the road to hell

by peskeygay

Summary:

it’s a love song
it’s a tale of love from long ago
it’s a sad song
but we’re gonna sing it even so

 

Wylan couldn’t get that stupid song out of his head.

 

or; Wesper Hadestown AU

Chapter 1: all i've ever known is how to hold my own

Summary:

Wylan was trying to be quiet, but the Slat was quiet- his song was the only real sound there was. Jesper knew he was definitely biased, but he was half-convinced Wylan was the son of a muse. There was just something about his voice that made the whole world go quiet to try to hear.

Notes:

song of the chapter: all i’ve ever known

jack wolfe being cast as orpheus has done wonders for my mental health, and my writing partner's left me alone for the next few weeks so... this was the obvious solution lol

but also tell me wesper isn’t so eurydice/orpheus coded…

also- this is a smush of the show and book lore. jesper and wylan are both relatively new to the crows (wy moreso). they've already met and are an established couple because i love gay people and i want them to be happy before i'm awful to them <3

in truth, the first two chapters are just them being gay while slowly introducing plot pieces... enjoy
 

Wylan Hendriks- a muses’ son, desperately working on a song.
Jesper Fahey- a boy who had always run away, finally trying to stay.
Kaz Brekker- a scheming demon.
Inej Ghafa- a girl with feathers on her feet.
Nina Zenik- the lady of summertime.
Matthias Helvar- the king of the underworld.

 

let’s sing it again

i’m gonna hold you forever

the wind will never change on us

long as we stay with each other

than it will always be like this

 

---

 

 

It was nearing five bells, the sun was beginning to rise and light up the dreary city, and the streets of Ketterdam were still bustling with people.

Jesper wove in and out of the crowds, humming the song they’d been playing inside the gambling parlor, his grin still flush with a drink and his latest win. It hadn’t been much- it never was- but it was still 100 more kruge than he would've had. 

If he was lucky, Wylan would be asleep when he got back, and Jesper would be able to just slip into bed without waking him up. He could come up with some story about Anika and Pim… and maybe he could buy Wylan something nice with the money he won. That basically balances it all out, right?  

Right. That plan, of course, all hinged on being lucky, and for all he thought about the concept nonstop, Jesper never felt very lucky. If he were totally honest, he was pretty certain Inej’s Saints must have cursed him with bad luck at some point. He had no idea why- it wasn’t like he was disrespectful, or even that bad of a person. Sure, Jesper wasn’t the best person, but he was certain there were worse guys out there in Ketterdam. 

The Crow Club was fairly small, compared to some of the other gambling parlors on the East Stave, but it had become his home after dropping out of university. There were still a few bleary-eyed pigeons playing in the corners- weren’t there always?- but it was late (early?) enough that most people with any sense had gone home.

The parlor, even when empty, was cozy, familiar. Kaz was currently “looking into expanding”, which Jesper could only guess at the real meaning of. Something incredibly illegal and lucrative, probably. Jesper didn’t particularly care- it would only benefit him in the long run. 

Jesper tipped his hat to Rotty as he entered, shooting him a grin. “Good morning, Rotty! Great to see your lovely face, as always.”

The bouncer didn’t answer beyond an exhausted glare, but Jesper didn’t expect him to- he had probably been at the door all night. They alternated shifts- tomorrow night, it would likely be Jesper standing there, regretting all of his life decisions. But for now, he could get some rest. 

He turned into the Slat and practically ran into his boss. “Oh Ghezen -” His heart leapt into his throat as he jumped back. “Kaz-”

“Jesper.” Kaz Brekker was never one for greetings. “I need you to get Wylan.”

So much for sleeping. “ Now? ” Jesper protested, putting his hand over his racing heart. “Do you know what time it is?” Have you been taking appearing lessons from Inej? That was the last thing the world needed.

“I need him for a job,” Kaz answered simply. 

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Jesper insisted, shaking his head. “Wylan’s probably sleeping. You know, like a normal human?”

“Like you?” Kaz raised an eyebrow, and- well, okay, ouch. “This isn’t optional. We need confirmation of a package to move forward with the plan."

'The plan.' Mysterious and vague as always. “At four in the morning?” Jesper repeated. Kaz didn’t say anything back- just raised an eyebrow. “Okay, okay,” Jesper raised his hands, letting out a sigh. “You know, most people have scheduled work hours. They try to establish a work-life balance. Ring any bells?”

“Most people don’t work for me,” Kaz drawled back and… well, unfortunately, Jesper couldn’t really argue with that one. So he didn’t- he shot Kaz a rude gesture and turned to go find his boyfriend. 

Wylan and Jesper shared a room on the second floor of the Slat. It was stupidly domestic- Jesper was still trying to get used to it, in all honesty, but in the best possible way. He’d never had someone to wake up with every day, and… well, after meeting Wylan Hendriks, Jesper never wanted to wake up next to anyone else again. 

As he got closer to their room, to his surprise, Jesper realized he could hear music- the soft strumming of a guitar, accompanied by a melodic hum. Wylan. Why the hell was he still awake? And… singing? Jesper had no idea, but he wasn’t complaining- he loved listening to Wylan sing. He smiled fondly and paused by the door to listen. 

Wylan was trying to be quiet, but the Slat was quiet- his song was the only real sound there was. Jesper knew he was definitely biased, but he was half-convinced Wylan was the son of a muse. There was just something about his voice that made the whole world go quiet to try to hear.

 

“Singing la, la, la, la, la, la, la… 

La, la, la, la, la, la, la… 

La, la, la, la, la, la, la… 

La, la, la, la, la…”

 

Saints , even singing simple “la”’s, his voice was beautiful… Jesper hated that he needed to interrupt him. Fucking Kaz Brekker.

He forced himself to knock quietly. “Wy? He got a quiet “yeah” in response, so he pushed open the door, slipping inside.

Their room was dimly lit with a few scattered candles, all burning low. Sitting on their bed, guitar in his lap and papers strewn around him, was Wylan. “Hi.” He smiled and, well, Jesper couldn’t help but grin. 

Jesper remembered so clearly the moment he’d first seen Wylan Hendriks, because that- well, that was the moment that really changed everything.

And yes, he was aware of exactly how cheesy that sounded, but it was true. From the moment he first saw Wylan- ruddy gold curls, eyes as vast and deep as the sea, freckles like constellations from Novyi Zem- Jesper knew something was different. It was only a matter of time before he fell completely head-over-heels in love. 

It had only taken a job and a near-death experience a few months back for him to confess his feelings- but, by some fucking miracle, Wylan said he felt the same.

And… well, maybe that’s what Inej’s Saints had been saving all of his luck for- everything else was so shit because he had Wylan. The last year-or-so of his life had been an insane whirlwind of bad decisions and rapidly dwindling funds, but Wylan Hendriks made all of the bad worth it. 

“Hi,” Jesper answered, as if that expressed any of what he was thinking.

“You’re back late,” Wylan noted, setting his guitar on the bed. 

“I’m always back late,” Jesper crossed over to plant a kiss on Wylan’s forehead. “You’re up late,” he echoed.

“I’m always up late,” Wylan echoed back, smiling up at Jesper so sweetly that, frankly, it would’ve been against some law of nature if he didn’t kiss him.

And… Well, Jesper may have been a thief and a gambler and a criminal, but he wasn’t a monster, so he kissed him as sweetly as he deserved. 

Wylan let out a pleased hum and smiled against his lips. His hands curled around Jesper’s waist to hold him close- and it was so easy to get lost in Wylan, in his embrace, his eyes, his kiss… It all made the rest of the world go quiet, just like his songs did.

It was a miracle- or maybe rather, Wylan was a miracle. Out of all the things in Jesper’s life, he was probably the closest thing to proof of the Saints' existence. 

He knew, logically, that he needed to get Wylan downstairs, that Kaz would come looking for them eventually. But… Jesper had never been one for logic, especially not with Wylan’s hands curling on his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer. There wasn’t much closer they could get, but Jesper silently agreed. Okay- yeah, closer…

“Jes,” Wylan let out a small laugh as Jesper tried to kiss him backwards onto the bed. “My guitar…”

Ah. “Right.” Jesper pulled back enough to let Wylan sit up. Everything in him wanted to keep kissing him, but Wylan had turned his attention back towards the instrument and was putting it away. Dammit… Probably for the best, anyway. “That sounded pretty. What you were singing.”

“Oh- you heard?” He offered a soft, embarrassed smile that was all too cute. Wylan wasn’t… secretive about his music, per se, but he’d only started practicing in front of Jesper after months of dating, so he wasn’t exactly open about it either. “It- It isn’t finished yet,” he insisted. “It’ll be way better when it’s done.”

“Well, I still liked it, finished or not,” Jesper insisted. “It was pretty. Really pretty.” His eyes lingered on Wylan’s face. “Just like you.”

Wylan looked away, but not before his face flushed prettily, which was more satisfying than Jesper cared to admit. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Jesper gently poked his cheek, causing Wylan’s face to break out into a wider smile. And I love you, his heart sang. He cupped Wylan’s cheek and pressed another kiss to his lips. “Unfortunately, I was sent here with a purpose,” Jesper found himself regretfully admitting. “Kaz wants to see you.”

Wylan raised an eyebrow. “Now? Does he know what time it is?”

“That’s what I said,” Jesper insisted with a smile, stepping back. “He was very insistent.”

“It’s Kaz, he’s always persistent,” Wylan sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. “Did… Did he say why?”

“Something about ‘moving forward with the plan,’” Jesper answered with a shrug. “So whatever that means in Kaz-speak.”

“I guess I’ll find out,” Wylan started to grab his scattered papers from the bed, tucking them into a notebook. They were covered in music- different half-written sections of songs Wylan had been working on. One of them supposedly was for Jesper. Was that what he’d been singing? “Does he need you too?” 

No idea. “Doesn’t he always?” That made Wylan smile a bit, although it was a nervous one. Jesper didn’t entirely blame him. Working for Kaz Brekker was never easy- being called to speak to him typically either meant you were leaving with some sort of job offer or with one less appendage. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Wy,” Jesper promised, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “He probably had an idea for some absolutely genius scheme that he just can’t wait to start til morning.”

“Well… Technically, it is morning,” Wylan pointed out.

“Wh- hey,” Jesper chuckled. “Whose side are you on?”

Wylan’s smile became a bit more real as he stood up, stretching. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Well, you know I’m on your side, so,” Jesper insisted. “You can fight me if you want, I guess, but… it’s definitely an odd tactic, even for you.”

“Come on,” Wylan rolled his eyes, offering him a hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jesper gladly took it and let Wylan guide him back downstairs. He’d follow him most anywhere.

As expected, Kaz was waiting for them. He wasn’t alone anymore- Inej was sitting beside him and, unsurprisingly, the two were engrossed in conversation.

“Hey, Inej,” Jesper shot her a grin. She smiled back, although Jesper could tell she was tired. See, even Inej wants to go to bed, Kaz. “Enjoying the lovely morning?”

“Wylan,” Kaz interrupted, not even bothering to greet Jesper. Why would he? “I need a new package. Something strong but easily contained.”

“Strong but contained?” Wylan repeated back, chewing on his bottom lip. Jesper could see the gears begin to turn in Wylan’s brilliant mind as he started to work through the newest problem. “What do you need it for?”

“A job,” Kaz answered, extremely descriptively. “Can you do it or not?”

“Well, I- I’ll need a bit of time,” Wylan insisted, shaking his head. “Time that’s not at four in the morning. And I’ll need more potassium chlorate, I’m running low.”

“Fine,” Kaz nodded. “We need this by tonight.” 

“Tonight? ” Wylan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Saints, Kaz, that’s-”

“Possible? It should be.” Kaz pressed, a slightly manic glint twinkling in his eye that meant he wasn’t going to be giving up anytime soon. Not that he ever gave up, but… “Or do I need to ask Raske?”

Oh, you asshole, Jesper’s jaw tightened. It’s too early for this. Wylan, bless him, didn’t deck Kaz and instead only shook his head. “No. I can do it, with more potassium chlorate.”

“Inej can pick it up once the market opens,” Kaz barely spared her a glance, which made her brow furrow.

Wow, he’s already in a serious mood today. Jesper would have laughed if Kaz wasn’t being such a dick. Although why he was surprised, he didn’t know. Honestly, this was typical Brekker behavior. 

As if he knew Jesper was thinking about him, Kaz’s sharp gaze snapped to him. “Jesper, you’re with me. We leave in ten.”

Was he really serious? “Now?!” Jesper put his hands on the twin holsters at his side. “Going where? It’s fucking four in the morning, Kaz.”

“If you valued your sleep, you wouldn’t have spent all of last night in the East Stave, would you?” Kaz snapped before turning out the door, leaving Jesper to stare in disbelief after him. He knew. Of course he did- he always knows. There was no hiding anything from Kaz Brekker, not really. 

Shame burned deep in his throat, but Jesper managed a glance at Wylan. The expression on his face was a familiar one- not anger or annoyance, but that horrible, soft disappointment.

Suddenly, the 100 kruge in his pocket felt heavy, and not in a good way.

How much did he lose tonight? Did he even know? Jesper looked away quickly, Wylan’s unasked questions already ringing in his ears.

He couldn’t bear to answer any of them.

“I… I’ll see you later,” he managed. The hot embarrassment was burning all the way up to his ears, in his throat… It was too much. Jesper didn’t- couldn’t - wait for the accusatory answer.

He jumped up and away, pathetically trailing after Kaz. 

So much for sleeping, anyway.

 

 

******

 

 

Wylan couldn’t get that stupid song out of his head.

It wasn’t even fully finished, which was the worst part. It kept coming sporadically- different notes and chords and lyrics, each one its own puzzle to piece together… Like something from a faint memory, or a dream- unclear and tainted with haze. He wasn’t sure why it felt so important to finish it, but… it was.

Sometimes music flowed out of him like this, at times when it shouldn’t. When he was younger, he’d learned to find the deadest, darkest corners in the house, to play as quietly as possible.

It was a hard habit to break, even though Wylan knew he didn’t need to be scared here. Not in the same way, at least.

King of shadow, king of shade… Matthias was king of the underworld…

Wylan shook his head. He couldn’t focus on the song right now, and he knew it. He had a job to do and a rapidly dwindling timeline.

He let out a sigh as he tried, once again, to turn back to his chemicals. Strong but contained. He was close- or he should be, anyway. Despite all of his best efforts, his hands kept shaking, and his mind kept wandering, and he kept humming that damn song… 

Inej had told him the folktale months ago- the one about the God Matthias and Sankta Nina. Wylan couldn’t have told you why he liked it so much- he hadn’t thought he was a hopeless romantic or anything, not like Jesper was- but… well, clearly it had really stuck with him.

According to Jesper and Inej, it was an old tale to help explain the seasons, but Wylan saw it more as a tragic fable about love, sacrifice, and faith. 

Matthias was the god of the dead, king of the underworld, and all that lived in it. He fell deeply in love with Sankta Nina, the lady of summertime, and she immediately fell in love too. Matthias wanted her to live with him in the underworld, but without Sankta Nina on the surface, no flowers or plants would be able to grow. 

So they agreed- for half of the year, Sankta Nina would stay in the underworld- the winter months. But the other half, she would walk in the sun- the summer and spring.

It was both beautiful and tragic; the seasons of warmth and brightness relied on the sacrifice of love. 

Wylan’s hands moved with practiced ease, trying to focus on the task at hand. He had made enough packages for Kaz that it was practically second nature, but that didn’t make it better. In fact, that made Wylan feel more uneasy than ever. He didn’t want it to become second nature- Wylan wasn’t a criminal. …right?

More often than he should, Wylan found himself wondering- what am I doing here? Even after months of working for Kaz Brekker, even after finding Jesper, he still felt leagues out of place.

But Wylan supposed that was better than his alternative- drowned at the bottom of the sea or dead in an alleyway somewhere…

Wylan heard the footsteps only moments before a voice behind spoke. “What’s that melody?” 

Oh- He startled instantly, heart leaping as he met a familiar gaze. Inej. It’s just Inej. She was carrying a small bag- probably containing his potassium chlorate, if he had to guess.

It still took Wylan a moment to calm his heart and find his words. “Oh- I… I don’t know. Nothing, really,” he fiddled with his sleeve, feeling Inej’s eyes bore into him. She always seemed to know when he was lying. Either that or he just hated lying to her. “It… It’s something new, I guess. But it feels so familiar at the same time? Like I’m just writing it down now, but…”

“It’s something you’ve always known?” She offered.

Wylan felt a small surge of relief. “Yeah.” He would have felt silly admitting it to Kaz or even Jesper, but Wylan knew Inej would understand. There was something so incredibly easy about talking to Inej. Somehow, she always understood. 

Inej nodded. “It sounds beautiful so far. It feels very… romantic.”

Wylan smiled. “Well, it’s telling a romantic story.”

“Oh.” Inej gave him a smile back. “One of you and Jes?”

His cheeks grew hot. “Oh- Saints no.” 

“I’m just teasing.”

“It… It’s kind of inspired by the story you told me,” Wylan found himself admitting, feeling strangely embarrassed. He didn’t usually talk about his music, but… well, he had a few questions he wanted to ask her. Maybe she could help him finish the song, get a clearer perspective… “The one about Matthias and Sankta Nina?”

“Oh!” She noticeably brightened. “Yes, very romantic.”

“Can I…” Wylan bit back the question before forcing it out. “Can I ask your opinion on something? You know the story better than I do.”

“Of course.” Inej’s smile turned fond.

Okay. Wylan forced himself to take a deep breath. It still took him more effort than it should to admit he had a question or admit he didn’t understand something. But… well, this was Inej- and out of everyone he had met in the Barrel, she had never once teased or taunted him about anything.

“I just… Do you think they ever… struggle with it all?" Wylan asked. “With their whole… situation? Do… Do you think they worry about each other?”

Inej didn’t scream at him or roll her eyes at his question. She didn’t hit him or ignore him. Instead, all she did was think for a moment before calmly answering, “Probably, yes. I think it’s very natural to worry about the person you love when you’re not with them. Especially when you’re not sure where they are.”

Wylan’s mind almost unwillingly flashed to last night- staying up all night, waiting for Jesper to get home… Even now, he wasn’t sure where Jesper was- if he was at home, still out with Kaz, back at a gambling parlor… Wylan wondered if Inej worried about Kaz. “Do you think they… ever get upset?”

“Oh, I’m sure that they do,” Inej nodded almost instantly. “I mean, they’re both forced apart, and together. It’s got to be a complicated situation.”

“Do you think they… get upset with each other?” Wylan specified, feeling his stomach twist. He thought about how his heart sank when Kaz revealed where Jesper had been- and how much worse it had felt when he’d then seen the look on Jesper’s face, caught like an animal in a trap. “That things get hard?”

“Of course,” Inej agreed. “Things get hard whether you are a Saint or a regular human. People are hard, and messy. But that’s also why love is so beautiful,” she gave him a small smile. “Because no matter how messy and hard it gets, you still fight through it for the people you love.”

Huh.

A few years ago, Wylan might not have understood that. But now, after all he had been through, after Jesper… how could he not understand?

Wylan nodded in agreement, returning his friend’s smile. “Thanks, Inej.” 

“I hope that helps,” Inej nodded in return, her gaze lingering on the messy worktable behind him. “I should probably let you get back to work. Kaz will have my head if I distract you for too long.”

“No, I really doubt he will,” Wylan mumbled, smiling. 

Immediately, her cheeks darkened, and she set down the small paper bag. “Your potassium chlorate.”

Wylan bit back a laugh as he took the bag, glancing inside. As expected, there was a small jar of potassium chlorate. “Perfect, thank you.” 

“Of course.” Inej looked back towards his worktable. “How is it going?”

“Better, now that I have this,” Wylan pulled the jar out of the bag, setting it with his other chemicals. Unfortunately, that meant he now had to really lock in and focus. His fingers began to drum out a rhythm- slow and a bit sad, but hopeful. “Happen to know what ‘tonight’ means for Kaz?”

Inej let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know if even Kaz knows. He and Jesper are still out.”

Still?  Wylan supposed that shouldn’t have been surprising, but he had hoped Jesper was back home by now, asleep. “Out where?” He knew she probably couldn’t say anything, but he still asked anyway. 

Inej gave him a small, sad smile, which confirmed he was right. “To scout out the location of our next job. They should be back soon.”

Soon. How soon was soon? “Oh. Okay. Good.” Wylan couldn’t help wondering exactly how much more Inej knew. It was obvious Kaz kept her closer than him or Jesper or any of the other Dregs, but… did even she know all of his steps? Did anyone, other than Kaz? It was a constant mystery, working for him. 

“I should go,” Inej admitted, gesturing towards the window behind her. Wylan hadn’t noticed, but it was slightly ajar. The Wraith never used doors, not when she could help it. “Lots more errands to run.”

Right. Wylan didn’t want to think about what other “errands” Kaz was having her run. He swallowed, nodding. “Well… have fun.”

The corners of her mouth rose. “You too.” Wylan watched as Inej climbed onto the window frame, skillfully swinging up and onto the roof without a sound. In a flash, she was gone- and once again, Wylan was alone with his half-formed melodies. 

King of shadows, king of shade… Matthias was king of the underworld…

Wylan let out a sigh and grabbed the jar of potassium chlorate, forcing himself to start measuring it out. He needed to get to work.

A quick glance at his watch showed it was nearing twelve bells. Not terrible, if he assumed “evening” meant “five bells”, but also not nearly as much time as he would like. Kaz loved to make him work under pressure… or maybe he did his best work under pressure, and Kaz just liked to take advantage of that. Honestly, at this point, that wouldn’t surprise him.

Despite all of his attempts to focus, the song played on. But he fell in love with a beautiful lady, who walked up above in her mother’s green fields…

 

 

******

 

 

By the time Jesper returned to the slat, he was absolutely exhausted. Kaz kept him out until way past nine bells, which marked well over 30 consecutive hours of being awake, and Jesper was definitely paying the price for it.

It was bullshit- his part of the job hadn’t even been difficult, more boring than anything. And, to make things even more fucking frustrating, Jesper didn’t even see Kaz use the explosives Wylan made. 

The lesson of the day is- Kaz Brekker is an asshole, Jesper thought bitterly as he struggled towards his room. Even walking up two stories felt impossible, but he somehow managed it.

With a burst of deja vu, Jesper realized he could hear music playing from their room- the same sort of beautiful guitar from earlier. 

Wylan. Of course, he was still awake- it wasn’t that late. Guilt twisted in his stomach, and Jesper paused by the door. He couldn’t stop picturing Wylan’s expression from earlier today. He had looked so… worried.

It made Jesper feel sick- especially because he knew it was all his fault. He knew what Wylan was going to say, the questions he’d ask… and in all honesty, Jesper was too tired to answer them.

Right now, all he really just wanted to fall into bed and pass out. 

Wylan’s tenor drifted from the cracks in the door- and it was pathetic, how quickly it began to ease Jesper’s frantic thoughts. 

 

“But the other half, she would walk in the sun, 

And the sun, in turn, burned twice as bright. 

Which is where the seasons come from… 

La, la, la, la, la, la, la… 

La, la, la, la, la, la, la… 

La, la, la, la, la, la, la… 

La, la, la, la, la… ”

 

Saints, he could have listened to Wylan sing forever. It was enough to make him forget why he was nervous in the first place. There really had to be something magical about it.

Before Jesper fully knew what he was doing, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

Wylan was sitting on the bed, just as he had been this morning. His guitar was perched in his lap, papers strewn on the bed in front of him. He looked up, eyes as wide and clear as the sea.

Jesper felt caught, despite having been the one to enter the room. He managed to clear his throat. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Wylan swallowed, his eyes darting nervously from Jesper to the empty doorway behind him. “How was the job?”

Jesper let out a groan, shaking his head. “I hate Kaz.”

“What else is new?” Wylan snorted, setting his guitar aside on the bed.

Everything mirrored this morning, except there was a thicker tension in the air- and not the fun kind. Jesper could feel his boyfriend’s careful eyes on him, watching his every move. He wanted to run, to sprint as fast as he could out of the Slat to the closest bar, or gambling ring- but that was the whole fucking problem.

Jesper kept his gaze fixated on his rings, fiddling with them as guilt gnawed at his insides. He shouldn’t have told Wylan he wanted to stop. It was so much easier to only let himself down, but now he has to do the same to Wylan again and again and again and- 

Wylan’s voice was soft and careful, but it still shattered the silence. ”Jesper-”

“Can we just go to bed?” Jesper blurted. He knew it was wrong, but he didn’t want to talk about it. Besides, if they didn’t talk about it, then it was basically like it didn’t happen, right? “I’m fucking exhausted.” 

Wylan was quiet for another long moment. “Okay,” he said slowly, and Jesper let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “We can. But I… I just want to tell you that I’m not mad. I never was mad.”

Jesper knew Wylan was trying to make it better, but somehow that just made it worse. How could he not be mad? Jesper had fucked up- it wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last either.

Because he’s too good for me. He’s leagues too good for me- he just hasn’t realized it yet. “Yeah. Right. Okay.”

“I’m not,” Wylan promised, scooching towards the edge of the bed. “If anything, I was worried.”

Worried. Jesper felt frozen to the spot. He tried to swallow, but found the lump in his throat was too big. “I… I know.”

“I just-” Wylan licked his lips, eyes still impossibly wide and nervous. Jesper hated that he looked nervous- that it was his fault. “I know that I don’t fully understand everything. It’s more than me, and it’s more than you, too. But I’m still here,” he insisted. “I’m not- I’m not going anywhere.”

Oh.

