West Stave Story [Kaz Brekker X Reader]

Prologue: Punches and Paperwork

Y/N Pov

~ Background ~

I've entered the Barrel once before, about half a year ago. I thought the perfume I had on that night was strong until I walked past some of the buildings on West Stave. The smells were intoxicating, the people noisy, their costumes vague.

I was with my older brother, Roydan. We came to Ketterdam from West Ravka so that I could study at the best University in the world and avoid the impending Civil War in our homeland. And one night, to take a break from my studies, we followed the laughter and hollering we heard from the streets. We were introduced to the bottom of the Barrel, where the glasses never emptied and the strangers never slept.

I wandered into a dark casino, squinting to make out the figures in such a dark atmosphere. The people there had masks on, their hair teased or matted from poor upkeep. With my hair slicked back in an updo, I felt a moment of gratitude for the lack of light. I was obviously out of place there, or rather, ill-prepared. As I ventured further into the space, I bumped into a boy watching the on-goings of the club. I made my way around him, apologizing, but a stick of some sort was set out in front of me, blocking my path. The boy's hands were bound in leather, his countenance calculating.

"Are you from the pleasure houses?" He asked, studying my hair and my clothes.

I did not answer, taken aback at his forwardness.

His dark eyes studied me a moment more. "If not, then you are on the wrong street."

A warning.

As he walked away, I felt my cheeks redden. My perfume suddenly choked me, my clothes felt too tight. Even in a room so dimly lit, it felt like everyone was observing me, looking at me like prey. I did not feel welcome. Was this how the Kerch behaved, or was this black-clad boy a bad apple?

Moments later, Roydan found me, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the club. As I looked back into the darkness one last time, I saw the boy limping up some stairs leading to an office. He can't be that much older than me, I thought. I wondered what he did for a living to earn him free drinks on the house and slaps on the back everytime he walked through the doors.

It was moments like those where I missed Ravka, the calm steady buzz of the summer fields in the country, and the welcoming demeanors of the people in Os Kervo. I could not go back, however. Not unless I wanted to be plunged headfirst into a war. That is my goal. To never be involved in a war.

//

While I studied at University, Roydan supported us financially. He secured a job at fifth harbor, organizing ship departures and handling cargo. Sometimes the gangs in the area would rough him up, trying to access some of the goods coming in on foreign ships. So, he did what any normal Kerch person would do: he paid someone for protection from the gangs. The stadwatch rarely come near the Barrel or fifth harbor, so Roydan settled on the best gang on West Stave at the time: the Dime Lions. A chunk of his paycheck would go to Pekka Rollins to stay off his back and protect him from the other gangs.

My brother is never one for conflict, though he could finish a fight if anyone started one. He is a strong and able body, whereas I am more lean and quick. After a couple of months of their exchange, Rollins offered Roydan a full-time position as a member of the Dime Lions.

"What about my sister? She must be part of the deal, or there is no deal," Roydan had said as I stood behind him.

Like any older brother, he is protective of me always.