The Love of a Crow - Wesper/Crows Fanfiction/AU

-Epilogue-

A/N: Holy... we've made it! I'm gonna have a huge thank you at the end, so I'll make this short and sweet, but to all those who won't stick around for that, thank you so much for everything, all the stars and comments and even just the reads. We have lived of Wesper breadcrumbs for too long and I'm so happy I could summon the fandom to here! I hope you enjoy this very special chapter! :)

Van Eck:

Night seemed to fall faster nowadays in the rich streets of Ketterdam. The streets that Van Eck had helped build from the ground, the streets that had soaked up sweat and tears into its cobbles to become the prosperous city it was today. His city. The one he would pass on to his heir... well, the only true heir.

But times had become darker, and Van Eck's high hopes for his future heir were often corrupted with the ghosts left behind by his old one. Wylan had been more of a problem than he was worth, and the amount of money Van Eck would have saved if he had just gotten rid of him along with his mother... Every good businessman had regrets, but Van Eck had fixed his promptly.

Wylan Hendricks (he was certainly no Van Eck) was dead, shot in the chest by one of his own men a few months ago. He had watched the body fall, had seen the limp boy on the hard ground, had witnessed the look of horror from the Zemeni boy, and he had relished in it. Finally, all his problems had been solved. Van Eck no longer had to worry about passing over his legacy to a dunce of a son, and Brekker was smart enough to keep his mouth shut for now...

Brekker. That was the one mystery he still couldn't quite figure out. Why had he taken the body of his son from its resting place? Why not leave it there to rot, or to be chucked into Reaper's Barge? The whole idea of Brekker having the corpse made Van Eck uneasy, as if he were missing some part of this puzzle. No matter. Business was business, and if he focused on every moot point he would never move forward.

So why in Ghezen's name had he agreed to meet Brekker now? Van Eck pondered his decision as his carriage rolled to a stop, and the heavily-paid driver opened the door for him. Accompanying him were only two guards, one of which had been the one to shoot the wretch; he thought it would bring a strange irony to the meeting.

As promised by his men, the streets were deserted, with not so much as a cat daring to make an appearance. The moon cast its bright gaze over withered shadows, as if awakening something deep in the rough and shuttered streets. Ahead lay the large, stone structure known as the Exchange, the statues cast in darkness, the windows obviously empty of their daytime occupants. If prying eyes had dared to make an appearance they would find themselves turned out of Ketterdam.

Van Eck made a silent promise to himself as he passed beneath the sign depicting the words Enjent, Voorhent, Almhent; he would never come back to this place at night. Thought it may crawl with the well-bred, respectable merchants by day, it was another world at night. A world of thieves and spies and secrets. A world his disgrace of a son had fallen into, Van Eck grimaced as another dark figure came into view.

Dirtyhands.

"Well, Brekker. You have dragged me across the city, unarmed, with no reason as to why I should be here. I hope you have a good reason, since I'm all ears." Van Eck started the conversation between him and the boy. Because that was what he was; a boy, barely older than Wylan (though this one was probably able to say the alphabet!). Though Brekker hid behind his opaque gloves and intricately carved twig, he was a pawn in a much larger game of chess. The Barrel would always remain below the Financials, and that would never change. No matter who was at the helm of the ship.

"I was worried you'd backed out, Van Eck. What was it you said again? Ah yes... 'We're both busy men'." Brekker replied tartly. Van Eck only grinned.