For an embarrassingly long moment, Jesper just… couldn’t speak. The lump only grew, choking him, and all he could think was- leagues. It was just another confirmation of that- Wylan was so damn good… and Jesper was a lying, thieving criminal.

For some reason, he’s still here. It was just a matter of time.

“Wylan-” he tried, but his voice broke, too thick with emotion. 

The other boy was on his feet instantly, crossing to grab Jesper’s hands. Wylan’s touch was gentle and kind, so much so that it almost brought tears to his eyes. “We don’t have to talk about it now, if you don’t want to,” he repeated, voice soft. “But you don’t have to be scared of that. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Jesper’s eyes welled with tears as a wave of exhaustion swept over him. He leaned forwards instinctively, and Wylan was there to catch him.

In the end, it was just more evidence of what he already knew to be true- Wylan Hendriks had to be a Saint. His arms were warm and safe- Jesper would have stayed there forever if he could. 

They had only been officially dating for a few months. Jesper hadn’t been in a real relationship before- he wasn’t sure how it worked, if it was still too soon to say the words, but they sat ready on Jesper’s tongue. They pounded in his heart, so loud it would be a miracle if Wylan hadn’t heard them yet. 

I love you. I love you so much. 

 

 

 

---

 

you take me in your arms and

suddenly there’s sunlight all around me

everything bright and warm,

and shining like it never did before

and for a moment i forget

just how dark and cold it gets

 

all i’ve ever known is how to hold my own

but now i wanna hold you, too

 

 

Notes:

if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading !!!

more coming soon! no promises on regular updates, but i Cannot stop thinking about jack wolfe orpheus and ive written nearly 10,000 words in 3 days so hopefully that continues lol
(...comments definitely speed things up <3)

Chapter 2: livin' it up on top

Summary:

Jesper pushed aside the curtain to peer outside, and even from afar, Wylan saw his face light up. “Finally- it’s Sankta Nina’s Festival!”

Notes:

song: livin’ it up on top

a bit more world building, and a ton more gay !! enjoy

waiting on a train to bring that lady

with the suitcase back again

she’s never early, always late

these days she never stays for long

but good things come to those who wait...

 

---

 

 

Wylan woke up to the sound of cheering coming from outside. It took him a moment to fully register what it was. Sounds in the streets of Ketterdam weren’t unusual- shouting and laughing, the sounds of a ruckus maybe, but… cheering?

That was so odd that, for a second, he thought maybe he was still dreaming. Wylan could have been- everything was so warm and peaceful… 

Jesper shifted underneath him, slowly untangling himself, and Wylan let out a displeased sound. No…

“I’ll be right back, darling,” Jesper chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Wylan’s forehead before getting up. Hmph… Suddenly, the bed felt much colder. 

Wylan forced an eye open, watching his boyfriend as he stumbled towards the window. Jesper pushed aside the curtain to peer outside, and even from afar, Wylan saw his face light up. “Finally- it’s Sankta Nina’s Festival!”

He yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Today?” Sankta Nina’s Festival signified the end of winter- the day she returned from the underworld. It usually took place on the first day the temperature rose above 50°, although Ketterdam had notoriously bad weather, so they usually tried to hold off and time it with the first real clear day. The whole Barrel came out to celebrate the arrival of warm weather all day. 

Jesper was in front of him again in minutes, moving with far too much energy for someone who had been so tired last night. “Unless we’re celebrating Sankt Emerens early,” he kissed Wylan’s forehead, grinning. “Come on, let’s go!”

Wylan groaned, letting his head fall onto Jesper’s shoulder. “Too early…”

“Oh no, you poor, poor baby,” Jesper let out a laugh, arms loosely holding Wylan upright. “How dare anyone wake you up early for a day of pure joy and celebration and fun?” He ducked his head to meet Wylan’s, pressing kiss after kiss to every inch of his face.

Wylan couldn’t help but laugh. It was almost too much- the way Jesper made his heart swell and want to burst. No one had ever made Wylan feel this good before, practically bursting with joy. As sad as it sounded, he just… hadn’t known it was possible, to feel this happy.

“Okay, okay-” Wylan managed through his giggles, gently pushing Jesper’s face away. “Let me breathe.”

“Never,” Jesper took Wylan’s hand, kissing his palm instead and smiling like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. “Good morning.” 

Wylan felt his face grow warm. Still, even after months, it seemed unbelievable that anyone would want to ever look at Wylan like that- let alone someone as gorgeous and perfect as Jesper Fahey. “Morning.” 

“Hungry?” Jesper let go of his hand and draped his arms around Wylan’s waist, tracing gentle circles with his thumb. “Last year, there was a food cart that served the most delicious waffles. They were only there for half the festival last time, so I’m really hoping it’s back again because I have been dreaming about them ever since.”

“Have you?” Wylan rubbed his eye, fighting back a yawn. He had never been particularly good at waking up, but especially since he started sleeping next to a certain warm, lanky Zemeni sharpshooter. Now he never wanted to get up, not when he could curl back up with Jesper.

Honestly, Wylan wasn’t particularly hungry either, but he contentedly listened as Jesper went on and on about waffles. The cheering from outside was getting louder, more disorganized- he probably couldn’t even fall back asleep if he wanted to… 

His thoughts of sleep were quickly interrupted as Jesper leaned in, pressing his perfect lips back to Wylan’s. He hummed softly. Oh. Hello… 

They always seemed to end up that way in the morning, trading lazy kisses back and forth. Not that Wylan was complaining There was something so damn addictive about Jesper’s lips, about the way he kissed Wylan like he was something precious- something desirable…

It made Wylan feel warm and wanted. It made Wylan want to kiss Jesper senseless. 

The crowd surged loudly- cheers, bells clanging, whooping and hollering- and Wylan flinched instinctively, their kiss breaking.

Jesper laughed fondly, his gaze turning towards the window. “Something exciting just happened.”

Wylan swallowed back the stupid shot of nervousness and raised an eyebrow. “You mean other than kissing me?”

“Well, obviously,” Jesper’s eyes sparkled with clear excitement. “Come on- if we sneak out now, maybe we can avoid Kaz’s wrath. I’ll buy you waffles.”

 

*****

 

As per usual, the streets of Ketterdam were packed with streams of people, but for once Jesper didn’t keep one hand on his guns. Instead, he held onto Wylan with one hand and pointed every which way with the other, watching as normally dangerous streets unfolded in joy.

Everyone seemed to be in relatively good spirits- even rival gang members put away their weapons, mutually co-existing on opposite sides of the street. For once, the sun was shining and the skies were clear- winter was finally over. There was no reason to fight or be sad at Sankta Nina’s Festival.

Hence why Kaz notoriously hates it. 

Out of all the Saints, Jesper had always liked Sankta Nina the best. Neither of his parents had been particularly religious, so he only really started hearing their stories after moving to Ketterdam. He wasn’t totally sure why, but Sankta Nina’s story had always stuck out to him.

According to Inej, it wasn’t accepted everywhere as the truth- Wylan thought it was probably because it combined Kerch mythology with Ravkan religion. There was probably some truth to that- the Kerch didn’t seem like they’d really enjoy sharing anything. 

People went all out for Sankta Nina’s Festival. Acrobats, fire-breathers, fortune tellers- all of the best parts of the Barrel on full display. Stalls were full of different food and drink, homemade gifts and treasures, games…

Even from afar, Jesper could hear the distinct click, click, click of Makker’s Wheel, the clink of coins tapping together, the shuffle of cards…

No. He tried desperately to tune it out and focus on his goal. Waffles. Waffles for Wylan.

It didn’t take Jesper long to find the food cart again- and truly, thank Ghezen for that. The waffles smelled just as heavenly as he remembered. He tried to start reading the menu aloud to Wylan, but in the end Jesper's eyes leapt ahead, and he blurted, “Boar infused? No way.”

“Really?” Wylan’s eyebrows raised. “That actually… sounds kind of good.”

Jesper chuckled. “You doubted my taste?”

“Maybe a little,” Wylan offered a small smile. 

Jesper gave him an offended look, nudging Wylan’s shoulder with his own. “Well, prepare to be proven wrong.”

He ordered two waffles to split between them- one infused with boar and one regular, drizzled in chocolate- and handed over the kruge before Wylan could even move to pay. It felt good to get rid of it in this way- instead of at the table, he was spending it on someone who deserved everything. “My treat,” Jesper winked. “Since I made you get up and all.”

“Thank you,” Wylan nodded, eyes lingering on the kruge he’d just put down- a piece of the dirty 100 kruge Jesper won last night.

His stomach twisted instantly. They hadn’t talked about anything last night- Jesper knew it was only a matter of time before it got brought up again.

What was he supposed to say? That he physically couldn’t hold onto money- that it slipped out of his hands like water, no matter how hard he tried to hold on?

Wylan was always more than understanding, but that made no sense- that just sounded like an excuse. And… well, Jesper supposed it was an excuse, but it was the only one he had.

“Do you think that she would want us to celebrate today?”

It took Jesper a moment to fully register that Wylan had spoken, let alone what he had said. “...What?”

“Sankta Nina,” Wylan explained, his voice soft and thoughtful. “Do… Do you think she would want us to celebrate the day she is forced to leave her love?”

Oh. Of course Wylan would be thinking about something like that. Jesper felt himself smile, although the question was actually a pretty sad one, when he considered it. “I mean… I don’t know about you, but I’d be pretty excited if the whole world threw a party every year on my arrival,” he shrugged. “But… I guess I know what you mean. It's a double-edged sword.”

“That’s what Inej said,” Wylan nodded. “That it's more complicated than just one side. But… I don’t know. I think I would still be a bit sad either way, if I were her.”

“So sad to leave your love, hmmm?” Jesper crooned, putting his arm around Wylan’s shoulders.

His boyfriend rolled his eyes, although his cheeks blushed a pretty pink. Adorable. It was way too easy, really- and far too satisfying. 

The woman behind the cart- the same one from last year, Jesper remembered her kind smile- cleared her throat before Wylan could respond. She offered them two intricately shaped waffles. “One infused boar, one regular with chocolate.” Her eyes lingered on Wylan as he took the chocolate-covered one. “And… not to eavesdrop, but I think you’re right, love. It must be painful to leave, no matter how beautiful the world that awaits you is.”

Wylan’s eyes lit up, as bright and blue as the sky was today. “Exactly,” he insisted. “And I’m sure she sees the underworld as beautiful too, in different ways. It’s where her love lives- and where she lives for half the year, too. She must have gained some appreciation for it.”

“Even the darkest places can be beautiful. Sankta Nina is a reminder of that,” the woman nodded in agreement. “That is why she is celebrated here in the Barrel, is it not?”

… Huh. Jesper had never thought about it like that, but he supposed that was probably true. The Barrel- the underworld of Ketterdam.

The woman smiled. “May Sankta Nina bless you.”

Jesper and Wylan echoed the sentiment back and walked to the end of the street, pausing to watch a nearby troupe of actors attempt to act out different tales of the Saints- you know, really pleasant, joyful stuff. Based on all of the dark fabric involved, it looked like they were trying to replicate the Fold for Sankta Alina. It was kind of awful and slightly ridiculous, which was perfect- Jesper always loved to watch a performance, good or bad.

They traded pieces of waffle back and forth, sampling both. The boar-infused one was hearty and delicious, while the one covered in chocolate was (who would’ve guessed) unbelievably sweet. Overall- just as delicious as last year. 

“Okay, you were right,” Wylan conceded after the final bites were gone. “Those were actually very good.”

“I believe I did tell you that, yes,” Jesper grinned. “This is proof that you should listen to me more often.”

“It’s proof that you can be right occasionally. Don’t let it go to your head,” Wylan rolled his eyes, turning to face the stage as he leaned back into Jesper’s chest, like he belonged there. And- yes, Jesper knew he was biased, but it did seem like Wylan belonged there. He just… fit so comfortably, like they were puzzle pieces made for one another.

Maybe the good weather was making him sappy. Or… more than likely that was all Wylan’s influence. 

“Oh, I will,” Jesper pressed a kiss to the back of Wylan’s curls. “It’s already done. Thank you for boosting my ego.”

“You’re welcome,” Wylan laughed softly, turning his gaze back to the performance, and Jesper followed. The actors playing Sankta Alina and the Darkling were currently arguing- something about being connected, taking over the world, destroying the Fold, blah blah blah. Very dramatic stuff.

“You know, I think I was born to be an actor in another life,” Jesper said after a moment.

Wylan smiled. “Oh, I definitely believe that.”

“Of course you do. I’d be extremely talented, obviously- in all of the best shows. And the people would rave about me,” Jesper continued, absently rocking him and Wylan back and forth. “ Jesper Fahey- superstar in the making. Got a nice ring to it.”

“Hey, you are extremely talented,” Wylan offered. “And people still rave about you. In a… ‘he’s dangerous’ kind of way.”

“Sounds like I’m halfway there.” Jesper grinned. “I bet Kaz would be an actor in another life. Something tells me he could carry a mean tune if he tried.”

Wylan snorted. “What would he sing about?” He paused before he and Jesper answered in sync, “Inej.”

Jesper laughed. “Definitely. And kruge, maybe. His two loves.”

“A power ballad about how Inej is worth more than any amount of gold,” Wylan smiled, and Jesper immediately knew he was imagining how it would go. 

“We’ve cracked it.” Jesper’s eyes wandered, watching the crowd.

There really was nothing like Sankta Nina’s Festival- not even Sankt Emerens’ Day, although Jesper admitted he loved that too. Something about the whole Barrel coming together to celebrate together… it made him a little giddy. 

His gaze caught on something down the street- something that looked an awful lot like someone flipping and contorting on a mini, portable version of a trapeze. “Whoa,” he muttered. That’s awesome.

Wylan followed Jesper’s gaze, then met his eyes with a smile. “Want to go look?”

Jesper couldn’t help but grin back. “You read my mind.” 

 

 

*****

 

 

“You should go up there,” Jesper called over the music.

Wylan’s brow furrowed. It was late- much later. The sun had set, but the festival was still in full swing. They had been sitting by an open stage for a while, listening to people sing and play with varying levels of skill. Everything was so loud- the person singing, the guitar, the crowd around them- and it didn’t help that Jesper was kind of stumbling over his words. “What?”

“You should sing your song,” he repeated, even louder. “The one you’ve been working on.”

Oh. Wylan had heard him right.

His heart skipped. “What?”

“It sounds pretty! I want to hear it,” Jesper insisted, clinging to his side to speak directly into his ear. “The world deserves to hear it, Wy.”

Oh Ghezen. Wylan’s face flushed. “I… don’t think so, Jes. I think maybe you’ve just had too much to drink.”

Jesper made a pouty, impatient face. “That’s not the point,” he protested. “Because I’m also right! What’s the worst that could happen?”

Everyone boo-s me off the stage. My father hears about it, tracks me down, and kills us both. “It- It’s not finished yet,” Wylan managed, shaking his head. “I can’t play an unfinished song.”

“Yes, you can,” Jesper insisted. “It’s an open stage, you can play literally anything you want, and people are legally required to clap.”

“We’re among thieves and criminals,” Wylan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think anyone here is ‘legally required’ to do anything.”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean,” Jesper let out a laugh. “I’m just saying!” 

Well … the song is about Sankt Nina. It would be perfect timing … and if Wylan was honest, he’d been humming it under his breath all day.

“But… what if it’s bad?” Wylan wasn’t sure why he was actually considering it. Maybe he’d had a bit too much to drink, too. Was he actually considering it? “What if everyone hates it?”

“No one will hate it!” Jesper paused, reconsidering after a look from Wylan. “Okay. Well… then they hate it. But!” he paused dramatically. “What if they love it?” 

That… was kind of a fair point. Wylan licked his lips, mind turning. What would his father think? That didn’t matter; he wasn’t here, but- but would he overhear?

Would his mother? Wylan hadn’t known his mother. He only found she was a muse by overhearing a conversation he shouldn’t have.

…Would she hear?  

“Hey,” Jesper’s voice interrupted his thoughts, soft and warm. “It’s all up to you, Wy, obviously. I just- I want to hear it so bad,” he admitted, cracking a slightly embarrassed smile. “I overheard one part by accident, and I can’t get it out of my head.”

Heat returned to Wylan’s cheeks. “What part?”

Jesper’s grin widened as he leaned into Wylan's ear, murmuring some soft semblance of a tune. “La, la, la, la, la, la…”

It made Wylan’s face flush hot for a multitude of reasons, but mainly because he  recognized it- or at least the semblance of what Jesper was trying to sing.

It was Wylan’s song.

Wylan’s heart leapt up out of his chest, into his throat. He- He really does like it? Maybe that shouldn’t have been such a realization- it was kind of silly, all things considered. But it still tore through him like a bullet, hard and fast.

Jesper likes his song, and he hasn’t even really heard it.  

Jesper- beautiful, beautiful Jesper- gave a slightly embarrassed smile. “I probably messed it up just now, but… it sounded pretty,” he repeated, and all at once, Wylan’s heart just- melted.

He didn’t think- Wylan just surged forwards to cup Jesper’s face and kiss him. His heart sang- every inch of it sang Jesper.

“Saints-” Jesper breathed, looking a little stunned as he pulled back. 

“I’ll sing it,” Wylan promised suddenly- a bit unexpectedly even for him, but he found he didn’t mind. Jesper wanted to hear his song. “For you.”

Jesper’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

I think I would do anything for you. “If they’re still allowing people to sign up.”

Jesper’s grin cracked open his face, so wide Wylan thought it must have hurt. “Let’s go see.”

The list didn’t end up being very long, which Wylan ended up being very thankful for. He probably couldn’t have handled much more anticipation- the moment the blonde woman scrawled his name down, his stomach twisted itself into a tight, tight pretzel. 

Oh Ghezen- what am I doing? If it wasn’t for Jesper, he would’ve told her to erase it. But… Jesper looked so excited - and Wylan sort of did want to sing. Now that he thought about it… Well, it seemed like it could be kind of fun. As long as he didn’t die of nerves before it was time.

“You’ve got this,” Jesper was saying, ever the supporter. “And even if you fuck up, most people are too drunk to care. The only person that'll notice is me, and that’s cause I know you, and guess what? I’m drunk too.” He offered him a goofy grin. “So it’s all good either way.” Wylan nodded like his heart wasn’t about to explode out of his chest, and tried to believe it.

Before Wylan knew it, the woman was saying his name. “Everyone give it up for our next performer, Wylan Hendriks!”

Well. I guess it’s time.

His hands shook as he stood up, moving away from the comfort of Jesper’s arms, up onto the stage. 

The stage wasn’t even really a stage- just a microphone, guitar, and speaker on a raised platform tucked next to the Crow Club. But still- stepping onto it made the knot in his stomach tighten. Is this really happening?

As he grabbed the guitar, Wylan was suddenly aware of all the differences from his own. This instrument was much nicer, made of a darker cherry wood, and, by the looks of it, it had just been restrung. Wylan knew it had to be in tune, but he strummed it anyway. It made a golden sound, like pure honey. After so many months of living in the Barrel, it almost felt wrong to touch something this high quality, this expensive. It was closer to something Wylan Van Eck of Gelderstraat would have had, not Wylan Hendricks of the Barrel. It… It felt wrong in his hands now, after all he’d seen and done. 

“Um, hello…” Wylan’s voice dried up in his throat as he felt eyes upon eyes upon eyes turn towards him. Did anyone recognize him?

Panic threatened to surge through him. Does anyone know? What am I doing here?!

Wylan’s eyes instinctively sought out Jesper- still standing in the crowd, so close yet so far away. He had gotten another drink somehow, and… he was smiling - really, truly smiling. Every inch of him was lit up, like the sun was shining up and out through his chest. He… He was truly beautiful - the most beautiful thing Wylan had ever seen.

Jesper’s eyes met his, and he smiled, giving him an overdramatic thumbs up. 

Wylan couldn’t help but smile back. Breathe. It's... It's okay.

He managed to take another deep breath and continued, absently strumming out a chord. “My name is Wylan…” Jesper let out a loud “whoop”, which made Wylan blush. “Um, I… I’ve been working on this for a few weeks… It’s not finished,” he felt a surge of embarrassment as he said that, but no one insisted he leave the stage. In fact, most people weren’t paying much attention to him, and in a way that made it easier. “But I hope you like it.”

Wylan had always found there was a special rhythm and cadence to music, a push and pull that didn’t always exist in written and spoken word. Things always felt easier when he was singing and playing.

No matter how much he tried to explain, no one ever really understood, but music… music just made so much more sense to him than letters on a page ever had. 

And so, he sang;

 

“King of shadows, king of shade,

Matthias was king of the underworld…

But he fell in love with a beautiful lady 

Who walked up above in her mother's green field 

He fell in love with Sankta Nina 

Who was gathering flowers in the light of the sun 

And he took her home to become his queen 

Where the sun never shone on anyone…

 

The lady loved him and the kingdom they shared 

But without her above, not one flower would grow 

So King Matthias agreed that for half of each year 

She would stay with him there in his world down below 

But the other half, she could walk in the sun 

 

And the sun, in turn, burned twice as bright 

Which is where the seasons come from 

And with them, the cycle 

Of the seed and the sickle 

And the lives of the people 

And the birds in their flight

 

Singing la, la, la, la, la, la, la… 

La, la, la, la, la, la, la… 

La, la, la, la, la, la, la… 

La, la, la, la, la… ”

 

It wasn’t perfect- Wylan had messed up in a few places. But… no one had stopped him- they still let him finish, let him sing, waited for him to finish. 

As the guitar tapered off into silence, Wylan realized that was suddenly all he could hear- silence. For the first time all day, no one was talking, chanting, cheering, singing… Everyone had gone silent.

In the middle of a festival, in the middle of the Barrel, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Wylan refocused his gaze on his audience and was startled to see hundreds of pairs of eyes, all staring directly back at him. 

Oh - oh Ghezen. His heart leapt up into his throat, a flash of pure panic flooding down through his chest. They all hate it. 

For a moment, he couldn’t move or breathe. All Wylan could think was- Jesper was wrong. 

But then, all at once, hundreds of people began to… cheer again- except this time it felt different. This time, the cheering was more enthusiastic, louder, and… 

Oh.

It was for Wylan. 

…Oh. 

Wylan had always been a musician, ever since he was a child. Music always felt like a safe, private space- one he could go to hide in when other things got too loud, too chaotic, too painful. The notes were never confusing- Wylan might not be skilled enough to play them, but they never swam around on the page, beyond his comprehension. 

He never had any performances as a child, not beyond presentations of skill for his father, but there definitely had never been any applause there. Wylan couldn’t remember the last time someone had applauded him, if there even was a last time. Let alone a group of someone’s.

Let alone what seemed like half the Barrel. 

Saints. It was enough to make his head spin. 

“Oh- thank you,” Wylan heard himself say, but that was drowned out by the cheers. Somewhere, he could hear Jesper whooping and hollering with pride.

Pride.

Once upon a time, Wylan hadn’t been sure anyone could ever be proud of him- and now there was Jesper, who was proud like it was easy, who smiled at him like he was worth it all.

Ghezen. Wylan wasn’t sure how much more his heart could swell before it just burst open at the seams.

They liked it. They all really liked it. 

It was all just too much.

As he got off the stage, Wylan was barely able to move- every time one person stopped congratulating him, another stepped up. People tried to hand him free drinks, prayer beads, spare kruge- all matched with endless compliments.

Wylan felt dizzy, like he was walking on air. Jesper, he breathed, searching for his boyfriend’s stupid, lovely smile. Where is Jesper?

“You have such a beautiful voice,” a voice said from behind him, cutting through the noise. Wylan turned and was surprised to see the woman from the waffle food cart smiling back at him. “Sankta Nina would have been honored by that song.”

“Oh-” Wylan’s face was already burning from all of the praise, but somehow that made it much worse. Honored? “Thank you, ma’am- you’re far too kind.”

Something twinkled in her eye- something wild and beautiful. She offered him a red carnation. “Please keep writing. The world needs voices like yours.”

Oh. Something about it made his throat close up, all of his words dying on his tongue. There was something about her tone- something Wylan almost couldn’t place, but it was … earnest, like it was important to her.

For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond- or couldn’t. “I… I will,” Wylan found himself promising as he took the flower.

The woman at him smiled like the sun, and was swept away into the crowd. 

Moments later, Wylan was swept off his feet- literally. There was no telling where Jesper appeared from, but suddenly, he was lifting and spinning Wylan.

“You’re a musical genius,” Jesper was grinning, holding onto Wylan like he was something worth keeping safe. “You are so talented, Wy- holy shit - Saints, I am so fucking proud of you…” Jesper kissed him, and Wylan melted, his heart singing. 

Wylan didn’t think he had ever felt like this before- this full of goodness, this happy. He wanted to stay in that moment forever. If he could have, he would have.

But then the next performer started to play - if you could even call it “playing ”. Wylan physically winced back from the kiss after the first few notes, turning in disbelief to see who could be torturing the guitar.

Jesper let out a fond laugh. “Oh Saints, that’s terrible already.”

Wylan nodded in agreement, looking back up at Jesper- at his Jesper. “Come home with me,” he heard himself say before he registered that the words had come out of his mouth.

“Oh?” Jesper’s brows raised. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” He noticed the flower still clutched in Wylan’s hands, and his grin widened. “Pretty. Oh- and the flower too.”

Wylan’s cheeks flushed as Jesper took it from him, carefully sliding it into place behind Wylan’s ear. “And… there we go.” Jesper’s eyes, sparkling like amber, drifted back to Wylan’s. “Perfect.”

