain.”

“No, not until…” Vin heard her daughter cry for the first time. She sighed with relief. Crying was a good sign. The baby was healthy. She finally accepted the vial from Elend, the metal tasting bitter and strange, after months of not using alomancy. She burned the pewter immediately, gratefully. The long hours of labor and pain went away, and the remaining time was spent sewing Vin back up.

The midwives took the screaming baby, quickly and gently washing the child of blood and viscera while Sanni made a couple careful snips to remove the long birth cord from the baby and Vin.

Once the baby was clean they carefully wrapped them in in waiting blankets and handed the child to the arms of the expecting parents.

#
“Forgive me your majesty.” Sanni bowed. “I had seen nothing wrong leading up to The Empress’s labor. I had not looked hard enough, and it almost cost the life of the Survivor’s heir.”

Elend stared down at the bowing midwives. Despite the last five years, the fear of nobility still lingered in every skaa. But Vin and him did not overthrow the Lord Ruler all those years ago to preserve that fear.

“All is forgiven,” Elend waved his hand over them. “It was a difficult and complex birth. I was told by Ubaan that had it not been for your skill, my wife would not have even lasted that long.” The women finally raised their heads. “Go, my attendants will handle your pay, and you should all rest. You’ve earned it.” The three women bowed again and left, their shoulders deflated and their heads sagged from an exhausting night.

Sanni turned back, “Your majesty, before I go, after such a procedure The Empress cannot have another child, not without going through the same procedure.” Elend nodded. “I…I thought you should know, in case both of you were considering having more children.”

#
Elend went back into the room after everyone left. The blood still stained the floor and sheets, the smell still covering the room. Vin lay in bed cradling their daughter, covered in sweat, paler and exhausted like he had never seen before. She was always the one that stayed up all night to patrol, and then she never seemed tired. Not even after countless battles nor injuries that would kill another person did she seem as exhausted as she was now. Yet here she collapsed into the enormous pile of pillows, completely and utterly drained.

Despite all that, she was also more beautiful than ever before and even despite the taxing night, she sat up straight, feeding their child.

“Surely you would prefer a less…gross room?” Elend chuckled, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’ve lived in many gross rooms, this is hardly the worst.” She said, smiling.

“Maybe, but did you see what you did to poor Breeze? The man ran out of the room like the Lord Ruler was after him.”

“Don’t be so hard on him, he soothed the surgeon enough to save me and the baby.”

Elend collapsed into bed next to her, pulling her closer. He kissed her and landed a gentle one on the baby’s forehead.

“Well, we can’t keep our daughter nameless.” Elend himself was rather out of ideas. He certainly wasn’t going to name his daughter after any of his own family.

“I was thinking maybe Tindwyl.”

Elend nodded, reservedly. “To honor our fallen friend, I’m not opposed, but frankly my dear I don’t think I could look at my daughter and not think about all the harsh lessons Tindwyl gave me.”

“Well how about Allrianne?” Vin laughed.

“Well, that would be confusing. Though I don’t think Auntie Ally would be opposed to it. Besides you still have to thank her for the pregnancy wardrobe.”

“I know, I know I’ll get to it.” Vin rested her head on Elend’s shoulder. “Well, what about you? You seem to have a lot of criticism for someone who hasn’t made a single suggestion.”

Elend wanted to respond, but the truth of the statement stopped him. What do I name my own daughter? He didn’t exactly have a large well of inspiration to draw from.

“What was the name of your sister?” Elend said.

Vin frowned. It was a stupid suggestion. He never heard Vin explicitly mention her sister’s name, but he worried he had crossed a line.

“I…Misily, her name was Misily…” Vin said softly.

“Sorry it was an insensitive suggestion.”

“No… I actually like the idea.” The baby fell asleep in the middle of feeding. Vin carefully moved the child away from her breast. “Misily never got to live. Never got to see how powerful of a seeker she could’ve been.”

“Misily…” Elend repeated to himself quietly.

“Misily it is.”

#
Vin held her baby for the first week, burning pewter to push away the fatigue. Maids had tried to come in, to take the baby from her so that she could rest. Vin refused. She held little Misily tight, too afraid to let go.

“My love, you have to let go of the baby eventually.” Elend said, gently rubbing her shoulder. He had been the only other person Vin had let hold Misily, but not before making him promise to never hand her over to anyone else but Vin. The tired mother took those opportunities to bathe and clean herself up. When she finished that, she would look into the mirror. Her belly still bore the careful scars the surgeon had left. Her stomach wasn’t flat anymore and left flabby bits of fat, skin, and stretch marks, making her have to resize most of everything, especially the dresses. Lately she had only worn her sleep attire, or her shirts and trousers. Both concealed the new body fat well. Elend said he didn’t mind, but she still felt a little uncomfortable with them.

After inspecting herself she dressed and walked back to Elend, who sat outside, true to his word, rocking baby Misily, humming a little lullaby. Vin immediately took over and held on to the baby, bundling the child into her arms as she climbed into bed.

“My love you have to let go of the baby sometimes, get some rest.” Elend got into bed with Vin.

“I…can’t-I can’t” a soft tear fell down Vin’s face.

“Misily is fine. She’s healthy, comfortable, no one is going to hurt her.” Elend quietly tried to take the baby from Vin, but she flinched away,

“I…” Vin stuttered. She cried, not knowing why. Some of the tears dropped onto Misily, startling the sleeping baby who began to cry too, disturbed from her nap. Vin rocked the baby apologizing quietly and trying to coax little Misily back to sleep.

“No one will hurt her, no one can hurt her, not with you and me.” Elend held Vin close. “No one would dare touch Misily when they know what kind of wrath they would have to deal with afterwards.”

Misily kept crying. Am I being too rough? Is she still hungry? Vin wished Tindwyl were here to give advice, guidance, anything to put the child back to sleep.

“I can hold her for a bit and maybe let everyone else get a chance to see the new princess.” Elend reached, not forcefully.

Vin shot him a look but then calmed down. Trust, it had been something that took her years to learn. She knew she should give Misily over to someone else. Vin was exhausted, which made her rock Misily uncomfortably, which made her baby exhausted too. Yet she couldn’t. I can’t let go. She was just too afraid to let go.

#
“Misily Venture!” Elend bellowed. He saw a flash of long raven hair dart around the corner. By the survivor, that child was too clever for their own good.

Maids scampered about with towels. Demoux and Ham both split down to adjoining corridors, hoping to cut her off.

Elend was tempted to burn Tin. No, me and Vin agreed. Neither of them would use tin, not to spy on their daughter or breech her privacy in any way. But damn would it make finding this child easier. Elend strolled down the corridor giving a passing check to each room.
“Misily Venture, you get back to your bath right now!” He yelled again.

A squeal, and a giggle, “No!” She streaked across the hallway, completely exposed after abandoning the towel and leaving the poor maid in charge of the princess’s bathes in the dust. Elend sighed and flared pewter, bounding as fast as he could after her. He almost caught up before the little blur ducked into a dumbwaiter, falling into the basket of dirty laundry being dropped down. Damnit! Elend turned around, grabbing a clean towel from a passing bewildered maid.

This was so much easier with Vin. Before the two would use all their mistborn abilities, easily cornering their daughter and making her take a bath. But now Vin was pregnant with their second child. Elend was more wary, given the birth of Misily, but Vin insisted on having another one. He relented on the condition she would take it easy and actually relax during the nine months, knowing she would have to endure the painful procedure again. Which she was doing right now, lounging with Allrianne in the gardens or touring the many theaters that sprung up in Luthadel. Unfortunately, all those times chasing Misily as a couple had made her crafty, making chasing her solo more and more difficult.
Elend dashed down the stairs to the lower levels of the palace where the servants took in all the laundry. He heard gasps as baskets tipped over and buckets of soapy water splashing. A dark raven shot past all the stunned maids. They gasped again when The Emperor himself came running through, almost slipping on the soap.
Demoux rounded the corner into the hallway, blocking the little girl.

“My princess you are commanded to take a bath-” The young general demanded before the child slid right underneath him, letting her father crash into Demoux. “I’m sorry your majesty I failed to stop her.”

Elend patted Demoux on the shoulder as he helped the man up. Elend said nothing and continued the chase into the large rows of drying cloth.

Ham barreled through sending garments flying off their clotheslines. “I got her! I got her!” The large man dove, barely missing Misily as something metal streaked past her and hit Ham in the face. Was that? A flat metallic scrub board had flew from somewhere. That wasn’t me and neither Demoux nor Ham are coinshots. Which meant only one thing. By the survivor, Misily is an allomancer. And she snapped trying to resist hygiene. Where did she get Steel to burn? That’ll have to be a question for later.

Elend ducked behind some larger bedsheets, hiding amongst the white with his own pure white uniform. His daughter streaked past, giggling like she had gotten away with the most daring heist. He found his opportunity and scooped up the child with his towel while she was looking at Ham struggling with a shift.
“No! I don’t want to take a bath.” The little girl, no older than five, struggled against her father.

“Well little missy you have to take another one, look at the mess you made!” Elend laughed, the pewter drag finally catching up to him. “If your mother had been here this chase would’ve ended far sooner.”

“No!” Misily struggled more.

“How about this, I’ll convince mother to not cut your hair for another month if you agree to take a bath.” Elend offered. Misily’s hair was almost as long as she was tall. Vin would have it cut to a more manageable length, which prompted another long chase through the corridors.
“Fine!” Misily huffed. “But I want pretty braids like Aunty Ally showed me!”

Elend laughed again. “As you say your majesty. Come, we must tell your mother about your new abilities.”

Chapter 2: To Toss a Coin

Summary:

Time goes by, and it goes by fast. Vin and Elend feel the weight of time as their second child is born and Misily starts to grow up. The two mistborn must come to terms with the peace they helped create and what it means to their family dynamic.

The play was boring. Allriane shed a tear next to Vin in their viewing box, enraptured by the romance playing on the stage. It was a prince, falling in love with a common girl, his father refusing to bless their marriage. The story was overly dramatic, things happened that just seemed really contrived, characters were stereotypical and prone to going in long monologues about love, and it was all a little too conveniently familiar. Vin itched to leave, to go back to jumping rooftops, but she already promised Elend she would, just, relax and so Allrianne enthusiastically recommended the theater.

Vin sat back into her seat, which she swore got resized. The local theaters seemed overeager to give her special treatment whether that be the best seating in the house, or in more recent developments, resized chairs to accommodate her. She was more interested in the crowd down below. The front rows contained merchants dressed in their best, hardly distinguishable from the nobility in the booths, though they were a bit too ostentatious in their fashion. Further back were the other skaa, most making the effort to dress in clean clothes and wash themselves. Elend spent hours managing the prices of commodities. Vin was happy to see that his efforts paid off. A ticket to the theater was still a luxury to most skaa, costing at least a month’s worth of boxings for the average worker, but it was affordable and within reach. Seeing regular working skaa mingle with their more mercantile counterparts and nobility was no longer such a strange sight. Just a decade ago it would have been completely unthinkable.

The play’s curtain dropped. Apparently, the common girl wept over the supposed death of the prince, her tears moving the prince’s father so much he gave up some source of magic to bring his son back, sacrificing himself. The play ended with the lover’s wedding, declaring them king and queen. Vin excused herself, awkwardly hobbling to the exit in her adjusted dress. The crowd stood for a standing ovation. Skaa couples shedding their tears.

Vin walked out the theater with a carriage and servants already waiting hand and foot.

“Back to the palace your majesty?” The butler extended a hand to help her up the steps.

“Yes, let lady Allrianne know I’m not feeling well, and the baby was kicking.” Vin fell back into Vallette’s Renoux mannerisms a little too comfortably. Perhaps Sazed’s lessons were too effective.

The butler nodded sending a messenger boy back into the theater.

It was not that Vin didn’t like dresses, or going to watch a boring play. Back in Camon’s crew she wasn’t treated like a person. Back then no one that was skaa was treated like a person, but now she found, even after all these years, she still wasn’t completely treated like a person. Except now Vin was an infatuation. She couldn’t help but notice the skaa women at the theater all wore their hair short or at shoulder length so too the merchant women and the noblewoman. Whatever color Vin wore that day was what every woman wore, which usually came out to black. Every women also sported a bronze earring, blind to everything but its fashion. The men wore pure white, same as Elend. The baby kicked. Vin took a deep breath as a well of nausea hit her. Being pregnant was uncomfortable and tiring, yet she was the one that wanted a second child. Misily, in the blink of an eye, had celebrated her 5th birthday. It went by so fast. Just before Vin had carried her daughter everywhere, watched her daughter look at every flower, bird, bug with absolute wonder. Misily would reach for whatever her curiosity took her with her small, undexterous hands. Then she would proceed to try to eat it until Vin or Elend rushed to get the girl to spit it out. Vin laughed.

Pretty soon all those days will be nothing but memories. Misily was already running about the palace, outwitting her parents and staff. As the years went by her daughter would grow into a teenager, then eventually an adult. Vin laid back, fighting some more waves of nausea. She knew she would miss those days, of little feet running around and tiny voices babbling nonsense as they tried to form sentences.

The carriage pulled up to the palace.

“MAMA!!” a ball of raven hair dashed past the chuckling guards.

“Slow down Misily,” Elend sported a handsome beard as he walked down the steps. He helped her down and they shared a kiss.

“What happened to not being a gentleman?” Vin teased.

“Well, even a rascal has to help down their pregnant wife.”

Misily tugged at Vin’s dress, “Mama guess what I did today!”

Elend chuckled, “Go on show your mother.”

Misily happily took out a coin, and in an instant, it shot up into the night air. Vin looked down at her daughter in surprise. Misily had a wide, goofy grin, waiting for her mother to react. Vin looked to Elend.

“We found out an hour ago, she threw a washboard at Ham.”

“I got him good!”

Vin leaned down and kissed her daughter’s forehead. She tried her best to smile, but inside she worried.

By the Survivor my daughter is an allomancer.

#

“My love is there something wrong?” Elend asked. Misily went to bed somewhat deflated. “I thought you would be happy. Misily is an allomancer, a coinshot at least.”

Was Vin happy? She didn’t think she knew if she was herself. Whatever the case her reaction wasn’t what everyone expected. I should have seen this coming. Vin was a mistborn, so was Elend though not by natural means. Nevertheless, Elend was of noble blood, and his father had been a Tineye. The chances of Misily becoming an allomancer were more likely than not.

“I…I’m not sure El.” Vin removed her fancier earrings, and the bronze one she always had. Finding out she was mistborn was one of the greatest moments of her life, it made her feel useful, safe. In the pit of her stomach, she felt guilty she couldn’t feel anything but reservation about her daughter’s snapping. “Where did she even get the steel to burn?”

“We don’t know, and now we’re not sure when Msisily snapped. She could’ve snapped weeks ago without telling anyone.” Elend walked behind her and helped her undo the laces of her dress. “But surely, it’s a good thing? If we find-”

“If.”

“If we find that Misily is mistborn, then we can rest easy knowing she’s safe.”

“But that’s not why we fought so hard.” Vin got into bed, careful with her belly. “We overthrew the Lord Ruler so children like Misily wouldn’t have to fight for their lives…like I did.”

“Vin, we can’t possibly remove all the danger from the world.” Elend hopped into bed with her. “We also can’t keep her safe forever."

Vin knew that. Eventually Elend and her would die, leaving the world and their legacy to their two children. They almost did if it had not been for Sazed. Who knew what the world would be like then. Another tyrant? An unknown threat? It all went by so fast, too fast. Vin wished Misily would stay as she was, a happy little girl that liked her hair braided and to wear dresses. Being an Allomancer came with expectations, connotations, and danger.

It was going too fast, and Vin couldn’t let go.

#

Copper, bronze, iron, zinc, brass, tin, and pewter, they tested them all. Steel was the only metal Misily could burn. The little girl cried, and as crying children do, turned it into a tantrum. Vin was tempted to burn brass to try and soothe her daughter, but the question of ethics compelled her not to. She didn’t want to make a habit of simply soothing away her daughter’s emotions like the ministry had done to the skaa population. That meant keeping Breeze away and dealing with the tantrums the normal way.

“I can only throw little coins.” Misily sniffled. “That’s useless!!”

“Sweetie that’s not useless! I use coinshot all the time, mother does too! Grampa Kelsier also used it to defeat an inquisitor.” Elend picked up the sobbing girl and cradled her.

“bu-but aunty Ally can make everyone love her!” Misily wailed. “I want to do that!”

“Oh but aunty Ally doesn’t do that!” Elend looked to Vin for assistance.

It was times like these that Vin wished she knew what to say or could be more comforting. What was she supposed to say? Coinshot was a flashy ability. A decade ago, it would have been more useful as a weapon, but even then, crews would prioritize soothers, tineyes, or especially smokers. Now, in a time of peace, it was hard to sell steel pushing as a useful ability.

In a way, Vin was relieved. The court may not be as cutthroat as it once was, but it still had teeth, and it still was a game. If Misily had been a mistborn it would attract those who would latch onto the princess for their own gain.
Vin opened her mouth to say something, to reassure her daughter. Then the pain came, sudden and rhythmic, without warning. It was agony. A gush of liquid burst down her legs. Vin’s son wasn’t going to wait to be born.

#

Elend had spent a lot of time in the office lately. This morning, he woke up to Vin already having gone out to see the sunset on one of the palace spires. All the time being pent up and pregnant had made her go back to her usual self, jumping across rooftops in trousers, a simple shirt, and her mistborn cloak. She probably took their son Willon with her too, to keep him on his practice routine. Allrianne was beginning to get lonely at the theater.

Elend checked himself in the mirror, finding more grey strands poking themselves out amongst his beard and his hair. He was only a man in his early forties. He had hoped the greying wouldn’t start at least until Misily was an adult. Perhaps that was why he had furiously drafted more laws and proposals to maintain the new natural parks he just founded, to ignore that itching feeling as time seemed to creep up on him. So much, he thought, so much still to do. The council did not see the purpose of it, but why should nature be destroyed for progress? Why shouldn’t everyone enjoy the beauty of the new forests? There came a knock at his door, rapid and excited.

“Papa!” Misily was jumping on the other side of the door, Elend could hear it.

Elend stood up to go open it, but the door swung open anyway. Misily was wearing one of her day dresses, her hair done up in a complex series of braids with the rest of her long hair cascading down her back.

On the surface the now sixteen-year-old teenager was a picture-perfect copy of her mother, same eyes, same stature, same raven hair, same face, but the two women in Elend’s life couldn’t be more different. He assumed he already knew what his daughter was going to ask.

“Papa I’m having a ball with some of my friends.”

Vin, despite her preference for more practical clothing, liked parties. She liked dresses, dancing, chatting, and politicking. That’s how Elend met her. But Misily…Misily loved parties. Vin was playing the role of Vallete renoux, a country noblewoman. She was in it for the job. Misily loved the dancing, the fashion, the charm and chivalry. She was raised on it. It was why she wore her hair long, and why she was more comfortable in a dress than anything else.

“I told you, you have plenty of dresses, no one is going to judge you for wearing the same one every once and a while. If they do that’s their problem.” Elend reassured.

“Actually, I don’t want a dress for myself.” Misily shifted to a more anxious tone, her hands nervously fiddling behind her back. “I was hoping we could get one for mother.”

“Your mother also has plenty of dresses of her own.”

“I know but…she never comes to one of my balls, only the official ones.” Misily looked down, “I want her to come this time.” She stuck out her hand, containing a simple, elegantly written and waxed invitation.

“That’s very thoughtful, but why don’t you give this to her yourself?”

“Because whenever I try, she's out taking Willon training, speaking of which I want him to come too.”

Elend sighed and shook his head, “Willon’s training is important. He has to understand his abilities before your mother and I feel comfortable making his status as mistborn more public.”

Misily flushed. “Can you give it to her? She’ll take it from you.”

Elend gently put the envelope onto his desk in a prominent spot. “I’ll give it to her as soon as she comes back.”

Misily returned to her bubblier self and ran over to hug her father, “Thank you papa!” She let go and walked out of his office, turning back. “Oh I forgot to ask you. Could I go dress shopping with Aunty Ally?” Misily beamed her eyes at Elend in a way that made him wonder if his daughter wasn’t actually a soother. He rolled his eyes and waved his hands, watching his daughter happily skip away down the hall.

Chapter 3: Paved Roads and Aqueducts

Summary:

Willon begins his training. Misily continues to plan for what is going to be the most ambitious ball ever hosted in Luthadel. She wants it to succeed, but more than anything she wants her mother The Empress to show up to celebrate her seventeenth.

#
Fresh air, Vin relished it as the wind streaked past her hair and her cloak. She landed hard on a flat portion of the roof. Despite slowing her fall, her knee shot with pain. Jumps she used to make easily seemed to always cause her pain these days, especially in her joints, and no matter how much tin and pewter she burned, nothing changed the fact that she could never quite match her younger self. Then again, those were different times. They were times before she had two children and far more enemies than she had now.

A loud thump followed her own, then a tumble. Vin’s son Willon landed, not very gracefully, on his back. His coins spilled out, falling over the edge of the roof. He noticed a little too late and scrambled to catch as many as he could.

“Wait, Willon don’t-” Vin shot out her hand. All the coins her son dropped came shooting back as he burned iron, one grazing him on his cheek. Vin burned steel and pushed away the rest, letting them fall to the pavilion below, clinking across the rooftop. “Willon! How many times have I told you not to pull on things that are lighter than you?”

“Sorry ma, I just didn’t want them to hit anyone.” Willon sheepishly said. The boy was a near spitting image of his father, if a bit more baby faced, and pudgier, with the same curly-brown hair, same disheveled look. However, the boy was almost freakishly tall. Way too tall for an eleven-year-old. He was already the same height as Vin. A few more years of growing and her son would be a giant, though Vin already expected that. He was weighty when he was born.

Vin sighed and hugged him. “Its alright, but you’re going to have to take my coin purse.”

“But how are you going to get back?”

“I know this keep like the back of my hand, I’ll find a way.” Vin wanted to tell him to try pulling, but the boy was already heavier than some of the objects that she would use. “I’ll stay nearby just in case, but head back to your room and get your cut checked.”

“Can we jump for a bit longer? Pa’s going to make me do political theory as soon as I get back.”

Vin shook her head. “Listen to your father, the work he assigns is important.”

“But why? Misily is going to be heir anyway, and she’s better at this stuff.”

“Keep practicing your push and pull. If you get high marks on your next exam I can talk to him about lightening the load.”

Willen nodded, uncomfortably pulling at his mistborn cloak that was straining. By the survivor he’s already outgrown that thing. This would be the seventh time in just three years that she would have to get his resized.

