Work Text:
In a week, then in 3 days, then tomorrow. The days flew by, and with each hour, Kaz felt his throat constrict in panic.
Everything was ready. The Wraith was a magnificent little ship, cannons out, flags waving, centered in the blinding reflection of afternoon sunlight sparkling off the surface of the sea.
Today, her berth teemed with an abnormal amount of commotion. Sailors shouted, swinging from ropes and masts, people streaming constantly on and off the ship, making it seem almost like a live creature. The bustle was not for nothing. The Wraith was to set sail in a few hours, carrying its captain off to sea where it would become a legend to haunt slavers’ nightmares.
Inej’s eyes had been brighter lately, cheeks flushed and hair tangled from the hours she spent gazing out at the vast blue expanse, studying maps, routes, naval battle techniques. Kaz often caught that faraway look on her face as she drifted through the rooms of the Slat, expression thoughtful and eyes full of horizons, as if she were already an ocean away. He loved seeing her like this, hopeful, excited, determined, even if it pained him to watch her slip away, little by little.
Her parents, unsurprisingly, had been wary of him. Apparently, his reputation had preceded him—they told of the whispered rumors they’d heard on the ship from Ravka, Brekker’s hands were covered in blood; he was the worst kind of murderer and criminal with no discernible conscience; he was King of the Barrel and probably owned half of hell as well.
But when Inej explained what he had saved her from, they’d looked at him with a sorrowful, grateful warmth that forced his gaze to his shoes. He didn’t deserve the gratitude, the forgiveness of Inej’s parents. Not when he dreamed still of the warmth of her pulse beneath his fingers, when the plea for her to stay, to be his queen, still lingered on his lips. He was sick, sick and weak; all he could do for her was try. And it wasn’t enough.
He’d finally managed to hold her close for a few moments the night before, to feel the soft puff of her breath against the hollow of his collarbone as the waters stilled momentarily at the sound of her heartbeat, to fasten his broken shards into something like the whole, bare-handed boy he’d once been. Bare of gloves, bare of blood. She was light and warmth and alive, alive, alive, slight acrobat’s body fitting against him in a way that made longing ache deep within him, under the rising tide of revulsion. Because after all, Kaz was only a boy. A flawed, proud, stubborn boy too scared of his ghosts to lower his mask of calculation and cruelty and reveal the shame underneath, in the end, just a boy.
Even now he would pretend that it was nothing to him. Inej’s leaving. He would pull himself together, carry on with business, try to put her out of his mind. Even though it felt like his world was being torn in half. They’d fought beside each other, for each other, for a single cause for so long that Kaz couldn’t imagine his life without her by his side.
But someone as bright and shining and kind as her never should have belonged in Ketterdam, city of filth and crime and debauchery, in the first place. Inej belonged on the sea. He could see it, her body, decked in sailor’s garb, tilted towards the sky as she leaned from the railing of her ship, eyes closed to the salt spray that clung to her oil-black eyelashes, laughing that laugh he cherished so much as wind ruffled the strands escaping from the coil of her braid.
Kaz inhaled and leaned on his cane, bare hand gripping the crow’s head. He watched as the last of the sailors bustled up the gangplank onto the ship. Inej appeared on deck, a sailor’s hat perched on her head, dark eyes scanning the crowd below. He would miss her more than even he could comprehend, her eyes, her teasing, her calm, quiet presence, every day. She beamed at Jesper, who was waving furiously, swiping at tears with his handkerchief. Wylan stood beside him, waving decidedly less enthusiastically as he sniffled into a tissue. Her parents called to her in Suli, and she dragged her sleeve across her puffy eyes, voice ringing out as she called back.
Finally, Inej’s gaze found Kaz. Her happy, tearful smile turned sorrowful as he gave her a quiet nod. She nodded back at him, eyes clear and confident. She was not crying now. Kaz had watched her as she cried the day before, first with Jesper and Wylan and her parents, then alone with Kaz, silent tears dripping down her cheeks as she gazed out her old window in his office.
He’d gathered her carefully into his arms, hesitated to let her move away if she wished, but she hadn’t. He’d let his brief embrace convey what he couldn’t say aloud. Felt the way they both tensed for a moment before she leaned into him, the erratic rise and fall of her breath, her skin, soft beneath his bare hands, breathed in her hair, ocean air and milky tea and lavender, before the tide began to rise. In that moment, he’d thought wildly, feverishly, that he’d give up his revenge, his reputation, his riches, if he got to keep Inej with him, her head laid on his shoulder, arms curled around him, always. But that wasn’t fair, not to him, not to her. Because seconds later, he’d had to let go, the water roaring around him as he sank and sank and sank.
Kaz had called her his Wraith, but she’d never really been his. Maybe she’d never be. Maybe she meant to spend every last minute of her life at sea, atoning for the innocent blood on her hands, fighting till she couldn’t anymore. And if she did, Kaz would not try to stop her. Would not beg her to stay again like his selfish heart longed to. She was going, and he couldn’t, wouldn’t detain her.
Kaz did not cry now either, let no emotion cross his face, holding her gaze for the last time. He swallowed, his throat aching with unshed tears, but he’d denied himself the privilege of crying for so long he no longer knew how to let himself feel grief. They’d always stayed strong for each other’s sake, just like this. He wondered how long it would be before he drowned in it, before he reached his emotional suppression limit and fell prey to insanity. He wished he could show her now, the nights he would spend missing her, how he was already looking forward to her return.
Instead, he watched Inej turn away, face towards the sea, the unknown, embracing her future with that unshakable smile across her face. Hopefully, he would see her again one day, and maybe he’d be a better man when the time came.
The ship began to move as wind filled its sails, cutting through the Ketterdam Harbor, away. Away from the city. Away from him. Kaz exhaled softly, watching her figure grow smaller, standing like a beacon, a hero on her way to fight the dragon, shoulders back and head held high.
For a moment, he almost believed in Saints.
Finally, as the ship slipped out of view, Kaz righted himself. He turned, slowly. There were profits to be made, bosses to fight. He flexed his hand, the cold air feeling unfamiliar between his exposed fingers as he began the walk back to the Slat.
He did not say goodbye.
He just let go.