Saints. Wylan gently shook his head, like his insides weren’t combusting. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“And? You love it,” Jesper kissed his forehead, and… well, Wylan couldn’t deny that. He did love it- every single bit of ridiculousness, the moments of seriousness, and everything in between.

I love you.

“Well? Come on, darling,” Jesper grabbed Wylan’s hand. “Take me home.”

 

---

 

so right now we're livin' it 

how are we livin' it? 

livin' it, livin' it up 

oh, brother, right here we're livin' it 

where are we livin' it? 

livin' it up on top

 

the flowers bloomed and the fruit got ripe 

and brother for a moment there 

the world came back to life!

 

 

 

Notes:

they're hopelessly in love your honor

strap in for some real plot next chapter !!!!

Chapter 3: what you gonna do when the chips are down?

Summary:

It had been weeks since the first letter arrived. It was in an envelope too nice for the Barrel, with an all-too-familiar seal stamping it closed.

Notes:

song: when the chips are down

the plot really begins !!
(i hope you enjoyed them being happy)

 

tw: panic attack

life ain’t easy, life ain’t fair

a girl’s gotta fight for a rightful share

what you gonna do when the chips are down?

now that the chips are down

 

 

---

 

 

Summer went by in the blink of an eye. Before Jesper knew it, the temperature quickly dropped, and any sign of good weather was gone.

Well… “good weather” was maybe putting it lightly. It was nothing compared to the gorgeous open skies of Novyi Zem- but for Ketterdam, it had felt like paradise. 

However, over the past few days, it was like someone flipped a switch in the sky. Now everything was dark and dreary, like always- classic Ketterdam, classic Barrel. The once beautiful world dulled again. 

Kaz, to his credit, didn’t seem to be affected by either side of the weather- he kept working hard, which meant Jesper and Wylan did too. They took job after job, helping Kaz pull strings they didn’t even see, earning money that Jesper inevitably lost…

He really was trying to get better at it- instead of gambling it away, he tried to spend it on Wylan. That felt good, much less like just throwing it away.  

It was good. Things were good. They should have been good. Except… well, underneath all of the good, Jesper had felt it for weeks- that old, familiar urge to get up, to shoot something, to keep moving, to run.

Sometimes it ran in the background, slightly dulled. Other times, it was all he could focus on- that tight, itchy restlessness that crawled under his skin like ants.

Despite all of that, Jesper still somehow felt exhausted. It didn’t make any sense. It never made sense- and maybe that was the most frustrating part about it all.

The job from Kaz should have been simple- or, you know, simple for him. Breaking and entering into some Mercher’s home, stealing some goddamn painting. Jesper wasn’t even really involved- he was their getaway driver. His whole job involved sitting in a carriage, waiting for Inej and Kaz to emerge. Other members of the Dregs were responsible for stalling and delaying the Mercher’s trip home for as long as possible. 

It had seemed straightforward enough, even to Jesper, but Rojakke never did know when to shut up. He kept asking Kaz question after question, long after they’d been dismissed. And… well, no one did well questioning Kaz Brekker, even on a good day… although come to think of it, Jesper wasn’t totally sure if Kaz even had good days.

Either way, today was definitely not one of them.

“Rojakke!” Kaz’s voice had been as serrated as a razor, eyes equally as sharp as he whirled on the poor idiot. Jesper would have felt bad if Rojakke hadn’t brought it on himself. “If I wanted you to stand there asking stupid questions and twirling your thumbs, I would’ve asked Jesper. Now go do what I’m paying you for.” 

…Oh. 

And, well- that stung.

Honestly, that more than stung.

That had slashed straight through Jesper’s heart, except they’d literally been on a job, so what the fuck was he supposed to do? So now he was sitting alone, waiting for that asshole (and Inej) in the carriage with all too much time to think, freebleeding everywhere. 

It wasn’t that Kaz was… wrong. Jesper knew he was… well, distractible, even on his best days. Inej often said he ran on his own clock- “Jesper time,” she often joked with a smile. Both she and Kaz had begun to accommodate him, always telling him a start time of at least 30 minutes before they needed him.

It was funny, the first time it worked.

But after the second time? And the third, and fourth, and fifth? Jesper couldn’t help but wonder if his friends were trying to tell him something, to get his shit together.

Honestly, Jesper wouldn’t blame them. They didn’t even know half of it. 

Who am I kidding? Yes, they do. Kaz made a point of always knowing everything. Especially about people he worked with, who he could get things from. And that always included Jesper.

Sometimes, he wondered if Kaz didn’t even see him, but instead only saw all of his flaws, his debts, his mistakes… Jesper wouldn’t really blame him. Most of the time, he couldn’t see past most of that either.

After all this time, Kaz still doesn’t trust me. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a big realization, but it still hurt. 

Of course, it begged the question- did Kaz really trust anyone? Jesper’s instinct was no, but he knew that wasn’t true. Kaz trusts Inej. The two of them were on another wavelength, one Jesper had long since given up trying to connect to.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t still jealous.

It was stupid, and Jesper knew it. There was no reason to be jealous- he didn’t even want to be that involved in Kaz’s schemes, not in the ways he knew Inej was. And yet something still twisted and curled, souring in his stomach whenever the two of them shared a certain knowing look. Or when they went into the Merchers’ house together, leaving Jesper to wait in the carriage.

How long had it been, anyway?

A quick glance at his watch showed he still had a quarter bell until Kaz and Inej should be reappearing, hopefully with a new painting. Why the fuck a painting was so important, Jesper had no idea, but Kaz seemed really fired up about it. Jesper supposed it was good for the guy to have something he was passionate about, even if it was probably just another form of revenge. 

Stand there asking stupid questions and twiddling your thumbs. Is that really all Kaz thought he did? Was that all he did?

Wasn’t that what he was doing right now, in a way?

No. Jesper was waiting, doing his job- he always did his job! Sure, maybe not always in the most convenient way, but Jesper never left anyone stranded. Reliable was maybe a strong word, but he was not… not reliable. 

Right?

Silence answered him. Jesper’s skin crawled. Everything in him wanted to run to the nearest club or parlor- although it was way too far to even consider making it there and back in time... 

Ugh. Jesper hated that it was his first thought- trying to justify it- but it wouldn’t leave him alone. He knew it was wrong, and yet he lived for the thrill of the gamble, and he supposed part of that had to do with the fact that it was wrong.

Recently, it felt worse. Like almost every thought was somehow laced with it- with the urge to slap down 50 kruge, to spin Makker’s Wheel, to see how his luck would fall today… After this heist, after the job, after Wylan goes to bed.

It was as if there was a constant war inside his own goddamn brain, one he was somehow on both sides of. Go home, go find a game- just one game to help settle his nerves... It never stopped.

How the hell are you supposed to win a war against yourself?

You don't. You only lose. 

The only clue that Kaz and Inej were approaching was the click of Kaz’s cane. Inej was virtually silent- as always. They rounded the corner, Kaz limping after an all-too-graceful Inej. Jesper was disappointed to see no frame in either of their hands. “Didn’t get it?” He asked as Inej launched herself onto the cart.

“Drive,” Kaz snapped as Inej helped him up too. 

Alright, more silence it is, then. The moment they were both on, Jesper urged the horses forward, cutting onto the nearest road. He couldn’t hear any screaming or alarms ringing, so he assumed they hadn’t gotten caught… No Stadwatch came screaming after them- in fact, the ride was uncomfortably silent as they headed back towards the Barrel.

So what happened?  

In his defense, Jesper waited until they were at least out of the Gelderstraat before speaking again- which, after the amount of silence he’d endured, was impressive. Plus, no one could hear over the noise of the streets- and Jesper was dying to know what happened. “Decide it didn’t suit your aesthetics in person?”

Kaz’s cold glare turned towards him, although the edges of a smirk played on his lips. “The Mercher has… an acquired taste, that’s for sure.”

That, unsurprisingly, didn’t really help clarify things. Jesper’s brow furrowed. “A taste that you… haven’t acquired?” He chose his words carefully.

The smirk grew into that eerie, slightly uncomfortable trademark Kaz Brekker smile. Kaz patted his own shoulder- and only then did Jesper register the dark strap, connected to something on his back. “Now, who said that?”

…Oh. Jesper’s eyes widened, and he bit back a laugh. “Damn. Who would’ve guessed? Kaz Brekker- Ketterdam’s newest art enthusiast.”

“Art critic is more like it,” Inej muttered, and Jesper did laugh that time. 

“So I’ve got high standards,” Kaz flexed his hand around the crow-handle of his cane. “Now come on. I’d like to further admire the craftsmanship.”

Jesper nodded and snapped the reigns.

 

 

*****

 

 

It had been weeks since the first letter arrived. Wylan wasn’t sure he’d been able to take a proper deep breath since.

He knew it was addressed to him, even if he couldn’t read it- to Wylan Hendriks, even though Wylan Hendriks didn’t have anyone who should be sending him letters. It was in an envelope too nice for the Barrel, with an all-too-familiar seal stamping it closed. 

My father  

He knows.  

Wylan would’ve torn the thing up if he found the courage. Instead, he stuffed it deep inside a box of chemicals in the back of a cabinet, somewhere he’d never have to think about it.

But then the second letter came- and the third, and fourth, and… well, suddenly, Wylan couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

He knows.

Then, of course, there was the Dregs’ newest job. The moment Kaz uttered his father’s last name- Wylan’s last name- his whole world threatened to crumble. It had taken all his willpower to keep from reacting, from screaming, to stay upright. No one had noticed- no one had shot him a glance, not even Jesper. But… well, Kaz Brekker had a way of making names sound like a curse, and Jan Van Eck was no exception. 

Wylan knew the DeKappel Kaz was after- he knew exactly where it sat in his father’s office, he knew the exact route he and Inej were planning to go to get it… They were going to walk right past his room. His old room. What was in there now? It had been years since… well, since Wylan had last been there. Had his father transformed it for one of his new children, erased all signs of Wylan van Eck from the face of the earth? 

No. He hasn’t. Although he’s tried. Maybe that’s why he’s written. Wylan’s stomach twisted at the thought. The unopened letter stared back up at him. Wylan knew he shouldn’t waste time on it, but some twisted part of him wondered what was written there- if it was the same in all the letters, or if they differed. There was no way of knowing- not without explaining everything, and… and Wylan couldn’t do that. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? Wylan just- he wanted to be free from- from all of it. It had been over a year! Why couldn’t he just disappear, leave it all behind? How did his father find an address? Why couldn’t he just leave him alone?!

Wylan knew he was wearing a track into the floor of their room from all his pacing, but… he couldn’t stop. He just- he kept imagining all of the worst-case scenarios- Kaz and Inej getting caught, or even worse- Jesper. Although Jesper was supposed to just be their getaway driver- if anything, he should be worried about Kaz and Inej, but it felt stupid to be worried about Kaz and Inej. They’d be fine- they were always fine.

So they’ll all be fine again… right? 

Of course- this would be the one job things went horribly wrong on, wouldn’t it? What would his father do if he caught them? Call the Stadwatch, obviously, but- but would he hurt them? Wylan couldn’t stand the thought of it- of his father so much as looking at Jesper, let alone touching a hair on his head… Although what would Wylan do if he did? He couldn’t even rip up the stupid letter.

The door creaked open, startling Wylan violently out of his thoughts. He jumped, whirling around to face-

Jesper.

Oh.

Some of the anxiety lessened immediately at the sight of him in the doorway, but not nearly enough. His breaths were coming too shallow. “Hi,” Wylan managed. Jesper is here.  

“Hi,” Jesper’s brow furrowed at the sight of him. “What’s wrong?”

Wylan wanted to laugh. So much. But that meant explaining it- and- and Wylan just couldn’t do that, not right now- not even to Jesper. Telling him he couldn’t read had been hard enough, although Jesper hadn’t cared at all. Now he even offered to read for Wylan, almost like it was second nature...

But this? This was something so much bigger. This was Wylan lying about who he was for the entire time they’d known each other- for their entire relationship. Jesper would never forgive him for that- Wylan wasn’t sure he could forgive himself.

“You’re back?” Was all Wylan could say.

“Yeah,” Jesper stepped into their room, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Kaz has a new decoration for his room.”

Oh. They… did it? Wylan wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. The knot in his stomach tightened. Jesper’s gaze was full of intent, staring at Wylan- staring straight through him. “Are you okay?”

No. He couldn’t breathe. But he couldn’t explain- and Ghezen, what would Jesper say? Would… he leave him? Did Wylan deserve that? His head was spinning. “Mmhmm,” Wylan tried to nod, tried to smile, but he wasn’t sure his face really moved at all. “How- How did it go?” He tried not to sound too interested- not like he really cared, but his ears were ringing so loud he could barely hear his own voice.

“Wylan,” Jesper reached for his hands, eyes full of concern. “Darling. Breathe with me.” He took a deep, intentional breath, which Wylan instinctively tried to mimic. It was harder than it should have been- his throat stuck, his chest ached, and Wylan felt stupidly small, but he tried. “Good, just like that,” Jesper took another measured breath, gently squeezing Wylan’s hands.

One part of him felt pathetic for working himself up this much, but the rest of him just wanted to melt into Jesper’s arms and hide there forever. So he did- Wylan tilted forwards, resting his forehead on Jesper’s shoulder as he struggled to keep breathing. He was shaking, and he didn’t know when he’d started. 

“I’ve got you,” Jesper murmured, his voice silky and soft. His arms carefully wound around Wylan, holding him tight. “I’ve got you, Wy, just breathe…”

Oh. It was pathetic, but tears prickled at his eyes. It was just- Saints, did that feel good to hear… Jesper’s got him. 

Although… Did that even really matter? Jesper could be ruthless, yes, but so could his father- Wylan knew that better than anyone. Could anyone really protect him from his father and his men? There wasn’t anywhere he was safe anymore. His father knew where he was.

If they could send a letter, then it was only a matter of time before he sent something more than paper and ink- someone after him, to hurt him, to try and kill him, drown him again- to kill Jesper.

Ghezen- his father could try to kill Jesper-

“Hey,” Jesper’s voice cut through his thoughts- soft, but firm. He took another intentional, weighted breath. Wylan instinctively curled into his chest, his breath hitching as he struggled to follow. “Do you remember those waffles from Sankta Nina’s festival? According to Anika, there’s a Ravkan place that makes some. She says they’re not as good, but they’re pretty damn close- and apparently they’ve got all the fun-infused flavors, too…”

For a minute, they just sat there together, as Jesper rambled and Wylan breathed himself back to life. It was probably pathetic how quickly Jesper's talking helped to calm him down, but Wylan couldn’t find it in himself to care. He could feel the rumble in Jesper’s chest as he talked, his shoulders moving as he gestured vaguely with one hand before it inevitably drifted back to rub circles into Wylan’s back. 

Eventually, when Wylan’s thoughts finally started to slow and his breath stopped hitching so often, Jesper’s baritone tapered off into silence too. He never stopped touching Wylan- soothing, grounding touches. Touches that were far too kind for Wylan, for someone lying about everything- touches that Wylan was too tired, too greedy, to push away.

“Sorry if all that waffle talk made you hungry,” Jesper whispered with so much sincerity Wylan couldn’t help but let out a wet laugh, squeezing his eyes shut. “Any better?”

No. Wylan wasn’t sure it would ever truly be better again. He tried to nod, and his head felt light. “S-Sorry…”

“Eh, no need for sorrys,” Jesper pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, running a hand through Wylan’s curls. “We’re alright.”

For now, the silence screamed back, ringing in Wylan’s mind. There will be every need for sorry when Jan Van Eck hires a hitman to take me out- to take you out- when we’re both dead.

“But- But what if one day we aren’t?” The questions spilled out before he could stop them. “I mean- if… what if something happens, Jesper? What if- What if one day you- you don’t come back?” What if one day he takes you too?

“Hey,” Jesper gently pressed his hand to Wylan’s back, holding him tight and steady. “I’m right here, Wy. Okay? You don’t have anything to worry about. There’s nothing that can happen that we couldn’t figure out together. And right now? We’re okay.” Wylan could feel Jesper’s eyes on him, watching him carefully. “Right?”

He’s asking. He’s asking if everything is alright. If anything happened. Wylan’s words twisted up in his throat, so tight he couldn’t dare speak. What was he supposed to do? Lie, straight to Jesper’s face? Tell him the truth?

“I don’t know,” was all he could manage, voice still trembling. 

Jesper was quiet for a moment- a long moment. Wylan tried to use it to breathe, to calm himself down again. “That’s okay,” Jesper said eventually, voice still soft and gentle. “You don’t have to know everything all the time. But right now, for once, I know- and I know that we’re okay. You’re okay, I promise,” Jesper clarified, kissing his forehead again. “Can you take another deep breath for me, Wy?” 

Okay. Wylan tried, his chest hitching again. “Good,” Jesper nodded anyway, holding him together even as he threatened to fall apart. Would Jesper still hold him, if he knew who he really was? Who he had been? That they had just stolen from his father? “I’ve got you,” Jesper kept promising, his voice battling the doubts in Wylan’s head. “I’m right here, Wylan. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He knew better- Wylan knew people always left, no matter what- but… well, he still really wanted to believe it.

I’ve got you.

He latched onto Jesper’s words with almost childlike hope, holding them close to his heart. We’ll be okay, he tried to believe it, to swallow the words whole, until there was no room for anything else. 

Jesper promised.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jesper couldn’t get the memory of coming home to Wylan like that out of his head, even as they were comfortably cuddled together in bed. He’d seen Wylan panicked before, sure- that was all part of their job, unfortunately- but this… this had been different.

Wylan had looked fucking terrified. Jesper had walked in to find him pacing on trembling legs that looked seconds away from giving out, eyes far too wide and full of unshed tears. 

“Hi.” Wylan’s voice had been a croak, desperate and scared, and… well, Jesper’s heart shattered. 

He still wasn’t sure what had triggered it. Wylan was typically a bit anxious and jumpy, sure- Jesper had known that from the moment they first met, over a year ago. He didn’t love yelling or loud noises, not really even gunfire or the explosions he caused. Jesper had never asked if there was a reason why, and Wylan had never offered any explanation- not that he needed to.

Maybe... there was a fight outside or something? Although… Jesper probably would’ve heard about it by now… Maybe it was just a bad brain day. Jesper could definitely understand that much- some days, it felt like all his thoughts were against him. He knew Wylan felt like that sometimes, too. 

They barely moved all night… or at least, Wylan hadn’t. Jesper fidgeted always, but he tried his hardest to stay still. Serving as Wylan’s pillow was practically a full-time position- one he was all too happy to fill, despite what his brain and body might say. Jesper had been itching to move for… well, however long he’d been awake, but he refused to wake Wylan. Rays of golden sun were starting to flood in through the curtains they’d forgotten to close last night- it was officially morning. 

He’ll be up soon, anyway. Hopefully, he’ll feel a bit better today, Jesper hoped, absently carding his fingers through Wylan’s curls. He’d do whatever he could to make it better- even if that meant ignoring his own restless energy to lie in bed, holding Wylan until he smiled again. 

Jesper should have known Kaz fucking Brekker would disturb the peace. The knock came before Wylan had opened his eyes. For a second, Jesper thought maybe he’d imagined it- or maybe he just wanted to ignore it, who really knows? Another knock came a moment later, loud enough to make Wylan stir, followed by Kaz’s raspy voice. “Jesper. I know you’re awake.”

Fucking asshole. Jesper’s eyes darted from Wylan, who was furiously blinking and rubbing his eyes, to the door. “Sorry, love,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead before shifting out from under him.

Wylan let out a displeased, sad noise that all but broke Jesper’s heart. He kissed his forehead again, like that could ever make up for it, before slipping out of bed.

I’m going to fucking kill Kaz.

Jesper flung open the door, already glaring. “What?!”

As usual, Kaz didn’t seem to care that Jesper was angry, or that Wylan was upset, or that they had been cuddling in bed 30 seconds ago. He only nodded. “Per Haskell needs us for a job. We leave at eight bells.”

Is he fucking serious? Jesper felt a flare of anger and stepped out into the hall, so Wylan didn’t have to hear. “Great. I’m not going.”

“And I’m not asking,” Kaz answered, tone sharp. “This isn’t optional, Jesper. You’re needed.”

“Yeah? I’m needed here too,” Jesper spat before he could help himself. 

Kaz’s eyes flicked to the closed door, almost amused- because of course he’d be. “Wylan’s a big boy. He can be by himself for a few hours.”

Oh fuck you. Jesper’s frustration only grew. “You don’t get it.”

“And neither do you, apparently,” Kaz snapped back, yanking his coat sleeve back to reveal his Dregs tattoo. “This ink? It means you’ve made a commitment, Jesper- it means you’re one of us. It means that when we need you, you’re there.” Kaz stepped in closer, his beady shark eyes staring straight into Jesper’s soul. “You walk out on too many commitments, and the Dregs will reconsider our commitment to you. And where would that leave you, hmm?” Kaz raised an eyebrow, glare so sharp it could’ve cut through iron. “Nowhere good, I imagine.”

You know exactly where. Jesper wanted to scream, his hands curling into fists. Drowning in debts, probably dead within days. There wasn’t a choice, really- and Jesper hated that, hated how he’d gotten to this point. “What’s the job?” He snapped through gritted teeth. 

“Grab your guns and meet me downstairs,” Kaz snapped in place of an answer. He never really answered- not in any way that would be helpful. Not until he had to. It was fucking infuriating. “ You have five minutes, ” Kaz raised an eyebrow. “ That’s not ten minutes, not seven- five.”

Oh fuck you. Jesper felt a surge of anger. “Right,” he spat out, too tired to come up with a more creative answer. “Right away, boss.” He stepped back into the room before Kaz could say anything else infuriating, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. Prick. He’s a total and utter prick.

“What’d he want?” Wylan asked, his voice soft and sleepy, yet distinctly scared too.

Jesper turned to see him sitting upright, still blinking back sleep. He looked utterly adorable– hair messed and ruffled, blanket hung over his shoulders, eyes puffy with sleep… Jesper wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed, to fold Wylan into his arms, to comfort him and drift off back to sleep. 

But... unfortunately, Kaz Brekker and a new job awaited him. And as much as he complained about it all, he didn’t want to be kicked out of the Dregs, or even put on probation. Kaz is an asshole, but he’s a useful asshole with an unfortunate point.

“Me,” Jesper let out a sigh, crossing back towards the bed to plant a kiss on Wylan’s forehead. “I’ve got to go.”

“Now?” Wylan rubbed his eyes. “‘It’s so early… Why?”

“No idea,” Jesper could’ve killed Kaz. “Some stupid job… Apparently, it’s of major importance.” He felt a pang of guilt at the look in Wylan’s eye. “I’m sorry, Wy. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.”

“I- I know,” Wylan insisted, offering half a smile. “It’s okay… Kaz Brekker calls.”

You call too. Jesper could physically feel it- the tug in his chest, pulling him towards Wylan. He wanted to wrap his arms around him, hold him tight and safe. Jesper wanted to kiss him sweetly, offer Wylan promise after promise that he wasn’t sure he could keep.

But… the thing was- Wylan made him want to keep them, and that was more than he’d ever felt before. He’d try to keep them if he said them out loud. If he promised Wylan, Jesper thought he could do anything.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered, promising. “So soon. Go back to sleep and you won’t even know I was gone.”

Wylan offered him a small smile. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, eyes already starting to flutter back shut. Cutie. Jesper couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head. He was always up with the sun- some side-effect of being born on the farm, but Wylan was never a morning person. He was predictable, that way- and honestly, maybe only in that way. 

Jesper couldn’t help but kiss him, startling a soft hum from his lips. Adorable. “Sweet dreams, Wylan.” Even half-asleep, that got a blush from Wylan. And, however angry he was with Kaz, that made it at least somewhat worth it. 

Maybe this would give Wylan some time to himself, to think about… whatever had happened. Maybe when Jesper got back, Wylan would want to talk. It was probably a futile hope, but it made the getting-ready easier. 

After getting dressed, Jesper strapped the holsters to his belt, slid rings on his fingers, and snatched his nearest hat- all in time for Kaz to knock again. “Jesper!” He barked, far too loudly. 

Bastard.

”No mourners,” Jesper said without thinking. Wylan didn’t answer, because despite Kaz’s yelling, he was still asleep. Oops.

Jesper swung the door open and stepped out, shooting daggers at Kaz. “You realize that Wylan’s still sleeping, don’t you?”

Kaz shrugged turning away the moment he saw Jesper was ready. He limped down the stairs, leaving Jesper to follow. “We’re on a tight schedule.”

Asshole. Jesper let out a huff. “This better be more important than stealing some Mercher’s painting.”

Kaz cut him an angry look- one that silenced him almost immediately. Oh. Okay. “Much more important. Now come on- we can’t be late.”

 

 

 

---

 

nobody’s righteous

nobody’s proud

nobody’s innocent

now that the chips are down

 

---

 

 

 

“We can’t be late,” my ass, Jesper thought bitterly as the clock chimed twelve bells.

He wasn’t a vengeful person. He wasn’t Kaz, for Saints' sake. Typically, he was pretty chill- everyone makes mistakes. Things were usually water under the bridge, you know?

But at this point? Jesper was seriously considering smacking Dirtyhands the next time he saw him. Because this job, frankly, was turning out to be bullshit.

Per Haskell (Kaz) had noticed the Crow Club had been dipping in revenue the last three days. Then Kaz (Inej) noticed patrons were being poached by hirees of the Dime Lions. Which was just great- it meant Per Haskell was angry, Kaz was livid, and everyone else (Jesper) was subject to their bitching.