“Keep up,” Vin jumped off the roof, watching as she plummeted her son trying to work up the courage to do the same.

#

Vin landed, climbed through the window. Nearby she could hear Willon do the same, stumbling while trying to do so.

“He didn’t crash through the door this time.” Elend poked his head around a stack of books. Vin remembered that incident. Shattered glass cut her son all over and he broke his arm. Willon was nine and she cradled the boy while he cried.

“He’s doing better.”

“Not nearly fast enough.” Elend grumbled.

“El he’s eleven.” Vin noticed her husband’s brow furrow. It was uncharacteristic how much he seemed to heap on Willon’s shoulder. Being mistborn was still a huge responsibility, one that Willon needed to learn, but she in private had wished Willon could remain that small chubby child, teetering everywhere he walked. Him and his sister both, Vin missed it when they were small.

“You managed to become proficient in half-a-year.”

“We were under pressure, and out of time. Willon gets and deserves the luxury of patience.”

Elend sighed, he picked up an envelope on his desk and handed the soft velvet paper with glittering silver wax to Vin. “Misily asked me to give this to you. She’s inviting you this time.”

“El…”

“Well, she wants you there and she wanted Willon there too, but I already said no to that.”

Vin hesitated while opening the elegant invitation. Handwritten, was a very formally worded request for The Empress’s appearance at a gathering to be held in a couple months’ time, detailing all the usual fun twists to all Misily’s balls, each one more of an art display and engineering feats than just a simple party. This time there was an ocean theme. the dance was to be held in a shallow pool filled with fish, which explained why so much water seemed to be being moved to the palace ballroom. It was…ambitious to say the least.

“I think you should attend this one. She’s been planning it for a year now. Honestly, you should see the boards she’s plastered all over her room just trying to work out how to flood the ball room without damaging anything and waterproof dresses…”

Vin hesitated. She should go. Misily wanted her mother there and to show Vin the beautifully curated array of music, food, and decorations. But, to Vin, noble balls had always been politics, fun though they may be. Besides that, all the attendees would be young nobles, merchants, and generally anyone of social standing closer to Misily’s age than Vin’s.

Vin touched her womb where the scars were. She felt her flabbier stomach, the joints in her legs bearing weight they no longer could as well as they used to. That morning in the mirror she had found isolated strands of white hair and more than a few wrinkles quietly making their entrance.

“You know I found a couple more grey hairs.” Elend gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You look beautiful today as always.”

Vin smiled quietly as they embraced. Elend’s feet slowly shifted into careful, rhythmic steps. His hand extended out with her's in his, gently moving to let her body swing along with his. Vin was confused at first until she began naturally stepping along with him, following him, and him following hers. Before she knew it Elend twirled her away, their hands holding onto each other before he pulled her back.

How long had it been since they danced with each other? Vin remembered, two decades ago now. Back when she was Valette and Elend was the heir to house Venture, he had promised her a dance. They made good on that promise, but between, war, Ruin, and after it all, two children and a new government it had been sometime since the thought of dancing had crossed their mind.

“Maybe Willon should attend. He spends so much time cooped up studying or running around outside with me.” Vin said breathing heavily. She remembered when dancing the night away wasn’t so strenuous.

“The invitation was specifically for you, my love.”

“I know but…” Vin lost the words as it left her mouth.

“The last ball had a human game board with everyone as the pieces. It was ingenious.”

“I don’t like how everyone looks at me.” Vin whispered. “Besides I don’t much like attending these younger parties.”

“Like the ones back in our day were much better?” Elend smiled warmly, “forcing you to go is not within my abilities, but I think Misily would appreciate if her mother and The Empress would make an appearance.”

#

Misily’s desk smelled like oil and wax. Wax was significantly less messy and smelled better but coating it evenly and thinly enough was a pain. An alternative would be better, something new and more innovative. She held up the small sample of the new material to the light. It was relatively heavier, but light enough. The material snapped back to form every time she stretched it, refusing to come apart. She had given it to Uncle Ham to see if his pewter could do what she could not with her own natural strength. With much effort, Ham and one of his lieutenants managed to tear it.

The jagged tear was illuminated by the light of candles. Whatever material this thing was that came out of her father’s workshops, it was extremely durable. Misily took note of it in her journal. If it was too impractical to be turned into a dress, she imagined it could be used for other things. For her current project, however, its ability to completely seal out water was the main observation of importance.

Misily set it down to go over the schematics for the ballroom. The elaborate wooden floor panels was replaced with tiled flooring sometime ago, which at least made almost everything waterproof to begin with. The issue was how she was going to get the water into the ballroom. Delivering all of it by horse would take months to fill the sunken dancing floor, never mind the still water that would sit in the ballroom during that time, festering bugs and dirt. No, that too would need an alternative. Misily held up the sketches for an aqueduct system that would traverse the land from the nearest freshwater body.

Even now the city relied on deliveries from wells or buckets to satisfy the thirst of the population. It was inefficient at best. Misily hoped creating the aqueduct would also help bring cleaner drinking water.

But there was always the question of money. Neither the horse deliveries nor the aqueduct would be cheap, and the parliament wouldn’t just approve of it if all it was going to be for was the princess’s party. It needed to last. The party would just be a proof of concept to get everyone behind the idea.

All of this would hopefully outlast Misily. Her last project, and her first, resulted in newly repaved roads that made riding throughout the city more comfortable. That party had been for her friend Jina’s birthday where they did a scavenger hunt on carriage back.

Misily cleared the stacked papers and took out a new sheet, unsure of what it was going to be used for. She stared at it blankly, the pen dripping with ink. Her mind was everywhere but planning for this ocean themed party that took a year and a half to research, time, and advertise. She wanted her seventeenth to be extra special.

Misily got up and walked through the midnight halls. A couple passing night guards and servants bowed or curtsied as she walked by. Such courtesy she had long since grown blind to. It was just how everyone besides the closest friends and family did things. Her mother didn’t see it the same way, sometimes awkwardly snapping when Misily used curtsy to her.

Misily knocked on her father’s office door. More often than not he was in there, drafting more laws to propose. Her mother was likely off climbing the spires of the palace. It sometimes seemed like neither of her parents slept, yet both somehow always woke up earlier than her.

Elend answered the door, “Sweeting why aren’t you in bed.”

“I could ask the same papa.”

“Well…you have me there, what is it that you want?”

“Did mother say she was coming.”

Her father smiled tiredly, “You know her, but yes I do think she’s going to make every attempt to come.”

Misily’s heart skipped a beat, “What about Willon?”

Elend shook his head, “He has much studying to do, I think he should focus on that.”

That was disappointing to hear, but at least Misily’s mother was showing up. The Ascendent Warrior, one of many lofty names she heard everyone call her mother. The only people Misily ever heard speak her mother’s true given name were her father, uncles Ham, Breeze, Spook when he was around, and aunt Allrianne. Vin was not a regular person, not someone that would just show up at balls or gatherings. She killed the Lord Ruler when she was Misily’s age.

Misily’s friends would all quietly gasp whenever The Emperor would walk by, nearly faint if he gave a passing greeting. They would all remain silent when The Empress walked passed, as if they weren’t even worthy of that woman’s gaze. Indrid had a habit of holding her breath until Misily’s mother was out of sight, an inconvenience if The Empress so happened to need to talk to the princess. The last time this happened; The Empress was lecturing Misily about the amount of money that was being spent on dresses last month. Indrid passed out. Jina sweated until her makeup ran. Penny kept trying to, well-meaningly, enter the conversation and got a stern look from The Empress. Her mother was likely used to all those reactions.

Misily’s parents weren’t just people. They weren’t even royalty. They were something more. She hadn’t told any of her friends that she was an allomancer. How could she? The daughter of The Ascendent Warrior and The Heir to the Survivor was a coinshot, a misting. Misily half-suspected that all her friends thought she was mistborn too, that was why they tolerated her long rants and curiosities.

But I’m not the mistborn.

That was Willon, and he was too busy studying with her parents.

Chapter 4: The Flooded Ballroom

Summary:

Misily continues to plan for the ball of a lifetime, excited to show her mother the engineering ideas she had in store for the future of Luthadel. Willon tries to live up to the expectations of his mistborn parents while Vin and Elend continue to struggle with their legacy, and aging.

Damnit, what was it again?

Willon scratched his head trying to read the pages upon pages of another dense book his father had assigned him. It was written by a philosopher; all the books were written by a philosopher. The damn question now is which one?

Willon’s thumb felt a wet smack as his fingers grasped at the sheet full of questions. An exam, as his father called it, one that had become standardized in all the schools that were built. He lifted his thumb. A blot of ink smeared on the side of the paper. How did he even get ink on his thumb? It was going to take points off his test.

The Emperor loved taking a personal approach to tutoring his son. Only a few particular specialists came on occasion to fill in anything his father could not. Willon liked Ubaan the most. The Terrisman had an interesting way of making anatomy seem interesting, so of course, Willon breezed through that portion of the test. He put down his pen and wiped his thumb of ink, taking a few minutes to stretch and stand.

At least half the Empire is suffering through this knowledge test like I’am

Many would not have the privilege of doing it in their rooms like Willon was, a statement his father brought up every time he complained that the exam was too long.

Willon looked out the window longingly. He wanted to jump across the rooftops with his mother. It was freedom. He wasn’t as good as his mother, but using his mistborn abilities made him feel better despite all the close calls.

It was a bright sunny day; the city below flushed with color and vibrant noises. Willon burned tin, listening to the buzz of the city. Elsewhere in the palace he could hear clopping hooves and shrill laughter. His sister was going out into the city, something he wished he could do as well, but she never had to take the exam like he did. She had an earlier version, one with less subjects. Now she got to spend her time planning parties and going out into Luthadel with friends.

Friends were something Willon found short supply of. There were a few, sons of other councilmen. They talked, but he would hardly consider them close friends, more like acquaintances due to happenstance. In fact, the two people he spent the most time with were his mother, and his uncle Ham. No, Willon didn’t have much in the way of friends. He spent so much time amongst his required books on political theory he hardly knew how to hold an actual conversation.

This year’s burn ball games, a sport that formed in the decades since Willon’s parents ascended. Too many allomancers still remained, and too many of them had nothing to do and nowhere to go. So stadiums were built, rules were developed, and the left over allomancers formed teams to compete by pushing or pulling a soft stuffed ball that had a piece of metal in its center.

When Willon was younger his mother took him to some games. His father never really joined on these incursions. He would sit in her lap as they got the best seating in the arena. Allomancers would take the field and try to get the ball into the opposing club’s goal, each team led by a mistborn captain that coordinated everyone and served as a backup for any individual position.

Their parents had at one time tried to encourage Misily to get into the sport, but she took no interest in it. She wasn’t like her mother and gravitated towards dresses and gowns instead of the trousers that were required for burn ball. But Willon had always dreamed of being in one of the clubs. He was mistborn, he could play any position he wanted and even become captain. Once he got older, and too heavy to sit in his mother’s lap, he got his own seating, but he never sat. He would get up, intensely watching the players, calculating the odds of victory, how many vials each player had left, and what secret hand signals the mistborn captain used to communicate strategy.

Willon paced over to the shelf in the right corner of his room. He remembered catching a ball that got shot out of field by the Fadrex city’s coinshot. His mother smiling, aunt Allrianne clapping, and old man Ashweather Cett laughing his ass off. The ball bore the signature of all the players of Fadrex. His mother probably made them do it, or maybe she didn’t, but that didn’t matter to Willon.

A breeze came through the open window, reminding Willon of his responsibilities. He sighed and sat back down at his desk. Mathematics was next. At least that part was easy.

#

Vin walked up to her daughter’s bedroom door. Paint marks covered the wooden frame from the time Allrianne gifted Misily a paint set. The girl had covered it up with paintings of flowers and green foliage. The artwork made this door stand out amongst all the other elaborate ones that lined this wing of the hall.
Vin knocked three times. The door swung open violently. Her daughter was sitting on the opposite side of the room, looking at a glued model of some kind of…canal? Her room was a mess. Piles upon piles of schematics and papers laid across the floor, dresses haphazardly tossed on the bed, and book stacks as tall as the one’s in Elend’s office.

“Misily, what did I say about using your allomancy like that on the door. You’re going to rip it off its hinges.”

Misily turned, surprised, “Mama!” she flew into Vin’s arms. “Mama did you get my invitation? Are you coming.”

Her daughter was jumping up and down gleaming at Vin. “I promise I’ll be there.” Vin said, smiling.

Vin’s heart swelled as she watched her daughter’s face light up like never before.

#

Elend sighed heavily. Willon had done alright on his exam, but just alright. The boy’s mathematics and anatomy were decent, but he suffered on the political theory and history portion. It was like no matter how many times he drilled the subject; Elend’s son wouldn’t take to it.

Elend would have to assign more, get his son to realize the importance of… A breeze blew through the room. Vin climbed in from the window. A couple rooms down the loud thud of Willon landing as well. Elend carefully listened and found pleasantly surprised by the lack of any crashes.

“He landed well?” Elend looked at his wife.

“He did, he’s getting better at it.” Vin took off her cloak and filtered through her wardrobe, looking through the dresses she hardly wore anymore. “What color do you think?” She pulled out two dresses putting them over herself, one red and one purple.

“Well it’s ocean themed, maybe go for something bluer?”

“Isn’t the ocean black or red?”

“Not anymore it isn’t, no more ash and red sun to make it that way.” Elend remembering what the world was like before. He had decided to visit it more recently and was surprised by the calm blue that had taken its place.

Vin dug through the closet again, pulling out a turquoise blue dress out, then a lighter blue one. Without all the added layers they seemed so much smaller, but all of them were looser ones, some were even her pregnancy dresses. He imagined it had something to do with her belly. No matter how much physical activity she had, the bump never went away. Elend never knew her to be insecure, a bit paranoid perhaps, but never insecure. Yet here she was now fussing over how to hide her body.

Elend walked over to the wardrobe, pulling out an old dress from far back into the closet. It was a nice dark blue gown that she hadn’t worn since she was twenty and three, before pregnancy. “I think this one suits you.” But of course, he remembered it.

Vin flushed, “I can’t wear that anymore, I was thinking of just giving it to Misily.”

“Nonsense, I think it still fits you just fine.” Elend knew Vin wasn’t used to being so idle. Peace had made her itch. Of course she would never want to return to the Ash and mist, but that left nowhere to put her frustration. Elend pulled out a different dress, a storm blue grey one. “Have you tried this?”

Vin held it up longingly, “this one…”

“You took Willon to a game remember?”

Vin secretly took their children to burn ball games and was the main voice in trying to get Misily to play. When Misily showed no interest, she began taking Willon. Elend found it endearing. He knew his wife well enough to know that deep down Vin wasn’t just going to the games for them. While he himself had very little interest in the Empire’s new pastime, in the few games that he went to with Vin he could see an old spark of intensity in her eyes whenever she watched the sport. It made her happy, so he quietly funded stadiums and clubs. It was good for the empire too. More allomancers playing sports meant less allomancers stalking the streets in thieving crews.

“Maybe this is ridiculous. These dresses aren’t me.”

“Misily just wants you to be there. What dress you wear has no merit on that.”

“Easy for you to say, you aged so much more gracefully.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Elend slapped his stomach. “Haven’t you noticed the weight I’ve gained?”

Vin giggled as they embraced, tripping over the hem of a dress, falling onto the bed together. They shared a kiss.

Elend spotted the wrinkles, the lone white hair. Her face looked more weathered, but it was still the Vin he fell in love with decades ago. They were aging, getting old. It was inevitable, but they had each other to spend it with.

Just when Elend had hoped the moment would last forever came a loud knock at the door.

“Your majesty, we have a problem” The voice on the other side sounded familiar, gruffer, but it was unmistakable.

Vin got up faster, opening the door to Spook.

“Spook, how is…” Vin greeted her old friend, more like family now.

“I’m sorry Vin I would love to catch up but there’s a problem in Urteau.”

Urteau? Of course that city was causing problems again. The original home to Elend’s family had always had… issues. Lingering problems from the rule of The Citizen.

“Rebellion again?” Elend asked. In an empire as large as theirs, even in relative peace there was the occasional revolt. He simply couldn’t make everyone happy.

“Yes, I would say so, but worse…” Spook said pensively. “This one is specifically targeted at you El.”

“Well, we’ll send in the ambassador corps, talk them out of it.” Vin said. Normally they preferred to avoid sending in an army of soldiers in favor of sending in an army of diplomats to try and smooth out the concerns.

Spook shook his head. “Even worse. They’re church of the survivor fanatics. They’ve outright murdered three diplomats already. The Fourth barely escaped with his life.”

Elend pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “I’ll go deal with it.”

Spook shook his head again, “They’ve ordered their followers to kill you on sight. They believe you’re holding lady Vin hostage.”

Elend laughed. “Their ability to kill me is as great as my ability to keep Vin as a hostage.”

“I recommend sending Lady Vin herself. They see her as, ‘The Mother of the Skaa,’ whatever that means. Her presence would probably be able to quell it enough for my team to find the instigators.”

“Look my love, it seems you got another title!” Elend teased.

Vin playfully slapped her husband’s shoulder. “How urgent is this? Misily’s party is next week. Going all the way to and back from Urteau even with pewter will take time.”

“Hopefully getting the city to calm down won’t take long, but you’d be cutting it close. I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

#

Misily touched up the last bits of her makeup, her hair, and checked her deep aquamarine dress again. The ballroom was filled with water. The aqueduct that had been built was rather rickety and poorly maintained, but it had worked far better than she had hoped. Of course no one was going to drink the water, but the theming and the act of pulling enough water to fill a palace ballroom all the way in Luthadel sent a message.

If we can accomplish that with this aqueduct imagine what we could do with a better funded one?

Mother had promised she would come. Misily wanted her to see it, to see all the plans and hardwork that she put into making new improvements to Luthadel. The Empress used to lecture Misily about how much was being spent on these parties.

Now her mother would see, see that the parties were important, a way to get support for infrastructure improvements, to show that she was worthy for the responsibility that would be given to her. They were also fun, of course.

Misily took a deep breath and made her way to the ballroom. Guards stepped forward to help her open the heavy double doors, but she raised her hand to stop them. She burned steel and pushed them open.

The ballroom was magnificent. Exactly the way she had imagined it. Guests clapped to her entrance, bowed and curtsied. Some of the party guests had already dipped their toes into the central pool, laughing and giggling as tiny golden fish swam up to nibble at them. A small waterfall of water came from a spout that extended outside, refilling the pool while a drain at the center carefully cycled the water to keep it clean. Lily pads and other plants were carefully cultivated and aesthetically placed in the water. Tests had shown a plain pool without greenery always eventually killed all the fish. The plants ruined the theme technically, but it was better than an entire dance smelling like dead fish.
Misily looked around to see nothing but smiling faces. She looked around some more for the faces she wanted to see, but she was approached by the first guest. Gneorndin Cett smiled and bowed deeply.

“My princess.” He said.

“Ah, Uncle Cett, I’m glad you came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, and I say you’ve outdone yourself little Misily.”

“I’m also sorry to hear about the recent death of your father, Ashweather Cett. I know he and my father had many disagreements, but we’ve come to consider the Cetts family.” Misily curtsied out of respect.

“I thank you for your kindness. It was a long time coming. Allrianne extends her apologies for not being able to come. She didn’t get to say goodbye and rushed back to Fadrex city to do so.”

Misily clutched his hand. “I hope you enjoy the party, and to consider your support for the infrastructure plans.”

Gneorndin nodded and in a quiet joy dipped his toes into the pool, chuckling quietly as the little fish all gathered around him.

Misily kept looking.

Where could she be. Maybe Mother is running late?

She didn’t have much time to think before another guest approached her, or multiple guests. Indrid, Penny, and Jina practically ran up to her.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” the three said simultaneously. Misily jumped up and down with them, adopting the bubblier princess they all knew.

“By the Survivor did you see Kander?” Jina held a fan, as she always did. She pointed to a table in the corner. Kander Penrod, one of the princes and heir to one of the kingship titles. His grandfather had technically usurped Misily’s own father. He was sitting down eating one of the seafood dishes on the menu.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Penny sweated nervously. It was obvious that she had a thing for Kander, but Misily’s other two friends seemed to like pushing the princess and the prince together.

It was true, Kander was rather goodlooking. Misily spotted a sly smile on him as he chewed his food. His eyes darting every so often towards the group of laughing girls. He was at least burning tin, that much Misily could surmise. There were rumors that he was mistborn, but so far she had only noticed his heightened perception. She wished she was mistborn herself, then maybe she could burn bronze to confirm it.

But Kander wasn’t who Misily was looking for, nor did she care for him. At worst, just another bold rich boy that would approach Misily for a dance. At best he was just a noble party goer that liked to hear girls talk about him.

Misily excused herself and continued around the party, greeting and talking to the occasional guest. All was going well, but as the night went on she got more disheartened.

She promised me.

Just as Misily was going to give up, she spotted a pure white suit standing alone. Willon looked around, by far the youngest person there, but still somehow a giant. The suit her brother wore looked like one of their father’s, and far too small.

“Willon, you came!” Misily ran up to her little brother and hugged him. “Did mama finally convince papa to let you come?”

Willon pulled on his collar nervously. “Yes…in a way.”

Misily looked at him, confused. “Have you seen her? Is she running late?”

“Misy, mother isn’t coming.” The most disappointing words came out of her brother’s mouth. “She had to go deal with a fanatic sect in Urteau. She told me to come instead.”

Misily said nothing, and walked away, ignoring a few concerned guests as she ran out the room.

Notes:

More coming. I'm still huffing the copium.

Chapter 5: What was Missed?

Summary:

Misily's party is going well, but its missing the one person that she wanted to be there.

Vin burned more pewter. The drag was already getting to her.

No, I used to be able to do this.

Her endurance was giving out many dozens of miles too soon, fatigue setting in far too quickly. She had to burn more pewter than she used to, and now she was running out of the metal.

The negotiations took far longer than Vin had anticipated. She hoped two days to settle the fanatics would be enough, but it took the better part of four days instead. The leaders of the religious cult as she would find out immediately tried to capture her. Vin was ashamed that she even got caught in the first place, but she really was just that out of practice.

Vin downed another vial, continuing her mad dash back to Luthadel. She had told Willon to go in her stead if she didn’t show up the night before the ball.

I promised her.

Vin cursed the fanatics under her breath. Once they captured her they began rigorously worshipping her, treating her like a living deity, flogging themselves, whipping followers they thought weren’t faithful enough, and the event that finally pushed Vin to her limit, tried to sacrifice a child in her name. Members of Spook’s team finally managed to break in, but by then Vin had already killed every fanatic in that room.

