𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓'𝖘 𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖈𝖞 || kaz brekker

𝐱𝐱𝐯. no rest for the wicked

❝wanting to be someone else is a waste of who you are.❞

¤

chest moving with even breaths, dark eyes moving along papers, gloves creaking and brows furrowed, Kaz's head lolls back against the back of his chair with a heavy sigh. his jaw clenches for a moment before he lets himself glance to the side, still bruised and sore.

noting the frame at the end of his desk, the tension in his muscles only tightens more, and he finds himself shifting in his seat. she had been gone for longer than he had intended, and yet not long enough. the days she'd spent in Ravka had changed things for both ends, and yet now that half of their mess had been dealt with, he was still drowning.

perhaps not as intensely as he was a few hours before, but drowning nonetheless.

her magic had long since been let go, and he blinks in silence as her curls softly shift to her opposite shoulder when she breathes in too deeply. he could see her face better now.

she'd insisted on helping him clear out all the paperwork that came with Pekka's signature to both the club and Inej's freedom, the money cleaning, the disappearing of names and anything else that could crawl back to the crows now that Kaz was the owner again. but her hours spent on dragon back had been tiring and barely a few hours through. he had noted the way her eyelids had dropped.

it had been a slow process that he'd watched with amusement cleverly masked behind a scowl. he'd commented on it but she'd only waved him off, and as he'd known, her posture had slowly changed, drawn down by gravity until her forehead had pressed against the desk, then her cheeks.

now, her lips were parted, her brows scrunched and her lashes fluttering. she was dreaming and he silently hoped she was not tormented by her demon as he was by his own.

they'd talked long before he'd diverted the easiness into work. they'd spoke of the details that had led the man in black to his prior trap, of the path he'd followed to Alby. they'd spoke of the alliance between the Lanstov and Targaryen heirs, her crown, and now Kol's. the world didn't know him as a bastard, which made him the legitimate Ravkan king, Kaz and Aeya had both intended to keep it that way.

although he couldn't of hid the glint of mischief in his eyes when he'd absently promised he could give her more, or the skip in her heart rate at the double entendure only she knew how to read through. it was clear neither of them were truly comfortable about the political marriage Ketterdam's raven was now in, but it was useful, neither could deny it.

even less when her identity had now been revealed to all in Kerch, it only made Kaz more powerful since her name was cleared, and it only made her more petrifying for being associated with a man as cruel as dirtyhands.

yet now, it had all drifted away to the back of his head, the files, the plots, The Darkling, and even Pekka. all he knew was her, asleep and peaceful at the end of his desk, so close and yet so far away. his throat bobs when he swallows.

long was it since the moon had fled and the soft glow of the sun was already filling the muddy streets of the barrel. he knew who was coming, and his gaze hardened as a knock echoes against wood.

his fingers clench, and he silently wraps them around the crow of his cane, then pushes himself up to his feet with a low grunt and a twitch of his head.

his march quickens when a second knock shortly follows, and he yanks the wooden door harshly open, his eyes squinting down at the straight shouldered man now standing in front of him. his lips almost twitch when he sees the lackey step back before his jaw clenches when he notes the way his gaze drifts further behind him and zeros on the sleeping saint in the background.