Their goal today? Snatch one of the intendures poaching and send a message back to Rollins. Jesper was sure Kaz in particular had especially kind things to say.

He was posted near Fifth Harbor, where new pigeons would be flooding in from. Some recruits from the Dregs were here as well, talking loudly around the different potential patrons. Inej was supposedly lurking above him on the rooftops, although Jesper hadn’t seen her in hours. Kaz was also somewhere nearby, but Jesper didn’t know where. All he knew was that he’d been instructed not to move from this very spot- unless he saw a pigeon being fleeced by someone that wasn’t a Dreg.

So far? It had been almost four hours, and all Jesper had seen were a bunch of tourists.

Jesper fidgeted endlessly, absently spinning one of his guns as he watched another boatload of tourists disembark. These ones were from Shu Han. He’d already watched at least five boats empty so far. Jesper’s mind kept whirring, eyes bouncing from pigeon to stupid pigeon. They all had that same look on their face- wide-eyed, naive, and with big dreams of better.

It all reminded him a bit too much of himself when he arrived at Ketterdam. Jesper’s dreams of ‘better ’ had been crushed in almost a week- by an empty tankard, a stack of betting chips, and his own damn curiosity.

Sometimes, Jesper wondered who he would have been if he'd never put down that first bet. But… as much as he tried to think about that, Jesper really couldn’t see a world where he didn’t end up here somehow. University was just... really not his thing, and the East Stave called his name louder than any professor or subject- even louder than the jurda plants whistling in the wind back home.

Besides- despite the debt and endless danger, ending up here had some perks. Otherwise, how would he have met Wylan?

Wylan. Jesper couldn’t stop wondering about him, about how he was. If he was still asleep or if he was worried, panicking again. Every inch of him wanted to be back home, to run back as fast as he could, but Jesper knew he couldn’t. It was torture- almost worse than the urge to run to the gambling parlors, because this one hurt his heart too. Every second he spent standing here, doing this stupid job for Kaz, was another second he didn’t spend with Wylan.

But Kaz didn’t care about that- why would he?

Jesper was thinking so hard that when it finally happened, he almost missed it. A burly man had joined the crowd- older, rugged, and definitely out of place amongst the Shu tourists.

Huh.

Jesper watched carefully as he meandered forward through the crowd, fiddling with something small in his hand. His lips were moving, but the guy was far enough away that he couldn’t hear. Now, Jesper wasn’t great at reading lips, but all things considered, the words Emerald Palace were pretty distinct. 

Gotcha.

…now what?

If Kaz and Inej had prepped him on this part, Jesper didn’t remember. All he knew was that he was itching to do something . With every moment that man spoke, another pigeon could get redirected- and with every pigeon lost, Kaz Brekker would only get more vengeful and Kaz Brekker-ey…

In the end, it didn’t end up mattering. Before Jesper could even decide, he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, locking him into place. “Jesper Fahey?” A gravelly voice asked, already far too close- and definitely not Inej.

Shit.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” Jesper’s hand moved towards his gun, but before he could draw it, he felt something distinctly gun-shaped press into the small of his back. And then- well, then there wasn’t anything to do but freeze. 

“Hands where I can see them or I shoot,” the man insisted, and Jesper reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides. "“Rumor is you have slippery fingers. For coins and bullets." Shit. His heart was pounding. "Rumor is you’re also wanted back at the Emerald Palace for quite a hefty debt.”

Great. Just fucking great. What a great start to the day. “I’ve also heard rumors I'm the best sharpshooter in Ketterdam,” Jesper tried to keep his voice low. “Also, that I’m wonderful in bed. Rumors can be quite fun, can't they? Never really know if they're true.”

The man gave a gruff, humorless laugh. “I think Pekka Rollins disagrees. He wants his money, Fahey.” Jesper heard the distinct sound of a gun cocking. Shit! Shit- “Either that or your corpse.”

Jesper’s mind was racing, his eyes darting from rooftop to rooftop. Inej. Where the fuck is Inej?! He didn’t see her anywhere. Jesper was definitely starting to panic a little now. Shit! “Well- he should know that my corpse can’t pay back debts,” he blurted. 

“You can’t seem to pay them back alive either,” the man snapped, jabbing the gun against Jesper’s back again and- well, unfortunately, Jesper couldn't really argue with that. Shit- “So really, what’s the difference?”

Panic flared deep in Jesper’s chest, clawing at his throat. Where the fuck are Inej and Kaz?! “I- I just need more time,” his voice sounded stupidly weak.

Come on, Jesper! Think of a plan!

“Well. I suppose you can debate that with Rollins,” the man yanked Jesper backwards into the alley, throwing him off-balance. Jesper just barely managed to keep himself from falling, reaching for his own guns- threats be damned. He registered the jab of the gun vanished- just in time for it to thud against the back of the head.

Shit-

And suddenly, Jesper’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

aim for the heart

shoot to kill 

if you don’t do it then the other one will

what you gonna do when the chips are down?

now that the chips are down?

 

 

 

Chapter 4: i'm coming (wait for me)

Summary:

“The Dime Lions have him,” Inej’s voice trembled, her eyes flicking from Kaz to Wylan and back again. “I- I don’t know where. They- They had moved him when I got there.” Inej took a shaky breath, and when she spoke again, she almost didn’t sound like herself. “I don’t- I don’t think he’s… okay.”

Notes:

song: wait for me

...i apologize

have some inej POV as a treat

 

tw: panic attack, death, grief, loss (big sad)

 

how to get to hadestown

you have to take the long way down

through the underground, under cover of night

layin’ low, stain’ out of sight

 

ain’t no compass, brother, ain’t no map

just a telephone, and a railroad track

keep on walkin’, and don’t look back

‘til you get to the bottom land

 

 

---

 

 

When Jesper wasn’t back by evening, Wylan tried his hardest not to worry. 

It wasn’t unusual for jobs to take long in their line of work- if you could even call it that. Things were never totally predictable, no matter what Kaz liked to think. Maybe his father caught them and was torturing them for information. Maybe something went awry while they were escaping, and they were just lying low from the Stadwatch…

Or maybe everything had gone totally fine, and Jesper just vanished into a parlor after they finished. Honestly, there were a thousand places where Jesper could have gone- and yeah, he promised he’d be back, but… well, it wouldn’t be the first time he had broken a promise like this. 

So… why couldn’t Wylan shake the feeling that something was wrong?

He had woken up a few hours after Jesper left. The bed felt incredibly cold and empty without him- it always did, but this morning especially.

Wylan tried to be productive without him- he spent most of the day tucked away in his lab, finishing an order for Kaz. Then, he went back to trying (again) to finish his song. 

He had composed two versions of it now, both with totally different but equally important lyrics. Wylan wasn’t sure how to properly integrate them together, and he wasn’t sure why it felt so intimidating to try. He kept trying to focus on it, but the Crow Club was bustling with people, and the lyrics kept getting tangled with the worries in his head. 

It was all too easy for Wylan to fall into his anxieties, even on a good day. His nerves had always been overeager, and years of living in the Barrel hadn’t helped. He hated the way he still jumped at the smallest things, things that other people didn’t think twice about- a patron swearing too loud, Kaz’s sharp tone when giving instructions, a door slamming too hard, a gun misfiring streets away… 

But most of all, Wylan hated knowing that his father would always hate it more. Jan Van Eck had never tolerated anything Wylan did particularly well, but especially not when he got nervous and fidgety, all “crazy and spastic”.

According to Jan Van Eck, all real men- men with status and power- were cool, calm, and collected. They never cried, or laughed too loudly, or panicked over stupid things, or bit their nails until they were raw and bleeding. 

And, obviously, all real men could do something as simple as read.

The tip of his pencil snapped, smudging the music note he had been absently coloring. Wylan’s insides churned. Shit. The letters really had rattled him more than he cared to admit…

Maybe it was time to try to explain his past to Jesper. At least part of it. Wylan… Wylan wasn’t sure he could hold it all alone, anymore- which felt pathetic, he’d done it so far after all, but… well, another letter arrived had today.

I don’t know. Wylan chewed the inside of his cheek, swiping away the broken lead before erasing at the edges in an attempt to keep his paper clean. Even without lyrics, his sheet music was never very neat. Melodies and notes sometimes flowed out of him faster than he could process, and… well, Wylan was a perfectionist. He went back and worked every note, every rhythm, every moment of every song until it felt perfect. That meant lots of erasing and rewriting, over and over again, until the paper was worn. Jesper always said he loved his music so much that it literally showed.

Seriously… where is he?  

It was hopeless to try to focus on anything else. Despite not being in the room, Jesper was everywhere- in the hum of laughter spilling from corners of the room, the faint smell of liquor and smoke… Wylan’s eyes were immediately drawn to the top corner of his paper, towards a small heart Jesper had drawn a few days ago. He’d done it while Wylan wasn’t looking- a loopy, messy thing that resembled a bean more than a heart, but it had made Wylan smile like a love-sick idiot all the same. 

Without thinking, he ran a finger over the scribble, wishing it was Jesper’s hand. It was definitely pathetic, but...  Saints Wylan missed him. 

A quick glance out the door showed the sun was setting. The knot in Wylan’s stomach tightened, threatening to choke him. Oh. Sunset. They had officially been gone all day. He found himself scanning the room again, although nothing had changed. No Kaz, no Inej, and no Jesper.  

Shit.

Where is he?!

Should he go looking for them? No. Where would he start? Wylan didn’t even know where the job had been- if they’d even made it there, if they were somewhere else now…

They might still be working, he tried to remind himself, but Wylan was long past listening to his own reasoning. What was he supposed to do?! What if Jesper needed his help?!

Need your help? A voice that sounded suspiciously like his father scoffed in the back of his mind. Why would anyone need your help?  

The all-too-familiar clicking of a cane jolted Wylan out of his thoughts. His eyes darted towards the door- just in time to see Kaz step into the club.

Oh-

His heart leapt into his throat, eyes straining for Inej- for Jesper, but it was just Kaz. 

Overall, he looked untouched- fine even, except for how his whole body was tense, wound like a rubber band moments from snapping. His eyes were a little wild too, scanning every inch of the Crow Club before finding Wylan and- and settling on him.

Kaz’s jaw tightened, and, wordlessly, he gestured for Wylan to follow. 

Oh.

Wylan’s heart stopped. 

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

Oh Saints.

Jesper.

 

 

*****

 

 

Inej believed in a lot of things- in the Saints her parents taught her about, in the Kerch Gods she learned about in Ketterdam, even in the powers of the Demons she met from the bowels of the Barrel. As she ran along the rooftops, searching for any sign of Jesper, she found herself praying to every single one of them. 

Please. Please help me find him.

Coming upon the empty street corner where Jesper was supposed to be would haunt her for all too long. Inej already knew it- even the thought of it made her skin crawl.

For a moment- too long a moment- she hadn’t known what to do. Inej half-expected to have him pop out from around the corner in some stupid practical joke, but Jesper never appeared.

What did appear instead? A small splatter of drying blood, hidden behind a shadow. One of Jesper’s signature revolvers, abandoned on the ground.

Oh. Inej’s blood went cold. Oh no.

People went missing in the Barrel for loads of reasons- none of them good. As a collector of secrets, Inej made it her business to know how and where they went. Someone had to know where Jesper was, and she was going to find them and get it out of them- no matter what she had to do. She could pray for repentance when she knew Jesper was safe. The Saints would understand- they had to, right? 

They would.

Telling Kaz had been terrifying in its own way. Saying it out loud meant it was real- that Jesper really had vanished. In the end, she had to physically force the words out. “I can’t find Jesper.”

He’d paused, then tilted his head towards her. “What?”

“He’s gone.” The words tasted sour in her mouth, even now, hours after she’d said them. “Jesper‘s gone.”

For another moment, Kaz hadn’t said anything. Inej had practically been able to see him processing it, searching for a solution in typical Kaz fashion. “He was probably lured away. Did you happen to see a game nearby?”

“Kaz.” Inej had presented Jesper’s pearl-handled revolver, and Kaz’s entire aura darkened at once. “Something’s wrong.”

They spent the whole day searching for any sign of the Zemeni sharpshooter. Inej tried to view it objectively- as nothing more than another job. What would she be doing if Jesper were a target to find?

Thinking that way helped spur her into action- she checked all the alleys by the harbor, all of Jesper’s favorite bars, the gambling dens, any local game she knew of… nothing. No one had seen him in at least a day. It seemed that… well, that she and Kaz were the last people to see him.

It didn’t make sense. Jesper couldn’t have disappeared into thin air- not actually. There was always a trace. Inej just needed to find it…

In the end, one of the girls at The Menagerie gave her the tip. Apparently, she’d had a customer a few hours ago- a Dime Lion, drunkenly bragging about “stealing more than customers” from Kaz Brekker. Inej had to admit there were a lot of things that could mean, but right now? It was the closest thing to a lead she had.

Inej knew, logically, she needed to go tell Kaz what she’d learned. They’d go at it together- maybe involve Wylan, depending on how big the rescue needed to be. 

But… well, The Emerald Palace was near The Menagerie, and Inej found herself scaling along the backside of the green building before she could stop herself. 

Just a quick look. See if I can see anything that really confirms it, before I set Kaz on Pekka Rollins again…  

She twisted herself up onto a window ledge, climbing higher and higher, towards the top floor. She knew exactly which window led to Rollins' office- that would be a good place to start. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins as she easily maneuvered up the building. 

Inej didn’t know what to expect when she peered in through the window. But it wasn’t Rollins sat at his office, casually looking through files as a bunch of workers cleaned up the remnants of what looked like a torture scene.

Her stomach turned at the red stains on the floor, the walls, the chair… There was so much blood.  

Two workers scrubbed at the floor, while a third packed up bloody chains, handcuffs… One knelt down and picked up a gaudy, stained hat- one that Inej recognized with sharp, horrifying clarity.

She knew that hat. She’d seen it just this morning, perched precariously on top of her friend's head. 

Inej felt the blood leave her face.

Jesper.

Below her, the back door to The Emerald Palace swung open. Inej could hear laughter from inside- loud, raucous laughter that made her feel ill for a number of reasons. She tucked herself safely on a slightly higher ledge, completely out of view.

Two men stepped into the empty back alley, lighting a cigarette. “Thanks,” one took a long drag before handing it to the other. “Ghezen, I needed that.”

“What?” The other let out a rough, gravelly chuckle. “You mean the cigarette or the murder?”

… Oh.  

There was more to their conversation- Inej could still hear faint talking, but suddenly she couldn’t fully understand the words. Horror flooded through her whole body as her head started ringing, buzzing sharply in her ears. Suddenly, all she could hear was- murder- over and over again. 

No. Inej felt sick. They- They wouldn’t. 

The different gangs of the Barrel had unspoken rules. She hated to even think it, but… killing Jesper Fahey, the most notorious sharpshooter of the Barrel and Kaz Brekker’s second in command, unprompted was definitely breaking more than one. 

But why would they lie? They didn’t know Inej was perched up there, listening. Maybe they’re talking about something else entirely? That was a possibility- one that she didn’t believe herself, but Inej needed to be absolutely sure. She forced herself to take a deep, steeling breath and tune back into their conversation.

“…not worried about Brekker?” One was asking, taking a long drag. Inej could faintly smell the smoke from their cigarette. It made her feel worse.

“Please,” the other grumbled. “Brekker’s still a child. Boss is just waiting to put him in his place.” He paused, reaching for the cigarette. “Sucks that we had to lose so much money, though. Fahey worked up quite the debt, huh?”

“Oh please,” The man grinned, and even from above, Inej could see it was crooked and horrible. “He was never going to pay it back. The man was unreliable. The whole Barrel knew it- if anything, we just did every club in the Stave a favor.”

Was. 

The static returned, fierce and sudden. Suddenly, Inej felt dizzy. For a moment, she thought she actually might fall. 

Jesper. 

Oh Saints- Jesper.

She needed to get back to the Crow Club. Now.

 

 

*****

 

 

This has to be a nightmare.

That was the only thing Wylan could properly think. He kept rubbing his eyes, pinching himself, praying that he would wake up… But with every second that passed, the reality of it sank further and further in, threatening to suffocate him- to drown him, much like the icy waters of the harbor had. 

Jesper is gone.

Inej came back not long after Kaz did, crawling in through the window into Kaz’s office. And… if Wylan had thought the look on Kaz’s face was worrying, it was nothing compared to hers. He had never seen the Wraith so scared before. 

“The Dime Lions have him,” Inej’s voice trembled, her eyes flicking from Kaz to Wylan and back again. “I- I don’t know where. They- They had moved him when I got there.” Inej took a shaky breath, and when she spoke again, she almost didn’t sound like herself. “I don’t- I don’t think he’s… okay.”

Oh. Wylan’s head spun.

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Kaz was already moving, snatching up his cane and grinding his teeth. “Rollins is going to regret this.”

“Kaz,” Inej insisted, tears sparkling in her eyes. “They- They said they killed him.”

Oh. 

The whole world stopped moving. 

No.

Wylan couldn’t have heard right. His- His ears had to be playing tricks on him. He’d had a bad feeling all day, but that- that was just a feeling, it wasn’t… It couldn’t mean…

Killed.

No.

No- no, Inej couldn’t have said killed, they would never dare kill Jesper Fahey. Rough him up, yes, absolutely, but kill? Not unprompted- not Kaz Brekker’s second in command… Not Jesper. The Dime Lions knew better. Everyone knew better. 

So… So why did she look so damn scared?!

No.

“What exactly did you see?” Kaz was saying, although his voice didn’t sound… right. Everything sounded like Wylan’s head was underwater. “Inej.”

“Blood. Lots of it.” Inej’s eyes flickered to Wylan, apologizing and pleading silently. Sorry. She’s sorry. “I overheard one man mentioning having to eat his debts. I- I think it might have been a hit disguised as a debt collection.”

“Where?” Kaz insisted, again looking moments away from snapping like a band.

“The Emerald Palace,” Inej’s voice was tight. “Pekka’s office. I didn’t see Jesper, but I did see his hat. And I heard them mention him by name.” 

His hat. His name. 

Saints. This can’t be real.

“But you’re sure you didn’t see him?” Kaz insisted. When Inej shook her head, he turned towards the door. “I’ll be back. Keep Wylan here.”

“Kaz,” Inej stood up abruptly. “You can’t march into The Emerald Palace alone with no plan-”

“I have a plan,” Kaz snapped, interrupting her as he pushed the door open. “And that plan includes you staying here, with Wylan.” There was an energy to him that, even through his haze of fear and panic, Wylan could see plainly. It was jerky and a bit uncoordinated.

Scared, Wylan registered suddenly, and that fact hit him like a punch. Kaz Brekker is scared, too.

Oh Ghezen.

Jesper.

Suddenly, Wylan couldn’t breathe. Or maybe not suddenly- maybe he hadn’t taken a deep breath in hours, since Jesper had left his side this morning. A hit disguised as a debt collection. How much money did Jesper owe Rollins? Wylan didn’t even know- he couldn’t keep track of Jesper’s debts these days. Was it new? Old? Did it even exist? Wylan didn’t know- he didn’t know!  

They said they killed him.

No. Wylan found himself shaking his head. No, that couldn’t be true. Jesper Fahey was too bright to be dead. He practically radiated life- he lived with such excitement, with such astounding brilliance that Wylan couldn’t ever imagine him still. Even asleep, Jesper twitched and mumbled and fiddled- he was so alive, he made Wylan feel alive. He couldn’t… he couldn’t be dead.

Inej’s voice startled him violently out of his thoughts. “Wylan.” She had gotten closer- when had that happened? “You need to breathe.”

No. No, I can’t. Wylan knew he was panicking- knew he needed to listen to Inej, but every inch of him was aching with fear- with panic- with desperation. Jesper. Please. Inej’s eyes sparkled with tears, full of warmth- but not as warm as Jesper’s. 

Would he ever get to look into Jesper’s eyes again? 

“We don’t know what happened for sure,” her voice was low and intense, but Wylan could hear she was trying to be comforting. He wasn’t sure anything would be comforting ever again- not in the way he needed. Not unless Jesper came back with Kaz, alive. Saints- his head was spinning.

“We’re going to figure it out,” Inej insisted, although she sounded further and further away. “I promise. Kaz is going to figure it out.” Kaz. Kaz said he had a plan- was that a lie? Did he know something they didn’t? Was this all a part of a plan? Wylan didn’t know- he felt like he didn’t know anything. None of this felt real- how could it possibly be real?! 

Wylan knew, logically, that he needed to calm down. He needed to take a deep breath and right his head so he could help- he wasn’t any use panicking like this. But he just kept hearing Jesper’s words from last night- less than 24 hours ago at this point- I’m right here, Wylan. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.  

He lied.

Jesper lied.

That shouldn’t have been a big realization- Jesper told fibs and lies all the time. He was a criminal, for Saints' sake, and so was Wylan- it was in a part of both of their jobs.

Jesper lied to Wylan, too- and Wylan knew that. In some ways, he expected it. Jesper lied about coming home from games, about where his money went- about little things.

But… not about big things, not about safety and promises. Not about them.

He can’t keep promises if he’s dead.

Wylan was crying- he wasn’t sure when he had started, but all of a sudden, he found he couldn’t stop. Dead. Ugly, heaving sobs tore at his throat- ones that felt days, weeks, months, years overdue.

He had learned to cry quietly at home- to stifle the angry sobs and swallow the sadness. Even in the Barrel, he quickly learned that you had to be tough and ruthless, not soft and emotional. But this? This was too big. He couldn't hold it-

They said they killed him. 

Jesper-

Inej was there, placing gentle hands on Wylan’s shoulders to try and keep him upright, but honestly, he barely felt it. All he could feel was the big, overwhelming absence beside him- the empty air where Jesper Fahey should be, where he wasn’t. 

Where is he?

Wylan knew.

He just knew.

 

 

*****

 

 

Wylan remembered the first time he laid eyes on Jesper Fahey, probably over a year ago at this point. Long-limbed, hat off-filter, hands resting on his pearl-handed revolvers- Jesper had sauntered into the room like he owned it. It was more than a little pathetic, but Wylan had barely been able to look away the whole Dregs meeting. 

Just my luck, the sharpshooter on this job is unfairly attractive. 

And then, of course, Jesper had sat down right next to him with his signature lopsided grin. “So, you’re our new demo man, huh?” He’d winked- classic Jesper. “Tell me- where the hell did Kaz find a pretty boy like you?” 

From there, even against his own wishes, Wylan started to fall in love. It happened so fast. Suddenly, Wylan really hadn’t been able to imagine a world without Jesper’s contagious laugh, his cheesy jokes, his soft touch, his endless energy… 

But now? Now Wylan had to live in that world.

Permanently.

Kaz returned from The Emerald Palace later that horrible night with a freshly split lip and the news Wylan had been dreading but somehow already knew to be true. 

Jesper Fahey is dead.

The days after were dull and empty. Wylan didn’t think to ask how or why it had happened- he wasn’t sure he could stomach it, and Kaz didn’t make any move to explain. In fact, Kaz had all but disappeared- Inej was the only reason Wylan knew he was tucked away somewhere upstairs in the Crow Club.

Jesper is dead, and Kaz is… what, still scheming? Wylan couldn’t even find it in him to be upset or angry. At least something is the same.

Inej had started stopping by twice a day, often carrying a takeout bag of food Wylan couldn’t stomach. He knew she had to be hurting too, and yet she still took the time to make sure that he ate? She was so kind it was almost maddening.

Don’t. Wylan wanted to shout. Please don’t. I don’t want it. Don’t waste it.

The world was so much quieter now. Every day, Wylan opened his eyes to silence- there was no taping, no humming, no pacing, no fidgeting. Jesper had a way of filling the background with sparks and pockets of sound- his own distinct rhythm. It helped drown out the overwhelming thoughts in Wylan’s brain and was often inspiring in unexpected ways.

But now… now everything was unnervingly still and silent. Now there was no rhythm, no beat, no melody- no nothing. Just a blank, cold numbness.

Jesper would hate it. Wylan hated it too.

Wylan had quickly run out of tears, but the burning feeling never went away behind his eyes. He kept replaying that morning over and over again in his mind- those last few precious moments, before Jesper walked out of their door and never came back. Wylan should have held on; he shouldn’t have let Jesper leave. Or he should have gone with them- maybe, if Wylan had been there, nothing would have happened. It would’ve just been another successful job, and Jesper would be here right now.

Right, because people are so threatened when they see Wylan Hendriks on the street. But at least Jesper wouldn’t have been alone. Wylan would have been there to protect him, to keep him out of the Dime Lions' grasp… Or at least to try. 

Saints- I’m sorry, Jesper. I’m so sorry…

There was a soft knock on the door before it popped open. “Wylan? Are you awake?” It was Inej- it was always Inej. Never Jesper anymore. Wylan managed a ‘hmm?’, which prompted Inej to poke her head in. She looked exhausted- more so than usual- but she still offered him a soft, sad smile. “Morning.”

“Is it?” Wylan’s voice came out a raspy croak- it almost always was these days, from the constant crying and lack of use.

“Almost afternoon, but yes,” Inej admitted, shutting the door behind her silently. Jesper had often marveled at how she only made noise when she wanted to. The memory made Wylan’s heart ache like a bruise. “How are you feeling?” Inej prompted when he didn’t say anything.

She asked him that every day, and Wylan never knew how he was supposed to answer. Like there’s a hole in my heart. Like a piece of me is missing. Like Jesper is dead. “Okay.”