I don’t have time to think about this right now

The stakes in the ground started to appear. The highway left along the path to Luthadel decades ago. They were wearing down, but they were still usable. Vin flared iron and pushed, sending herself flying into the air. The duralumin sent her even higher. She downed another vial.

The city and the palace were in sight. By her estimates Misily’s party had already started. Between getting back, cleaning herself up and dressing, she would be incredibly late for the party, maybe even missing the entire event.

No, Vin would make it. She’d take a less thorough bath, wear the bare minimum makeup, skip her jewelry if she had to. She had to be there, because she promised Misily that she would.

Vin burst through the window.

“Vin? Where…” Elend was still drafting laws. Drafting? Now of all times?

“El what are you doing here and not at the ball?” Vin snapped at him. “Are you seriously working right now?”

“My love its important.”

“Our daughter’s seventeenth birthday is important!” Vin threw off her shirts and trousers, and disrobed, jumping into the now cold bathwater. In a whirlwind she washed herself, applied makeup, and found a dress. Elend, in a state of panic also tidied himself up. She didn’t have time to wait.

Vin ran out of the room and directly to the ballroom, burning pewter along the way to stave off the coming fatigue a little longer.

Almost there.

Vin ignored the guards that tried opening the double doors for her. She burst through on her own to the look of a stunned crowd of people. She composed herself, trying to regain some sort of decorum. The dress she had haphazardly put on clung, her belly bump showing prominently. In this moment it didn’t matter. She looked around for her daughter, hoping to explain and apologize for coming so late and so disheveled, but…something was wrong. What happened to the music and…What happened? The spout the helped deposit the water had collapsed, the water puddling over half the ballroom. Some tables were also overturned. The guests all looked shocked and confused. Misily’s usual group of friends were also hiding themselves in a corner, not looking at Vin.

What in The Survivor’s name did I miss.

#

Misily darted out of the ballroom, up a flight of stairs and out to the balcony with a lone light. She waited until she was sure she was out of sight to cry quietly.

She promised me.

Now neither her mother nor her father showed up. The quiet crying, without intention, turned into a slightly louder sobbing. Her makeup was ruined now. This was supposed to be a demonstration, to show everyone why she would make a good Empress. What was the point if the currently sitting one didn’t even bother showing up?
Between the sniffles and the hiccups came a soft rustle. Misily stopped for a moment. Was it an animal? The rustle came again, from the ivy growing up and over the side of the balcony.

Misily screamed and staggered back as a grimy arm reached out from over the side. A dirty hand grasped the vine, pulling up a disheveled boy, not too far from her own age. He wore some sort of leather get up with vials strapped to him. Poking out from underneath was what seemed like a colorful green shirt. He turned around, his hair a messy tangle of red.

“Oh…miss would you happen to know where the ballroom is?”

Misily got up and backed away. Her iron ready to burn and her metal hair pin ready to be pulled out. “Who are you?!” She demanded.

“Well uh…me and my friends heard there was a party.” A grunt came from down below. Misily gasped as another hand reached out.

“Aren you oaf, help me up will ya?” The voice sounded much older.

The boy that stood in front of her, Aren apparently, grabbed the arm and swiftly pulled up the second stranger, a portly man that looked to be in his forties with a ragged stubble on his face.

That boy, Aren…He was a thug. No way someone that skinny pulled up someone that large with just one arm unless they were burning something. He could also be mistborn. Misily reached to grab her hairpin.

“Whoa, whoa there little missy we ain’t here to hurt you.”

“Jasker, shut up you’re making her more scared.” Aren slapped Jasker’s back.

“You haven’t answered me, what are you doing here?” Misily wiped away some of her streaking makeup. “I’ll have you know my parent are both mistborn.”

“Ah…shit.” Jasker looked at Aren.

“You’re THE princess.” Aren pressed his face into the palm of his hand.

“Well, we can’t crash this party now!” Jasker raised his hands in defeat. “I told you it was a bad idea to try the palace! But no, you wanted the high life.”

“Well how was I supposed to know? I thought it was just going to be the standard councilmen jerk!?” Aren exclaimed back.

“If you’re here to steal things I’m calling the guards.” Misily pulled out her metal hair pin, letting her long hair come undone.

“Easy now, we can explain ourselves.” Aren said.

“How? What are you? Thieves? Assassins?”

“Uh…party enhancers?” Aren said hesitantly. “Look we just wanted the food.”

“So you are thieves!” Misily yelled.

“No no no we just show up to parties uninvited and eat our fill and leave!”

“Jasker that’s the definition of being a thief.”

“It’s not like these rich fobs, and their spoiled children will miss any of it!” Jasker turned to Misily, “no offense.”

“All taken.”

“Seriously we’re only here for food.” Aren’s belly, almost as if on cue, growled. “You can keep your jewelry for all I care.”

What kind of thieves only come and steal food?

“Just the food?” Misily inquired, pointing her metal pin at the two intruders. They both nodded.

A crash resonated from the ballroom blow, a loud screeching tear followed by the sloppy splash of water and people gasping.

I don’t have time to deal with these two idiots. Misily had to get back to her party and see what happened.

“Help yourselves, just don’t get in my way.” Misily pushed past them both and headed back downstairs to see what the commotion was about.

There, lying on the floor were the scattered remains of her aqueduct, and Willon soaked holding a piece of it in his right hand.

#

Willon didn’t like parties. Even less now that his sister ran off somewhere.

Why did mother make me the one that had to tell her?

Willon looked around, desperately trying to see if there was someone, anyone, to talk to. He pulled on the collar of his suit again. The thing was choking him. The room was mostly filled with adults, or teenagers closer to Misily’s age. Willon recognized his sister’s friends, whispering amongst themselves. He knew he shouldn’t, but if he couldn’t join a conversation he might as well listen to some, maybe get something useful out of it. He burned tin.

“Did you see Misy run?”

“Oh, I feel bad for her.”

“I don’t mind, I can’t keep holding my breath around the Empress.”

“Indrid you really need to stop doing that.”

“Maybe if she just stopped hiding the fact that she’s mistborn…”

Misily? Mistborn? Her friends didn’t even know that she was a misting.

Willon felt a flash of pain, his tin enhancing it as someone gave a hardy slap on his back.

“Prince Willon, right?” An older boy smiled. Straight blond hair, slightly tan skin, and blue eyes like sapphire, remembering the faces his father pointed out to him during the few balls he attended, Kander Penrod. “Not clutching your mother’s dress this time, I see. Good, about time they let you out of wherever they’ve been cooping you up.”
“Uh…yeah,” was that the best Willon could muster? The first person that came to talk to him and that was the best he could do.

“I get it, you want to listen in on pretty girls.”

How did he know that? “ No I just…”

“It’s fine,” Kander put a finger up to his lip. “I’ve been listening in too. Hey since you’re here now, mind giving me an introduction to your sister? You know, so I can stop being a creep?”

“Uh…maybe?”

“Aw don’t be like that. Listen you help me and I’ll help you. Clearly, you’re an allomancer, if I would gander a guess, maybe even mistborn.”

“How do you know?”

“Considering how tight lipped your parents and your sister are about you, I figured there must be something important. Being mistborn is just about the only thing, or a debilitating disability.” Kander looked Willon up and down. “Obviously you’re not disabled, so mistborn it is.” The older boy pointed at the group of girls. “You wanna impress them?”

“Kind of?” Willon always thought Penny was…

“My advice? It isn’t the old court of our parents or grandparents, no need to hide who we are. I’d say burn some metal and show off a bit.” Kander playfully slapped Willon’s chest. “Show them what a mistborn can do.”

Show them…

Willon flared bronze, looking for metal he could push or pull on. Utensils, jewelry, pipes, he looked up at where the water was trickling from. The aqueduct, its pieces were held together by metal rings. Willon burned steel and tugged on it. Surely it could hold his weight? Then he pulled, pulled hard. He felt himself upwards before a loud crash, metal tearing from its hinges. He fell straight into the pool in the center. The metal pieces of the aqueduct’s support came flying at him. He got up just in time to flare iron and catch the piece before it hit him.

The aqueduct collapsed, guests were gasping in surprise. Willon had underestimated the strength of the support, and his weight by comparison.

Misily ran down the balcony stairs. Her makeup smeared and ruined from crying.

“WILLON! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?”

Chapter 6: Just a Coinshot

Misily stared at her brother, his suit dripping, soaked, clutching the metal ring that held her aqueduct project together. She wasn’t even thinking right now. She burned her small supply of steel that she always drank for the first time in months and ripped the metal piece from her brother’s hand, sending it flying and splashing into the pool. The little fish scattered.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Misily screamed looking at her ruined project, the one that took a year and a half of planning.

“I-I, I was just thinking.” Willon stuttered. He’d never seen.

“THINKING? NO, you weren’t thinking you stupid brat!”

Willon flushed. “Your stupid waterspout is shit if it broke that easily.”

“Waterspout!? I spent a year planning it! You wouldn’t know that since you’re Ma and Pa’s special little mistborn!”

“Well, I’m not the one who gets to spend all day partying, doing whatever she wants because she’s just a coinshot and no one wants to hurt her feelings!”

Just a coinshot.

Misily was already crying from before, now more tears streamed down, face flushed with a fury that made her ignore the very much public scene they were causing. But as the rage subsided the embarrassment set in.

Misily’s make-up was long ruined, her hair completely falling apart. Her friends stood away from her. Jina held her fan to block what she was saying to Indrid. Kander melted away into the crowd, snorting and snickering. Gneorndin Cett looked aghast. Aren and Jasker were in the middle of stuffing their faces with the side table pastries. Aren had put down his snack, looking at her with…was it pity. It was pity, wasn’t it?

The ballroom seemed to swirl around her, her head throbbed. She needed to…She burned the rest of her steel and screamed. Tables flew and splintered as the nails in them ripped out, chairs slammed against pillars and walls. Guests staggered out of their chairs as their plates shattered, and their utensils flew like arrows into the wall. A hurricane of anything that contained even the tiniest bit of metal stormed through the ballroom. A woman’s earring even ripped out of her ear as guards moved her out of the way.

Willon stood motionless, pale.

Misily had enough, her steel fizzled out. The night had officially been ruined, and she stormed out of the party, the sounds of guests still yelling and talking behind her.

#
Everyone eventually stood at attention when Vin entered, after they all recovered from their initial shock. She strode through the damaged ballroom, trying to piece together what might have happened.

The aqueduct broke, which might explain Misily’s absence. Then, she spotted Willon hiding in the corner, soaked and pale. She immediately ran over to her son.

“Sweeting what happened?” Vin held his wet hands.

“I-I,” he was sniffling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

Vin hugged him and caressed his cheek. “Hush, go to your room and get changed.”

Willon walked away, still sniffling, head down. Vin turned towards the guests, gave a stern look and waved them all away. The room shifted into chaos as nobles, merchants and council members all gathered their things and servants. Her ears picking up snippets of conversation as everyone vacated the hall.

“Did you see that?”

“Well, I didn’t tell him to do…that! Not my fault the boy is fat.”

“She’s just a coinshot?”

“By the survivor Jina I thought she was mistborn!”

“If I knew that Penny I wouldn’t have been as afraid to turn down the scavenger hunt party!”

“But the scavenger hunt was fun.”

“It was childish.”

“Aren…”

“I know, I know, I just…Survivor, these snobs don’t know how to show some sympathy.”

“That’s why we’re taking their food; half these mouths don’t deserve it. Grab the nice fork will ya?”

“Not the time Jasker…”

Vin wanted to reprimand them all for speaking about her children that way, but there were more important things to deal with, like figuring out where Misily was and if she was alright.

“My Lady, if you would, um… pardon me.” Gneorndin Cett approached her, trembling.

“Lord Cett, would you be able to tell me what happened?”

“I do your grace, but I can only say to the events, not the context.” Cett cleared his throat. “I didn’t see it, but princess Misily’s aqueduct broke. There was a shouting match…Your grace, prince Willon may have revealed too much and said unkind things as did the princess. I apologize I did not catch the whole spat.”

Vin patted the man on his shoulder. “Thank you, Lord Cett. And I apologize for how the night went.”

Cett waved and went off on his way towards the main entrance, now crowded with dazed guests. In the corner of Vin’s tineyes two figures escaping to the balcony and off the side.

I’ll deal with that later.

#

Misily was a snotty mess. Her gloves were covered in smeared makeup and the pearls embroidered on them were missing a few. These were her favorite pair too. She didn’t know where she was running, but she just wanted to be anywhere that was quiet and away from prying eyes.

The gardens.

Her father went there sometimes when he needed some quiet.

Servants shouted after her, concerned, but Misily didn’t need their sympathies right now. She dashed into the small hedge maze, finding a quiet corner surrounded by fireflies, and just curled up, her knees pulled up to her chest. Face in her knees, she sobbed, not caring about her dress. She kicked off her shoes, letting her feet feel the soft grass, breathing heavily and ugly.

Something rustled in the garden foliage.

“Go away.” Misily choked out.

A boy fell out from behind a bush. Aren, the thief from the balcony. “Sorry, Jasker insisted on coming to check on our gracious host.”

Misily ripped off her necklace and tossed it at Aren. “Take it thief. Just leave me alone.”

“Sounds like you had a rough day.” Aren said, his voice, uncommonly gentle for someone as shady as him. His hazel eyes stared up back at her as he laid sprawled on the grass. “Honestly so did I. Did I tell you my crew leader beat me today?”

Misily looked up from her crying. In the dark she had missed crucial details about the boy, now adjusted she noticed the freckles, the scar on his left cheek, and the bruised right eye. She wiped away some tears.

Here Misily was, crying over a birthday ball. “Sorry, it must seem ridiculous for a princess to be complaining.”

“No, its alright. You may not have been beaten, or at least I hope you haven’t, but you still get to complain about things.”

Misily stopped sniffling a bit. “It was supposed to be an infrastructure project. Fresh water for the whole city.”

“So the paved roads was you.”

Misily giggled softly, “yes”

“Magnificent work that.” Aren sat up and turned to face her. “You were crying before that happened though, mind telling about that? Or is that too…” Aren trailed off.

“I was hoping…my mother, you know her. I was hoping she’d show up, but instead I got the news that she wouldn’t from my brother.”

“Ah”

“Misily!” Vin cried out.

“You should go. Probably not good for a thief to…” Misily trailed off. Aren had already gotten the message and had vanished into the night.

“Misily!” Her mother appeared around the corner in a storm grey dress. The Empress ran up to her and embraced the princess. “Are you alright?” Vin’s hand caressed Misily. Her mother was clutching her far too tight “Who were you talking to?”

“No one.”

Her mother didn’t push, “Sweeting I’m so sorry, I really wasn’t expecting the Urteau situation to last that long…”

Misily pushed away her mother. “But you didn’t tell me yourself. You had Willon tell me.” Misily kept pushing but she could tell her mother was reflexively burning pewter. “Get off me.”

Vin let go, a red mark left on Misily’s upper arm from how tightly she had held on. “Sweeting what happened, what can I do to…”

“You could’ve told me before you left. Why do I have to hear it from my brother and not you?”

“Misily is not that simple.”

Msisly didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear the long explanation about why some situation in Urteau took too long. She knew whatever happened was important, but that part didn’t matter. Her mother’s habitual lateness didn’t matter. She got up and left, storming through the night gardens back to her room.

In the corner of Misily’s eye she could’ve sworn she saw the figure of a cloaked person, watching and staring at her.

Chapter 7: Don't think of it.

Summary:

With Misily's ball officially ruined, her friends revealing their lacking quality, she now must find a new purpose and a new way forward to prove to everyone she is fit for the throne. In Aspen row a young allomancer begins to plot a way to escape one of the few crews still lingering in Luthadel. Vin and Elend grapple with the stress of raising their children and their past mistakes catching up to them.

Elend knew Vin well enough to know when she was mad. He was also aware enough to know when it was directed at him. He had gotten the details from passing conversations, ones he overheard with his tineyes. She stormed into their bedroom, in silent fury tearing off the dress she was wearing.

“What law was so important that it dragged you away from being there for Misily?”

“Me?” Elend felt his face flush. “Better question where were you?”

Vin snapped towards him, “dealing with your Empire’s problems!” her face flushed too. “It was out of my control. I made every effort to make it.”

“Or where to that end were you at any of the other balls that Misily has thrown? Maybe she would be more forgiving and less upset if this was the only time you’ve missed it!”

Vin seethed, her face in that pouty expression she always wore when she had nothing to say back. Elend found it adorable “Why are you so hard on Willon? He has no friends, no experience with parties. It was an older boy that convinced him to do that stunt, did you know that?” She changed the subject. That part wasn’t as adorable.

“I thought we both agreed Willon needed more practice.”

“Willon needs friends! You never let him leave, never let him go to any social function, never let him into the city not even with guards. He spends all of his time studying for an exam you made more rigorous. Have you ever told him that half the subjects aren’t even on the standard one? You don’t even let him play a sport!”

There had been fights before, mostly about Misily and Willon, never vicious, but always frustrating.

Willon needs to understand.

Being mistborn had not been the same for Elend as it was for his wife. Vin and allomancy was like butter and bread, a perfect mix. Her mastery of the magic of metal brought her out of her own kind of pit. For Elend, it had been initially exhilarating. He got to see how the woman he loved saw the world, got to understand what it was like to have that kind of power at his fingertips. It had been a useful tool to help defeat Ruin, but now after that initial exhilaration wore off it became clearer how much that power needed responsibility.

Then Misily was born. Elend and Vin both shared another set of vows, to never burn tin, zinc or brass, not anywhere near their daughter. It took a couple years of practice, to wean themselves of the habits. He unconsciously burned tin every time he heard Misily cry at night. He still unconsciously burned tin at conferences.
Both of them fell silent after the outbursts. Elend had believed they were above spats, or arguments, but it became abundantly clear that they were not. If Vin and him were not immune to such spats then why should they expect their children to be.

She is right

Elend was too overbearing on Willon. Saying it out loud put it into perspective. His son had been begging him to let him play burn ball, and he had refused. He had wanted Willon to be more well-rounded, to not have to be beaten near death to snap, to avoid the toxicity of high-society balls. It had been all the things he wished his own father would have done. But he could not protect Willon from this forever, nor Misily.

Vin’s glowered softened, then tears. She covered her face and leaned into Elend.

“I’m sorry.” Vin whispered. “I should’ve been more for her. I should’ve been a better mother.”

“There is no world where you’re a terrible mother.” Elend hugged her, resting his head on top of hers, “and I think you’re not the only one that can’t let go.”

#

Misily stayed in her room for the next week, staring at all the projects that fell to the wayside: A more accessible public transport system built on metal rails, inspired by the metal stakes her mother used; Mine designs that enhanced the safety of the miners; workshop systems and tools that could assemble an entire boat within the matter of hours through an assembly line.

What was the point?

All of these ideas lacked crucial details, technologies that didn’t exist, societal barriers, unanswered ethical questions, and more. The aqueducts were a far away dream. They would have to tear up the homes of skaa in order to make room for it which would have inflated the necessary cost in both finances and people.

Misily didn’t care anymore. Why build something she would never be able to finish? Why build something that couldn’t be built?

Birds chirped outside, it was a beautiful day outside Misly’s window despite the moping. She needed to get out of bed. None of her friends responded to the letters she sent, but sitting still had lost whatever hold it had on her. If they would not take the time, then she would just have to go herself.

Misily did the basic amount of dressing up she did, maybe a little less than usual. She grabbed a shirt, trousers and one of her shawls, the only set she owned, used only a couple times when her mother took her out on riding lessons. Lessons which Misily chose to stop. She hadn’t grown that much since she was twelve, but even still the shrinkage was noticeable as she struggled to put them on. The only part of the apparel that fit relatively snuggly was also the only one she bothered to maintain, the pair of riding boots.

Why had I stopped the horse-riding lessons?

Maybe it was the horses themselves. Big, groomed though they may be, still animals. It was one thing to have them dragging her in a carriage, inside a cushioned cabin, another to be outside, the waft of the horse shit hitting one’s nose. The horses of the royal stable never quite seemed to take to their princess. Grumpy, feisty, they bucked her off every time. The Empress couldn’t be claimed to be an expert rider, but her mother could at least stay on a horse.

Every time Misily fell, she would be picked up, crying, by her silent mother holding the same expression. Was it pity? Was it exasperation? Was this all an attempt to make Misily feel better? The rest of her family would never need horses to get anywhere. Their mistborn abilities took them places faster and more efficiently. But not Misily, she would never be able to do anything they did. It was the same expression as when her mother also tried getting her to play burn ball.

Misily knew what it was about. It was as Willon said. Everybody let the princess do whatever she wanted, or they wanted, to make her feel better. A notion, no matter how well meaning, infuriated her.

Pity was the worse thing to see in someone’s eyes.

Misily strode through the halls of the palace. Maids got out of her way, bowing in, deference, a deep bow with both hands clasped behind their backs. A bow normally reserved for her mother The Empress. Misily usually got curtsies or head bows. She turned to see her reflection in a passing window.

I really do look like her.

Anything more than a passing glance and people would notice how uncomfortably tight the shirt and trousers were, or the fact that Misily was wearing riding boots, whilst her mother preferred bare feet, nor was she wearing the standard mistborn cloak. She never got one, instead watching Willon open one on his ninth birthday. But it was understandable how all the passing servants could make that mistake. After all Princess Misily wasn’t known for shirts and trousers. Was this how her mother felt? To wear such simple and unremarkable fashion but still be immediately recognized.

Front of the palace parked the carriages that were always present in case the palace inhabitants wanted to go out. Thatcher, Misily’s usual carriage driver, sat whittling away at a piece of wood. It appeared to be some sort of goat, but judging by his face, that wasn’t what it was supposed to be. The man scratched his greying stubble, grumbling to himself.

“Sir Thatcher.” Misily greeted him.

“Oh! My Lady I…” Thatcher bowed deeply, his front body remaining low. His cap fell of his balding head.

“Thatcher that isn’t necessary…”

The man looked up, “but your grace I…” He reached down to pick up his hat. “Oh, my apologies princess, I thought you were…”

“My mother? Don’t worry everyone has been making that mistake.”

“Where would my lady be going today? Perhaps the dress shop in the commercial district?”

Misily thought for a moment. Though tempting and comforting seeing all the new fabrics, it wasn’t what she felt right now. “No… In fact I’m not quite sure. It’s a beautiful day outside today.” She took in the warm breeze that fluttered through the courtyard.