Inej nodded, dropping the bag of food on Wylan’s bedside table. “I brought some skillet bread,” she offered. “Have you ever tried it?” Wylan gave a weak shrug. “I also brought this,” Inej added, drawing a small book out of her pocket. “It’s a compendium of religious tales from all over. Ravkan, Kerch, Shu, Kaelish… It even had some Suli teachings,” she added, flipping through the pages. “I thought maybe, if you wanted, I could read you some?”

Oh.  

Wylan knew she was just trying to help- that she was trying to distract him. Some part of him was thankful for that, even wanted that…

Although deep down, Wylan knew he didn’t want Inej to read to him. He wanted Jesper. But… Jesper won’t ever read to me again.  

The realization hit him like a physical blow. Wylan’s eyes burned furiously, although still, no tears came. Jesper was the first person he’d ever told about his condition. Jesper was the first person who ever offered to read to him, who even started accommodating for Wylan even though he didn’t have to. Jesper didn’t care that he couldn’t read- he had been the first person ever who hadn’t cared. 

And now… he’s dead.

“That’s okay,” Inej’s voice was soft and sad, breaking through his thoughts. Wylan’s head felt physically heavy- like his thoughts were weighing him down. “We don’t have to.”

“No-” Wylan hadn’t known he was going to say anything- hadn’t even been sure it was his own voice until Inej looked back at him in shock. Wylan didn’t want to talk, or really even to listen. But… he didn’t want Inej to leave just yet. He didn’t want the silence to come back. It felt like it might crush him. The burning behind his eyes worsened, but he managed to add, “I… I’d like that.” 

Inej’s eyes sparkled slightly. “Okay.” She perched on the edge of the bed, opening the little book. “Any story in particular you want to hear?” Wylan shook his head, shutting his eyes to try to make them stop aching. “Let me look for a good one.” She flipped through the pages for a moment before clearing her throat and starting to read. 

They were so different. Inej’s voice was light and feathery, whereas Jesper’s was dripped like honey. Jesper was animated- he made pit-stops to do voices, to make comments, to laugh and get distracted… It often drove Wylan crazy, but now he found himself yearning to hear Jesper make some stupid comment about Sankta Lizabeta and her army of bees. 

But Inej just kept reading without stopping. Her presence helped, if only slightly. She was comforting, even though she wasn’t Jesper.

Wylan tried not to think about it, tried only to listen, but he’d never been very good at making his thoughts stop. And once Inej began reading Sankta Maradi’s tale aloud, his mind only whirred faster.

Two lovers- divided by fate, by hatred- wishing for a newer, better world. One tossed to the sea, one left looking. Sankta Maradi took pity on them and illuminated the water, allowing them to find each other. A miracle. Where was Wylan’s miracle? Why did Duli and Baya deserve it more than he and Jesper? Where was their Saint?

It wasn’t fair to think like that, Wylan knew it, but nothing about this situation was fair. Jesper was dead, and Wylan had never felt so shaken, so heavy, so waterlogged. Not even when he’d hauled himself out of the Harbor after nearly being drowned. He felt deader now than he had then. At least then, there’d been the warmth of thrill- of adrenaline- of his heart pounding with the need to survive. 

But now? Wylan’s heart had stopped beating the moment Jesper’s did.

“The next one is Sankta Nina’s.” Inej’s voice cut through the haze of sadness. Wylan didn’t know how long she had been reading for, or for how long he hadn’t been listening. “Do you want to stop for now? Or we can skip to one you haven’t heard yet?”

Sankta Nina. Wylan was immediately flooded with memories of walking the streets with Jesper, waffles, of his song, of Jesper’s laugh, of that beautiful, beautiful day… Saints, it made his chest ache. One part of him didn’t want to ever think about it, but another part desperately wanted to hear the tale again- to try and be close to a time so full of love, of happiness, of Jesper…

“No,” he managed, voice small. “It- It’s okay. I… I like that one.”

Inej paused for a moment, and Wylan had to wonder if she knew what he was thinking. But then she gave him a small smile. “Okay.” She looked back at the book and continued reading. “Matthias, Kerch God of Death and the Underworld, lived for most of eternity in darkness and frigid solitude…”

Wylan’s eyes fluttered shut, letting Inej’s familiar words wash over him once again, and wishing it were Jesper’s voice instead. 

 

 

*****

 

 

There was a sharp rap at the door, jolting Wylan out of his state of half-sleep. His heart leapt, and he reached instinctively to his side, for Jesper- only to grab air. Oh. The realization hit him hard, and suddenly his eyes burned with unshed tears. Jesper is dead.

Another knock. “Wylan.” Kaz. He didn’t give any more warning before pushing open the door and stepping inside.

Wylan hadn’t seen Kaz in… well, since that day. The cut on his lip was half-healed, although the bags under his eyes looked more prominent than ever. “I have a job that I think will interest you.”

Anger surged through Wylan, hot and fast. He sat upright quicker than he had moved in days. “Are you fucking serious?!” The words came out before he could stop them- but suddenly he didn’t want to stop them. He was full of too much- too much grief and sadness and anger- and suddenly, it had somewhere to go.

Kaz made Jesper leave.

Before he knew it, Wylan was yelling. “I’m not working for you right now. I’m not- I’m not doing anything right now, Kaz- Jesper is dead. He’s fucking gone, and you- what, you want me to make you some more fucking explosives?! To what, help steal another goddamn painting?! You’ve-”

“Sankta Nina has to return to the underground at the beginning of every fall,” Kaz interrupted, eyes full of intent. “How do you think she does it?”

“Wh-” Wylan’s anger quelled for a moment. His brow furrowed. “What?” Sankta Nina?

“Every year, the day before Sankta Nina’s Festival, a woman named Mila Janderstat arrives in Ketterdam on a charter from Fjerda. She sells authentic Ravkan waffles from a street cart,” Kaz began to pace, his cane clicking with every other step. “And every year, the day of Sankt Emerens Festival, she takes the same charter back.”

…he’s lost it. Wylan shook his head. “And?”  

“Why would a Fjerdan woman sell authentic Ravkan waffles?” Kaz urged. “And only for Sankta Nina’s festival? And why is she only here for the summer months? Like clockwork?”

“I- I don’t know, Kaz!” Wylan’s hands curled into fists.  “Why does it matter?”

“All legends come from somewhere, Wylan,” Kaz insisted. “Gods and Saints are often just Grisha in disguise.”

It didn’t take Wylan long to put it together, although he didn’t understand why. “So you’re saying Mila Janderstrat is Sankta Nina?”

“Matthias is a Fjerdan name,” Kaz continued, stopping his pacing. “And what are the distinctive features of Kerch Hell? It’s a cold, frozen–over wasteland. Remind you of anywhere?”

Fjerda. Wylan didn’t understand. “What- What are you saying?”

“Mila Janderstrat doesn’t exist,” Kaz’s gaze was intense, never wavering. “She’s a disguise used to get Sankta Nina out of the underworld, out of Fjerda, and into the overworld.” He stopped pacing in front of the bed. “There are myths of people trying to bring loved ones back from the dead. They’re never successful. But they do exist.”

Oh.

Suddenly, Wylan did understand. 

Jesper. 

After so many days without beating, Wylan’s heart restarted all at once.

“Kaz,” he pushed the blankets back, sitting sharply upright. “Tell me.”

“Stories say the entrance to the underworld is in the coldest, most desolate parts of Fjerda- a cave located in the mountains of Hjar,” Kaz explained. “They say it’s a long, hard way down. You cross the River Styx, across Matthias’ iron walls, into the Land of the Dead. And from there?” He clenched his jaw. “You make your case.”

Make your case. “Fjerda,” Wylan repeated weakly, turning Kaz’s words over in his mind again and again. The beginnings of hope were unfurling deep in his chest. “Hjar. Down to the Underworld, where I make my case.”

“It’s a long shot,” Kaz added. “Completely based on myth and legend. Logically, it makes no sense.”

And yet you’re still telling me. Wylan’s pulse was in his throat. And if you’re telling me, then you believe it has a chance of working. Which means…

Jesper. 

There might be a chance to save Jesper.

“How do I get there?” Wylan was on his feet in an instant, moving faster than he had in days. "What do I do?" He crossed to grab his chemistry bag, trying to remember what was left inside. He could fit a few other things in there too… What else does one need for a trip to the underworld?  

“There’s a boat to Elling in a few hours,” Kaz answered plainly- he had it already figured out. “I can make sure you have a place on it. From there, you head East.” He pulled a map out of his pocket, unfolding it on the bed and circling two points in Fjerda, connecting them with a line. “Talk to the locals. Learn their myths. One of them should lead you towards the entrance.”

Wylan’s mind was reeling. A few hours. That was enough time to prepare, right? He knew basic Fjerdan- he could always ask for directions if needed… Head East. Learn local myths. “You- You really think so?” Hope bled into his voice, into his chest. He didn’t believe in Ghezen- not like his father did, but suddenly Wylan found himself hoping, praying. Please.

Please.

“All myths and legends are made from tales of ordinary men, like you and me.” Kaz’s gaze didn’t waver. “Why not us?”

Why not us?

There were a million things he wanted to say, but Wylan had never been good with words. They stuck in his throat and, for a moment, he just choked on it. Make your case. How was he meant to do that? How do you convince the God of the Dead to bring your boyfriend back to life? Wylan didn’t know, but he didn’t care- he would figure it out. He would do it- he would do it for Jesper. “Thank you, Kaz.”

“Don’t thank me,” Kaz turned back towards the doorway, pausing there briefly before adding, “Just bring him home.” 

Oh. Wylan managed a nod, nerves and determination lacing together in his stomach. “I… I will.”

”No mourners.”

Oh Saints. That made it real- official. Wylan set his jaw. “No funerals.”

And then Kaz was gone. The only sign he had even been there at all was the pounding of Wylan’s heart. 

Fjerda. Elling. Hjar.

I’m coming, Jesper. Wait for me.

 

 

---

 

 

i’m coming wait for me

i hear the walls repeating

the falling of my feat and 

it sounds like drumming

and i am not alone

i hear the rocks and stones

echoing my song

i’m coming

 

 

Notes:

big proponent of inej and wylan friendship !!

every kudos is a hug for wy

Chapter 5: i remember fields of flowers

Summary:

No one cared what your name was when you were dead.

Notes:

song: flowers

this chapter was HARD... because how the hell do you translate chant (aka one of the best numbers in the show) and also the concept of someone's sense of self fading, while also making it interesting?

however im actually kind proud of how it turned out! its a bit shorter and in a slightly different style, but i think it works for the vibes? its a lil weird on purpose :)

maybe ill come back and add more if inspiration strikes but right now im happy w it!!!

i hope you enjoy (if enjoy is the right word?)
have a little nina pov as another treat hehe
all the crows are going to get at least 1 pov section, even though the story is mainly told from jesper + wylan's perspective :)

also we're more than halfway... brace yourselves for the endgame

 

a preface that i know very little about building walls lmao

tw: memory loss, fading, kind of dissociated state? idk how to explain but it’s a lil weird

dreams are sweet, until they're not 

men are kind, until they aren't 

flowers bloom, until they rot, and fall apart

 

is anybody listening? 

i open my mouth and nothing comes out

nothing, nothing gonna wake me now

 

 

---

 

 

It’s way too damn cold here.  

Even after hundreds of years of making the trip, it still took Nina way too long to get used to the drastic temperature difference. She shivered her way through the first few weeks and tried to pretend like she didn’t miss the warmth of the sun.

Matthias did his best to keep it warm for her down here, but the cold was just relentless. It seeped in everywhere, into all the cracks and crevices of the Underworld.

It made her so much less likely to get out of bed.

Nina stretched, yawning as she finally managed to slip out of the warmth of her blankets. Her bedroom in The Palace of the Dead was much nicer than the inn rooms she rented out. Living in the cold was just about the concession she had to make to see Matthias… well, other than the food. Things just didn’t taste the same underground.

The Palace was quiet even though it was nearing afternoon, although that wasn’t unusual. All of the inhabitants were dead, after all. Matthias was gone already- he always was. Being Lord of the Dead came with lots and lots of continual work- many more than being a Saint did. Nina supposed she lucked out in that way. She got a festival, meanwhile Matthias got responsibilities.

Makes sense. The miserable lump loves responsibilities.  

Nina rubbed her arms, shivering as she pulled a large, knit sweater over her head. One of her newer ones from Ravka, made from the same material as a Kefta. Her collection of warm clothing grew every time she traveled to the overworld. It was a small way of bringing that world back with her, of trying to use it and keep her warm. 

Nina let out a sigh, turning towards the mirror to at least try and make an effort to be somewhat presentable. Although honestly, she shouldn’t care- as a living Saint walking among the dead, she could look however she wanted.

Maybe that was a gruesome thought, but Nina didn’t particularly care. Living in the cold, dead underground made her a little numb to that sort of thing. 

Her room in the Palace overlooked the whole undead kingdom. Nina typically started her morning on her balcony, getting a breath of “fresh” air and solitude. In theory, it was also a really beautiful view- and it had been… before The Wall.

She never fully understood why Matthias insisted on building it. He had said it was a necessary form of protection, of preparing for the worst from other Gods and Saints.

Not for the first time, Nina wondered if he had been lying to her.

Nina would be lying if she said she didn't feel them growing more and more distant. There was just such a rift between them sometimes. Matthias spent all of his time among the dark, caring for the dead. And... well, Nina was not one of his dead. She required more care, more love. Not that Matthias particularly understands that...

She shook her head as she walked onto the balcony, scanning the dull world around her. The Underworld, in addition to being cold, was very dark too. Matthias had rigged up large lamps to line the streets and walkways, but the darkness stretched up like a pitch-black sky.

All of the colors were dim compared to the overworld, like half-erased chalk. There was a sort of muted beauty to it, although Nina always struggled to find it in the first few weeks after returning from the vibrancy of the overworld. 

Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the Wall and the workers building it. Nina hated watching them- hated watching that wall get taller and taller, locking her two worlds apart- but she couldn’t… not. It was right in front of her, after all. And there was something oddly satisfying about the whole thing, in a really off-putting way.

The workers moved skillfully, like a colony of well-rehearsed ants. They were close enough that Nina couldn't help but take notice of them- an old Suli man, a young Fjerdan woman, two Shu twins, a dark-haired Kerch boy, a lanky Zemeni man, a beautiful Kaelish woman…

Hold on. 

Nina did a double-take, her eyes locking back on the Zemeni. She found she recognized him, although… from where?

It took her a moment to place it, but then it came back to her at once. He had been with the musician from the festival- that ruddy-haired boy with the voice like a muse who’d written the song about her. 

Oh. Nina felt a flash of pain, of pity. Oh no. 

Getting attached to Otkazat'sya was pointless, and Nina knew it. Their lives were feeble and tragic. Marrying the God of the Dead had taught her that. But even after all this time, Nina hadn’t learned- she almost couldn’t help it. She found they were so sweet- often in a way Saints and Gods who had been living for hundreds of years weren’t. 

Besides, that young musician- what had his name been?- sang so beautifully and earnestly, like Nina’s story truly mattered to him. It wasn’t every day that she met someone who cared about her, who thought she was worthy of art that beautiful…

And now… his partner is here.

She watched the Zemeni boy for a moment, melancholy growing in her chest. Maybe she’d ask Matthias about him. Although… well, she didn’t know his name.

Plus, she already knew what her husband would say: that she shouldn’t care. It didn’t matter. One more dead to join the kingdom. “Fate has brought him here, Nina. For one reason or another.”

Heart aching a bit, she tore her eyes away and turned back inside. Sometimes, Nina really didn’t think fate was fair. 

 

 

*****

 

 

His last moments were his clearest.

Jesper had known he had been dead the moment he opened his eyes and realized they’d gotten him off the street. He hadn’t known where he was- only that it was somewhere bad, somewhere owned by Pekka Rollins.

They had disarmed him- he had no idea where his mother’s revolvers were. That realization hurt almost worse than the throbbing spot on the back of his head. Honestly, it still hurt, even after he woke up a second time- here, dead.

She would be so disappointed.

Was she here too? His ma? The idea tormented him. He wasn’t sure what would be worse- not trying to find him, or the shame of having to explain to her what happened. To explain that her baby boy, her Jesper, had fallen so low. Been murdered all because he didn’t pay his damn debts, because he was addicted to cards and chips and risks, because he had become a dirty, rotten criminal- nothing but a liar and a thief. 

They worked so much that Jesper didn’t have the chance to go looking. He was almost thankful for it. Almost. At first, he was plagued by the thought of it- of his ma walking up to him, wrapping him up in her arms, and breathing out- “Oh my little rabbit, what happened?” 

When the whistle screamed and they were inevitably called back to work, he was torn between feeling relieved and tired. Although… not really- he didn’t feel tired anymore. 

Jesper didn’t feel anything anymore.

 

 

*****

 

 

No one cared what your name was when you were dead.

Jesper realized that after the first several times he tried introducing himself. It was different from the Barrel- you weren’t in danger if you said the wrong thing… in fact, it didn’t seem like there were really wrong things to say. No one seemed to hear him at all, no matter what he said. Some people’s eyes flickered to him, but everyone just kept their heads down and kept working on the Wall. 

The Wall was huge, extending to wrap around either end of the underworld. Made of brick and stone, it stretched up towards the black-sky and almost looked like it could touch it- in places, anyway. It was constant, never-ending work. Every time their pile of bricks lowered, more would somehow appear. 

There was a monotonous rhythm to it that reminded Jesper of working on the farm. If he thought harvesting jurda was boring, it had nothing on laying concrete and brick. It became its own version of watering and tending for animals, just… without the fun of the animals. 

There wasn’t any real payoff either, except watching the thing grow higher and higher, and that didn’t feel good. He didn’t know why they were building it, but it didn’t matter. It all made Jesper feel a little claustrophobic. 

There was no real way to tell the time or the day. They didn’t stop to eat or sleep- there wasn’t any need to. They took a break when the whistle blew, although Jesper didn’t know if they were random or if they signaled the days were changing. 

He supposed it didn’t really matter, considering he was dead.

 

 

*****

 

 

The first time someone spoke to him, he nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“You want to play?”

Jesper’s head snapped up to find the owner of the gravelly voice sitting a few feet away with some others, shuffling a deck of cards. The boy was much younger than he would have thought, with eyes much warmer than his voice. There was something oddly familiar about him, yet also unfamiliar at the same time. The feeling didn’t make sense, tugging at different pieces of him.

“We’re about to start," he added.

For a second, Jesper was frozen- suddenly brought back to a time when he was younger, to a fuzzy memory he didn't entirely remember anymore. It felt like a trap- it was a trap. It had to be... right? 

Although… what the hell kind of trap would this possibly be? What would the buy-in be? He didn’t have anything.

No one does. What more could we take from each other? We’re already dead. 

And… well, he had never been good at saying no to a game of chance. 

“Yeah, alright. My name’s Jesper.” He was met with silence as the others stared back at him, eyes blank. Right. Names don’t matter. He cleared his throat, quickly joining the circle. “So. What’re we playing?” 

“Three-Man Bramble.” The boy began dealing, hands moving the cards with a practiced ease. Jesper felt that same odd, uncanny sense of deja vu. He knew he had watched hundreds- if not thousands- of people shuffle and deal, but for some reason, he felt like he should know those hands. He tried to recall the memory, tried to tug at it, but it refused to come up.

He was noticing that was happening to him more and more. 

But the rules to card games? Never escaped his memory. It was easy to sink back into Three-Man Bramble, into games of risk and reward… although they didn’t have anything to gamble with here, and people still barely spoke. Still- he always found he felt better with cards in his hands. 

Wasn’t that the whole problem?

He wasn’t sure it mattered anymore.

 

 

*****

 

 

The day the God and Saint came to visit, he thought he might have been dreaming- except, well, he couldn’t dream anymore. It was a deviation from the everyday constant.

From the moment they first arrived, everyone’s energy perked up and they worked a little faster, a little harder. Even Jesper found himself moving quicker, even though he wasn’t sure why. The air was a little brighter, a little sharper. Something was different.

Then, arm in arm, the God and Saint turned the corner.

Somehow, even from afar, Jesper recognized the God of the Dead instantly. He was Fjerdan, tall and muscular- built like all of the ideal drawings of soldiers from storybooks. His hair was long and golden, with piercing blue eyes as cold as ice. His face was chiseled like a statue, as if he’d been hewn straight from stone. He carried himself with all of that, too- with that knowledge, that power, with the grace of thousands of years.

Sankta Nina was ethereal in a different way- timelessly gorgeous and full of warmth. Looking at her, Jesper felt a funny surge of familiarity, almost as if he recognized her… or maybe she was just so beautiful that she seemed like she should be recognized. Her hair was a rich brown, draped in soft curls along her back. She was dressed in a beautiful, dark green dress to contrast her husband’s all-black outfit.

Together, they looked like a matching set, as beautiful and untouchable as the glittering jewels on the Saints' neck.

He wanted to talk to them, but he knew that was foolish. But the urge was there, to go up and ask her… what? There was something important, just on the tip of his tongue. He tried to pull on it, but the thought wouldn’t give. It was frustrating. Where had these walls come from, in his own mind?  

The God and Saint walked arm in arm. They didn’t say anything, not with words, but he suspected they had their own version of communication- the kind you did after spending an eternity of time together. Sankta Nina’s gaze paused for a moment, settling somewhere that felt suspiciously close to… him.

Did she recognize him? Was that feeling right? Without thinking, he waved.

The Saint almost faltered, looking a bit shocked. He wondered if maybe waving was a bad call, but then she raised her hand and gave a little wave back. For a moment, the world almost felt a bit warmer. 

Did you know me? He wanted to shout. Did I know you? 

Who was I?

Instead, the God cleared his throat and announced in a booming Fjerdan accent, “Wonderful work, everyone. Take your break early. Do not worry about the whistle.” He heard the rustling of thanks and gratitude around him. 

The God smiled, and so did the Saint. They continued walking on, leaving him behind. The Saint took her warmth with her.

 

 

*****

 

 

The dark-haired boy was unnaturally good with cards. He could have watched shuffling, dealing, anything - for hours. It was almost more entertaining than the game itself. 

Almost.

He felt the strange urge to ask his name. The words were half-formed on his tongue before he registered that… didn’t matter.

No one had a name down here. 

After all, what even was his name? 

With a jolt, he realized he wasn’t totally sure. 

Jesper. My name is-

The whistle screamed. Back to work.

 

 

*****

 

 

The longer he worked, the easier it all got. The rhythm became easy- easier to follow than anything he had heard before in his life. He could almost dance to it, if he wanted to, spinning and twirling the trowel in between beats.

Before he knew it, laying brick became something of a second nature. 

The Wall grew with every passing moment, stretching up and out, strengthening.

Why do we build the Wall?

The Wall keeps out the enemy.

He wasn’t sure where the answer came from, but he knew it innately.

We build the Wall to keep us free.  

 

 

*****

 

 

Everything was fuzzy now.

He didn’t know when he first noticed it- time was starting to feel distant and funny to him, and maybe that was part of the problem. But all of his memories- the before piece of his puzzle- were becoming more and more distorted. The harder he tried to think about it, to remember, the more it seemed things slipped away.

It hurt, but it was hard to mourn something you barely even remembered you’d lost. Still, whenever he could, he tried to remember his past.

Everything came in pieces now, but he remembered dying the clearest: the sharp pain in his head, the unrelenting pressure on his fingers.

The horrible crunch of his ribs, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

The ache of loss and pain in his chest, the salty sting of tears, and then- the sweet relief of numbness after so much for so long…  

Other things came in looser memories, things he couldn’t easily pin down: the smell of coal and ash, of sweat and liquor. 

A deck of cards being dealt, the clink of coins falling on top of each other. 

People talking and laughing over each other in crowded streets, the feeling of laughter rumbling deep in his chest. 

A constant, droning tick, tick, tick of a wheel.

Puffy white clouds painted over sunsets that covered every color imaginable, beautiful dark skies full of twinkling stars, horizons that stretched further than he could ever hope to go. 

The soft knickering of horses, the lowing of cows, the clucking of chickens- a symphony of animals.

Endless fields of golden-orange flapping around him as he ran through seas jurda and inhaling the spicy, natural scent. 

Cherry-blossom petals dropping and hitting him like rain, covering the grass like a blanket. 

The smell of gunpowder, of burning candles, of drying ink on paper. 

The crunch of stroopwafels, the taste of caramel syrup on his tongue.

A soft flutist melody, the rhythmic plucking of a guitar. A half-finished song. 

Ruddy gold curls- the feel of them in his fingers, soft as silk and infinitely more precious. 

Feather-light kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, his collar bones, his chest. 

A map of freckles, creating constellations and universes he wanted to learn.

Soft, warm smiles full of love and safety, of secrets meant for only him. 

The feeling of his heart growing so warm and swelling so big he was sure it would burst open.

Eyes as vast and deep as the sea, wide enough to drink from, sparkling in the sun and even in the dark… 

Sparkling at him.

You.

I know you.

What is your name?

He knew that smile, those curls, those eyes… That voice- it belonged to… to… No matter how much he tugged, it wouldn’t come to him.

What is your name?!

What is my name?

My… My name is…

He wasn’t sure he remembered anymore.

 

 

*****

 

 

“Jesper!”

That voice.

He turned- and somehow, found himself looking at that wild, blue sky. 

You.

He smiled.

It's... It's you.

 

 

---

 

 

you

the one i left behind

if you ever walk this way

come and find me

lying in the bed i’ve made

 

 

 

 

Notes:

sorry for the cliffhanger hehehehehehehehehehehe

t-minus 3 DAYS !!!! until jack wolfe orpheus

Chapter 6: who are they to say what the truth is anyway?

Summary:

Jesper had a thousand questions, but for a moment, his voice just wouldn’t work. All he could do was stare at Wylan, scanning every inch of his face so he could never forget it again. “You- You’re here,” he croaked, cradling Wylan’s face with his hand. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here,” Wylan insisted with a wet smile. “I’m really here.”

Notes:

song: if it's true
(aka my favorite song)

so... how are we all feeling post jack wolfeus first week...
because personally i physically Cannot stop thinking about or listening to it hahahahaha

 

you think that would be very conducive to working on this but somehow hasn't been
but alas, i did it!! here we go :)

 

translations for fjerdan is at the bottom note

if it’s true what they say

is this how the world is?

to be beaten and betrayed

and then be told that nothing changes

 

it’ll always be like this

if it’s true what they say

i’ll be on my way

 

---

 

It didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t have been him. 

And yet… it was.

“Jesper!”

The boy was running towards him, shouting a name. His name.

My name is Jesper, he remembered suddenly, the thought filling him like air. My… My name is Jesper. His heart swelled- that familiar feeling of so much, too much, and not enough all at once. And that’s… 

Wylan.

The trowel fell from his hand, clattering on the ground. He barely noticed. How could he, with Wylan in front of him? Memories flooded back all at once, connecting the pieces back together into a beautiful, vibrant puzzle.

Jesper remembered.

He remembered everything.

Wylan- his Wylan- was covered in dirt, and soot, and scrapes. His curls were a greasy mess, and yet Jesper longed to run his hands through them. Tears clouded the skies of Wylan’s eyes, and he looked absolutely exhausted. Jesper wasn’t sure if he had ever seen anything or anyone more beautiful.

He’s here.

Wylan stumbled as he reached him, but Jesper caught him. He couldn’t believe he could ever have forgotten him. “It’s you,” Jesper breathed out.

“It’s me,” Wylan agreed, his eyes so beautifully blue and real. 

He’s real. “Wylan-” Jesper’s voice broke, a raspy sob. He’s here-

Wylan smiled, tired and endlessly beautiful. “Jesper.”

Jesper had a thousand questions, but for a moment, his voice just wouldn’t work. All he could do was stare at Wylan, scanning every inch of him so he could never forget it again. “You- You’re here,” he croaked, cradling Wylan’s face with his hand. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here,” Wylan insisted with a wet smile, his breath hitching. “I’m really here.” He grabbed onto Jesper’s arms so tight it hurt, but Jesper didn’t care. Wylan was here, and that numb, blankness from before was gone.

Suddenly, Jesper was overwhelmed with emotion and memory. There was just so much- he wanted to cry, to scream, to cheer, to kiss Wylan senseless, to grab his hand and run… But all he could do was stare in disbelief as the puzzle of his past fitted itself back together.

My name is Jesper Fahey. His name is Wylan Hendriks. And I’m in love with him. 

Jesper couldn’t help it. He kissed him. 

For the first time since dying, Jesper felt adrenaline- a shot of pure wildfire and electricity. A burst of warmth and life flowed through him, reaching every dark and cold crack of his soul.

Jesper’s hand cupped the back of his head, threading through Wylan’s curls. He hadn’t felt anything so soft in… Saints, Jesper didn’t know how long.

Wylan’s lips were cracked and dry- so were Jesper’s, probably, but he didn’t care. How could he? He wasn’t sure if anything could keep him from kissing Wylan- not even death. Jesper’s cheeks were wet, although from his own tears or Wylan’s, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. Wylan was here.

Wylan is here.

“How-” Jesper pulled back with a sudden burst of panic, of horror. “Wy, how did you get here? Did you-”

“I walked,” Wylan said, as if that explained it all. “I came to get you. I’m here to take you home, Jes.”

Home. He saw flashes of a warm bed, of low lamplight, of Wylan’s smile. “Home,” Jesper repeated softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “How? Wylan, how the hell are you here?” 

“Kaz,” Wylan answered simply, and- oh. That sent memories sparking again. How the hell could Jesper possibly have forgotten Kaz Brekker?  “He found a way to get down here. Or- a possibility. I had to try, so- so I came.” 

You came. 

None of it made any sense. Jesper just kept shaking his head. It all seemed like a dream- except Jesper didn’t dream anymore. “How’d you get beyond the Wall?”

Wylan’s eyes sparkled with so much love and hope, a thousand times brighter than anything Jesper had seen in the underworld. They practically blinded him. “I finished the song,” Wylan insisted, letting go of one of Jesper’s sleeves to grab the strap across his chest. Only then did Jesper register that Wylan had his guitar with him, cradled across his back. “I- I sang it. The stones wept, and they let me in.” He reached back for Jesper’s hand, grabbing on tight. “I can sing it again, Jesper. I can sing us home.”

For a moment, Jesper didn’t know what to make of that. What to make of any of what Wylan was saying. I finished the song. The stones wept. Home. He wanted to go with him- to nod and let Wylan lead him away…

But he knew somewhere, deep down, that it wouldn’t be that easy. Jesper was dead. The dead didn’t just waltz out of the underworld because they wanted to. “Wylan-”

“I can, Jesper,” Wylan insisted, as if he knew what Jesper was about to say. “I promise you, I can.”

“No, you don’t-” Jesper swallowed, his tongue suddenly feeling too big for his mouth. That unbridled joy from just a few moments ago was gone- it had twisted into guilt. “You don’t understand.”

A harsh, familiar voice cut through the dead air. “Fellenjuret!” 

 

 

*****

 

 

What am I doing here? 

It was a stupid, scared thought- Wylan knew exactly what he was doing here, and yet it still leapt to mind, unbidden. 

He couldn’t believe he had gotten this far. The journey had been long and hard, and Wylan had never felt more out of his comfort zone or sure he was about to die. It seemed like a miracle- it was a miracle that he survived the treacherous hike up Hjar, that he found the chasm, that he crossed the River Styx, that he made his way over the Wall, that he was here.

But Wylan was here- Kaz’s lead had been right on the money, and he had found Jesper. Another miracle- only to be stamped short with horror and fear.

Because now, the God of the Dead had found them. 

The God Matthias was tall- he towered over Wylan. Or maybe that was just his fear. “Young man, I don’t think we’ve met before,” he began in a cold Fjerdan accent. With every step closer, Wylan felt the air grow icier and more frigid, as if the God was sucking any shred of warmth away. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe- his lungs felt frozen.

“You’re not from around here, Hajefetla. I don’t know who you are, but I can tell you don’t belong here.” The God gestured behind Wylan, back the way he had come. “Go back to where you came from. You’re on the wrong side of the Wall.”

Countless apologies leapt to Wylan’s tongue, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to find his voice again. It had crawled to take refuge somewhere deep inside his stomach. What was he supposed to say? 

What am I doing here?

Make your case. Kaz’s words floated back to him suddenly- this was the moment when he was meant to do that. And yet instead, all Wylan could do was tremble and shiver, clinging to Jesper in terror. 

Please, he prayed- although to whom, he didn’t know. Please don’t take him from me again.

Another voice- this one much softer- spoke before Wylan could find the words. “Matthias, I know this boy.” A woman- a familiar woman- stepped forward, and suddenly Wylan was speechless for an entirely different reason. 

It was the woman from the waffle cart. 

Sankta Nina.

For a moment, Wylan just froze, staring with wide eyes. His mind was going in circles, turning faster than he could keep up with as the pieces fell together in front of him. She was absolutely gorgeous- her hair was darker now and dressed like a queen as opposed to a waffle peddler, but there was no doubt about it. Her voice was the same, and so was that look in her eye- wild and beautiful. 

Sankta Nina. 

Kaz was… right. 

…Jesper and I bought waffles from Sankta Nina???

“Listen, son,” the God’s booming voice cut through Wylan’s thoughts. He blinked and suddenly realized the other workers had joined them. He had barely paid them any attention before- all he’d cared about was Jesper, but now… well, now Wylan couldn’t help but notice how many of them there were. And… they’re all looking at us. “There is so much work to be done. Turn back the way you came now.” There was a silent, threatening or else. 

What am I doing here?

I’m here for him.

“Wylan,” Jesper’s voice was soft, but Wylan could hear a distinct note of fear. And that helped snap his head straight. “You- you should go.”

No. 

No, Wylan might have been freezing, terrified, and entirely out of his depth, but he was not letting Jesper go again. Not after how far he’d come.

He set his jaw and tried to gather all the courage he had. “I’m not going back alone,” Wylan managed to keep his voice from wavering, sounding entirely more confident than he felt. Good. He tightened his grip on Jesper’s hand and looked up into the icy blue eyes of the God of Death. I’m here for him. “I’m here to take him home!”

Silence. And then- 

The God of Death laughed. 

He cackled, even, in a big, booming wave of sound. It took everything in Wylan to stand his ground, to keep his eyes narrow and hard. For Jesper, he kept repeating to himself, desperately stamping down his fear. For Jesper.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” The God shook his head, his amused tone poisoned by the look in his eye. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? He can’t go anywhere, not even if he wanted to.” The God raised a hand to point at Jesper, and Wylan fought every instinct inside of him to not flinch. “That boy? That boy is dead. He belongs here, with us. He is lost to your world.”

The words hit harder than they should have, for being the truth. But they still made Wylan pause, made his heart skip a beat and ache. Make your case. He forced himself to swallow, to think. What would Kaz say? Something clever. 

“He’s not,” Wylan managed to insist, his voice sounding so small compared to the God’s. But he didn’t stop- he couldn’t, not now. “Not as long as people still love him. He’ll never be lost to us. Not to me.”

The God of the Dead was quiet for a moment, just staring back. Considering. Wylan’s heart pounded furiously, thrumming in his ears. He clenched onto Jesper’s hand so tightly it must’ve hurt. He couldn’t help it. I’m not leaving you. Not after I just got you back. 

“You are trespassing,” the God’s voice was even but firm. “And interfering with the work of the dead. I will give you one more chance to leave peacefully.”

“Matthias,” Sankta Nina started, but the God shot her a silencing glare. 

“Wylan,” Jesper breathed. “Seriously- go.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Wylan swallowed, looking back at the God with determination. “I’m not leaving him here.” His eyes darted to the Saint. She was staring at the ground. Wylan kept silently willing her to look up. Help us. Please. 

“Well then.” The God’s lip curled, his voice sharpening. Wylan knew that tone- that was the edge of danger. “I suppose you’ve left me no choice.” He looked around the collection of workers. Were they closer than before? They were beginning to look more threatening, like henchmen. Like brutes. “Everyone gather round and see what happens to trespassers with no respect for property!”

The workers moved together as a group, circling like a pack of wild animals. And- Wylan had been in plenty of dangerous situations- he’d been shot at, exploded, drugged, and beaten half to death by his own father. But never had Wylan ever been cornered so quickly, so intensely. 

Oh Ghezen- 

His breath caught as Jesper was wrenched out of his grasp, literally yanked away by two of the workers. No- “Jesper-“ 

“Wylan-“ Jesper was struggling, his eyes wide and horrified. Wylan barely had any time to register the panic on his face before the first blow hit him across the face.

Wylan was no stranger to taking a punch. He knew to square his feet, to dig his heels into the ground, to let the pain come and fade. But this hurt, way worse than he was expecting, and sent him stumbling into the arms of a nearby worker.

She caught him easily, eyes strangely blank as she tossed Wylan to the ground. He stumbled, landing on his stomach in the dirt. 

The workers crowded towards him, moving almost mechanically. Shit- Shit! The guitar on Wylan’s back was too big and bulky- he couldn’t turn or stand up fast enough.

One of the workers- a large Kaelish man with muscles the size of boulders- grabbed him by the ankles, roughly tugging him backwards. 

Wylan yelped, trying to kick, to struggle, to fight. He was lifted off the ground by angry hands, and it felt all too familiar. There was no water, but he was drowning- he couldn’t breathe.

His guitar was yanked off his back and, in a flash of panic, he yelled, “No!” 

“Wylan!!”

Jesper’s voice came from somewhere, but Wylan couldn’t see him. The workers surrounded him again, and none of them was Jesper. He tried to push out, to find his guitar, to find Jesper, to escape and run- but he was met with a swift punch that must have broken a rib. Oh- 

One of the workers pressed their boot into his side, shoving him to the ground. Wylan collapsed with a pained gasp. His hearing started to ring as the workers kept hitting him anywhere they could manage- his sides, his face, his back, his stomach- everywhere, over and over and over again. Wylan’s vision began to blur as the taste of blood only worsened in his mouth. He couldn’t breathe. 

I’m going to die here, he thought suddenly, fear spiking through him. I’m going to die in the underworld and never leave. 

Why had he thought he could do this? Who the hell was he, to think he could make the God of the Dead listen? His father was right- he was nothing. Wylan had failed- again. And this time, there was no coming back from it. 

He had finally reached the moment he had always been warned about, where his failures would determine everything. Except it looked absolutely nothing like Wylan had expected. It wasn’t formless scribbles, mixing and twirling in front of him, where he knew there should be sentences. It was blood and sweat and heat and pain. 

Maybe that’s why he found himself crying- choking on his sobs as the workers kept hitting him, again and again and again. My father was right. 

He was always right. 

 

 

*****

 

 

When the workers stepped away, Jesper thought they had killed him. There was blood staining the ground and the workers’ hands, although none of them seemed to care or really even notice what they’d done. For a long, long second, Jesper didn’t breathe or move. He couldn’t- all he could do was stare at the crumpled, bloody ball on the ground. 

Wylan. 

Oh, Saints no- 

All at once, the boy took a shuddering, pained breath. He’s alive. Jesper felt a surge of relief, although it wasn’t as much as he’d like. There was blood staining Wylan’s beautiful face, and he was crying, arms curled around his middle. Oh- 

Jesper went to take a step towards him, but something held him back. Without knowing why, he looked to his left- and realized the God of the Dead was staring at him. Then, slowly, the God shook his head no. 

Oh. 

The whistle sounded from somewhere in the distance, shrill and biting and angry. The sound cut straight through Jesper’s thoughts, splitting them down the middle. Something roared up inside of him- a knowingness, a duty. 

Time to get back to work. 

Jesper’s eyes unwillingly slid from Wylan, and he went to turn away before he even realized what he was doing. No! Panic surged through his chest, and he inhaled sharply, freezing in place. 

No- not again. I’m not leaving Wylan again. I can’t.

But he couldn’t make himself move towards Wylan either. It was like he was fighting against himself- half of him said get to him now, while the rest urged him to walk away and get back to work. How the hell do you win a war against yourself? 

He knew the answer all too well. You don’t. 

The whistle shouted again- louder somehow. He flinched back, gritting his teeth as stronger urges leapt up, writhing underneath his skin. Back to work. Walk away. Finish the Wall. Do your duty. 

Duty. That word rang in his mind, his eyes still caught on the body of the broken boy. Tears streamed down Wylan’s face as he spat out a bloody glob and whimpered, curling further into himself. 

Jesper knew what his duty was supposed to be- what his mind said it was. But… his heart said his duty wasn’t stone and brick and mortar. It was flesh and music and love. It was that boy, crumpled on the ground. 

And yet he couldn’t move towards him.

Wylan gently wiped under his nose. His fingers came away shaking, smeared with blood. “O-Okay. I… I’ll go.” He managed to sit up, although every tiny movement seemed to hurt. The boy’s sea-blue eyes caught on Jesper’s, pleading with him. But… what was Jesper supposed to do? “I- If it’s really true. If… If he’s really gone.” Wylan’s voice cracked, trembling. 

I’m not gone, Jesper wanted to shout. I’m right here. 

But… he was gone, wasn’t he?

He was dead.

Slowly, he watched as Wylan gathered himself and returned to his feet. He looked so small, especially compared to the Wall and… well, everything else. The God of Death had been right when he said Wylan didn’t belong here. He was far too beautiful, far too alive.

Don’t leave, some incredibly selfish part of Jesper found himself pleading. Please don’t leave me.

But he couldn’t ask that- he couldn’t even move, let alone dare to speak.

Saints- how could he even think about asking that anyway? That wasn’t fair. Wylan was alive- he needed to stay alive, he needed to live his life and be happy and free and… well, and maybe that would all be easier now without Jesper. 

Is it… for the best?

“I’ll go,” Wylan repeated, his gaze turning towards the others- towards the God and the Saint. And there was something surprisingly strong in it- something so different from the fear and pain. It was that streak of stubbornness and resilience that made Wylan Wylan, that Jesper had come to love so much. “But I… I won’t forget- I’ll never forget. I can’t. Jesper isn’t yours- none of them are yours. I’ll always love him, and,” he winced, gritting his teeth with beautiful determination. “And you can never take that away. You can never take him away. Not really.” Wylan’s eyes flickered back to Jesper, wet with tears. “He might be dead, but our love isn’t. My love isn’t.”

Oh. Jesper felt tears return to his eyes, sudden and swift. Oh Wylan-

The whistle screamed for a third time, shrill and piercing, and at once, his thoughts melted away. Every instinct inside of him screamed, turned him towards the Wall, and forced him forwards. It’s time to get back to work. 

But… something tugged at him. Even as he moved back towards the Wall, towards the others, the boy’s words kept ringing in his mind- louder than the whistle could ever hope to be. If it’s really true. If he’s really gone… 

I won’t forget- I’ll never forget.

He might be dead, but our love isn’t.

…Love. 

 

 

*****

 

 

Moving even a little bit hurt. Wylan had no idea how he was standing anymore. His head was throbbing- his whole body was. At least one of his ribs was broken. Probably his nose, too. He kept swallowing back blood. He wasn’t sure there was an inch of him that was untouched.

Somehow, none of it was worse than watching the workers, than watching Jesper, turn and walk away.

Wylan had failed.

He wasn’t sure he could stomach the trip back alone. What was he supposed to say? To Inej, to Kaz? How was he supposed to explain that he had tried so hard, just... to fail?

The God Matthias was still in front of him, although his attention was back on his workers. He was a few feet away from Sankta Nina, who… who was staring directly at him, eyes wide with horror and pity. 

Pity. Wylan wanted to scream. Pity isn’t worth anything.

Help me, please. 

But she couldn’t, and he knew she couldn’t. This was the Underworld- the Land of the Dead- and their God had spoken. 

Wylan turned to go, unsteady on his feet. Would he even make it back home? He’d barely made it here… Would Kaz even keep him around anymore, after this latest failure? He’d give him one job- bring Jesper home. Would he care that Wylan had tried? Did it even matter that he had tried if he had nothing to show for it?

What am I doing here?

“Love.”

The voice cut through the icy silence, straight through the odd ringing in Wylan’s ears. He turned almost instantly, a little too quickly. There was a woman in front of him, and… she was looking directly at him. 

For a moment, Wylan just… froze, staring back. It was stupid, but he didn’t know what to do. Was she going to attack him again? Had she really spoken, or had he hit his head too many times? 

Wylan’s gaze shifted towards the others, and his heart gave a painful leap when he realized- others were staring too. But… before, the workers almost looked through Wylan, not seeing him but rather the problem he presented. He knew that look all too well- but this… this was different. Now those who were looking were looking right at him. 

Jesper was looking at him, Wylan realized suddenly. He hadn't left- he was still only a few feet away, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides like he was getting ready to fight. He’s still here.

Love. The woman’s words rang in his ears, followed by Kaz’s voice again. Make your case.

Make your case.

Wylan turned fully towards Jesper, love surging up into his chest, his throat, his everything. Before he knew it, more words were spilling out. “I love you, Jesper Fahey. You make me feel so whole, like pieces I didn’t know were missing are back. I- I travelled all of this way to find you, for so long. To tell you that I- I don’t care what happened before. I don’t care if what they say is true,” Wylan gestured towards the God and Saint. “I just- All I care about is you, Jes.”

“Wylan-“ Jesper croaked, eyes sparkling with tears. 

“Why should they get to decide what the truth is?” Wylan found himself insisting, his gaze wandering to the other workers. They were watching him now- really watching him, with brows furrowed and eyes focused on... him.

Why not us? Kaz’s advice kept ringing in his mind, driving him forward. Why not us? “They’re trying to keep us apart- all of us, because together we are stronger than we know. We’re stronger than they could ever know! Just because we are human doesn’t mean our lives are any less. It doesn’t mean we’re any less worthy. If anything, that makes us all the more. 

“People can be so complicated and messy. So are Saints and Gods,” Wylan’s eyes settled on Sankta Nina, who was watching him with wide, sparkling eyes, and the God of the Dead, who was watching through his icy stare. It almost froze the words in his throat. Almost. “We’re all born of the same flesh and blood. We all feel the same things. We all fall in love and fight for our love when it’s taken.”

Wylan licked his lips nervously. He wasn’t sure what he was saying at this point, and he knew he didn’t have much time left. At any moment, the God would surely strike him dead. Make your case. “So… why do only Gods and Kings get to bend the rules? Why can’t we also?” He never let his gaze waver from Jesper. If this was the last time he got to see him, Wylan wanted to look for as long as possible. “We are the ones who live the truth, aren’t we? So why do they get to decide what our truths are?”

BANG! 

“TIG!”

Wylan flinched backwards, letting out a gasp as pain radiated through his chest. His eyes snapped towards the God of Death. In his hand was a Fjerdan rifle, still smoking. His eyes were alight- so angry and blue they were practically glowing- but… he wasn’t looking at Wylan.

Sankta Nina’s hand was on the barrel of the weapon, pushing it down towards the ground. Their eyes were locked in some silent, furious discussion- one that Wylan could feel from afar. 

Oh-

He couldn’t breathe.

Oh Saints-

There was no way to tell how long the silence stretched on for. Too long. But eventually, the God’s eyes shifted away from his wife, settling back on Wylan. “I’ve got to hand it to you, young man,” his voice was low and sharp- Wylan could feel that same sharp, dangerous edge. “I suppose you don’t scare easily, do you? Are you brave or simply stupid, son?” 

Wylan flinched back at the ferocity in his words, but the Fjerdan just waved a hand. “It does not matter which. It seems that your song made quite a strong impression on my wife…” Wylan’s eyes darted over to Sankta Nina, his heart leaping. She did help. She heard me. 

The God continued. “But it takes more than singing songs to… decide truths, as you so beautifully put it. But you are a fool if you believe Gods and Kings are the ones to make the decisions- we simply enforce it. If you had your wish, the dead would roam free amongst the living. That is not a truth that can be so easily bent, Hajefetla.”

“But it can still be bent?” The question was out before he could stop it. He immediately felt a hot flash of horror. Wylan had just interrupted the God of the Dead. 

Silence fell again, thick and heavy. Wylan was sure any moment he would fall over dead. But instead, the God Matthias cleared his throat and continued. “You believe that you can stop death from taking away your love? You believe that you can bend the great truths of the world? You are a fool.” 

The God’s eyes flashed dangerously again, but Sankta Nina put her hand on his arm and he stopped. Shut his eyes. Took a deep breath. Then opened them again and sighed. “But I’ll tell you what, young man.” His voice was suddenly even, which was almost worse than the anger. “Since my wife is such a fan, I’m going to give you a chance before I put you out of your misery.” 

Oh- Wylan’s heart leapt as the God took a threatening step forward, rifle still in hand. “Sing me a song,” the Fjerdan demanded, almost tauntingly. “Or else why did you bring your guitar? My wife claims you have the most beautiful voice, Hajefetla…” His eyes narrowed, angry and deadly. “So. Show me. Show me why I should even consider bending the truth for a mortal like you.” 

He gestured broadly with his non-rifle hand, and Wylan flinched, expecting something to hit him. Instead, a worker came over, presenting his untouched guitar. Oh. Wylan’s gaze darted back to the God, who was still staring at him intensely. “Sing, Hajefetla. Sing me your truth.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Wylan looked terrified as he was handed back his guitar. Jesper didn’t blame him. He wanted to run to his side, but his feet were still stupidly stuck in the ground. The air all around him felt frigid and chilled- maybe the God had frozen them all in place. He wasn’t sure it mattered anyway. What could he really do to help now?

Unlike the performance at the festival, there was no stage and no microphone. Just Wylan, stood in front of a crowd of people, framed in the odd darkness of the underworld. 

For a moment, Wylan just stood there. Jesper wasn’t sure if he was thinking or if he was just frozen in fear. Then, Wylan’s eyes darted towards him, and their gazes met. Jesper could see panic simmer deep underneath the wide blue, but there was something hard and determined in there too. That beautiful, stubborn piece of him. 

Jesper nodded, offering Wylan as comforting a smile as he could. You’ve got this, darling. I believe in you. 

That seemed to help, if only a little. Wylan took a deep breath and turned back towards the God, setting his shoulders. Slowly, he shut his eyes before starting to sing. 

 

“King of shadows, king of shades,

Matthias was king of the underworld…

But he fell in love with a beautiful lady,

Who walked up above in her mother’s green fields.

 

He fell in love with Nina,

Who was gathering flowers in the light of the sun…

And I know how it was because

He was like me,

A man in love with another…

 

Singing la, la, la, la, la, la, la…

La, la, la, la, la, la, la…

La, la, la, la, la, la, la…

La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jesper saw the God straighten and soften. Then, at once, his expression turned sour- turned angry. “Where did you get that melody?” The God’s voice came out as a growl, and Wylan immediately paused, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Let him finish, Matthias,” the Saint whispered, nodding back to Wylan. “Continue. Please.”

For a moment, Jesper wasn’t sure if Wylan would keep going. But then, the boy's eyes drifted back to Jesper’s, and… he smiled.

Oh. Jesper’s heart warmed as Wylan started to play again, a little bit faster.

 

“You didn’t know how and you didn’t know why,

But you knew that you wanted to take her home.