“Indeed it is my lady.”

Misily walked over to one of the less ostentatious carriages, a simple black coach. “Thatcher would you be a dear and prepare this coach? With the younger foals who need the training.”

Thatcher bowed slightly. “Of course, my lady, do you need some time to think of a destination?”

“No, I think I would just like to ride around the city, whichever route you wish. If you need to complete errands on the way I don’t mind.”

“But… I can’t simply bring along a young lady along to my errands, let alone the princess.” Thatcher said aghast.

“I wish to be discreet today. Consider me a simple passenger, your granddaughter, niece, whichever story you choose I’ll play the role.”

“I… are you sure?” Thatcher looked around anxiously, conflicted on the direct order given by the crowned heir, and the common order to not put Misily’s life in any risk no matter how small. “But my lady you aren’t mistborn-”

Misily shot him a glance, instinctively burning steel. She felt something, faint, but something. Thatcher’s face twisted. She could see the buckle, the royal badge that let him access certain gates, a ring on his right hand. All those metals she could sense and push on if she wished, but she was not a seeker. Yet this one was different.

What was it? Misily had let the thoughts that intruded her win, her curiosity taking over her sense of manners. She pushed. Thatcher’s face morphed into horror as he doubled over, vomiting.

“I-I my lady I’m so sorry, I don’t know what…Must’ve been that rabbit stew.” Thatcher looked pale.

Misily stepped, horrified at what she might’ve done, yet intrigued. “Clean yourself up, and my wish remains. I want to go out into the city.”

Thatcher nodded and stumbled away to get the horses.

#

Aren tossed aside the leftovers from the party crash. The cake lasted a good while before going stale, but Jasker and him had to eat it fast lest another one of the crew found the stash. Hendal especially demand that the spoils of any thieving operation should be shared with the whole crew.

Jasker patted his big belly, satisfied. His beard still containing some flecks of frosting.

“Jasker,” Aren pointed at his chin, “leftovers.”

The old man made a casual swipe. The flecks stayed. Aren didn’t bother to point it out a second time.

“Well, I was thinkin we crash the Penrod ball next time…”

“Jasker why don’t we just…leave?”

“Leave what boy?”

“This crew. We don’t do anything. The best heist this crew has performed has been snatching a hundred noble lady purses.” Aren looked around the dilapidated hideout. It was a tiny former corner shop, with a cramped bar and an even sorrier selection of drinks.

“Well, it certainly isn’t like the old days.” Jasker picked his nose and snorted.

“It isn’t, nothing like the heists Kelsier used to do.”

“Boy you read too much. Too much of that mush is oversold church crap. The survivor was a great thief, but there ain’t no divinity involved. He was just mistborn, and that makes for some interesting stories.”

Other thieves walked through, careful to avoid the table Aren. Being one of the two allomancers that this crew boasted bought him some security. Jasker, by association, spent time with Aren for that fact.

“Besides, If you leave Weyla is going to hunt you down to the ends of the Empire. She don’t like it when her pet allomancers leave, and Hendal is a loyal dog.” Jasker said, shoving another crumbling slice of blue cake into his mouth. “You already messed up once. If you weren’t an allomancer she would’ve had you fed to the hounds.”

“How do I know you didn’t rat me out last time?” Aren squinted at Jasker.

“Ha! Paranoid boy?” Jasker sighed, “used to know someone like that. Paranoia won’t do you any good.”

“Well Weyla found out somehow.”

Jasker waved his hand. “Weyla always finds out.” The old man stared down at Aren. “I wouldn’t do that to you, I made my life keeping secrets, ain’t going to get loose lipped now.”

Just then the hideout door burst open, the stink of old Aspen Row wafting in. A Terris woman sulked in. A giant of a man stalking close behind like her shadow.

“I heard someone here was thinking of leaving.” Weyla smiled that creepy smile she always like throwing around. In an unnatural whirlwind she appeared, sitting at Aren and Jasker’s table, her head casually resting on the back of the chair facing them. The copious amounts of jewelry she seemed to wear jingled at the sudden burst of speed. “If you leave, you’ll make me very sad.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” Aren grumbled.

Chapter 8: Something Wrong

Summary:

Vin feels something off as she wonders where Misily went. Aren wanders Luthadel, trapped in a cycle of emotional chains.

“You have to close your eyes!” Misily giggled

“Alright alright!” Vin carefully put baby Willon down in his crib to entertain her daughter. She knelt and covered her eyes.

“Hey! No peeking!”

“I’m not!” Vin giggled, playfully moving one finger to the side to peek out of the gap. She felt her daughter’s grubby little hands push it closed.

“Count! And I’ll hide. No Tinny.” Misily giggled.

Vin began counting.

“No Fair! I haven’t started yet.” Misily squealed.

Vin kept counting, hearing the adorable little pitter patter of tiny feet run away into the distance. She counted for a little bit more to give Misily a head start. Willon started crying. He was fussy lately, was he not getting fed enough? Was he sick? He was already huge by baby standards; pewter had been Vin’s saving grace. She rocked her son, singing a little lullaby to lull the child to sleep. Once he eventually did she had lost track of how much time had passed. She still had to find Misily.

Vin got Allrianne to watch Willon for a little bit and went on the hunt for the little girl. Slowly throughout the royal quarters of the palace, Vin playfully called out Misily’s name, checking under cloths, tables, cabinets, wardrobes in sudden and dramatic swoops, expecting to find her daughter squealing, laughing. Yet after some time, nothing.
Maybe I had spent too long trying to get Willon to sleep?

Perhaps Misily fell asleep or got bored. Vin checked the kitchens, the gardens, the library, and anywhere the little princess might see as a good hiding spot. When her daughter failed to appear in any of those locations, panic began to set in. She enlisted the help of Spook and Elend. She went back on a promise she never thought she would, she burned tin.

They began checking elsewhere in the palace. Maids and servants were now on high alert, looking for the princess. Vin felt her heartbeat, her breathing heavy, her hands shaking. Elend asked if she needed to sit down. She remembered refusing, continuing despite the chest pain and sweating, burning pewter to push the fatigue away.

Then Vin woke up.

She sat up in the bed she shared with Elend, her whole body covered in sweat. Morning birds chirped outside her window. Elend was already gone. Vin quickly got dressed and made her way towards Misily’s room.
How long was I asleep?

As the dream faded away, Vin remembered the actual event that had apparently inspired it. Misily had simply hid in one of the big bins of recently washed laundry. Sun dried and clean, the little girl had fallen asleep amongst the sheets. After two hours of a frenzied search, one of the young maids uncovered a sleeping princess, peacefully tucked between the white cloth.

Misily had been brooding for the past week. Many times Vin tried to talk with her daughter, and that many times she was told to go away. She didn’t want to force it. Misily already had a horrible birthday and on Vin’s night escapades she had caught all of her daughter’s friend’s speaking less than kindly. She wanted to break in, send a message, but she already felt somewhat guilty for eavesdropping on other’s lives even if they hurt her daughter. Still, the option was on the table.

Vin knocked on Misily’s door.

“Sweetings are you feeling a bit better?” Vin got no answer. “Missy if you need anything just let me know. If you want to go dress shopping, I can take you.” Still no answer.

Maybe she was just not feeling well?

Misily’s door quietly swung ajar. Her daughter’s room was empty, only the piles of papers, books, and models remained. Misily’s aqueduct project was torn apart, thrown into the corner from a past rage. Vin felt her heart sink. Misily had worked so hard on it. Nonetheless, it seemed the princess had finally gotten up out of her room. This wasn’t unusual, or at least it shouldn’t be. Misily went out all the time without necessarily informing her parents of the full details.

But something felt off. Rarely had Misily ever left without at least telling Vin or Elend that she was and definitely never left without at least a couple of Ham’s pewterarms. Servants passed by, jumping in surprise and confusion upon seeing Vin. They bowed and scurried along.

Vin tried not to worry too much. Misily needed space. She didn’t need her mother hovering over her and yet…Something irked Vin still. She jumped down to the carriage stables. Misily’s usual transport was still parked, a velvet purple, not too ornate, but clearly noble. Allrianne gifted it to Misily when the girl turned fourteen. Misily rode it anytime she went out since. Thatcher was, however, not present.

Something feels wrong.

Vin was tempted to burn tin again, desperate for Ham, Breeze, Allrianne, Spook, Elend, or anyone to come and tell her that she was just being paranoid, and that they had seen Misily being picked up by friends. Vin pushed down her paranoid tendencies, sighed and went on her morning run of the palace.

Misily just needs space, Vin reminded herself. It was hard to imagine that her daughter was already seventeen. As the crisp morning air blew past her, she found the ledge that she always sat on to look out on the city of Luthadel and the bright yellow sun. She breathed it in.

All one decision. Her and Elend stood in that strange realm so long ago now. Kelsier was there, Sazed was there. Elend and her were given a choice. In a way both of them were drawn to it, to whatever the beyond promised. Sazed reconstructed their physical forms. The path was there. In that moment Vin decided, she went back to her body, and Elend, trusting her, followed suit. Then the rest became history. As things settled down, they talked about policies, society, and children. Vin wanted three. Elend was hesitant, too many fears carried over from Straff Venture. She breathed deeply and wondered what the great beyond would have looked like. But if she had decided to go, she wouldn’t have had Misily or Willon, wouldn’t have had all those joyous memories of their little feet kicking in the air or Misily running away from bathtime. She figured she would eventually get to see the cognitive realm again. Maybe Kelsier was waiting for her there. But now she had far too much keeping her here in this plane.

#

Weyla tossed a bag of boxings at Aren, directly on a bruise. He wasn’t sure if she used some eyesight for that, but the toss was too accurate to have been unintentional.

“Go get something nice for yourself sweetings.” Weyla smiled.

Aren didn’t pick up the bag. The older woman looked at him, he stared back defiantly. A storm brewed behind Weyla’s eyes, her brows furrowed, revealing the wrinkles she hated people bringing up.

“Kid just take the money and use it.” Jasker whispered. “Don’t let your pride turn down free money.”

Aren snatched the bag, shoving it into his trouser pockets. Weyla smiled, caressed his cheek. “Awww, get your bruise checked for me sweeting?”

“You gave it to me.” Aren grumbled.

“Now, now, I said I was sorry. You know how I am when I get mad.” Weyla cooed. She patted him on his head. “You’ve got the rest of the day off.” She landed an unwanted kiss on his cheek. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

#

Aren mindlessly kicked a stone as he walked the streets. He stopped, seeing the open gates letting in merchants and farmers. It was always open certain times of the day for those that lived outside to come into the markets, deliveries to workshops. He could really just walk out. He was eighteen now. Under the Emperor’s law he was an adult, free from being told what to do by his guardians. If Weyla could even be referred to as such.

The Terris woman had, “found,” Aren drifting alone along a canal, allegedly. Since then, she had been the only mother he ever knew. He thought all boys got hit when they made their mothers mad, thought all mothers screamed obscenities at him if he talked back. Then the very next day she would toss him a bag of boxings, usually a copius amount, as a form of apology.

One day Weyla had beat him particularly badly. Aren had always been scrawny, but he chose to hit back, shoving her and biting her wrist. He snapped. He didn’t know where he got the pewter from but he threw Weyla across the room while trying to push her away. Hendel continued the beating, but Aren remembered a wicked smile appeared on Weyla’s face. It only got worse from there. Now he wasn’t just a little boy she could let her anger out on. He was a tool. He thought it was all normal.

Aren found out years ago just how wrong he was about normalcy when he saw those girls at the dress shop. It wasn’t one of those fancy shops that tailored for rich folk. It was one that tailored for more common skaa at a more affordable price. He recognized it as one of the shops that Weyla intimidated for “protection” money. Two parents had brought their three daughters to the shop, letting two of them try on dresses. The two girls were jumping joyfully, smiling, laughing. The father clapped at every fitting, smiling. Why was he smiling? Even these dresses, although relatively affordable, would have still cost this working family a year’s worth. How could someone be so happy to just throw away money like that? Aren watched the third daughter, who didn’t participate in the dress fitting, yet she smiled regardless. Wasn’t she bored? After the family left, new dresses in hand, he followed out of curiosity. The next stop was a bookshop, also on the list of shops Weyla had on a ledger. Then the third daughter lit up, running up and down the aisles reaching for book upon book, jumping up and down just like her sisters had in the dress shop. Her sisters didn’t seem bored at all, smiling as if taking joy in her joy.

Aren remembered feeling sick in his stomach. How were they so unnervingly happy? Where were the bruises? Were they really just happy when the others are happy? Weyla only ever gave him as much money as she was comfortable giving away. The next time he chose to talk back she would bring it up, how she clothed him, raised him, the least he could be, was grateful. How was he supposed to now? Aren realized what he had was not normal.

The memory faded as his bruise throbbed again. Aren walked around the block. He had the money. He had rarely spent any of the “allowances” that Weyla gave him. The rest he saved in a box, hidden away under a floorboard. He didn’t need food. Stealing it was Jasker’s idea. The old man showed up in the crew when Aren was eight, right around when the boy snapped. Since then Aren had someone he could reasonably call a “father” to go along with Weyla. Jasker brought the boy along all his food stealing escapades. Aren just assumed that the portly old man just brought him along because he was a thug. To this day he still couldn’t understand the point of stealing food, but it was just about the only thing he looked forward to.

Aren stopped and looked up. He had accidentally wandered into the commercial district. The sun was setting, the sky a hazy orange and red. Had he been walking for that long? The streets here were cleaner. The shops were better maintained, not the kind of shops Weyla could intimidate without an army of soldiers bearing down on the crew.

A carriage rode up to one of the shoe shops. A young woman stepped out. For a second Aren did a double-take. He thought the Empress herself just walked out of a random carriage. Looking closer however, he noticed some discrepancies. She looked extremely similar, but Aren had seen enough of The Empress, maybe more so than most skaa just from the parties he crashed with Jasker. Her hair was too long, far too long. She was slightly taller and just carried herself in a more curious fashion. Once it clicked Aren realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup unlike the last time and the first time they met.

“Misily?”

The princess turned to him and smiled a weary tired smile.

Chapter 9: Push

Summary:

Hi, so this entire thing was just a fun little project I did as a way to practice my writing skills and unfortunately, I only have so much time in a day to do this. As expected, proofreading and editing is rather minimal for which I apologize for. I've recently gone back and fixed a few things, tightened up some grammar, and adjusted any in universe lore that I may have gotten incorrect. I will continue to do this as I keep writing.

I have no idea how many people keep up with this, but for those that are thank you. I'm just happy that there is anybody reading this stuff at all.

Notes:

Warning: This chapter specifically has implications for attempted sexual assault. There is nothing graphic or very descriptive and everything is implied only, but I figured I should throw it out there as a warning, so it doesn't catch anyone off guard. The implication is only one sentence towards the end.

Elend missed the bin. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had gotten the crumpled draft in the bin anyway, it was full to the brim and needed emptying soon. He had been drafting…Well he didn’t know what he was drafting at all. It shouldn’t be this hard to apologize to his own son. It almost made him wonder if this was how his own father felt.

No, Straff Venture was a cruel man.

Elend reminded himself. And yet…Was it arrogance? Was it fear? Nothing in his mind could explain why he was sitting at his desk drafting an apology to Willon like it was speech, but he had found comfort in writing things down. When it came to Willon, Elend never knew what to say that didn’t feel overbearing. Elend knew his wife. Vin and he apologized to each other for the argument the night after. Misily usually needed a few days of moping, but after that she accepted any apology so long as she thought it was sincere.

Willon on the other hand, no apology seemed to go through to the boy, no matter how genuine Elend thought it was. Why had Misily been so easy? He didn’t want to believe that it had anything to do with Willon being mistborn and Misily being a misting. He leaned back in his chair, and let himself close his eyes for a moment.

It had been a cold winter when Vin had told him. The Empire, though recovering, still had some scars it needed to heal. That winter had been particularly brutal for the outlying farms. He worked day and night for nearly two weeks, managing supply chains, providing aid to the worst hit regions. He barely slept. By the time things were settled and the vast majority of the damage staunched, he had burned pewter to its limit. In doing so he had completely missed the little setup Vin had made to let him know she was with child. That message came in the form of a specially baked round bun that she left on their bed rapped in paper and with a bow. It was the custom that skaa women used to let men know about pregnancy, and Elend had ended up sleeping right on top of it, crushing it flat. Worse, he woke up, saw the crushed bread, and ate it, unaware of its significance. Vin cried herself laughing and teased him mercilessly for all nine months.

“I don’t know if I should have this child. Elend might crush and eat them.” Vin laughed so hard that it, unconfirmed, might have caused her to go into labor. Or at least she poked fun at it. “Also, who eats crushed bread after they’ve slept on it?”

But Elend was ecstatic when he did find out, if a little embarrassed for ruining the surprise.  He was in desperate need of good news. Then came the other eight months and he scrambled to find books about fatherhood, pointers from Ham, and running around trying to fill whatever sudden craving Vin had. Then Misily was born, and for a second all that worry he felt melted away. There was no conceivable world where he could possibly lay a finger on her, no way he would ever have soldiers beat her to unleash her potential allomancy, no way he would ever drag a skaa whore to…Elend just looked at her, sleeping peacefully.

He would never be like Straff. He vowed to himself as much as he vowed it to Misily, years later to Willon, and once again when Willon fell down the stairs, hitting his head, snapping into a mistborn.

Then the fear came back, tenfold. Misily wouldn’t stop shoving things into her mouth. Willon was habitually clumsy. Every day, every year, there was a new fear that would ignite and burn away all his pewter.

Elend got up from his desk, knees hurting. He tried to burn pewter, but realized he had used it all up earlier, keeping himself awake. A quiet shadow parted the curtains, dusk air flowing in. Vin landed, she stayed in a crouched position, slowly getting up. He heard a slight gasp groan, her hands reflexively moving to her back.

“How does it hurt already? I’m burning pewter, and I’m not even that old.” Vin complained.

“Well,” Elend moved over, kissing his wife on the cheek, “We didn’t exactly have a healthy…youth.”

Vin rolled her eyes, “I know,” She paused. “Have you seen Misily?”

“No, she didn’t come out for lunch or dinner. I assumed…I suspected she just need some more time.” Elend frowned. He really had not seen or heard from his daughter all week, his mind so consumed by stress over Willon.

“Odd, she wasn’t in her room earlier.” Vin frowned as well. “Did she tell you she was going out?”

“Not that I recall no.” Elend dropped everything he was doing and walked out of his room down the hall to the painted door. It remained ajar, untouched since the last person touched it.

“That…I checked on her at noon, her carriage is still in the stable.” Vin’s voice shook. Elend paled.

Where did Misily go.

#

Misily kept the carriage curtain drawn, hiding away from prying eyes. If even the servants of the palace mistook her for her mother, then the skaa of the streets most certainly will. She had seen the kind of mobs that would follow Empress Vin Venture around. It was so bad she had to switch which carriage she rode every couple days. Misily knew her mother would have rather just jump to location, but Misily was a young child, and that meant staying in the carriage. There was a lot of things Vin couldn’t do because of Misily, and Misily knew it. Her mother never had to say it, or tell her, she just knew. Misily kept her mother down on the ground.

Every so often, Misily peeked out the curtains, seeing the afternoon streets go by. A lot of the women wore black, the men wore white, like pieces of a board. Men wore curly, slightly unkempt hair. Women wore their hair short. Even here her mother dictated what everyone did, what everyone saw. Misily had read the accounts from the Lord Ruler’s era and before. The skaa craved ruling. It took a millennia before anyone did anything about the oppression, a millennia before Grampa Kelsier did something about it and years more before.

Thatcher stopped the carriage. Whatever street they were on was cramped, more an alley way than a street. The carriage only barely fit. Misily could feel the cabin shaking as people squeezed by. Indistinct words were shouted at presumably Thatcher.

“Move the damn carriage you fuck!”

“You’re taking up the whole damn street!”

Misily peeked out the left side window. Thatcher’s face was flushed as he talked with a skaa shop owner. He was counting coins. The shop owner held a bag in one hand staring intently at the Boxings. A man in a white trench coat and stubble came behind Thatcher, aggressively pushing the carriage driver.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” The man shouted, his voice piercing the walls of the carriage.

“No sir… I’m just settling my business and I’ll be on my way.” Thatcher dropped a couple coins.

“Our for fucks sake.”

Misily unlatched the carriage handle, opening the door slightly.

“Is there something wrong Thatcher?”

The aggressive man turned, apparently mystified that there was a passenger. Thatcher picked up the coins and scrambled to the carriage door. “My-my lady I highly recommend you stay in the cabin…These streets are not exactly fitting for a young lady such as yourself.”

Burning steel, Misily pushed open the door. Thatcher stumbled back, into the angry man.

“Watch it you…” He paused.

Misily stepped out of the carriage, removing her shawl to put her face into full public view. The bustle of the city around her came to a halt as everyone was now staring at her, in black shirts, black trousers, and raven hair. The previously confrontational man took his hat off, revealing an ugly sort of balding. A few of the surrounding skaa even knelt into a position that seemed like praying.

“My-my Lady, I apologize…” The man blathered. “I didn’t know…”

“Regardless of whether you knew or not, it didn’t give you the right to treat my driver so rudely.” Misily pulled her hair back and did her best to channel her mother’s voice. She imagined what The Empress sounded like, the words her mother used, phrases, mannerisms. Vin was a strange mix, the casualness and stubbornness of someone who grew up on the streets paired with the refinement of court. Misily had rarely ever seen the streets, especially not the part of Luthadel her mother had grown up under. Her parents had done their best to keep both Willon and her away from it. “Apologize,” Misily said, the voice of The Heir to the Survivor backing her, “and kneel while you’re at it.”

The once angry man got down to one knee in front of, “sir, I did not mean offend. Can you forgive me?”

Thatcher flushed, “Aye…you are forgiven, please…get up.”

The man got up, bowed to both Misily and Thatcher, and walked away. Thatcher finished paying for whatever he was here for and ushered Misily back into the carriage, going on the move as quickly as possible.

“My Lady…you didn’t have to do that.” Thatcher’s voice shook. He was mad, but he couldn’t simply let it out in front of her, not the princess. “My Lady shouldn’t have done that…”

“He was being rude to you.” Misily said.

“My Lady, you shouldn’t even be in this part of the city to begin with. It was my impression My Lady wanted to be discreet, and now rumors will be abound that the Empress showed up here. If that is what you desired that was not the way to do it. I have money for these sort of things. The Emperor and Empress give me a fund in case I have to deal with unruly streetgoers.”

The carriage stopped once again, the afternoon reaching its laziest peak.