You saw her alone there against the sky-

It was like she was someone you’d always known.

 

It was like you were holding the world when you held her,

Like yours were the arms that the whole world was in.

And there were no words for the way that you felt,

So you opened your mouth and you started to sing-

 

La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

 

Jesper didn’t realize he was singing too until the words were coming out of his mouth- until the God’s head snapped towards him, towards the group of workers. They were all singing with him.

 

“La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

 

The God darted towards them, shouting. “Tig!” 

The workers fell silent, but Wylan didn’t stop.

 

“La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

 

No. Jesper looked back at Wylan, at the boy who had crossed to Hell to find him. I’m not going to stop either. He smiled and started to sing. And, to his surprise, so did the other workers.

 

“La, la, la, la, la, la, la…

La, la, la, la, la, la, la…

La, la, la, la, la, la, la…

La, la, la, la, la, la, la…

La, la, la, la, la, la…”

 

Suddenly, it sounded like the whole world was singing- echoing melody after melody, weaving them together to create something living and breathing. Jesper could feel it wrapping its arm around him, lifting him up. Something warm, something bright, something like… 

He looked up at the sky, where only darkness and cold had been before. He gasped. Saints. 

The sun.

Jesper could feel the sun.

All at once, the frigid wastelands of the underworld came to life.

For a moment, he just stood there in shock as colors began to return, as the wind began to blow, as the air turned fresh. Then, slowly, Jesper put his arms out, like he could wrap them around the rays of light. Saints- how long had it been since he had felt the sun? Tears bit at his eyes. He- he was warm… 

The other workers immediately began to realize the same thing. One dropped to his knees. Another’s hands covered her mouth with a sob. The boy Jesper had played cards with let out a ragged sound like he had just remembered how to breathe. “My brother-” he gasped, eyes clear with knowing. Everyone’s eyes were. 

They… They remember. 

I remember too. 

Jesper felt himself smile and turned his face back to the sun. It felt like the warm caress of home, of standing in the fields at Novyi Zem. It made him feel whole, like a piece of him had been returned.

Wylan did this.

Wylan did this… for me.

Then slowly, regretfully, that beautiful moment ended.

The warmth began to wash away as Wylan’s tune slowed down. Jesper’s eyes turned back towards his boyfriend, the God, and the Saint. It seemed like the whole world was waiting, holding its breath to hear what Wylan would say next.

 

“And I know how it is because he is like me,

I know how it is to be left all alone…

There’s a hole in arms where the world used to be

When Nina is gone…

 

His work never done,

His war never won,

Will go on forever whatever the cost…

‘Cause the thing that he’s building his wall around

Is already lost…”

 

The God’s head snapped towards Sankta Nina, who was watching Wylan through wide, teary eyes. Something close to relief flickered across the God’s face, quickly followed by horror and… anger. The expression looked almost out of place on the King’s face. 

Wylan strummed and kept singing,

 

“Where is the treasure inside of your chest?

Where is your pleasure?

Where is your youth?

Where is the man with his arms outstretched

to the woman he loves with nothing to lose?

 

Singing la, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

 

Wylan opened his mouth to keep singing, but the voice that came out was not Wylan’s.

It was the God’s.

 

“La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

 

Sankta Nina gasped, turning towards the God at once. Jesper’s eyes widened. Wylan’s eyes flew open, wide with surprise. He sang the next verse, voice never wavering,

 

“La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

 

The Saint and the God moved toward each other, drawn together as if by some magic. Maybe it was- maybe there was magic in Wylan’s song. Jesper would have believed anything by now. As they grew closer, the Saint and the God joined together with shaky, unpracticed voices.

 

“La, la, la, la, la, la…”

 

The God held his hand out to take the Saints. She gasped- and for a moment, Jesper didn’t see why. Then his eyes locked on the small, red carnation that had appeared in the palm of the God of Death’s hand. 

Sankta Nina let out a sound that could have been a laugh, a snort, or a sob. Then, slowly, she reached out, running her fingers along the petals. She said something soft, something that Jesper was too far away to hear, but it made the God of the Dead smile. 

Then, of all things, he laughed. 

It was a loud, booming sound. For a moment, it overpowered the soft guitar entirely before melting into another smile. The God tucked the flower behind the Saint’s ear, the icy blue of his eyes the tiniest bit warmer. 

Slowly, the God offered her his hand. Sankta Nina beamed, immediately melting the rest of the chill away. And then? 

They danced.

 

 

---

 

 

I believe there is a way 

I believe in us together 

more than anyone alone 

I believe that with each other we are stronger than we know 

I believe we're stronger than they know 

I believe that we are many 

I believe that they are few 

and it isn't for the few 

to tell the many what is true

 

Notes:

bonus points if you listen to the jack wolfe version while reading this

god he has the voice of an angel

 

fjerdan translations (thank you grishaverse wiki):
"fellenjuret" = exclamation of surprise/ “I’ve found/caught something!
"hajefetla" = songbird
"tig" = shut up

Chapter 7: doubt comes in (where is he?)

Summary:

How could Matthias allow them to go? That Zemeni boy was dead. If he began allowing men to walk out of the underworld, then he- no, then the world- could very well have a revolution on their hands. Lines would be crossed, blurred, and crossed again. Death would risk becoming… pointless. His entire world would become pointless. All of his power, everything he had worked for-

No, Matthias could not bend the rules of life and death- not just by being asked.

Notes:

song: doubt comes in + road to hell (reprise)

tw: grief, loss, angst
here we are

the wind is changing

(doubt comes in…) 

how cold it's blowing 

(doubt comes in…) 

and meets a stranger 

walking on a road alone 

 

where is she? 

where is she now? 

 

(doubt comes in…)

 

 

---

 

 

Wylan couldn’t believe his eyes. It didn’t seem real. He kept expecting the God to turn and smite him, for a hole to open under his feet and swallow him whole, for the entire vision before him to vanish in a cloud of smoke. 

But… well, somehow that didn’t happen- and his body hurt far too much for this not to be real. So instead, Wylan kept playing and singing and humming, and the God and the Saint kept dancing. 

At first, it was a bit clumsy as they relearned the steps. But slowly, slowly, they began to fall into rhythm- an easy, practiced rhythm; the rhythm of love. They moved with so much love, together- as if they had all of the time in the world. 

Both the God and the Saint were smiling. Sankta Nina’s emerald eyes were sparkling with tears- if Wylan looked close enough, so were the Gods. For someone so wrapped up in death and grief and darkness, the God Matthias looked practically alight with life. 

As the song ended and Wylan’s fingers began to slow, the God spun the Saint and pulled her in close. The two fit together easily, as if they had been made for exactly that purpose- for each other.

It was… beautiful.

They… They liked the song. 

Wylan felt a huge surge of relief, of… pride.

That was it. That was the song. It was so beautiful… and way too much.

Tears bit at Wylan’s eyes, and he ground his palms into them, furiously shaking his head as he tried to keep his breathing steady. I… I did it.

I actually… did it?

It didn’t seem possible. 

“Wylan?” Jesper’s voice was soft. 

He still didn’t dare move or really breathe. “Yes?” 

Wylan could hear Jesper smiling, hear the lump in his throat as he spoke. “You… You really finished it.”

“Yes!”  A stunned, disbelieving laugh burst out of him. Wylan couldn’t help but smile as his eyes met Jesper’s. His boyfriend was staring at him, grinning that trademark Jesper grin. He looked beautiful- so beautiful it made Wylan’s chest ache. Every instinct in him was shouting to run to him, to grab Jesper and run.

But he was so tired… “Now… Now what do I do?”

Jesper’s smile turned fond, shaking his head. “Take me home with you.” The stillness broke as he ran towards Wylan, grabbing tightly onto his hands. “Let’s go,” he insisted. “Let’s go right now.”

Take me home.

Wylan couldn’t believe it. His eyes burned with tears. “Okay, let’s go,” he managed, sounding weak and stupidly unsure for someone who had just stood up to a God. But suddenly he felt weak- his ribs and stomach and whole body hurt, and he was still convinced that at any moment everything would disappear. “...How?”

Jesper squeezed his hand, his gaze turning away from the Wall- back in the direction Wylan had come from. “We’ll walk. You know the way- we’ll just go back the way you came.”

Oh. For a moment, Wylan’s words caught in his throat. He couldn’t speak, let alone even swallow. “It’s a long way,” he managed, like that even began to sum up the journey he’d taken to get here. “A… a really long way.” And the world was just as harsh and horrible as he had left it- the same brutal world that had abused and killed Jesper in the first place. The words were out before he could stop them. “Are you sure you want to go?” 

Please. Please don’t say no. 

Jesper looked at him with brilliant, sparkling eyes. He was brighter than the sun. “Take me home with you, Wy,” his face broke into a smile- one of the rarest, purest Jesper Fahey smiles, one that came out like a rainbow after rain. 

It was too much.

“Jesper-” Wylan took a step back, guilt and pain and fear clamping around his throat- so hard he couldn’t speak for another long moment. Jesper’s brow furrowed with worry. “I can’t- I don’t know what’s changed.” The admission almost hurt coming out, but it hurt staying in, too. He couldn’t keep his doubts in, not after seeing that hopeful look on Jesper’s face. “I don’t know if- if it will change. I- I mean, Kaz…” There was no telling what Kaz had done to get revenge for Jesper’s death- what state the Dregs and the Barrel would be in when they got back. If they got back… Wylan shook his head, swallowing. “Things might just get worse and worse, and I- I just-“

“Wylan,” Jesper’s voice was soft and careful. “I know that. And I guess you’re right, but… things might also get better, right? Who knows? And if they don’t… well, then we get the hell out of Ketterdam,” he offered, eyes sparkling. “We could go to Novyi Zem. Or the Wandering Isle. Or Ravka. Or literally anywhere we wanted.” Jesper closed the distance between them, grabbing Wylan’s hands again. He brought them to his lips, kissing Wylan’s knuckles. “As long as I’m with you, Wy, I’ll be okay.”

Saints. Wylan wanted that desperately- he wanted to fall head-first into that fantasy and never get back up. He tried to take a deep breath, tried to dismiss his doubts, and believe it with all his might. Tears still clung to his eyes. “Promise?”

Jesper smiled fondly, pulling Wylan’s hand to his chest. He cupped Wylan’s cheek with his other hand. “I promise,” he whispered, and he sounded so sure it made Wylan’s heart ache. How could Jesper possibly be so sure, after everything the world had put him through?

Wylan’s eyes flickered towards the God and the Saint, still locked in each other's arms. “What… What about him?”

Jesper followed his gaze, then dared to smile. “He’ll let us go.” 

How do you know? But Wylan tried to believe in Jesper’s optimism, tried to breathe in it until it overshadowed his fear. “You- You really think so?”

Jesper looked back at him and squeezed his hand. “I mean, look at him, Wy!” Hope twinkled in his eyes. “He can’t say no.”

Yes, he can. He can say anything he wants to. 

Wylan’s gaze turned towards the crowd of undead workers. They were all watching him. If he looked closely at their expressions, they almost looked… grateful. But Wylan’s ribs still ached with the memory of their fists and boots. “What about them?”

Jesper glanced over his shoulder and paused for a second. Then he set his jaw, nodding. “We’ll show them the way. If we can do it, then so can they.” Jesper squeezed his hand again, meeting Wylan’s gaze. He smiled, looking so determined- so sure it made Wylan feel a little sick. “We can make it. Together.”

Together.

Wylan forced himself to take a deep breath, to ignore the fear swirling in his stomach. How could he have doubts when Jesper was so sure? “Together,” he repeated.

Jesper’s eyes lit up, and he nodded, resting his forehead against Wylan’s. “Together,” he confirmed. “I promise.”

Wylan tried to believe it.

 

 

*****

 

 

Matthias couldn’t believe it had been so long since he’d heard the song- their song, from years and years ago. Some part of him felt ashamed. The rest were just relieved.

Suddenly, after years and years of walking on eggshells, Nina was back in his arms. They were dancing, holding each other like nothing had changed. As if it would always be like this. 

In the beginning of their… “situation”, they had cherished every tiny moment together. Falls and winters were full of joy and happiness, no matter how cold it got. The spring and summer months were bearable, with the knowledge that she would soon be back in his arms. 

He didn’t remember when they had started to drift apart. Perhaps when the influx of dead began to increase- when Matthias’ Godly duties began to pull him earlier and earlier from bed- when the harsh reality of the world really began to rear its head with sharper and sharper teeth. 

It wasn’t that Matthias had never seen this side of the world- but rather that, for once, he had allowed himself to be distracted. The fall back to reality was somehow even more painful. The days of joy had slowly begun to ebb away, as more and more of his time was eaten up by direction, by planning, by construction. 

The Wall hadn’t even been a conscious idea. Nina had just left for spring, and the next day, hundreds of dead had filed in to begin work. One of them had looked just enough like Nina that for a moment, despite all of his better judgment and knowledge, Matthias had been… scared. 

They hurt her.

In the end, of course, Nina had been fine. She was always fine. But it was that moment, suspended in disbelief and drowned in fear, that Matthias had completely frozen. I couldn’t protect her. That fact had scared him more than anything else. What type of God was he, if he couldn’t protect the woman he loved more than anything? 

He began to resent the time she was away from him- the moments when she was out of his sight, when anything could be happening. Matthias had known he was holding on too tight, but… he hadn’t been able to help it. Nina was everything- his one ray of light in his dark, dark world. And it seemed the harder he tried to hold onto her, the further she slipped away.

But… for once, he wasn’t thinking about any of that. Because right now, Nina was in his arms, dancing and smiling. She was a blur of soft skin and beautiful brown hair, a crackling laugh and sparkle in her eyes. Nina was a firework- a bright burst of color against the dull, dead world around him. She always had sparkled something special, even before she’d been dubbed a Saint by common folk. It was what had drawn him in the first place.

He never wanted to let her go.

Matthias sensed the mortals coming over before they spoke. They were walking as a group now- this entire section of workers. The ruddy-haired musician led the charge, hand clamped tight around the Zemeni boy’s, looking terrified. He had courage- Matthias had to applaud that, he supposed. 

His singing voice was so much stronger than his speaking voice. Matthias supposed that made sense, for a songbird. “Can… Can we go?”

And… well, that was the question, was it?

Matthias felt Nina tense beside him, felt her eyes linger on his face. He knew what she wanted him to say, what he should say to please her- what would be so easy to say.

But… it was more complicated than that. It was always more complicated than should and shouldn’t. His wife never seemed to understand that. 

Go. How could Matthias allow them to go? That Zemeni boy was dead. If he began allowing men to walk out of the underworld, then he- no, then the world- could very well have a revolution on their hands. Lines would be crossed, blurred, and crossed again. Death would risk becoming… pointless. His entire world would become pointless. All of his power, everything he had worked for-

No, Matthias could not bend the rules of life and death- not just by being asked.

But… well, Matthias was very aware he couldn’t just kill the boy now- he’d simply be creating a martyr. If Matthias had been smart, he would have done that before any of this began- the moment he realized someone living was standing amongst his dead. But he hadn’t, and now he had dug himself into quite the situation.

“I… don’t know.”

Matthias felt Nina wilt beside him, felt her confusion and anger. He stepped back before she could say anything, putting his hand up. He just needed a moment to think- to figure out a plan to keep his position as a powerful God without betraying Nina. He couldn’t crush the fragile hope they’d just rekindled- he wouldn’t. 

He turned towards the Wall, searching for an answer in the perfectly laid bricks. Instead, all he found was anger. They wanted to walk out of the underworld and abandon their post? After all Matthias had done for them? Before the Wall, there was nothing but aimless wandering for eternity. Now they had work. They had a sense of purpose- and this was how they repaid him? By abandoning him, one by one, to stand beside that boy?

No. Matthias grimaced, shaking his head. This boy, this songbird, may have won the hearts of his workers, of his wife- but he would not win him over so easily. 

His mind lingered on something small. One by one...

“Matthias?” Nina’s voice was soft and questioning, pleading almost. He knew what she was going to ask. He couldn’t bear to hear it.

In a moment, he had a plan.

“You are free to leave together,” Matthias’ voice boomed across the plain as he turned back towards the songbird and his lover. He purposefully kept his eyes away from Nina. He didn’t want to see her face. “However. Hajefetla, you must walk in front, and your love must walk in back. And if you turn around to make sure he is coming too, he comes back to Hell, and there is not anything you can do.”

The Zemeni boy’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

Because I cannot simply allow you to leave. I have to keep my dignity somehow. And so I must make it into a test.

Matthias steeled his gaze and set his jaw. “If you want to walk out of Hell, then you must prove yourselves before God and man. Do you think you can do that?” 

The Zemeni boy looked positively sure. “We can.” He looked over at the songbird, whose eyes were wide with horror. Doubt. “Right, Wy?”

The ruddy-haired boy blinked and licked his lips. Suddenly, the doubt was replaced by determination, so fast that Matthias almost could have imagined it. Almost. “We can,” he repeated. “We will.”

Matthias looked between them- at the Zemeni boy determined to march out of Hell and the Kerch songbird trying to lead him, who had dared stand up to the God of Death. “Do you trust each other? Do you trust yourselves?”

The two lovers looked at each other. They nodded. “We do.”

Matthias walked forward, closing the distance in a few strides. Fear shone clear through the songbird’s eyes, but he held his ground, setting his jaw. Brave little lamb. Or perhaps stupid. I suppose we will see. He offered the boy his hand. 

For a moment, the Kerch boy just stared at it in disbelief. Matthias wasn’t quite sure what he was waiting for. Then slowly, hesitantly, the boy reached out, returning his handshake. 

“Thank you,” Nina spoke from beside him. How had she gotten so close again? “For the song.”

The boy’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” he managed, throat bobbing anxiously. 

There was nothing else to say. Matthias raised a hand, gesturing towards the Zemeni boy. “Take a moment to say your goodbyes.” 

“For now,” Nina added quickly, when the songbird’s face went completely pale. She always cared too much about the mortals. 

The Zemeni boy engulfed the smaller boy in a hug, whispering things Matthias couldn’t hear. This moment wasn’t meant for him. He looked away, and his heart leapt when he realized Nina had been watching him, carefully. “You let them go,” she whispered. 

Matthias suddenly couldn’t look at her either. He looked towards the road they would have to walk in just a few moments. “I’m letting them try.”

Nina took a hesitant step closer. He could feel her eyes on his face, searching for his. “And… What about you and I?” She prompted. “Are we going to try again?”

Yes, his heart sang. Matthias wanted to dance and laugh and sing like they had once, to pull her close and never let her go.

But… well, time never was in their favor, was it? He pulled the little red flower from his shirt pocket, where Nina had previously tucked it. He still didn’t know where it had come from. “It’s time for spring.” The words pained him to say. Matthias offered her the flower. “We’ll try again next fall.”

Hurt flickered in her eyes, followed by a flash of hope. And Nina’s hope was always brighter than any fire Matthias had ever seen. It could keep him warm in Hell, even through the months when she was gone. Nina took the flower, her hand lingering on his. “Wait for me?”

Matthias couldn’t help but smile. “I will.”

The bell rang, signaling the shift change. It’s time. 

 

 

*****

 

 

Jesper was convinced he was the luckiest son of a bitch there was.

The sun had vanished by now, but there was no mistaking what had happened. Wylan had made the sun shine in Hell- and… for Jesper. Because he refused to give up on Jesper, even after he was dead.

Saints, it made his heart sing.

Jesper tried to breathe Wylan in, to tell himself that they were going to make it out of Hell alive. Wylan was going to lead him out; he was going to save him. They were going to live happily, in or out of Ketterdam- it really didn’t matter where, so long as Wylan was with him. 

Honestly, the God’s condition barely even registered to Jesper. It seemed kind of crazy and stupid, but… doable. Walk through Hell without turning around? Weird, but… sure. That should be fine- Jesper watched Wylan do harder things on a daily basis. Saints, talking to Kaz was harder.

Jesper knew he shouldn’t hope- that hope only meant the let down hurt harder. But… well, Jesper couldn’t help it.

We’re going to make it.

When the bell rang, Wylan made a funny noise in the back of his throat- somewhere between a gasp and a sob. “Hey,” Jesper kissed the top of his head, smoothing back Wylan’s curls. “It’ll be over before you know it. I’ll be right behind you the whole time. Okay?”

Wylan shuddered, still curled in Jesper’s arms. “O…Okay.” 

Jesper gently tilted his chin up and pressed his lips to Wylan’s. His kiss tasted like the salt of tears and a hint of iron, of blood- like life, like freedom.

Wylan’s going to get him out of here.

“Time to go, Hajefetla.” The God’s voice cut through the dead air. Jesper still couldn’t believe he was letting them go. He couldn’t believe he’d seen the God of the Dead laugh, watched him dance… all because of Wylan. His boyfriend really was a genius.

Wylan’s body tensed, still in Jesper’s arms. He oozed fear already, but Jesper didn’t doubt him for a moment. He’d seen Wylan cause explosions that take down buildings and work for Kaz fucking Brekker. A walk through Hell? A walk was nothing.

“You’ve got this, Wy,” Jesper whispered, kissing his forehead before regretfully stepping back. “I’ll see you soon, love.”

“See... See you soon,” Wylan repeated, his eyes wide enough to drink from. Unshed tears were sparkling in them, and Jesper wanted to kiss them away.

But unfortunately, the God of the Dead had spoken. 

It was time to walk out of Hell.

Wylan finally looked back, turning towards the empty road, and Jesper immediately missed his stupid face. He watched Wylan rub his chest, readjust how his guitar sat on his back, and take a deep breath.

Then he started to walk.

Jesper waited a moment, then started to follow. 

He’d follow Wylan just about anywhere.

 

 

*****

 

 

Wylan wasn’t sure how long he had walked to get to the Palace of the Dead. It was hard to tell when there was no sun, but he thought it had to have been weeks or months- something crazy like that. He really hoped the trip would go faster now that he knew where he was going.

Theoretically.

Everything in Hell looked the same- snowy cliffs that loomed over them, dead and half-frozen trees, mounds of snow… It was an icy wasteland, one that stretched on forever and ever and ever… It was overwhelming, even the second time around.

Wylan’s ribs ached and throbbed with every step. At least one was definitely broken, maybe two. He was already so exhausted, which didn’t bode well since, in the grand scheme of things, they had just started walking. It had been… maybe an hour? A little more?

He shivered. What am I doing here?

I’m going home. He tried to steel his jaw, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I’m bringing Jesper home…

 

 

*****

 

 

Maybe it was a dumb realization, especially given Jesper had been living (...is ‘living’ even the right word?) in the underworld for a while now, but… it was fucking cold.

The Wall kept out a lot of the temperature, which didn’t totally make sense to him, but Jesper didn’t entirely care. As they got further and further away from the palace, the cold and wind got worse.

However, Wylan just kept trudging forward, clearing a path. And Jesper told him he’d follow, so he did. 

There was a group of five other workers coming with them. They all walked in a single file line, although… Jesper wasn’t sure if the turnaround rule applied to them, too.

Actually, he didn’t know if it applied to him. Could he turn around? Gods and Saints really needed to specify their weird-ass demands.

Jesper kept his eyes on the back of Wylan’s head, watching as he kept walking. He wondered how much further they had to go, then decided that was a bad rabbit hole to go down. The answer is probably a lot further…

But… well, Jesper was walking. He remembered his name. He remembered a lot- he was here, and he was walking out of Hell after Wylan. It didn’t really matter how long it took- at some point, they’d make it out and back to their life. Or they’d make new lives- the point was they’d be together.

Jesper had really thought that was it- his life was over. There hadn’t even been a life to grieve- only fragments. But… Wylan refused to give up on him. Even after every time Jesper let him down- after every failed bet, every mistake, every fuck-up… Wylan came back. And so, by a literal goddam miracle, Jesper had a second chance. 

Jesper wouldn’t let him down. Not again- not about this. 

He’d follow him to the ends of the earth. 

 

 

*****

 

 

Wylan had been walking for days when he realized with a start that he couldn’t hear anything behind him.

Panic surged through his body, and he stumbled, every inch of him moving to turn- to look, to check. Where is he?

No.

Wylan caught himself, desperately twisting his neck the other way before he could do anything stupid. No, no- it’s… it’s probably fine.

The God had probably… put some shroud over his hearing, to mess with him. He wanted Wylan to turn, wanted him to fail. But he wouldn’t- no, not that easy. Wylan was going to prove him wrong- he was going to prove them all wrong.

He just… really wished he could hear Jesper walking, though. Wylan couldn’t shake the horrible, horrible feeling that he had just said goodbye to Jesper for good.

The God Matthias had told them to say their goodbyes. There were so many things he should have said, if that was it. So many things he wanted to tell him. It was just- sometimes words got so stuck in his throat, and… and maybe some part of Wylan thought that if he didn’t say it, then he’d have to pull this crazy walk off just to have another chance. 

Wylan needed to tell Jesper he loved him. 

It had been sitting on his tongue for… Saints, for months, probably. It was just- so terrifying to say aloud, because what if Jesper didn’t love him back? What if- What if he realized that he was too good for Wylan’s love? 

But Saints- Wylan loved him. He loved him so goddamn much it hurt. He would do anything for him- literally anything, including walking through Hell and back. Including walking even when there’s no guarantee it’ll actually work…

He kept going.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jesper realized very quickly that Wylan couldn’t hear him anymore. 

That thought was slightly unnerving, but it had to be true. Wylan hadn’t really reacted at all to a single thing Jesper had said since they left the palace- he just kept his head down and trudged forwards, step after step. At first, he thought maybe Wylan was just focused, but the longer it went on, the more obvious it became.