“My Lady, I implore you, please stay in the carriage.” Thatcher looked both ways on the muddy streets, he tipped his brimmed hat and ducked into a nearby shop.

A loud yell, a couple barrels being knocked over. Misily saw a group of boys surrounding a small frame. As the small crowd of four parted, she saw the girl, skinny and malnourished cowering. The child’s hair was cut short and choppy, wearing trousers and a shirt. She was trying to mimic a boy. One of the boys, blonde, started unbuckling.

Misily had heard the tales, vague passings of them at least. Her mother was extremely cagey about their past before killing the lord ruler.

Misily watched, from the carriage as another boy with long mop-like brown hair landed a punch into the girl’s gut. For her part, the girl grabbed his arm and started tearing. But it was four against one, as the mop haired boy retracted his arm cursing. His friend with lighter brown hair slapped her across the face. Misily stared for a guilty amount of time. What was she supposed to do? She hardly knew how to fight, and she doubted between the two of them they could take on four. Yet still, she quietly, silently opened the door and stepped out. None of them noticed her.

Misily felt something, in the blonde-haired boy’s body felt it could be…She instinctively burned steel. The blonde boy’s arm jerked forward, slamming straight into a brick wall. He screamed, face flushed red. His companions all looked at him, confused. Misily, tentatively pushed again as hard as she could. The blonde hair smashed into the wall, and the boy collapsed, unconscious. It was then and only then the rest of them noticed Misily, standing in the street. She pushed again, this time on the mop-haired boy. His leg came out from under him, his head hitting the ground with a disgusting crack. The other two broke from their stunned stupor, and made the connection that the stranger was the cause of the phantom force, a stranger that looked the very picture of The Empress. They ran, blubbering.

The girl got up and caught Misily’s glance. Looking a little closer, Misily realized she and the girl was likely older than her, Misily, the princess who had been fed by palace cooks her whole life in contrast with the street child who fought for scraps and had to disguise herself as a boy. Misily could tell, something about the rough edges never left the person that grew up like that. It was the same feeling she got from her mother.

The girl ran, looking back at the princess, her eyes a mix of wonder and reverence.

Chapter 10: Blood Upon the Stone

Summary:

Misily reels from her actions as the pressure of being Vin's daughter starts weighing down on her.

Thatcher came out of the store, the crumpled bodies of the two boys out in the street.

“My Lady!” He rushed over to her, “What…”

What I did shouldn’t be possible.

You can’t manipulate metal inside the body. That was one of the rules that was drilled into Misily’s mind since her parents found out she was a steelpusher. No, the boys must have been wearing something, a metal bracelet, or maybe a gold tooth. But she knew that wasn’t possible either. Where would street boys get the money to afford such fineries? There was no metal, none visible at least. Coin would have spilled out, earrings would have been ripped out, and bracelets would have slipped right off.

What in the survivor’s name did I push then?

“My Lady we have to go!” Thatcher pulled at her.

Misily remained dazed, staring at the two boys whose heads she just threw against stone. One of them had blood pooling on the ground. She stared at the scene. Were they dead? No, even if they were they had it coming, they were trying to…No they should have a trial under scrutiny of law. They should be punished for their mistakes but not… They were trying to hurt that skaa girl. Misily shouldn’t have been able to…

“My Lady!” Thatcher was pulling on her arm desperately. People came out of their homes and shops to see what the commotion was about. Pretty soon a crowd formed, whispers carrying over, pointing at her.

Misily was no tineye, but she had learned to pick up stray whispers.

“By the survivor are those the Connelly boys?”

“They’re a bunch of vagrants, probably had it coming.”

“Hush, is that?”

“Her majesty…”

Some of the onlooking skaa knelt and began praying, praying like uncle Demoux did on occasion when he thought no one was looking. They whispered the survivor’s name, her mother’s name, and the hero of ages.

Misily snapped out of it and hopped into the carriage. Thatcher reined the horses with haste, jolting the carriage forward. She ducked away from the curtains, squealing as a hand grasped at the glass as did many others, tapping against the side of the carriage like marching drums.

The emotions that Misily had kept down in the heat of the moment came rushing back. She covered her ears trying to tune out the constant cries of her mother’s titles, children crying, men and women alike shouting. She screamed and began sobbing hysterically.

I’m a murderer!

Misily’s ears started ringing, a whooshing noise pulsing through her ear. The carriage shook, the crowds parted as metal objects clanged on the ground, people yelped or screamed as more metal objects flew around like a whirlwind. The carriage listed dangerously on its right side. Thatcher cried out desperately controlling the horses and a testament to his experience, managed to set the carriage straight despite the allomantic forces at work. She hid her tears under her shawl as Thatcher kept the carriage going. The afternoon had moved on as evening began setting in. Thatcher slowed the horses down, finding a quiet spot inside a park with trees blowing in the wind. It somewhat soothed her.

Thatcher walked around and opened the carriage door. “My Lady are you…”

Misily didn’t wear make up out, but she was a complete mess. She hid in the corner of the carriage, still sobbing. She averted her eyes away from Thatcher.

“My Lady, the crowd is gone.” Thatcher’s voice softened. “You are safe here.”

Misily, through hiccupping cries, “I…I killed them!”

Thatcher reached out a hand, “It’s ok, the Connelly boys…I know them, they’ve been terrorizing those streets for some time with no remorse. If it wasn’t you they would have angered someone else.”

Misily shakily grasped his hand, letting him pull her in for a tight hug. “I don’t…I don’t,” she tried to speak, but whatever came out was an incoherent soup of words, and beyond that, she didn’t know what she would say. She just cried on Thatcher’s shoulder.

#

After Misily calmed down, or at least as calm as she could be in that situation, which was simply not sobbing out of control, Thatcher drove the horses to go around the city again. She laid down on the bench, still silently weeping to herself.

“I used to have a daughter…” Thatcher began, hoping conversation would help comfort the princess. “She was around your age…” He had been in the palace for a very long time. He had been, not young, much younger than he was now when he marched with Emperor Elend Venture to Fadrex city and younger still by a year when Straff Venture sieged Luthadel. “Her name was…Amisa,” He choked at the name. It had been a long time since he dredged up such memories. “She was a lot like you My Lady, loved dresses. We couldn’t afford none of course, but she still loved looking at them, imagining what it would be like to wear one.

            For old bones like me I remember the siege of Luthadel. Your grampa, by blood, was a cruel man even before the death of the Lord Ruler. Those were dark days My Lady. Old Straff Venture would have killed any skaa without hesitation and certainly without remorse.” Thatcher clenched his jaw, staring out into the deep purples of the setting sun. “Amisa… Straff had took a fancy to her and took her. And in those days, pretty young girls that got taken never came back. Even still, foolhardy as I was, I went to the keep to demand her return, brought all the money I had.” The streets here were quiet.

Amisa would’ve appreciated this.

“I’ll be the first to admit My Lady.” Thatcher continued. “I hated your father at first. But the guards at Venture keep would’ve slit my throat for my insolence if it had not been for him. ‘What was the point of sparing me? You took my Amisa and made a whore out of her.’ I spit at your father’s feet when he came to the gate and ordered the guards to leave me be. Do you know what he told me?” Thatcher took a glance back at the princess. “He told me, ‘live so that you may see a sunrise she never could.’ I thought it was corny, insulting…” Thatcher stopped at one more shop the light of day leaving the sky. “I thought it was a bunch of horseshit…If you would forgive my language My Lady…Then you mother killed the Lord Ruler.”

Thatcher hitched the horses to a nearby pole. “Are you feeling better My Lady?” In the darkness of the carriage, he made out the slightest of nods. He gave her the space and went into the musty shop. It was small, cramped, but Thatcher knew the owner well. Leyti, a Terrisman came to greet the old carriage driver at the counter.

“Master Thatcher,” Leyti bowed slightly.

“I need one of your bracelets, of the non-metallic variety.” No one made wooden jewelry quite like Leyti. It had always been a specialty craft shop, hidden in a corner of Luthadel everyone forgot.

Leyti nodded, “When do you need this by?” Thatcher pulled out his boxings and handed over a small handful of down payment.

“As soon as you can, but no rush.” Thatcher said.

“Is this for you?”

“A gift.” Thatcher glanced back at the carriage. He remembered when little princess Misily was born. She had quickly become the palace delight. Energetic, but never impolite, and enthusiastically including everyone. Thatcher had seen murderers before. He didn’t know what exactly happened, but the girl sitting in the carriage crying and sobbing over the two lives she took was no true murderer.

#

Misily had looked like she had been crying. Aren wasn’t sure of what to make of that. Thrice now he had been witness to the princess’s most vulnerable moments. More importantly he wasn’t sure how to address her.

“Aren was it?” Misily said. Aren was more shocked that she still remembered his name at all.

He curtsied, “Your highness.” This got a giggle out of Misily.

“That would be an address for my mother. ‘My Lady’ or ‘My Princess,’ will suffice for me.”

 “Well then, My Lady, we must start meeting in better circumstances. I don’t know how to feel if the princess, Empire’s darling, was hysterically sobbing every time she meets me.” Aren corrected.

Misily rolled her eyes, “I’m not hysterical,” her voice still cracking and hiccupping.

“I don’t think someone of my rank needs to know.” He bent down for a bow, wincing a bit at bruises still unhealed.

“Another beating?” Misily pointed out.

“Pain is hard to hide.” Aren smiled reassuringly. This was hardly the worst beating he had received Weyla in this half-year let alone in his lifetime.

Misily dug around her purse.

“Oh, no My Lady I don’t need money. I have plenty of it.” Aren jingled his own pouch of boxings.

Misily looked at him, unsure, and handed a paper boxing. It was a bit crumpled, but was otherwise still crisp and fresh, newly minted in the Emperor’s own paper printers. Aren took it tenderly and inspected the lines and finely inked numbers and portraits of unknown men. Printing was still a luxury for most skaa. This particular paper boxing looked rather expensive to make. Aren didn’t know much about economics, but the paper money was supposed to slowly replace and phase out the metal boxings. The fact that it was printed aided in its value, but many were still hesitant to buy into the idea that this piece of paper was supposed to represent the exact value of metal stored away somewhere else. Most still kept to metal boxings. Still, it held value legally.

“For a particularly charming thief.” Misily said quietly.

Aren carefully folded the paper and put it into his shirt pocket. “I shall treasure it.”

“It’s one boxing, not much of a treasure. I was hoping you’d spend it” Misily snorted.

“Well, it’s not every day the princess hands you money.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very generous.”

The two laughed. Shale falling from rooftops interrupted them, followed by a coin falling onto the smooth paved streets. A mistborn cloak landed, slowed by the coin push. The cloak fluttered a bit, behind the relatively short woman that stood in front of Misily and Aren. She took off her hood, the face underneath older, more scarred, but the resemblance was uncanny. Aren had seen this women before, but only ever at a safe distance. After all, no one ever wanted to be caught by Empress Vin.

Chapter 11: Law Holder

Notes:

I'm back! Bit of a wait on this one. Working through some knots and still busy in the mean while. Don't worry I haven't just forgotten about this.

Vin’s palms were sweaty, breathing felt like she was drowning, heavy and short. She tried to keep steady as she made a mad, pewter fueled dash throughout the palace. Passing by a window she saw Elend flying around the outside grounds of the palace in an equally frantic search.

Kitchen, laundry, ballroom flew by as no sign of Misily showed. Vin stopped at the front entrance, panting, sweating all over. She downed another vial of pewter with shaky hands. Elend landed nearby.

“Anything?” He looked at her, but deep down the answer was obvious. Vin shook her head, gasping.

This was far from the worst pewter drag Vin had ever dealt with, but the burning metal didn’t seem to do anything for the trembling or the short breath.

“Sweeting, maybe you should go sit down. I’ll coordinate with Ham, search the city…”

“Where’s Spook?” Vin gasped.

Elend shook his head, “He left yesterday for Fadrex.”

Vin dropped a coin. Before Elend could stop her, she launched herself into the air towards the lights of Luthadel.

I have to find her.

How was she supposed to in this metropolis? Vin landed on a rooftop and stopped to think. Searching  the whole of the city wouldn’t be possible, not with what she was capable of now.

If I was a younger woman…

Vin would have been able to cover at least half the city on her own. Now she barely trusted herself with searching a quarter. That wasn’t even acknowledging the possibility that her daughter wasn’t even in the city anymore. Thoughts and memories raced through her mind like storming wind. What was Misily’s favorite dress shop? The one on Kell’s street. What was Misil’'s favorite pastry shop? Her favorite theater? Then it crossed Vin’s mind that she had, in fact, not done everything she could. She took out a small vial she always stowed away, just in case. In it swirled all the metals that she and her husband had forbade themselves from using, brass, zinc… and tin. This little emergency vial was all she carried.

Vin downed the mixture and burned. Sounds and sights assaulted her as she became beholden to the city’s nighttime activities, but she only heard the relative vicinity. It wasn’t enough. She burned through her entire supply of duralmin, now the whole city came to her senses. Dogs barked, drunken fools stumbled, and in the distance, Vin heard a skaa scream, a wet crack following.

A broken skull.

Vin had seen her fair share of that. Then, as the duralmin and tin wore off, she heard a painfully familiar cry. People shouting for the heir of the survivor, people praying, and a cry of a girl that Vin remembered. It was the same cry when that little girl scraped her knee and arms trying to play burnball. The same cry when Vin quietly comforted the child while bandaging them. The tin burned away and the sounds of the world disappeared, but it was enough.

Now Vin had a direction to go and she wasted no time. She jumped the rooftops. Some old and breaking under her, others newly built and sturdy. It took everything for her to keep her balance on loose shales that slipped out from under her. She tossed coins, and when she could she used the metals of the city.

The scene Vin arrived to was chaos. Skaa in the street praying, singing hymns. Silently, she observed the modest crowd down below, her eyes following their gaze. Two boys, collapsed on the street, pools of crimson under their heads. Their eyes remained open, and vacant. Vin knew corpses when she saw them.

Did Misily do this?

The terrifying thought crossed Vin’s mind. No, her daughter was not a killer. Misily cried over sick puppies and romantic plays. She loved twirling in dresses and tea gatherings on sunny days. All things that Vin was not. But then if not Misily then who? Thatcher must be with her, and she left without taking any of the guards. Thatcher most certainly wasn’t a killer either, and even if he was the old man lacked the power to stand up to two boys of that age let alone the strength to kill them.

Misily was an allomancer. Vin looked at the crime scene some more until the city watch eventually came and shooed away the crowd. She would have liked to get closer but reigniting the crowd’s fervor would impede any investigation. Vin needed more tin.  Thankfully, next to the alleyway, a simple sign denoting the allomantic symbols.

A vial shop conveniently placed. Vin waited for the crowd to part some more before landing quietly in the night streets, making a quick dash into the shop.

“Ma’am I’m sorry but the shop is close…” The elderly shopkeeper came from the backrooms. “I…I’m sorry your majesty…I could have sworn you were just.”

Vin couldn’t be bothered to count. It had been some time since money was a problem for her and she needed tin now. She handed the shopkeeper a crumpled mass of the paper money that Elend kept trying to get her to use. “Do you take minted paper?” Elend had been so insistent on paper currency, but every time he handed it to her…Vin, shamefully admitted to herself…she would just shove it in her trouser pockets.

“Yes…of course…” The man carefully took the money. “What mixture would you like your majesty?”

“tin, and duralmin if you have it.”

After acquiring more, Vin downed the vial as soon as she was back on the rooftops. The city came to her all at once again. Something in the distance, the clop of hooves and carriage wheels on stone. The faint sound of a quiet sob that only a mother recognized. The tin ran out. She jumped in the direction of the sound landing on the flat roof. Down below Vin saw Misily, red and puffy eyes, talking to a boy with messy red hair.

Who is he?

The way he dressed, the way he looked, it screamed a crew member. On his belt were small bottles. Vin burned bronze. The resonance of pewter rang from the boy’s body. He was burning pewter, constantly and perhaps unconsciously.

Or perhaps not.

Vin tossed a coin and made her entrance.

#

“Where were you?” Vin said.

Misily noticed her mother’s expression shift from a shade of worry and relief, to a much darker shade of fury. She had caught a brief glimpse of the wrath that killed the Lord Ruler, a flash of it when Misily stubbornly refused to go to her burnball lessons. Her mother had shouted then. It made her cry.

Vin’s anger was like an earthquake. Most were small tremors, hardly noticeable and understated. She liked to silently seethe, run off somewhere to cool off, maybe even avoid the problem for a little bit. She would keep doing that until one day it blew open. Misily had very rarely seen her mother angry, and even then, never like this.

“Where were you?” Vin asked again. The Empress turned to Aren, looking him up and down, “and who the fuck are you?”

“Mother he’s just someone I met at a party.”

“Our meeting was more happenstance than…” Aren started trembling.

“I don’t want to hear it. Misily do you know how much you worried your father and I? You left without even telling us what you were doing. Which speaking of, what are you doing?” Vin, noticing her daughter wearing apparel more like herself than what Misily usually wore.

“I just…I wanted space.” Misily rubbed her arms nervously.

“Space? And how much space is that? Out into the city without any guards? And meeting with a crew allomancer?” Vin Scolded.

Aren said nothing and kneeled.

“I’m not defenseless!” Misily faced her mother, then suddenly ducking away, pulling her shawl to hide her puffy red eyes.

“You’re not fighter either.” Vin’s voice softened. “Missy what happened?”

Misily would have cried again if she hadn’t already done so much recently. Instead, she stared blankly at her mother. The reality of what had happened had escaped her in the small moment she had with Aren. What was she supposed to say? Tell her mother that she was a murderer? But she was justified. Had she not stepped in, that girl would have been raped.

Aren was looking at her now, confused, questioning.

“I…They were going to hurt her. I don’t know what I did.” Misily started trembling. The blood, more blood than she had ever seen and then there was the wet crack and the lifeless stares. “I don’t know what I did.” Misily whispered to herself.

Carefully, Vin went in for a hug, holding Misily close. “It’s ok I believe you.”

I’m not sure you would. Misily hardly believed it herself.

#

“You can’t be serious.” Willon overheard his parents arguing. He knew burning tin was against the rules, but Misily had come home wearing a shirt and trousers. All of the skaa staff were abuzz about something that happened, a murder.

“I am not condemning our daughter to prison, but if we simply tried covering it up what does that say to the people?”

“She’s, our daughter. You know her! She says she killed the two boys unintentionally and I believe her!”

“As do I, but the murder was public, very public.” Elend paced back and forth. “We’re not going to just send Misily to the wolves. We’ll get law holders, best I can find.”

“We’re the rulers of Empire why can’t we just…”

“My love if we go above the law then we’re no better than the Lord Ruler, or the nobility before us.”

“So we send our child to court?”

“Yes, yes we have to.”

Vin groaned and flopped on the bed. “I’ve killed hundreds, and no one bats an eye.”

“Different times, different circumstances.” Elend walked to his desk. “I…I will also have to disinherit her…”

“What!?” Vin jumped back up. “She’s supposed to take over after us! You’re just going to throw that weight onto Willon?”

“It’s until we can prove her innocence.”

“She is innocent!” Vin yelled.

Willon shuddered. He never liked it when his parents yelled at each other, and most of the time it was because of him or Misily. There was one particularly bad one. Willon had done poorly on his exam and knew it. He was exhausted and burned out, so he snuck out to play burn ball with some of the stable boys again. When his father had found out…Well Emperor Elend wasn’t known to yell, but Willon could tell just by looking at his father’s face. That night his mother argued back and forth with his father. While they were distracted with each other, he burned tin to eavesdrop and heard everything. Whatever pent up frustration his father had held, he heard it.

That was how it had been for some years. Willon burned tin to eavesdrop.

“You don’t believe her!” Vin yelled.

“I do!!” Elend yelled back.

“Then why disinherit her? Is this about image? There are more things than your political philosophies!!”

“Misily doesn’t need to feel like she’s failing her inheritance right now.” Elend said through gritted teeth.

“And what does Willon think about this? He’s now technically heir, he’s going to have to show up to some of the official balls, remember how well the last one went?”

Willon most certainly did, more than he would like to.

Heir.

He had never considered it. Right from the moment he could remember it was always his sister that was going to take over the responsibilities of managing the empire. It left Willon in an odd pit. Was he useless then? Was he just supposed to help Misily rule by being her on call mistborn? What if he didn’t want that? Willan hadn’t even the time yet to think about what he wanted.

“If things go well…”

“If things go well?” Willon could hear the folds of his mother’s clothes as she crossed her arms.

“I know good law holders; I practically invented them.”

“You better, because I’m not going to let them just put my daughter in irons, or wood in her case.”

“Vin…”

Willon heard his mother storm off out of the room. He waited, he waited, and he heard his father waiting too, but it was evident that his mother wasn’t going to come back to bed, not tonight at least.

Elend swore a few times, mostly at himself. He grabbed a piece of paper and started furiously writing.

Willon sank into the corner of his room, the tin wearing off.

I just want to play Burn ball.

Chapter 12: The Burning Metal

“It’s going to be ok.” Elend did her best to reassure Misily. She was shaking, sweating, and her breath short, faster every second. She wasn’t crying, but she wasn’t doing great either. “Breath Missy, breath. You are innocent under the eyes of the law.”

“You-you don’t know that!” Misily said.

“I do. I wrote those laws into place or at the very least saw the drafts. Keep breathing.”

Misily did as he said and took deep breaths. This usually worked for Vin, no reason it shouldn’t for their daughter. Misily calmed as she took deep breaths, but the trembling didn’t cease, nor did the sweat. What more could Elend expect? She was just told that the full weight of the court would be pushed on her.

“Why… Papa I can’t…”

“Yes you can sweetings. You did nothing wrong, and you have nothing to hide from their families.”

“But I killed them.”

“Justifiably,” Elend bit his tongue, unsure of how comforting that statement was. He already had the displeasure of meeting with the Connelly family, doing it in place of Misily in hopes of shielding her from some of the nastiness. To say the members were boorish…was an understatement. Vin was still mad at him, and disappeared, so he was alone. The moment he walked in, beefore he could say any condolences, the mother, Oleda Connelly, immediately started discussing settlement. When Elend explained that that was not how it worked, she began wailing, apparently and suddenly inconsolable. Her husband immediately jumped in, demanding justice and compensation, as if his sons were assets rather than…people.

Elend began doubting himself, and whether he should have even let this trial happen and not just do as Vin said. Tindwyl would have told him how undignified it was, letting ordinary citizens speak to him in such a way. He knew at least his wife would have strangled the Connelly’s by now. He bit his lips, not wanting to push a family that just lost two sons, but… Elend burned the little brass he had, soothing the couple’s more greed-oriented impulses.

Elend walked back to his room that day, doubting himself. Vin still wasn’t there. He trusted that eventually she would come back, to talk it out, and forgive him for his failings as a father, but until then he cried at his desk. His daughter was being tried for a crime that he himself wrote into law, his wife was furious at him for that, and he still couldn’t even figure out how to say a simple apology to his son.

Elend composed himself. Tindwyls voice echoed about lessons of great men overcoming great odds through guile and discipline. He had defeated Ruin, put the world back into place, surely some family matters shouldn’t be beyond him. What better solution than to simply rip the bandage off.

Elend walked down to his son’s room and knocked. There was no answer at first, which sent his heart into a small panic.

Please don’t tell me Willon is missing too?

But thankfully, the door creaked open ever so slightly. A sleepy Willon peeked out, his eyes almost at the same height as his father.

“Papa…what…?” Willon mumbled. Elend checked the clock, realizing it was well beyond midnight. He had forgotten how late it was and how time flowed for everyone not constantly burning pewter.

“I just…want to check on you. I know a lot of things happened recently.” Elend said. “I want to make sure you’re…alright.”

Willon opened the door slightly more. “I…I Misily going to be ok? She won’t talk to me.”

“Your sister is going to be fine.” Elend reassured.

“I…” Willon burst into tears.

Elend flinched a little. About this time Vin would’ve started hugging the boy and coddling him. Vin always seemed to have a softer spot for Willon, maybe because the boy liked burn ball, or maybe because Willon was mistborn, but Elend knew he had no right to judge. He too had softer hand with dealing with Misily. Favoritism was sadly not beneath them. Disappointment welled deep in his stomach, disappointment at himself.

“I’m sorry I said those things I was just…” Willon sniffled. Elend remembered all the times he had dared to cry in front of Straff. He paused and brought his son into a hug.

“You said som…regrettable things to your sister, and you should apologize, but you aren’t at fault for what is happening. Misily cares about you and will forgive you when she’s ready, if she hasn’t already.”

Willon clutched his father, “Thank you.”

Elend stroked his son’s hair, something he had seen Vin do. “Everything is going to be ok.”

#

They took Misily into a room, a cold room. A scary looking law holder explained to her what was going to happen, what the courtroom was going to look like, and how she should leave the talking to him to avoid self-incrimination. To be honest she only half listened.

Disinherited.

Her father said it was only temporary, but the fact that her parents even got to that point hurt her. Misily had failed…unequivocally and she scrambled to figure out what she would do with this stain on her history. Were they going to reinherit her? Was she just going to be an allomancer under Willon? Now she really was just a coinshot. Penny, Indrid, and Jina hadn’t bothered to speak to her in weeks, even hosting ball without so much as inviting Misily, the rumors that would be spread in her absence, unabated.

Misily was tired physically and tired of crying. She just felt empty. Nothing interested her anymore, not architecture books, not walking in the garden, and not dress shopping. Aunty Allrianne tried coaxing her out of her room.

“Go away!” Misily threw a pillow and shut the door.

The next few days were more court jargon. Law holders advising her what to say and what to do while she sat there listening. They treated her like a delicate flower, like a spoiled princess that was overwhelmed. To be honest she was, but…Was this how everyone saw me?

“My lady…now this might be difficult, but if possible do you happen to remember the young skaa woman you saved?”

The thought hadn’t even crossed Misily’s mind. She sat, silent, trying to conjure up the memory of what that woman…girl? All she remembered was that wonderous stare, that awestruck, worshipping admiration. At the moment Misily had felt almost…euphoric, elated that someone saw her with such reverence. It was like a taste of what her mother had. Empress Vin could alk into any store, any theater, any stadium and everything would magically become free or heavily discounted.

“My lady?” The Law Holder in charge of her case asked her again.

“I…I don’t remember.” Misily muttered.

“My princess, I must remind you how important this is. A key witness could be the difference between prison or freedom.”

“Of course I know!” Misily snapped. “What do you want me to say? The skaa woman ran away. I only got a fleeting look at her. All I knew was that a young woman was going to get hurt and I stepped in. Is that so wrong? I wanted to be a good princess and protect citizens, IS THAT SO WRONG!!” she slammed her fists on the table as pens, ink bottles, and anything with metal in it went flying everywhere. Her Law Holder yelped as his head pulled in the opposite direction.

“My lady please!! Calm down!!” He fell out of his chair.

Misily didn’t know why, but that enraged her even more. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

Men with wooden shields burst through the door. But they stood back in surprise as their hands and legs were pushed out from underneath them.

“Wha?” one of them sputtered. The rest stood shocked. They had no metals, how she was pushing them?

Misily screamed at them all to leave as her mother rushed into the room.

“Missy, sweetings its going to be ok. We know you’re innocent, just breathe.” Vin hugged her daughter, letting the girl cry on her shoulder.

#

Ubaan poured over papers, both historical and new. Coppermind after Coppermind left no sign as to what might give reason to the impossible. He took off his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Nothing explained what the princess was pushing on. The evidence would imply that the human body had metal all over it…

The thought crosses Ubaan’s mind. It could be true. So much of the human body was yet to be understood and it had been his life mission as a keeper to dig up the unknown. He carefully removed a patch of human skin from the cadaver and began examining it. He poured mixtures watching as little splashes of color appeared, signifying the presence of the most trace amounts of copper, nickel, zinc. He pours a drop of blood…Iron.

In a frenzy Ubaan eagerly tests whatever pieces of anatomy he can find, storing everything in fresh coppermind. Everything…Everything inside and out of the human body contained traces of metal, so small that no normal seeker would ever be able to detect, nor any coinshot be able to push. And yet Misily was doing it, controlled and on a regular basis. While the revelation that the human body was made of a lot of little bits of metal was indeed orders of magnitude important, it still didn’t quite answer the princess’s abilities.

Ubaan sorts through his many copperminds, finding yet again nothing. He relents and sends word to his people, requesting a specific few copperminds. He searches them hungrily the moment he receives the requested labelled copper bracelets. Information poured into his mind like he just witnessed the events of Urteau. He watches The Survivor of the Flames jump out of a burning building carrying a child.

The man was blindfolded, his mannerisms twitchy like his attention was being dragged away by every tiny interference. Ubaan watches in the theater of his mind, fascinated. It was the clearest and most comprehensive record of an allomancer savant he had ever witnessed.

Ubaan had known Misily for years, tutored the princess as he now tutored the prince. She was a sweet child if a bit overeager to impress. This new and sudden outburst of impossible magic had worried her parents. He knew he was indulging in his own curiosity, but the nature of Misily’s power mortified him too. If she really was a savant she could quite literally puppet everyone around her against their will.

But Spook Lestibournes burned tin constantly for years to attain that level of sensitivity.

Steel wasn’t exactly known to be a metal allomancer could just constantly burn. Which begged the question how often was the princess burning steel? The question was answered already. For the most minor of actions like opening doors, shutting drawers, giving tips to service workers, reaching a slightly higher shelf, pushing a loose nail out of the way, throwing away metallic garbage, party tricks, or moving furniture around to better decorate the room, she burned the metal every day since she was five.

Chapter 13: The Hammer Falls

Notes:

Hi, sorry for the wait. Took a mini break from this whilst trying to work out the knot in the plot. Got stuck on what to write after the last chapter. Enjoy!

It didn’t take whole lot of time for the news to spread in Luthadel.

The Princess on trial!

Murder in the Royal Family!

Emperor Elend Disinherits Princess Misily!

Aren felt a tinge of pity for the princess, imagining what it was like having your every action publicized to the masses, every move criticized and scrutinized. Other gossip columns went into the realm of wild and unsubstantiated rumors.

The Princess a Bully?

No Mistborn in the Royal Line!

Tantrum at the Ball!

“Its no use thinking about it too hard.” Jasker snorted, placing his feet on the table, reading the very salacious papers that bulletined all those headlines.

“She doesn’t seem like a bully…” if anything Misily had been the least noble nobility he had talked to.

“Don’t get your head all up in a twist seeing a pretty girl and thinking everything they shit out of their mouths gold.” Jasker peeked up from his reading material. “She’s the princess. She’s got carriages, personal chefs, maids, and whatever she wants at a fingertip and a couple commands. If anything, I think old Emperor Elend is doing the right thing and letting her suffer the court like the rest of us.”

“Well how do you know that? Have you met nobles in any other context besides stealing their food?”

“You’re young boy, real young. I was younger than you when the sky was still red and I remember what the nobles used to do to skaa like us.”

“Fuck you’re old.”

“Say that in my presence again and I’ll throw you down the well.” Jasker gave a hoarse chuckle. “Nobles have blood on their hands. Don’t matter, Elend Venture rebuilt the system from the ground up. Don’t matter if Empress Vin is skaa. They’re all nobles all the same.”

 “Now you sound like The Survivor himself.”

“Don’t quote history boy. You weren’t there when it was written.”

Aren groaned and removed his head from the wooden table. He tapped his finger on the worn wood. “Jasker do you remember which street the Connelly boys were murdered?”

“That corner near the allomancer brewer, why?”

Aren got up and grabbed his jacket.

“I’m warning you boy, don’t go chasing pretty girls.”

#

“Please rise for the honorable judge Rena Penrod.”

Misily followed the example of everyone around her, slightly tilting her head in a bow. Under any other circumstance it would be Rena Penrod that would be bowing to Misily, but here, this day, the princess had no power in this room. The stern-looking Lady Penrod sat down, the rest of the court did so likewise.

The silence echoed as Lady Penrod flipped through the case, papers fluttering, the old woman in her 50’s had not gotten to her position with fortune of her family name alone. Misily’s eyes darted a glance at the assembled group of common citizens that would be called to judge her innocence as was her right as any other citizen of her father’s empire. Her life was in their hands.

“I call the defense to the stand.” Lady Penrod commanded, her eyes never leaving the papers.

Misily gulped, watching her law holder leave her side to stand before the judge. She looked back, hoping flutily for her mother, or her father. They weren’t there amongst the spectators. They weren’t allowed to be there. Their presence was deemed too influential and would sway the judgement of the assembled citizen’s council. That fact too explained the absence of all familiar faces from Misily’s life, Uncle Ham, Breeze, Spook, and Aunty Allrianne. Misily was as it were, utterly alone.

Misily’s law holder made his statement, stating that the Connelly boys were known repeat offenders, and that she had acted out of defense rather than malice. The specifics blurred as her head buzzed. She hoped whichever law holder her father had entrusted her life with was up to the task.

“I call the prosecution to the stand.” Lady Penrod said with an equal sternness that betrayed not a hint of potential bias.

The prosecutor made his statement, passionate and loud, demanding justice for a murder by an allomancer.

“The Connelly boys could have been reformed! They could’ve been productive members of society!” The portly man shouted. He pointed an accusatory finger at Misily. “Their choice taken by a spoiled and privileged princess.”

Lady Penrod slammed her hammer down. “Prosecution, refrain from petty insults before I hold you in contempt.” Despite the judge’s scolding, the message had been sent. The council of citizens stirred, an equal mix of merchants, nobles, and working skaa shuffled in their seats, but especially the skaa. They balked and stared with judging eyes at Misily at the mention of her privileged status.

Misily’s law holder grumbled as more statements were made, and Lady Penrod’s hammer fell down twice with thunderous indignation as the prosecution threw around the words “spoiled,” or “privileged,” with whatever synonym they could muster and as far as he could geta away with. Contempt of court was even called upon the prosecutor, invalidating his statements in the eyes of the law, but that was unfortunately not the point of those statements.

The day ended with a resounding uncertainty. Misily was ordered to remain in the confines of her palace which only elicited annoyed scoffs from the skaa citizens, all, in Misily’s mind, thinking the same thing. Of course, she gets to stay in a palace and not a jail cell.

#

Empress Vin paced just outside eyeing the grand doors to the courthouse anxiously waiting for results.

“Spook please tell me what’s going on.” Vin begged the blindfolded man sitting next to her.

Spook shook his head. “I can’t, not under good conscience. I’m not even supposed to be this close to the courthouse anyway.”

Vin groaned in frustration. She tried to burn her own tin to try and listen to what was happening, but Lady Penrod ran a tight ship and strictly ordered the Empress herself to remain a lengthy distance away from the building to avoid allomancy.

The great doors creaked opened as the procession of court marched out in a flurry of discussion. Vin spotted Misily amongst them, her daughter pale-faced and looking around terrified. Vin also spotted lingering figures in the shadow, the pen scraping on parchment, detecting tin being burned with her bronze.

Paper scribes.

Allomancer reporters grabbing at all the information they could get about the princess’s trial. Vin had half the mind to scare them away. Her daughter was not some spectacle. These men and women were more interested in writing down alluring and dramatic titles to their weekly papers than the actual facts of the case. Vin bit her lips. It was, however, unfortunately their right to do this. Vin muttered some curses under her breath directed at Elend. Her husband’s insistence on freedom of speech was becoming a thorn in her side.

Misily spotted her mother and ran into Vin’s waiting arms. Vin let her baby cry on her shoulder like she had always done since they were a little girl. A couple of tineye paper scribes moved in, likely to ask very private questions. She shot them a glare and burned zinc and duralumin, rioting all of their worst fears. A couple of them stumbled over as they scampered away.

“shhhhh its ok.” Vin stroked her daughter’s hair.

“Mama they hate me. I try so hard to do everything for them and they hate me.” Misily sobbed.

“It’s ok sweetings, they can wallow in it.”

The exhausting day gave way to the night, as Vin got her hands on the court transcript, her face red with fury as she kicked down Elend and her bedroom door. Her husband sat on the desk, clearly exhausted having feverishly spent the day in isolation and writing.

“DO YOU EVEN HEAR WHAT THEY’RE SAYING ABOUT OUR DAUGHTER??” Vin screamed. All of that law and fairness that Elend had championed, “They’re confining her, like she’s some common criminal!!”

“My love please…” Vin had never been this mad at him before and the idea that she was somewhat frightened him.

“The princess is a spoiled and naïve teenager who decided to take the laws into her own hand, an entitlement she likely inherited from her birthright.” Vin quoted one of the prosecution’s line. “You think this court of yours is fair? When a pathetic excuse of a law holder like him gets to say that about Missy?”

“It’s the law. It will have flaws, but ultimately it is for the betterment of the Empire.”

“Betterment? Is that all you think about now? Law and Order? You’re willing to ignore our daughter being terrified and the whole Empire hating her?”

“Of course not! But this is fair, and it’s the order of things.”

“You sound just like the Lord Ruler.”

“IM TRYING!” Elend bellowed. His calm demeanor finally broke. “I keep telling you that I’m working it out. I’m not allowed in the courtroom either.”

Vin’s face is beet red, tears watering her eyes. They both looked terrible.

“I’m sorry.” Vin whispers.

“I’m sorry too.” Elend plants his face into his hands. “What is that law holder even doing? I told him to defend Misily and he’s barely even doing anything. Not like the prosecution.” He grumbled. “I should’ve…I shouldn’t even have let it get this far.”

Chapter 14: No Further Questions

Notes:

Currently busy applying for my Graduate programs! Any problems with the syntax and grammer will be fixed with time!

Mistrial was declared and Misily had to go through another round with the same exact talking points, the same exact arguments being flung at each other, and the same exact disdain the council of civilians seemed to hold against her every time her title got brought up. Never before in her life had she wished she wasn’t the crowned princess.

“Your honor, this insistence of the prosecution to keep bringing up my ward’s title is of no relation or consequence to the case.” Misily’s law holder beseeched, “and it is clearly being used to enflame the council into trusting free opinion rather than fact.”

“Your honor, Lady Penrod, I argue that Princess Misily’s title is precisely the reason why we must put her under increased scrutiny. After all was it not the Survivor’s will that we live in a fairer society?” The prosecutor, a different man, practically spat out the word, “Princess.”

Misily had gotten used to the verbal spats at this point and the media thrashing that she was getting in the papers. She sat passively, looking without emotion, a face like stone. Papa had spent hours trying to make the legal system more streamlined and take less time without compromising civil rights. It was another thing on the large plate he had heaped upon himself.

Misily had some suggestions. She looked towards the civilian council. The nobility present were far more invested in this now high-profile case as were the merchants, the trial a gold mine for dinner conversations and gossip. The skaa workers, however, could not be bothered to be there. A lot of them were being dragged out of their jobs to perform this mandatory civic duty, which was possibly weeks and in some cases months of not being able to work.

We could start by compensating them for lost time…

“Sir Gawin do you have any witnesses to call to the stand?” Lady Penrod asked Misily’s Law holder sternly.

“The defense would like to call upon Mr.Thatcher Mill.”

#

Mill

Thatcher wasn’t used to having a surname even after all these years, but the new imperial census after the dark days required everyone, even the common skaa to choose one. He found it a rather morbid irony that most skaa workers decided to just choose their old professions from the Lord Ruler’s time. He himself just decided to choose the place he used to work.

Thatcher walked up to the podium with the watching eyes of the court and paper scribes. Placed before him was a series of scriptures of The Survivor. He wouldn’t consider himself devout, but he did include himself on the list of believers, and as if instinct he placed his hand on it. Most of the younger folk, of which there were many after the sun turned yellow, followed the Empress more than the original.

“Your honor Mr. Mill is under the employ of the royal family. Bias in scrutiny.” The prosecutor interjected.

“Overruled sir Ulbrin, witnesses already approved.” The judge levels her hammer.

“Sir Thatcher Mill do you swear on the Survivor’s name that you will hold no deceit and tell no lies in the presence of the court?” Lady Penrod said with smooth efficiency.

“I do Ma’am.”

“Are you aware that anything you say is on record, its weight carried forth to both you and the defendant?” the court scribes furiously scribbled every word spoken.

“I do Ma’am”

“Then I call sir Gawin to examine the witness.”

Misily’s Law holder walked up to Thatcher, “Sir Thatcher Mill I take it you’ve been employed by Emperor Elend for roughly 21 years now is that correct?”

“22 years, but yes I have been employed for a long time.” Thatcher responded as clearly as he could, as he was instructed to when he was briefed on how the witness system worked. He had always been a law abider, even during the cruel days under the nobility. He still marveled at how natural the court was, how orderly. It was as if this was how it always was.

“Mr. Mill, can you elaborate to the council as to what you were employed for?”

“Yes, as a carriage driver.”

“And how many of those years of employ have you been Misily’s personal driver?”

“Ever since she was allowed to go out and about on her own, so…5 years now, but I’ve driven the family for much longer.”

“Mr. Mill in all those years would you ever say that Misily has ever been violent? Belligerent?”

“Not at all, the princess was the palace delight.”

“Was there any indication that Misily is someone who is capable of cold-blooded murder?”

“No.”

“What can you tell me, was Misily’s reaction after the events that transpired?”

“She was…I would say she was in great despair.”

Sir Gawin looks at the council of civilians, “No further questions your honor.” The law holder sat down and whispered something to Misily’s ear, something for which Thatcher was morbidly curious, but he had never seen the law at work or exist for people like him until now.

“The prosecution may examine the witness.” Lady Penrod gestured to the prosecution.

“Mr. Mill…” Sir Ulbin didn’t hesitate or give Thatcher much time to think. “How aware were you of Princess Misily’s nature as an allomancer?”

“I’ve known she was a coinshot since she was five.”

“And what does the princess use those allomantic abilities for Mr. Mill?”

“Mostly small things, like pushing open the carriage door, or to help me remove a rusted wheel on occasion.”

“Were you aware of Misily’s ability to puppet people with those allomantic abilities?”

Thatcher twitched. He wasn’t there when the incident happened, only saw the aftermath of it. The news that Misily apparently puppeted the boys sounded like rumors, confirmed to be true now. “No, I was not aware. I know very little of such things.”

“Has Princess Misily ever used said abilities, whether you were aware or not, on you?”

Hesitation, Thatcher remembered vomiting that day when Misily asked him to take her out discreetly. Something in him felt like it was being pressed on by an invisible hand.

What was that?Surely it couldn’t be…

The hesitation was all the prosecutor needed as a disconcerting smirk spread across Sir Ulbin’s face. “Mr. Mill?”

“No, I do not believe she ever has.”

“No further questions your honor.”

#

“Vin, dear, I’ve told you once and I’ll say it again, Soothers and Rioters are not allowed near a courthouse unless they’ve been confined for at least a day and court attested to not have taken any vials. Forget about me being in the courthouse. An I most certainly am not going to be confined.” Breeze took his shift sitting outside the court with Vin.

Lady Penrod had made it clear many times that no one from Kelsier’s crew was allowed anywhere near her courthouse. Though with Breeze, Vin could understand as she felt the now greying man attempt to soothe away her anxiety. She burned copper to block it out of habit, but after enough time pacing around, she decided to let Breeze do his work, soothing away some of her anxiety.

“So many professions I’m not allowed to do these days…makes life so boring.” He adjusted his back and craned his neck. “And here I thought I would’ve had a smashing career in burn ball.”

“But soothers and Rioters are part of burn ball teams.” Vin corrected.

“Really? All I see is them being benched, I mean what’s the point if all they’re going to do is sit there?”

Vin often forgot that Breeze was a more casual fan of the sport. Even in the tumultuous chaos of recent events, she still found time to keep up with which burn ball club was doing well…She even indulged in a little bit of betting, but she needed a hobby to keep her mind off things. “The bench is actually important in burn ball. Brass and Zinc weren’t allowed to be burned on the field, but there was no rule against it when the players were benched. Eventually it became such common practice that it got added to the game. Soothers and Rioters are now only allowed to target the mistborn or thugs on teams.”

“I see…” Breeze took a sip from a glass of wine he had somehow procured. “And what if there is no mistborn?”

“Then you aren’t a club, you’re an ‘association’ your team competes in a different league. In which case Brass and Zinc are banned entirely for safety reasons.”

Breeze mad an offended scoff, “Brass is harmless!”

“It isn’t if a weighted ball is flying around and a player gets soothed or rioted into being distracted.” Vin remembered, it had become a habit of some bigger name players to accuse the opposing team of emotional allomancy. If they were belligerent enough the player would get a black card for disrupting the referee. “A mistborn can at least burn pewter, and so can a thug. If they get hit on the head, it isn’t as big of a deal. Soothers and Rioters keep the game from devolving into who can field the most thugs.” Vin shuddered remembering that debacle a decade ago.

“Hm, interesting.” Breeze’s wine cup was finished and subsequently had vanished.

“Breeze I thought you didn’t like burn ball that much.”