As they kept going, Jesper could see his shoulders slowly slumping- fatigue and pain clearly seeping into his steps, worsening with every step… Wylan looked absolutely exhausted. It hurt his heart. Jesper wanted to wrap his arms around him. It hadn’t been that long since he’d held Wylan last, and yet his arms felt empty. 

What had Wylan said in his song? Like yours were the arms that the whole world was in.

Yeah, that’s how he felt, too. 

Saints, that song was beautiful…

Wylan was beautiful.

Even when he was in pain and bone-exhausted, Wylan was just so goddamn beautiful.

Jesper knew Wylan couldn’t hear him, and yet he found himself talking anyway, repeating the same things over and over again. “You’re doing so well, darling. I’m right behind you. You know- enjoying all these lovely views… I’ve never seen so much goddamn snow before.” He paused, then added, “Take all the time you need, okay? You can go as slow as you want, Wylan. I’m right here, and I always will be. I promise...” 

 

 

*****

 

 

Wylan had no idea how long they had been walking for. He could hear the occasional howl of the wind, the crunch of snow and ice under his feet… but it was distinctly only his footsteps. The silence behind him was almost deafening. 

Where is he?

He knew Jesper was there. He would be- he had to be there. 

But what if he isn’t?

It wouldn’t be the first time, and that was the horrible thing. How many nights had Wylan spent waiting for Jesper to come home, only for him to stumble through the door at 6am? Too many to count.

Why would Jesper follow him all the way out? There were a thousand reasons for him to stop, to get distracted, to go back to the Palace… It would be easier for him to give up and go back, and Wylan knew it.

Plus… why would the God of the Dead let Jesper go? Why would he let Wylan just… walk away? Matthias was a God, and Wylan… well, Wylan was a mortal and a pretty pathetic one at that. Matthias could do or get anything he wanted- and Wylan was taking something from him.

Why would he let me win? 

We shook on it. Wylan clenched his hands together unconsciously, mimicking the handshaking. He promised.

But Gods broke promises all the time. They liked to play and confuse- they were a little cruel that way. A little human. 

A promise doesn’t necessarily mean anything. People always pretended that words were precious and binding, but Wylan knew better. Words were messy and confusing, and they never meant exactly what they should. 

What if he’s deceiving me?

Wylan’s skin crawled. What if he’s just trying to make me leave alone? How would I know?

He wouldn’t know. 

Not until it was too late.

 

 

*****

 

 

Slowly, slowly, the cold, frigid air began to ebb away. It wasn’t necessarily warm per se, but Jesper’s limbs didn’t feel as numb anymore, and the world began to lighten around them, almost as if…

As if the sun was rising.

Jesper’s heart skipped a little faster. “Do you feel that, Wy? It’s getting warmer. We’re close- we’re almost there!” He grinned. “Pretty soon you’ll be able to look at my pretty face again. Which I know is obviously the hardest part about this whole endeavor- being deprived of my stunning good looks for so long…” 

He couldn’t help but wonder what the world would look like when he got out. Was it still winter? Close to spring? Jesper didn’t know. How much time had passed, anyway? Months, of course, but… years? He really hoped not. Jesper had already wasted so much time- the thought of having wasted multiple years made him want to scream. 

His gaze wandered around, watching as the world slowly began to come back to life. The mountains of snow and ice began to lessen, melting away to brown grass. The skies began to open up, turning from a cloudy gray to a slight blue. It was beautiful, in a way that reminded him so vividly of home- of the farm back in Novyi Zem. 

“When we make it back, we should go home,” Jesper found himself saying. His filter had become less and less there as they walked- before he knew it, he was speaking his thoughts pretty much unfiltered. “To my home, I mean. To Novyi Zem. You’ve gotten to show me around yours, so I figure it’s only fair, right? And I bet you’d love it- it’s nothing like Ketterdam. It’s a lot calmer and… wilder, I guess. More natural. Fewer crowds of people and more forests and crops and cows, you know?” Jesper grinned, shaking his head. The mental image of Wylan trying to pet a cow was almost too much to bear. “Saints, I can’t wait to show you around…”

They kept walking step after step, trudging through muddy grass. It slowly began to clear up, turning greener. The air became clearer- fresher. 

Jesper took a deep breath as they walked. The air tasted… more alive and real, even though he knew that didn’t make any sense. But… well, everything felt more alive here. Jesper felt more alive- like pieces he didn’t even realize were still missing were being returned to him. 

Sunlight shone overhead, so warm and bright it was nearly blinding. They were so close that Jesper could practically taste it. He couldn’t help but grin, joy surging through his chest. “We’re so close, Wy,” he kept saying. “Just a little further and then we’ll be done. Then we can fucking sit down and never even think about walking again…”

 

 

*****

 

 

Wylan was close. 

Too close. 

Where is he?

Doubts swam in his mind, plaguing every thought. What if the God lied? What if Wylan had walked all this way only to leave Jesper behind? What if he stepped out of the underworld and Jesper was gone? 

What if Jesper had never followed him to begin with? Why would he- no, why would anyone follow Wylan? He was supposed to be leading men out of the underworld, and he couldn’t even check to make sure they were following him. He couldn’t be sure… 

Where is he?

The sun was bright on his face, warming Wylan’s aching and bruised body. He was close to the edge of the chasm. Just a little bit further, and he would officially be out of the underworld- and in theory, so would Jesper. If he’s even still there. 

Every inch of Wylan wanted to check. It was torture not to check. He needed to check- he needed to make sure Jesper was still there. He couldn’t have walked all this way, only to leave alone. 

What am I doing here?

Why wouldn’t the God deceive him and make him leave alone? Why would he let Wylan leave with what he wanted? What if he was just making Wylan into what his father always worried he’d become- a useless, gullible fool?

What would Wylan’s father think of him now, if he knew where he was- what he was trying to do? Would he have any shred of respect for him? Or would he just sneer and laugh, because he knew what Wylan did not- that he was walking out alone? 

Wylan’s skin crawled. He was so close. He couldn’t fail. Not at this. Not now- not Jesper.

What am I doing here? Where is Jesper?

Just- a few more steps. He couldn’t fail. He couldn’t. 

Why would he let me win?

No one ever let Wylan win. They only played Wylan until he fell apart.

Or better yet, they made him play himself.

Useless.

Where is he?

He’s gone. 

He's-

Wylan didn’t mean to do it. 

But he did.

Without thinking, he turned. 

And-

Oh. 

Jesper.

Jesper was there.

Of course he was there. He always came back.

Wylan was a fool.

What am I doing here?

“It’s you,” Wylan whispered.

Jesper’s eyes were wide, but somehow he didn’t look upset. “It’s me.” 

The ground rumbled. A warning.

His voice came out cracking, broken. “Jesper.”

“Wylan.” Jesper smiled- he smiled, despite it all. He looked so unbelievably beautiful. “I love you.”

Oh.

All at once, the ground opened up underneath Jesper’s feet, swallowing him whole.

One moment, Jesper was there. The next, he was gone.

Wylan was alone.

He had failed.

He failed.

No-

“No-” The words tore out of Wylan’s throat in a ragged gasp. “I love you-“

Too late.

All of a sudden, his legs wouldn’t hold him anymore. Wylan collapsed to his knees on the ground, wishing it would swallow him up, too.

But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t- that would be too easy. 

He’s gone.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, clawing at the grass like he could dig Jesper back up, wrench him out of the dirt and back into the light. But Wylan had already done that once. He knew it wouldn’t work a second time. “No- no, no please- Jesper-”

But there was no use, and he knew it. Wylan had failed.

Jesper was gone.

Wylan sobbed- deep, gut-wrenching sobs that he couldn't stop.

He cried- for Jesper, for himself- for his own stupid weakness, for Jesper's hopeless and beautiful love- for the life they maybe could have had, for what they maybe did have in another life. He cried for the world that would never again be graced by Jesper Fahey's presence.

He cried and cried and cried.

Wylan wasn't sure he could ever get up again. 

 

 

---

 

 

it's an old song

it's an old tale from way back when

it's an old song

and that is how it ends

that's how it goes

 

don't ask why, brother, don't ask

how he could have come so close

the song was written long ago

and that is how it goes

 

it's a sad song

it's a sad tale

it's a tragedy

it's a sad song

but we sing it anyway 

 

 

Notes:

sorryyyy

Chapter 8: we raise our cups to them

Summary:

Kaz Brekker had gained a lot of experience, living in the Barrel. He’d been beaten, bloodied, threatened, stabbed, shot at more times than he could count- and yet he prided himself on never jumping, never flinching away from anything. The Bastard of the Barrel had to be tough, had to wear a thick skin at all times. They could smell fear on you. He could never afford to be caught off-guard. 

But when he stepped into his office to find Wylan Van Eck curled up in one of his chairs, fast-asleep, Kaz couldn’t help but flinch backwards in surprise. 

Notes:

song: we raise our cups

im sorry to report that all your comments on the last chapter did make me giggle...

but it also made it churn this out faster than expected so there's that

 

enjoy the epilogue :)

tw: loss, grief, heavy angst

some birds sing when the sun shines bright 

our praise is not for them 

but the ones who sing in the dead of night 

we raise our cups to them 

 

wherever he is wandering 

alone upon the earth 

let all our singing follow him 

and bring him comfort

 

 

---

 

 

Kaz Brekker always had a reason. 

He knew word on the street was the opposite- that he did what needed to be done, whatever the cost. But there were always reasons behind his actions- always a distinctly laid out plan. His reputation was impenetrable for a reason- he was impenetrable. He didn’t waste time with low-paying jobs or with those who couldn’t serve him. 

When Wylan Van Eck hadn’t returned in almost six months, Kaz shouldn’t have batted an eye. He should have been grateful, really. No more wasting resources watching over the ex-Merchling as he struggled through life in the Barrel, no more having Inej coddle him after some stupidity from Jesper… Wylan was a brilliant chemist, sure, but there were dozens of those waiting to be plucked into employment.

So… why the hell did Kaz keep wondering when he’d be back? It pissed him off to no end that he found himself worrying about the Merchling, although he was sure half of that came from Inej. She was constantly searching for any lead on him, going on and on about how Kaz shouldn’t have sent him…

And, well, perhaps she had a point about that. There was no telling if Kaz’s theory was true. He might have sent Wylan on a wild goose chase, searching up and down the cliffs of Fjerda for all eternity. Inej seemed to think they should have gone with him, but Kaz couldn’t just leave the Dregs’- the Barrel- unattended. He still had unfinished business to attend to- and lots of it.

They needed to accept that, more than likely, Wylan was now dead- frozen to death in a snowbank in Fjerda or thrown overboard before he even reached the shore. Wylan was definitely more than he seemed, but he was also an easy mark who refused to carry a gun.

Kaz just wished they would get some sign, one way or the other. If only so Inej would stop her yammering.

The air was finally beginning to grow warmer. Sankta Nina’s festival would likely be held in a few days. Kaz hates the Saints-forsaken holiday. Even the other gangs didn’t want to work- for a whole day, the Barrel stood still. It was idiotic. Obviously, Jesper had loved it.

Kaz shook the thoughts out of his head as he walked to the Crow Club. He needed to focus. The answer to destroying Rollins’ empire was close- he could feel it. That bastard stole Jesper from him- stole Jordie from him. And Kaz was stupid enough to send Wylan along with them.

He was going to watch Pekka Rollins crumble to the ground. 

But first, he needed to take care of finances.

Kaz knew Inej was following him. He hadn’t seen her all morning, but he could feel her presence there- trailing after him. That was good- he needed her to follow up on the glass factory in Applebrook. Maybe then they could actually make a step in the right direction, in putting an end to all of this.

“Boss,” Rotty tipped his hat as Kaz entered the Crow Club, limping towards his office. The club was fairly quiet. He could see bartenders cleaning and counting out kruge, but it was early enough in the day that the place was mostly cleared out. There was something odd about seeing the club- any club- in the morning hours. The sun made it look like a gutted-out skeleton. 

Kaz Brekker had gained a lot of experience, living in the Barrel. He’d been beaten, bloodied, threatened, stabbed, shot at more times than he could count- and yet he prided himself on never jumping, never flinching away from anything. The Bastard of the Barrel had to be tough, had to wear a thick skin at all times. They could smell fear on you. He could never afford to be caught off guard. 

But when he stepped into his office to find Wylan Van Eck curled up in one of his chairs, fast-asleep, Kaz couldn’t help but flinch backwards in surprise. 

Saints- 

Wylan.

For a moment, he wondered if he was seeing things- if Jesper and Jordie would walk out next, laughing like the idiot pigeons they were. No. That’s stupid. Kaz shook the thought away, trying to wrap his mind around exactly what he was seeing. 

Wylan was asleep in a ball- arms wrapped tight around his knees as he leaned against the back of the chair. Somehow, his whole body was tense. The boy was far too thin, practically drowning in his clothes. Kaz could see cuts on his hands and face, dried blood and dirt on his shirt and pants. His boots were worn and scuffed- they looked moments away from falling apart. His guitar was on the ground by his feet, banged and scratched up. 

Somehow, Wylan Van Eck had broken into his office.

Kaz heard a soft gasp from behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know Inej was in the window, that she had seen. “He… He looks awful,” her voice was barely above a whisper, always so very careful. 

“He’s alive.” We both know that’s a miracle in itself.

Slowly, Inej came up beside him. “Did you know-”

Kaz shook his head. “He was just in here.”

Silence laid heavily between them. It felt way too thick to break- full of an odd mixture of relief and unspoken grief. Kaz wondered if Inej had allowed herself to hope that maybe, the next time they saw Wylan, Jesper would be with him. 

Inej was the one to break the silence, to move towards him. “Wylan,” she said gently as she stepped to the chair, kneeling in front of the sleeping boy. "Wylan?" When he didn’t stir, she touched a careful hand to his shoulder.

Wylan flinched awake immediately, jerking upright with a gasp. “N-N-” His eyes were full of fear before focusing on her face. Then he stopped- blinking hard as his brow furrowed. “I…Inej?” 

“You’re alright,” Inej insisted. “It’s just me.”

“I-” Wylan’s eyes darted to Kaz and back. He saw a flicker of realization. “Oh. Oh-" Rapidly, Wylan's eyes filled with tears. “I- I’m sorry-” He squeezed them shut and started shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. I- I tried, I really tried, but- but it just- I failed.”

“It’s alright, Wylan,” Inej tried. “We-“

“N-No!” Wylan’s eyes flew back open with a spark of anger. “It- It’s not! Nothing about this is okay! I- I almost… I was- we were so close- and I-“ His voice broke, and he gave a violent shake of his head, drawing his knees closer to his chest. “Fuck, I just- I fucked it all up, like always, I- I didn’t- I couldn’t just keep going- I, I couldn’t hear him, I-“

“Wylan,” Inej’s tone had hardened slightly, like the dull edge of a blade. Kaz could see concern in her gaze. “Can you breathe with me?”

“N-N-” The boy kept frantically shaking his head. “Inej, you- you don’t understand, I-"

“I know. I can’t understand until you tell me,” Inej said with so much kindness it made Kaz feel sick. “But in order to do that, you need to breathe. Can you try it?”

It took more convincing- a lot more convincing, of which Kaz was no help- but eventually Wylan’s breathing began to even out. He curled further into the chair, looking impossibly small. “I- I’m sorry,” he whispered pathetically, burying his face in his knees.

“It’s alright,” Inej answered, her eyes flicking to Kaz’s. He could see she was overwhelmed, although he had no idea how to help her. “Just… explain what happened, if you can. Slowly.”

“I-“ Wylan paused for a second, his chest hitching. “I… You were right, Kaz,” he croaked, and- oh. “It was in Fjerda. I walked… a long way. I… found him.” Wylan’s voice wavered. “He- He was… we were so close. And I- I just didn’t think, and now I’ve messed everything up, I- Saints, I’m so sorry-”

Only after another 10 minutes of half-sobbed explanation did Kaz think he fully understood what had happened. The God had given Wylan a test, and he had failed. The punishment? Losing Jesper for good. 

Saints. It was... a lot to take in.

Inej was right. They should have gone with him. Maybe all three of them could have succeeded. But for once, Kaz didn’t say the cruel thing. He bit his tongue in uncomfortable silence, listening to the Merchling sniffle and struggling for breath. 

“The worst part was he- he wasn’t even upset,” Wylan managed, tears streaming down his face. “He… He just… smiled at me.”

“Of course he did,” Inej promised instantly. Whenever Wylan looked away, Inej shot him a worried and upset glance. Kaz wondered how she had any idea what to say. Or maybe she doesn’t. “It’s Jesper.”

“I was supposed to get him out,” Wylan insisted weakly. “I- I failed him.”

“You refused to give up on him,” Inej gently reached out, placing her hand on Wylan’s trembling shoulder. He flinched violently away from her touch, and she pulled back instantly, resting her hand on the armrest. “You gave him another chance, Wylan. Even when the rules of nature said no, you refused.”

“And I failed,” Wylan shook his head again, hard. “I turned around, and- and I sent him back… back there. It-” His voice broke. “Inej, it was so cold down there, I-”

“If I know Jesper,” Kaz could see Inej choosing her words with care. He couldn’t help but notice she was still using the present tense. “I know that he loves you, Wylan, no matter what. He knows that, no matter the odds, you love him enough to try.”

“He- He should be here right now,” Wylan insisted weakly. “He should…”

“The reason Jesper isn’t here is not because of you,” Inej promised, and Kaz had to marvel at the strength in her words. “Jesper made his own choices. You can’t own that for him.” She took a deep, measured breath, clearly trying to get Wylan to follow. He did, shakily. Stupidly, Kaz found himself mimicking her too. “You might not have made it out. But you showed him just how much he meant to you. You didn’t fail, Wylan,” Inej gave him a small, wet smile- a brilliant one at that. “You found Jesper, even after death.”

Wylan shut his eyes, although he was breathing carefully, in time with Inej. For a long, long moment, no one spoke. Kaz felt time keep creeping uncomfortably by. “I don’t think I can stay here anymore. In Ketterdam,” Wylan said eventually, his voice thin. “I... I have to go.”

Grief flashed on Inej’s face for a moment before she schooled her features and nodded. “Okay. Do you know where you’re going to go?”

“I… No,” Wylan swallowed thickly. “I just… I can’t stay.”

“You’re giving up,” Kaz said plainly.

“Kaz-” Inej breathed.

For a moment, Wylan looked betrayed- and then he just looked angry. “Yes, I’m giving up,” he snapped. “I’m running away because I’m a fucking c-coward- I couldn’t save Jesper, and so I’m giving up. Is that what you want to hear, Kaz?! I’m- I'm a fucking failure, just like he always said I’d be!” He recoiled away from the words as soon as they were out, like they physically stung.

There was no mistaking who he meant. Kaz didn’t know why Wylan Van Eck had left home all those years ago and stumbled into the Barrel using a different surname, but he could have guessed it had something to do with his dear old Dad. And now? He wasn't Jesper, but he would have bet money on it. 

“Wylan-” Inej started, but Kaz finally had something to say. “Your father doesn’t dictate whether or not you’re a failure. You do.”

Wylan flinched back so hard he hit the back of his chair with a gasp. For a moment, everything in his face shifted- he was no longer Kaz’s demo expert, but a young, spoiled Mercher’s kid, terrified of his father. “I-”

“You found the entrance to the underworld after scouring Fjerda,” Kaz interrupted, listing the facts off on his fingers. “You walked all the way there and back, found your way in, and convinced the God of Death to let you and Jesper go. You may have failed to bring Jesper all the way back, but I wouldn’t consider that a complete failure.”

Wylan fell silent, his gaze on the floor. Kaz could feel Inej looking at him, but he refused to look back. He wouldn’t let her make this into something it wasn’t. He needed to get to work; therefore, he needed Wylan to calm down. Or, at the very least, to get out of his office. 

Finally, Wylan spoke, “You both should hate me. He should hate me.” He paused, then half-whispered, “I hate me.”

And that, finally, Kaz understood. That particular hatred- he could hear it in the Merchling’s voice. It should have been me. I should have died instead. Why am I still alive?

Inej- always Inej- was the one to answer. “You tried your best, Wylan. You can’t hate yourself for that not being good enough.”

Wylan’s face screwed up instantly, and he started to openly weep. “B-But-” He choked. “Why am I never good enough?!” 

Kaz sighed. It looked like he wasn’t getting any work done this morning after all.

 

 

*****

 

 

Wylan woke up to cheering outside. In a warm moment of deja vu, he found himself reaching for Jesper- to huddle into his chest and make the noise go away. 

But instead, all his hand found was the cold emptiness of the other side of the bed. Realization came rushing in, and suddenly, Wylan couldn’t breathe. 

Jesper is gone.

Wylan didn’t know how long it had been. Months, for sure. He had nearly frozen to death in Fjerda, but of course, some nice, old hunter found him wandering aimlessly on the cliffs and ushered him back to safety. “What were you doing out there, lad?” Wylan had just shaken his head.

He almost hadn’t come back to Ketterdam. He knew it was stupid, but he wanted to grab a few more of his things. Of Jesper’s things. And maybe it was a little out of habit. Some part of him had felt wrong, wandering the streets of Elling, like his mission was incomplete. He needed to tell Kaz- to report back in. 

To tell him that I failed.

Wylan wasn’t sure what was worse. Having to face Kaz Brekker and tell him what he had done, or having Dirtyhands just… not care either way.

Going to bed alone in their bed- in his and Jesper’s bed- was never easy. It wasn’t necessarily unusual, but rather the knowledge that now it was just Wylan’s bed hurt like he’d been stabbed. 

But tomorrow, it’ll be no one’s bed. Or some other poor idiot's.

Today was the day Wylan was finally going to leave the Barrel- leave Ketterdam for good. And… the world was cheering.

It was just another cruel joke.

What am I doing here?

He got up quickly, finishing the packing he’d started before it all hit him too hard to keep going. It was that bloody pile of Jesper’s hats- what was he meant to do with those? Wylan had collected other, smaller bits of Jesper- shirts, necklaces, rings, anything he could find. In the end, his bags were stuffed full with bits of his and Jesper’s life before… 

Before Jesper died. Before I turned around.

Wylan pulled one of his favorite of Jesper’s necklaces on- a simple chord attached to a bullet. Without thinking, he kissed it, feeling too hollow and shaken from yesterday and what-was-to-come to cry. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Jesper didn’t answer. 

The crowd cheered louder.

Only before he went to leave did Wylan think to check the window, to see what was going on. And then his heart all but stopped as he saw flooded streets, vendors, actors, no one fighting-

Sankta Nina’s Festival.

It was the cruelest joke of them all.

Wylan guessed he wasn’t leaving today after all. He sank back into bed and cried.

In the end, it was Inej who forced him up. Always Inej, pulling him up and together. What would he do without her? “Just come with me for a little walk,” she insisted. “It’ll be good to get a little fresh air.”

Wylan disagreed, but he knew it was pointless to fight with Inej. Not when he was about to leave. He didn’t want to leave on a bad note- not with her, not after everything she had done for him.

The streets were a sad mix of deja vu, full of memories of Jesper excitedly pulling him this way. Inej was a lot more methodical, moving swiftly and with purpose. It took effort for Wylan to keep up with her. Part of him wanted to get swept away in the crowd, carried off, but he kept following after her anyway.

He wondered if this was how Jesper had felt, following after him.

“How about something to eat?” Inej offered. 

No. Wylan didn’t want to smell waffles, to remember Jesper listing off all of the different flavors. Cured boar. He’d liked that one. Jesper would have wanted to try something outlandish- he always did… 

Before he knew it, Inej had started steering him towards the food carts. Would Sankta Nina be there? His stomach dropped. Oh, Saints no. Please no- “Inej-” he started.

“Wylan,” she whispered back. “Please.”

She didn’t understand. “Inej, I can’t-”

“Just trust me.” 

And that- that caught him off-guard. Did she know what he’d been about to say, what he was so scared of? Trust me? Trust her to keep him away from the Saint if she were there, to keep him away from anything that reminded him of Jesper? Too late. He was drowning in Jesper. 

He touched the bullet necklace. What am I doing here?

And then-

That laugh.

It was a reckless, wild thing- like a shot of pure adrenaline. It spread joy like wildfire and cut through the haze of Wylan’s grief like a knife. 

I know that laugh.

He turned faster than he thought possible. 

There, a few feet away, was a familiar waffle cart. Manning it was Sankta Nina- or rather, Mila Janderstat of Fjerda. 

And a tall, lanky Zemeni man with the most perfect lips Wylan had ever seen.

His grey eyes drifted from potential customer to potential customer before landing on- on Wylan. His face spread into a grin, and he waved. 

It didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t have been him.

And yet… it was.

Wylan smiled.

It’s… It’s you.

 

 

---

wherever he is wandering 

alone upon the earth 

let all our singing follow him 

and bring him comfort 

 

some flowers bloom where the green grass grows 

our praise is not for them 

but the ones who bloom in the bitter snow 

we raise our cups to them

 

we raise our cups and drink them up

we raise ‘em high and drink ‘em dry

to orpheus and all of us

goodnight, brothers

goodnight

 

 

Notes:

not a happy ending but an ambiguous, hopeful one :)

shout-out if you caught jordie in the underworld or any of my other fun little easter eggs i hid
(if you think it's something it probably is)

 

...wow i can't remember the last time that i actually finished a long-term story in like any capacity... i'm... proud of myself???

if you've made it this far, thank you so so so much for reading !!!! i hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you thought!! <3

(also if you can, go see jack wolfe in hadestown!!!)