“No, but its good fun and besides…you need the distraction dear.”

Vin turned around to see that the day’s hearing had finished and once again Misily was outside being swarmed by more paper scribes than last time.

 

#

It wasn’t a pleasant stroll, more of a urgent speed walk born from the fact that Aren didn’t really know what he was looking for. He rounds the corner near the allomancy brewer to a cleared alley way, scrubbed clean of the crime that would have taken place there.

What did you expect?

Jasker’s hoarse voice spoke in Aren’s mind. I told you, don’t go chasing pretty girls.

He kicked a rock down the street in frustration. There was one more thing he could do, of which he hadn’t really wanted to consider, but what other option was there. Sneaking into a girl’s home unannounced wasn’t exactly a sensible thing to do. He made his way towards the palace, to just ask the girl in person how to help her, or better yet, if she needed help to begin with.

Aren picked up a piece of paper from a local shop. Relenting to the shopkeeper’s bargaining and incessant advertising he bought a pen too, one of the fancy ones that stored ink in a small cartridge wrapped in small marble like shell. Admittedly it was a really nice pen. It would have been even nicer if Aren’s handwriting wasn’t so horrid.

It’s not like Weyla ever bothered teaching me how to write.

Aren learned writing from Jasker instead, and the man wasn’t that good of a teacher no matter how much effort was put into the lessons. The palace loomed overhead as Aren grumbled and just wrote.

Need Help?

-Food thief, Aren

Aren carefully folded it as if it contained something important. He walked towards the gate, spotting a very public face guarding the ground-gated entrance. General Hammond himself stood guard flanked on either side by what were clearly pewterarms. Aren had really hoped that some average guard would be outside, but he supposed given current events-

“You, boy, what are you doing here?” General Hammond pointed an accusatory finger. The older man looked Aren up and down, spotting the pieces of paper and the fancy pen. “If you’re a damn paper scribe I suggest you scram.”

Aren raises his hands defensively, a part of him cowed by authority. His heart beat every time the right amount of force was applied to a voice. Hammond had that tone, similar to what Weyla had whenever Aren didn’t do what she wanted him to. “No sir just…just delivering…a message.”

Hammond leans down to meet Aren at eye level. “What sort of message?” he asked suspiciously.

“For uhh, for Princess Misily…”

“I asked what kind of message not whom it was for.”

Aren let Hammond take the note out of his hand. What was Aren going to do? This was General Hammond, a member of The Survivor’s own crew and the person every thug tried to emulate. Though Aren found General Hammond’s book rather…over philosophical and not very helpful, at least not for Aren’s situation. Not that he had the courage to tell the author that to their face.

Ham raised an eyebrow at the message written on the piece of paper. “Food thief?” he questioned Aren.

“It’s okay Uncle Ham I know him!” A raven-haired girl poked her head through the bars of the gate.

“Oh…Missy remember the court order.” Ham said sheepishly.

“I know….” Misily looked down, sad. “Can I have the letter? It would seem it was meant for me.”

The general’s shoulders loosened, his posture slacked. Aren knew the signs of pewter being burned for a short time, then stopped burning. Ham handed the small, folded piece of paper to the princess. Misily inspected it more thoroughly than what was probably necessary for the contents of it.

“Now Ham I would like to have a private word with my associate.” Misily said. Ham raised another skeptical eyebrow. “I’ll stay in the perimeter, I won’t violate my court order.” She groaned.

Ham nodded as Aren hesitantly stepped forward to the gate.

“Are you serious? About helping me?” Misily asked, her eyes pleading.

“As willing as an honest thief.” Aren responded.

Misily rolls her eyes. “Story book as this is, a thief helping a princess trapped in her castle, I could actually use your help.” She let out a heavy sigh. A week’s worth of court proceedings and a scrutinous public having taken its toll. “Whatever you’ve read on the paper…”

“There is a lot in the papers.”

“…Indeed there is, but you should know by now I... there was a skaa girl, women, I think she was older than me I’m not sure. I…I killed those men because they were going to hurt her. The problem is I don’t know who she is, I barely remember what she looks like, and she hasn’t come forward.” Misily bites her lips. “She’s probably the key to definitively proving me innocent and I can’t leave the palace.”

“Well…Not a lot of information to go on.” Aren stroked his nonexistent beard.

“Please, if there’s anything you can find out.”

Aren had a moment, staring at Misily’s dark brown eyes. He wondered why he should help her? What did he expect to get from helping? Should he be expecting anything? The princess, as Jasker loved to point out, had an army of servants that she could if she wanted to. She called people like Ham, Spook, Breeze, her own mother willing to help her, more capable of helping her get out of the conundrum she was in.

So why should I be helping?

Jasker’s voice hammered his ham-fisted wisdom into Aren’s head. Don’t go chasing pretty girls. But Jasker was also the one that told Aren to put up with Weyla’s tantrums. The old man wasn’t and couldn’t be right about everything.

“I see what I can do princess.”

Chapter 15: Room of Vials

Notes:

Been busy as hell stressing my mind out over graduate applications. That and trying to stave off burn out as I've been doing nothing but writing for two months. That being said it has been a long wait, so I made this one extra-long, enjoy!

There wasn’t a lot to do for skaa children in the Old Empire. Out in the farms the nobles had jumbled and mixed all of them into groups based on age, sex, and how physically strong they were. The boys, healthier ones at least, got training forced onto them, mostly heavy lifting. The boy got sorted into the other group. The ones that did all the other tasks that were determined needed a male hand.

The boy didn’t know who his parents were, or if he even had parents. Maybe he had been purchased as an infant. Nobles tended to do that, buy a few infant skaa and threw them to the skaa women who could nurse an extra child. It was a sort of future investment, and to keep skaa gene pools from becoming too inbred.

As such the boy had no family, no toys. The working shanty village was his family as were all the children there his siblings. He had no clue when he was born, and the old nursing woman had no idea either. So, one day when he was old enough to think for himself a bit, he decided he was exactly eight years old. He was scrawny, maybe looked a bit too young, but it didn’t matter. He chose his age for himself and under The Lord Ruler’s ever watching eye it was just about the only chance for him to choose anything in his life.

Life…well it wasn’t good, but it was just about as good as it could get. The shanty village was close knit, the children cared for and watched over, even allowed to play every so often. Food wasn’t plentiful, but it was good enough that starvation wasn’t too much of a consideration. New faces were rare, and so the boy thought his world was small, only ever seeing the same people day in and day out.

Then came an older boy with his little sister, wandering skaa that snuck into work villages and stayed for a few months, or years, then leaving. The nobles never cared, and the lord of these lands most certainly didn’t count how many skaa he had.

The boy found the older boy crude, mean, far too much time on the misty roads of The Old Empire. The little girl…well it took a week for the boy to figure out that she was a girl. She had short choppy black hair and wore a dirty shirt and trousers.

Older women in his village had told tale of it, and so did a few of the wandering skaa that stopped by occasionally. If you were too pretty, then you might catch the eye of some noble…and if you did then that meant you were never going to be seen again. For this, there was a process. It wasn’t foolproof, but it at least helped a bit. Girls in his village would have their nice hair chopped up into uneven mops. Some girls even just went entirely bald, though the point was to have enough hair to hide their faces.

The boy didn’t know what was so different about this girl, maybe it was because she was the first young wandering skaa he had seen or at least one close to his age. Point was she was a new face, and not one he had seen before in his short life so far. Her brother did most of the talking, and most of the beating. Sometimes the boy wondered if that teenager was even her brother given how much he yelled at her.

She didn’t do much, just sat with the other women and helped with menial tasks like sewing patches on clothes or weaving baskets while her brother went with the rest of the men. To say the boy was curious would be an understatement. Though looking back on it, it was just a childhood crush. He hardly knew the girl, but at his self-imposed eight years of age he thought he was going to marry her.

Then she left after two months. The boy saw her and her brother leaving. A small bronze earring glittered in the red sun as they snuck away during the work hours.

#

“The Prosecution would like to call forth Keeper Ubaan.”

The old Terrisman shuffled up to the podium. He made his vows of truthfulness in full witness of the court.

“Good Keeper…Can you state your assessment of Princess Misily’s allomatic abilities to the council.” Sir Ulbin stated.

“Well…There’s a great many unknowns about Savantism. The Princess is only one of two known living savants that anyone, even the Terrismen, know of.” Ubaan’s voice never left the even temper known to the Terrismen.

“You say savant. Would you mind clarifying what that means for the council of citizens?”

“Yes, Savantism is when an allomancer achieves an enlightened state after burning a metal long enough and frequently enough.” Ubaan cleared his throat. “It can cause unintended side effects to the allomancer.”

“And is savantism dangerous to the general public?”

“We can’t be certain. The Survivor of the Flame’s savantism was for an internal metal, tin. Princess Misily is the first example of an external metal achieving the same level of capability.”

“Based on your description it sounds like savantism can’t be controlled, no?”

“I cannot be certain of that.”

“Can such abilities be controlled or not?”

“Once again good sir, I’am uncertain. The Survivor of the Flame’s abilities could not be controlled.”

“Based on witness accounts it is said that the Princess was able to ‘puppet’ the boys by pushing on them. How would you explain such occurrences?”

“I must emphasize that all information the Keeper council has gathered about this is very limited.”

Sir Ulbin sighed, disappointed with the results of this round of questioning, “No further questions your honor.”

“The defense is now permitted to examine the consol.”

“Keeper Ubaan…” Sir Gawin stands up and walks to the center of the courtroom, “you have stated to the court that savantism can’t be controlled.”

“Not exactly, I said or at least I intended to say that we know so little about what the Princess’s capabilities that I could not be sure.”

“Very well, then is it safe to assume that whether or not such powers can be controlled, it’s safe to say that this is an unprecedented occurrence. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I think.”

Now addressing the council of citizens, “so if our good Keeper consol is delving into the unknown, then it must be safely assumed that Misily herself was not aware or trained in the matters of her newly developed abilities.”

The citizens whispered and conferred amongst each other.

“No further questions your honor.”

#

“I must apologize my lady. The idea of a court of law for all people of the Empire is still a rather foreign concept to most.” Sir Gawin chivalrously walked beside Misily. “It will take some time for all of the council of citizens to come to a unanimous agreement. Until then we simply have to keep the darkness at bay.”

Misily tried to listen, but these past few months of back and forth had become nauseating.

Surely there had to be a faster way of doing this?

The system of law her father created was at least a far cry better than whatever came before. That much was for certain.

On the steps of the courthouse, she spotted a familiar face, though they were sporting a new artificially curled haircut that seemed to be popular these days. It did not complement his brown hair. He wore a cocky grin that made her stomach churn. Kander Penrod was there at the bottom of the steps ready to inject himself and slyly push Sir Gawin aside. Under his arm touting a rather thick binder of papers.

“You seem well princess.” He smiled, though it looked more like a smirk. “I’m training to be a law holder you know.”

Really? Was this his idea of being charming?

“How do you figure to do that? I thought Tineyes weren’t allowed to be law holders.” Misily poked at his attempt at boasting.

“A lot of bothersome paperwork and oaths…” Kander grumbled as if such things were inconveniences rather than the ethical thing to do.

“Bothersome indeed…” Misily knew she shouldn’t. The temptation of using her newfound savantism to push Kander down the stairs seemed to crawl up her spine like the time she found out she could push open doors when she burned steel. She shuddered for even thinking about using it. Either way she didn’t have any steel to burn.

“I think we both agree that your trial has been dragged on for far too long. As you know, my mother is… in a helpful position. I could iron out some bureaucratic nonsense.”

“And what exactly would be required of me for this service?” Misily asked warily and all too tired to be dealing with any of this.

“A moment of your night good Princess.”

Temptation be damned, Misily focused inwards and wished she had something to push Kander onto the ground. Her father had spoke highly of Old king Penrod, but evidently neither Rena nor her father Ferson Penrod ever managed to find the time to teach their descendent social grace.

Then, something burned. Misily started feeling lightheaded, color draining from her face. She heard Kander yelping and tripping over himself.

“I-I apologize my lady I don’t know…” Kander stammered, his papers were scattered all across the smooth tiled pavement. Most of them were blank. The hefty binder was, now quite obviously all theatrics.

Misily looked equally surprised.

“My lady, are you alright you look rather pale.” Si Gawin walked past Kander and caught her before she too stumbled.

Steel and Iron…the only metal pairing where one wasn’t technically the alloy of another.

Despite what her mother may think Misily did pay attention during her lessons with Ubaan. Steel was just a cleansed iron with carbon added in. It clicked in her head when she realized where she was drawing from. All the ingredients were right there.

Iron in my blood and well…Carbon somewhere.

Misily was burning her own body to get the same effect as steel burning. She wasn’t going to do that again. Mother used to tell scary stories to her brother and her when they were little, and then she would explain what happened when one lost too much blood when they were older. She felt sick.

“My lady, should we get a physician?” Sir Gawin asked again.

“No, no I’m alright just…overwhelmed.” Misily looked back at Kander burning red as he picked up his things.

All of that for a tiny push.

Was it possible she could burn her body to dust if she pushed too hard? Either way Misily didn’t want to find out. She got in a carriage and went back home, drafting a letter on the way. She needed a bath, and maybe less annoying company.

#

Willon could hear giggling coming from Misily’s room. No, he wasn’t burning tin this time, his sister’s room was just across the hallway, not hard to overhear things. Though he found it odd that he never heard her door open or close, which meant one of two things: Whoever she was talking to was already in her room…or they climbed through the window.

Nobody climbed through the window in this palace unless it was their mother, or Willon himself. Their father actually always went through a door to get in. No, he wasn’t spying on his sister…If she wanted to hide whoever she was talking to then she should quiet down.

Willon knew better than to do it, but he stopped his studying, put on his mist cloak, and climbed out his window, pushing a coin to send him up to the roof. Despite his height he almost miscalculated how high that push would actually get him as he hands barely scraped the edge. His heart pounding on his chest as he hung off the side of…let’s not think about how high of a fall that is. Burning pewter, he got himself the rest of the way up.

All he was going to do was go over to the other side and scare his sister a bit, to remind her that some people had tests to study for.

Willon crested over the peak of the roof only to bump into another person…who most definitely wasn’t his mother. It was a boy with messy curls of ginger hair. They both yelped. Willon almost slipping off the roof before the older boy caught him and pulled him up with one arm.

Pewterarm

Willon confirmed it with his bronze.

“So uhhh…what brings you to this lovely part of the roof…” the older boy said.

“It’s my roof…”

“Technically its your parent’s roof.”

How did he…

“I remember seeing you at Misily’s party. Figured you must be Willon.” Aren stated.

“Well, if it’s my parent’s roof that still doesn’t answer the question why you’re on it.”

“Why is anyone on roof these days?”

“Nothing good and proper.”

The older boy tapped his feet nervously. “I was helping your sister with something.”

There was a brief moment where the two boys stared at each other. Willon raised his eyebrow. Aren cuffed Willon on the side of their head with his palm.

“Ow.” Willon said.

“It was necessary your majesty, your mind was in the ash.”

“My lord…majesty is reserved for my father or my mother.”

“Semantics.”

“You speak…really well for… What’s your name?”

“For a what? Spit it out my lord. And it’s Aren”

“Well I don’t want to assume.” Willon tapped his two fingers sheepishly, “skaa?”

“Yes…A man named Jasker filled me in on the finer details and I passed those stupid exams your father imposed on us all.”

“You still haven’t answered my question as to why you’re on this roof.”

“Well…your sister is having a hard time in the courts as you can imagine…”

“Yes, I live in the same place as her.”

“Precisely…So I don’t need to bore you with the details, but she needs to find a certain person.”

“Missy isn’t a murderer.” Willon never believed she could be, not even when he messed up her ball and she screamed at him.

“I know that. We just need to convince the rest of Luthadel and the empire. Except I must admit that I’m pretty lost on where to even start.”

Willon thought for a moment. Then he thought a little more. He snapped his fingers. “I think I have an idea.”

It took a few minutes as Willon jumped across rooftops with Aren doing his best with pewter to keep up, and admittedly he was doing a pretty good job of it.

The room was locked behind an ornate hardwood door. Willon didn’t know how to get in though. The outside had no windows and everything he needed was going to be locked further behind a hardwood vault.

Aren had no issue however as he immediately got to work with his tools.

Mother would kill me if she found out I was breaking in.

Willon had only been in the vial room once...when he was a small child and his parents had just found out he was mistborn. His mother had let him see all the sparkly mixtures with curious abandon. He remembered her beaming and patiently explaining what each mixture had.

Aren cracked open the door. Willon didn’t even want to ask how the older boy managed to crack the lock. The vault was going to be harder to crack. It was held by a special mechanism that required a specific combination that only a mistborn could open with push and pull. Willon delved into his memory and followed carefully what he remembered his mother doing to open the vault.

Miraculously it worked. Willon ran inside and grabbed one specific bottle, the one labeled Malatium.

Chapter 16: Where's Willy

It was a stupid decision, one that the boy very well came to regret as time went on, but he had come to learn to live with those decisions. He pack all his worldly possessions into a pack, which for a self-purported eight-year-old, wasn’t very much.  It was a decision made in emotion. That day had been a hard day for him.

The skaa drivers, fellow kind elevated to position of power to keep the rest of the workers in line, had been in foul moods that day. The boy had taken his fair brunt of it. He had been quietly daydreaming about the girl again, which caused him to drop the half-bushel he was carrying. This earned him a thorough beating from the skaa driver.

The boy had hoped that maybe the pair of wandering siblings would find their way back to their village on their travels, but that time never came. The little dialogue he had with the girl with the bronze earring had informed him that her brother had intended to slowly make their way to Luthadel far to the east of this humble little village.

And so the boy packed his meager belongings and stood outside the group home of the skaa workers. One of the older men called the boy foolish and told him to come back inside before the mist got him.

But what was the point of walking back in? The girl and her brother braved the mists between settlements constantly. What was waiting for the boy if he just stayed in this little work village? Mor beatings for minor transgressions? His punishment dictated by whatever mood a fellow skaa felt?

The boy shrugged off the cries for him to come back in, and he took the first steps into the swirling mists of the Final Empire.

#

“It was this street?” Willon asked Aren. Both of them sat on the slanted rooftop.

“Yea, written all over every paper in Luthadel.” Aren looked down at the alleyway. Whatever had occurred there had been thoroughly cleaned up. “Alright do your uh…do your misborn thing.”

“My what?”

“You went into your parent’s vault and grabbed some vial…you made a huge deal out of it so…”

“Well I don’t know how exactly this works…Mother never let me burn the higher metals.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“It means I don’t know! The description of what the eleventh metal does is very vague.”

“The eleventh metal? Like the one your mother used to kill The Lord Ruler himself?”

“Yes that one.”

Aren outstretched his arms. “Well okay test it on me then.”

Willon flinched. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah just use a little bit of it, see what it does.”

Willon hesitated but then focused on burning the strange metal that he had taken. Whatever Malatium was it burned fast. He had to stop himself before he burned too much. Images flashed before his eyes. A Terris woman’s muscles expanded slightly raining blows on a little boy with curly ginger hair. It was only a second but the Aren in the vision couldn’t have been older than Willon’s 11 years.

“Who…who was that…” Willon stammered.

Aren furrowed his brow. “Who was what?”

“I saw a Terris woman hitting…”

“Huh, so…”

Willon shook his head for a second.

Grandfather used to hit Papa like that… But he could never envision his relatively timid father lifting so much as a finger in malice.

“Do you…” he wasn’t sure how to approach the topic.

“That’s Weyla…It’s whatever, she just gets angry sometimes.” Aren waved his hands.

“Well I think I know what malatium does…”

“And that would be?” Aren rolled his hands.

“I can see someone’s past.” Willon looked back towards the palace. “Then there was no point coming out here, I should’ve just used malatium and asked Missy. Then we could’ve figured out who that girl she saved was.”

Aren raised a finger. “Well…I don’t know how your metal works, but if that were the case wouldn’t your sister not know anything besides what the girl looked like?”

“Isn’t that what we’re trying to do?”

“Well no…there could be thousands of skaa girls that fit a general description and tens of thousands of people living in Luthadel.” Aren scratched his chin. “We need more than just what she looked like…”

“So we ask the…”

“The Connelly’s…We ask them. They’re a small family crew that has some loose ties with Weyla.” Aren looked down thoughtfully. “Was it Tem that I roughed up?”

“So we get one of the members.”

“Preferably one of the brothers that were actually there.”

“Well, to say that I’m unfamiliar with the streets would be an understatement.” Willon twitched nervously as he had been the whole time. This was the first time he had been out of the palace alone. He had opted to not wear his mist cloak to avoid getting recognized. The damn thing was always too small, but he also felt weirdly naked without it. “So you said you might know them?”

“Maybe, maybe not…But I know somebody to ask…” Aren grumbled kicking a proverbial stone.

#

“Damn you’re a bigun aren’t ya boy.” Hendal stared down at Willon. “How old did ya say you were again?”

“E-eleven.” Willon responded. What was he so afraid of? He was mistborn. This man, pewterarm or not, wouldn’t be much of a problem. Yet Hendal made Willon nervous anyway.

“Bet y’all grow into a right monster when you hit yer growth spurt.” Hendal chuckled. “If you need any work just let me know. Sure we could find a spot for you right here.” The man said in that kindly slyness that Willon recognized in Kander and other nobles.

“Well boy, its an odd day for you handing me a request instead of the other way around.” Weyla smirked at the two boys.

Willon held his breath. He didn’t want to push it, but that was the Terris woman he saw in Aren’s past. She was wearing an assortment of metallic jewelry…No, he recognized those pieces for what they were, feruchemy, and not the copper that Ubaan wore. The pieces Weyla wore were all physical, iron, pewter, steel…She looked small now, but at any minute she could decide to activate one of her metalminds and change that.

“I just need a list of crews that have ties with us.” Aren seemed to say with gritted teeth. Willon noticed the older boy started burning pewter constantly the moment they entered this seedy bar.

“Well, that’s privileged information.” Weyla tapped her chin. She looked smaller right now, likely storing strength for later. “Depends on what you’re willing to do to get it.”

“Its just one insignificant part of the ledger Weyla.”

Weyla pointed to Willon. “Not until your little friend over there tells me who he is.”

Mother said…

Willon wasn’t supposed to reveal his identity in public, not unless he was accompanied by a contingent of Uncle Ham’s guards or his parents.

“Boy I suggest you just tell the woman your name. Don’t have to reveal more than that.” A portly man with a bald head and beard said behind Willon.

“Willon.” The boy said.

“Just Willon? Come now darling, surely you can give us a surname.”  Weyla’s eyes pierced his soul.

“Boy tell the nice lady yer name!” Hendal got up to reach for Willon’s arm.

In a kneejerk reaction he burned his entire reservoir of duralumin and brass, soothing the man down to complacency. Hendal stumbled back, fully aware of his emotions being pushed on. Surprise splashed across the man’s face.

“Allomancer…” Hendal grumbled, a little shaken how powerful that push was given it was coming from an 11-year-old boy. He backed off.

Well, they knew Willon was an allomancer now. Maybe he could use that fact to his advantage. At best they thought he was a soother like Uncle Breeze.

“Yes, and I suggest you stay back…” Not Willon’s finest one-liner, but he hoped it would do.

“Easy there boy, it was a neat trick, but we’ve dealt with soothers before.” Hendal’s voice got low.

Aren for his part remained silent as a mouse. Weyla squinted her eyes. She gets up from her seat and stalks towards Willon with graceful and purposeful steps. Her muscles inflate as she used her metal minds.

Willon wanted to react, but he had wasted his duralumin on that brass push.

“Do it again.” Weyla got up in Willon’s face. His face falls, knowing full well that he can’t. “That is unless you can’t…because you burned all of it in one go…”

Willon didn’t like this Terris woman’s face so up close to his. He flared pewter, attempting to push the feruchemist at least a few steps back. Weyla clearly was expecting this because she expended more of her strength to hold the boy’s wrists from attempting such a thing.

“My, my, you’re not just an allomancer…” Weyla let go. “A mistborn, in the flesh. Aren dear where do you get such friends?”

Willon was disappointed in his first foray into deception. He had hoped to play the fog of war a bit longer. But if his mistborn identity couldn’t stay hidden, then he would have to play the one card he felt he still had.

“In the palace… My full name is Willon Venture, prince of the Empire and technically the heir to the throne. I would appreciate if you kept your hands off me.”

#

“WHERE’S WILLY!!” Vin tore through the entire palace at steel push speeds.

She was hyperventilating. WHERE IS HE, WHERE IS HE, WHERE IS HE…She couldn’t have both her kids disappear on her on two separate occasions. Elend was already out in the city looking for their son. She would join him as soon as she was done searching every nook and cranny of the palace.

Vin felt the tug of brass being pushed on her. She snapped her head, using bronze to see where that damned soother was. In a whirlwind of fury she practically flew up the stairs stopping but a mere few hairs in front of Breeze.

“My dear I just…”

“DON’T YOU EVER TRY TO SOOTHE ME WHEN I-” Vin felt her sense of calmness get rioted.

“Vin, dear, please Breezy was just trying to help…” Allrianne had come back from Ashweather’s funeral. “Please you need to calm down.”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN.”

“Vin look at your hands…” Breeze pointed downwards. “Look at your hair.”

Vin looked down at the horrid tremor in her hands, felt the cold sweat stick to her forehead. She burned pewter and tin but neither metal seemed to have the same effect as it used to. She still stumbled backwards for Allrianne to catch her.

“Sweetie why don’t you sit down for a second, Elend is scouring the entire city for him.”

Vin was finding it hard to breath as Allrianne gently guided her to the plush couch. “I can’t…I can’t breathe.”

“It’s okay Vin, you’re just a worried mother. Why don’t we talk about something else for a moment?”

“No I need to…” Vin tried to get up.

“It’s alright Vin. Willy is mistborn, he’ll be safe enough on his own until we can find him.”

Breeze was soothing away her worry. She tried her best to let it overtake her.

I’m a terrible mother…

Vin remembered all her worst moments, but especially that one day on the burn ball field. She had organized a small group of girls to play the sport. Misily was six, crying because she was all muddy and didn’t want to play anymore. No matter how much Vin tried to get her daughter to keep playing, but Misily just wouldn’t. The girl stubbornly refused to play, going so far as to childishly throw the game so it would end faster. Vin didn’t know what overtook her that day. The incessant childishness…the refusal to try even after she had softly encouraged…

She was just so…angry when her daughter didn’t want to go to burn ball practice anymore. She grabbed Misily by her little hands. Vin felt the fury boiling up in her, threatening to burst out. Misily noticed as any child could and started wailing in fear like she had never before. Vin looked into a nearby window reflecting, seeing herself so terrifying that it even scared herself. She didn’t look like a mother, she looked like…The Ascendant Warrior, the woman who had slaughtered an entire Cett garrison.

“I’m not made to be a mother.” Vin cried quietly to herself.

“No, no that’s not true sweetie! Misily and Willon are good kids. It could only mean they had good parents!”Allrianne comforted.

Vin wanted to believe Allrianne, but the soothing didn’t make Vin forget all the little mistakes she made over the years.

To think I was going to ask Elend for a third….

“I-I was going to ask Elend…once all of Misily’s court proceedings were over…I was going to ask if we could have another one…”

“That’s fantastic!” Allrianne cooed, trying to riot Vin’s emotions to focus on that instead of her missing son, “another what?

“A baby…I know I’m on the older end, but… Elend had always been so hesitant about having kids to begin with…”

It helped somehow to say it out loud.

Vin felt lightheaded, even with tin and pewter burning. She noticed that recently. Her metals didn’t burn as well as it used to when she was fighting Ruin, when she was younger.

“I…I don’t know when Misily and Willon got so big… I miss when they were little and…” Vin laughed a bit, “you should’ve seen Missy. That girl grabbed everything and anything, then wailed if we didn’t let her eat it.”

“Well it was going to happen eventually. The babies grow up, suddenly they’re not so cute anymore.” Breeze coughed. Both him and Allrianne looked at each other with a look that said they’d run into that exact issue with their own. “My dear Vin, it just isn’t possible to confine them to the palace forever. Sooner or later, they’ll want to spread their wings and it’s naught for us parents to try to chain them down. They will hate you for it if you do.”

“How did go by so quickly.”

“It always does my dear.” Breeze shook his head. “All you can do is let go.”

Chapter 17: The Portraitist

Notes:

Hallo! I return from the trenches that is application season. This little fic has been a fun little side project, but I'm not one to keep a story going without any end in sight. Looking at the word document that I write on I've practically written a short novel. That and I realized I misremembered a good bit of lore tidbits (Not that it matters that much, I already ruffled up the lore with this work merely existing). This work will eventually end with a proper closer.

On top of that I'm well on my way to finishing Mistborn Era 2 and whoooo boy do I got plans for that.

Anyways, enjoy!

Elend jumped around the city like a mad man.

Willon is mistborn. His son, in the physical sense, should be fine. Vin didn’t see it that way, but she had always been rather protective of her children. Perhaps it was a mother’s instinct.

He hopped onto another roof before realizing he had made a wrong turn. Damn these streets. Why had they tried so hard to recreate Luthadel anyway? That city was a cesspit and an urban nightmare filled with bad memories. Ruin, why did they even give it the same name?

Sazed had reorganized the world so completely that they could have done anything with the new bountiful landscape, but no…They remade Luthadel. It was like what Sazed said; people didn’t like change.

Elend remembered the meetings after all the dust of the Catacandre settled and the new capital city was well underway of rebuilding; it came time to deal with more menial decisions. One of which was what the new capital’s name would be. The council had bickered over it while Vin was also asking him to come up with names for their new baby.

Funny enough somebody floated the name “Elendel”. Elend got a good chuckle out of that. Tindwyl would probably tell him that many kings of old named important cities after themselves, but Elend was not that kind of Emperor. It was probably Spook who suggested it.

After weeks of arguing it was young Rena Penrod who suggested keeping things as they were. Out of respect for her late father and getting tired of the constant argument of the mundane, Elend voted to just keep calling the capital Luthadel.

Elend kept jumping across rooftops until he got to a small street where a little bar sat. It really was a marvel how fast the entire place was rebuilt and how insistent the people were to build him and Vin a palace. He remembered a time when just barging into a random bar was beyond him. Yet he did it anyway.

There wasn’t much Elend expected. He was the Emperor. Wherever he went somebody would be shocked, especially if it was unannounced. What he didn’t expect was to be greeted by a terrifyingly familiar face.

The Terris woman stood up. Everyone stood up, and they bowed deeply. Elend blinked for a moment and composed himself, waiting a few seconds and then waving his hand to have everyone stop bowing.

“My…your majesty…this is an unexpected surprise.” The Terris woman said.

“I’m here on business.” Elend said, glancing at a portly, balding man sat in a corner nursing a mug and staring at the Emperor. Elend was accustomed to stares, just not how that man stared at him. “I’m looking for a young boy, big for his age. My tin brought me here.” Elend was careful not to reveal it was his son he was looking for. A lot of unscrupulous people might do what they want with that information.

The tall man burning pewter standing next to the Terris woman glanced around, a little habit people seemed to have when they got visited by The Emperor. They were probably looking to see if Vin was around.

“If you have information, I suggest you tell me now.” Elend pounced on the fact that they didn’t know if Vin was with him. It didn’t really matter; he was equally capable of killing everyone in this room. It just came down to which of the rulers were more likely to actually do it, and it was Vin…especially if it involved either Willon or Misily.

“Y-Your majesty we…” The thug stammered.

“Your son came by here some time ago…He wanted some names from our bookkeeper.” The Terris woman stated.

Elend raised an eyebrow.

Damnit Willon. The boy had let loose his identity to a group of strangers…Thieves no less. Elend didn’t for a second think that this was just a quaint little tavern. How is it that Sazed makes bountiful fields and there’s still thieves in my city?

“He revealed his identity to us my lord!” The thug yelped. “We didn’t want the young prince going out alone so he’s with one of our thugs.”

“And who is this thug you sent him with? Why did you let him leave and not call over city watch?” Elend said.

The Terris woman bit her lips, muttering something under her breath and smacking the thug on the back of the head. “He came with Aren and he left with Aren. The boy is investigating the recent murder.”

Willon? Investigating? Unusually bold for the boy. Elend simply nodded and left without any parting words. Why should he? He was the Emperor. I should send city watch to this place, clear it out. But for now, he had bigger things to worry about. Like his angry wife who was tearing the entire palace looking for her son.

#

“I didn’t do nothing I swear!” Fradric Connelly yelped when being held by his collar like a pup in trouble. “It was Tem’s idea! I wasn’t gonna treat a woman like that!”

Aren pinned the Connelly brother against an alley wall. He wasn’t really expecting any information out of them, but he needed to stall to let Willon figure out how to use that metal he had ingested.

“Hey…Willon…you figure it yet?” Aren whispered.

“F-figure what?” Fradric quivered.

“Shut your mouth Connelly, or I tell Weyla to pay a visit to the rest of you.”

Willon burned his malatium and watched the scene unfold in front of him, replaying the Connelly’s chasing down a girl with choppy hair and cornering her in that alley. From a first glance she looked like a young girl probably younger than his sister. On closer inspection he realized she was probably older than Misily. The malnourishment and the posture seemed to make her look smaller.

Willon squinted, getting as good of a look as he could of her face: boney cheeks, thin lips, nice cheekbones, and dark brown eyes.

“What was her name?” Willon said, emulating the stately voice his father used.

“Like fuck if I know!” Fadric spat.

Aren punched the Connelly in the gut. Fadric crumpled to the ground with a groan.

“I swear on the survivor I don’t know! She’s just some local retard that stumbled into our side of town! Tem was just bored!”

Aren smacked sniveling Connelly across the head with pewter, then again backhanded.

“You might not want to hit him too many times Aren.” Willon said.

“Why not? The weasels deserve it.”

“The court is going to see it as intimidation, which might ruin the whole point of getting this information.”

“Intimidation? How else are we supposed to knock some sense into him?” Aren bit his lips. He was starting to sound a lot like Weyla and it made him uncomfortable.

“Make’s sense. Otherwise, anyone who could hire a few thugs could just…intimidate their court opponents to losing the trial.”

Aren sighed and turned around. Fradric curled up expecting another hard smack. “You don’t tell nobody you hear? You fell down on some cobbles and fell funny. Got it?”

Fradric whimpered and nodded his head.

“Now what was the girl’s name?” Aren said.

“I-I I think I heard Tem say…Dryna? Daina?”

“Derina? Derina Lodron?” Willon said.

“Y-yeah I think so.”

“You…you know the girl? I thought they said Misily saved a skaa girl?”

“She is skaa…half at least.” Willon furrowed his brow.

Derina was Penny’s half-sister, a product of Geil Lodron’s affair with a skaa maid. According to things Willon overheard, Derina wasn’t born right in the head, couldn’t speak or form words, then couldn’t communicate in coherent sentences to anyone around her. Willon only knew of her existence because he had overheard Aunt Allie gossip about it. Misily had also apparently run into that ghost of a girl during visits to the Lodron manor. Derina’s family put an immense amount effort into keeping their eldest daughter hidden away from the prying world. It wasn’t surprising that the woman was malnourished. She likely wasn’t allowed a seat at her family’s table, and the rest of it was Lady Lodron’s wrath. It also explained why finding Derina to stand witness was so damn difficult.

So how in the survivor’s name did she end up wandering all the way out here?

“So we good?” Aren asked.

“Yes Fradric can go. We don’t need him anymore.” Willon waved his hand. The Connelly eagerly scampered away like a beaten dog.

“Pathetic, the lot of them.” Aren grumbled.

A thud and a woosh came from behind Willon. He turned on a heel, ready to strike just like his mother taught him. His wrist was caught by his father.

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve worried your mother?” Elend said sternly.

Willon blushed from guilt. Knowing his mother, she was probably tearing through the palace looking for him.

“I…”

“And who are you?” Elend glared at Aren who knelt immediately.

“No one your majesty.”

Elend raises an eyebrow. “No one? What is your surname.”

Aren blushed. “I…Weyla has my official documents…she doesn’t really let me see them.”

The Emperor huffed. Withholding private documents from someone considered an adult was a misdemeanor. Destroying such documents was an outright felony. Willon had memorized that from the law books his father made him read. Misily also complained that withholding documents being a misdemeanor was too lenient. Aren wouldn’t be able to get loans, work, or apply to anything.

“You mean to tell me you don’t know your surname?” Elend said.

“No your majesty.”

Elend turned to Willon. “How many times Will, how many times have I told you not to reveal your identity to random strangers.”

“Aren’s trustworthy.” Willon responded indignantly.

“And how long have you known him? Are you acquainted with his family?”

“Well, I had to meet him first! What’s the difference between this and Missy making her friends? They all had to meet each other for the first time at some point.”

“Yes, but that’s at tea parties, and controlled settings, not running around the city…What exactly are you doing?”

“Looking for the prime witness for Missy’s trial.”

“Well?” Elend gestured.

“Well what?” Willon said.

“Did you find them?” Elend let go of his son’s wrist. “You also took the last vial of malatium in existence. That still needs to be discussed.”

Well, Willon hadn’t known that. “I used it to find her, Derina Lodron.”

“Derina Lodron?” Elend stroked the beard he only kept around because Vin liked it.

“This might be above my asking, but Lord Lodron keeps that woman hidden rather…tightly.” Aren finally spoke up. His knee was starting to hurt from kneeling. Elend finally noticed and sympathetically waved his hand to let Aren stand up.

“Yes Geil does seem to keep that girl locked away rather tightly.”

“Would it be possible for his majesty…”

“To get through the door and demand Lord Lodron to release his daughter so she can stand witness?” Elend stroked his beard again, “and how certain are you two that this is a positive identification?”

“Malatium doesn’t lie. I saw her clear as day, and one of the Connellys confirmed it.” Willon said.

“Oh, so that’s what you needed malatium for…clever.” Elend said surprised. He hadn’t even thought of that, nor had he ever burned malatium himself. Willon couldn’t help smiling a beaming a little from his father’s compliment. “It’s not over yet son. Law is all about proving things to others. Even if malatium doesn’t lie, it is your words against the court’s.”

“Which is why we need to get Lord Lodron to let Derina stand witness!”

Elend considered it for a moment. What exactly had he done since his daughter’s home confinement and trial? He had felt so helpless. He sighed. “Alright…I’ll schedule something with Geil.”

#

“Your majesty…what an unexpected surprise.” Geil Lodron was a rather…sized person. Elend’s practiced passiveness helped as he watched Lodron’s attempt at bowing. The man’s face was beet red, this simple act apparently straining him. Elend waved his hand so the lord would stop hurting himself. “That new property law…I have come around to show some interest in it.”

Elend was most certainly not interested in that law Lodron and other lords had been trying to pass. It gave property owners the right to raise rent without needing to inform their tenants, as well as loose limits to how many tenants could be stuffed inside a property.

Lord Lodron smiled weaselly. Elend could almost imagine the man rubbing their hands.

“Of course, my lord! “

“Perhaps we could discuss the finer points of it over some tea?” Elend gestured with his right hand, a command to be invited inside the manor. An activity that Vin would’ve relished, if only to make Lodron squirm.

“Certainly!” Lodrons snapped his fingers shouting at some maid to go get everything prepared. Geil did the quick glance around the periphery, as everyone did when Vin wasn’t visible. “My-my lord is your lovely wife not to join us today?”

“No, I’m afraid she’s otherwise indisposed.” Elend pulled Willon up front and center. “However, my son will be. I want him to shadow me for the day, see how it’s done.”

“Ah, well met young prince!” Geil took Willon’s hand and shook it heartily. Elend frowned. The lord had not waited for Willon to extend his hand first. Lord Lodron stopped and backed off with a poorly faked cough.  He gestured to follow and all of them went into the manor.

Aren followed close behind, wearing one of Hammond’s elite guard uniforms. He seemed to fit in naturally, striding in with a feigned confidence that made Lodron’s house guards stand up straighter to match.

A tea table was set in central courtyard where Penny and Lady Siera Lodron sat, their hair done up nicely but quickly. Their dresses were tailored, but not the complicated ones that they would have worn had they known Elend was coming.

Willon followed his father. He burned bronze. A resonance hummed in his ear followed by a blue line connecting his vision to Penny.

She’s an allomancer! Willon wasn’t sure how he never realized before, but then again, he hadn’t made a habit of constantly burning bronze like his parents did. He cursed himself as he scrambled to try and match the resonance with the metal.

Penny had a fan in her hand, covering the lower half of her face bashfully. Willon found it odd. It wasn’t particularly hot outside. His father began the conversation with Lord Lodron, though afterwards it was mostly Elend letting the lord. It was Geil who was trying to convince Elend of that stupid law.

Willon sat passively, putting up his copperfield now knowing Penny was an allomancer. He didn’t want to take the chance that she might be an emotional allomancer.

Aren stood tall for a couple minutes, then slowly wandered off by himself as if he were patrolling.

“My lords.” Penny curtsied respectfully. “I must excuse myself to the lavatory.”

Conveniently timed.

Willon waited until Geil was in a particularly passionate rant about something that no longer had anything to do with the initial topic of conversation, before slipping away as well. He kept burning bronze, following Penny’s trail and Aren’s trail.

The two blue lines lined up which confirmed Willon’s suspicion that Penny was in fact following Aren.

There was a scuffle, something thudded on wood. Willon flared tin.

“No! You can’t go in there!” Willon heard Penny yell in a hushed tone.

“Sure thing…Say you’re pretty.” Aren responded, oddly calm.

“What sort of royal guard goes wandering away from his lord?” Penny hissed.

“The Emperor is mistborn, he doesn’t need guarding.”

“Well then it makes even less sense why you’re back here!”

Willon turned around the corner to see Penny grabbing Aren’s wrist. She whips her head around, panicked, staring intently at him. He dropped his copperfield a bit and felt the crashing wave of calmness.

Soother.

“Please, my prince you can’t be back here I…” Penny stammered.

The door that Aren had tried checking opened. Derina Lodron stepping out in dusty and dirty clothes.

“Penny?” Derina said.

“Hush, Derry, please go back inside. I’ll get you your treats later ok?” Penny let go of Aren to go hug her older sister. “Shhh, please.” Derina mumbles something unintelligible, Penny whispers, “It’s ok, it’s ok, just go play with your pencils.” Derina quietly nods and heads back into the room. Penny shuts the door and glares at Willon and Aren. “What do you want with her.” She hissed.

Aren shakes his head clear of the soothing. “We…we just need her…to stand trial.”

“Stand trial?” Penny looked aghast. “They’ll eat her alive! She can’t handle that many people in the room picking at her with questions!”

“You seem to sooth her into complacency just fine.” Aren grumbled.

“That…I’m trying to keep her safe!”

“Safe? How did she get that far away from Lodron manor to begin with?” Willon asked.

“I-I…” Penny stumbled over her words before breaking into some quiet tears. Willon felt his emotions being pushed, so the copperfield came back up. Even without the emotional tampering, it didn’t seem like Penny was acting.

“Survivor…both you and your father are mistborn aren’t you…” Penny whispered.

“Yes, and you’ll do well to-”

Willon cut Aren off. “We’re not going to do anything to Derina, we just want her to give her side of the story.” He said, quieting his tone.

“I-I didn’t mean for her to get away…She just wanted to see the pretty flowers at the gardens. So I took her. A street musician played a really high note and she…She just can’t handle noise…Please, she’s a sweetheart, she would never…”

“It’s alright, she’s not in any trouble.” Aren lowered his voice, same as Willon. “But Misily might be put into prison for trying to protect her.”

Penny put her face into her palms. “I’m sorry about Missy, but Derina can’t handle the courts. She’ll get overwhelmed and then…and then she’ll lose it. I can’t put her through that. Survivor only knows mother puts her through enough.”

“Penny…please,” Willon pleaded.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. She nods, “you should see her room…” Penny shakily stood up and turned around. “Derry?”

A babble comes from the other side of the door.

“Is it ok if Penny brings some friends into your room? They’re nice boys, don’t you worry.”

Derina opens the door and sees her sister crying. She immediately mumbles and clutches Penny’s face.

“It’s ok…I was just…Sometimes I just cry ok?” Penny pointed to Willon and Aren, “These are…”

“Aren,” he gestured to himself.

“Willon,” the prince did the same.

Derina looks them over and mumbles, nodding her head. The three of them step into Derina’s small room. The walls were covered in drawings, sketches, and a few paintings, all of them were immaculate. Hundreds of images of Misily looked down at all of them. Derina scampers over to her lonely little desk. Off in her own contained little world, rocking her chair, humming a little tune, she happily went back to sketching another drawing of Misily with such detail it would have made master portraitists blush.

“She’s been obsessed with Missy lately…” Penny whispered. She gave a weak smile. “Derry has a knack for faces.”

Willon and Aren said nothing. They stared in awe of the sheer focus.

“Well…At least when Misily takes the throne she won’t have to worry about the lack of portraits.” Aren said.