Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jesper looked at the clock on the wall for what seemed like the twentieth time in the meeting. He fidgeted on his seat looking left and right spotting both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Men and women, mostly old, everyone much older than he was.

Wylan was on his left, completely still and focused on the woman speaking loudly,  moving her hands animatedly to make her point. Jesper thought that her hands were too distracting, he really couldn’t make what the point was with so much waving around. Wylan on the other hand seemed to perfectly understand. He nodded a lot when anyone paused, he offered his opinion when asked and he conversed easily with all the businesspeople around him. It suited him, Jesper thought. Wylan Van Eck looked like a businessman in his own right. His young and calm presence made people trust him and his ironed black and white suit made them believe he was one of their own, refined elite. 

Jesper, on the other hand, didn’t know what to make of himself. His long legs never remained in the same place for more than mere seconds and his awkward posture as he tried to fit on the chair always brought on curious and sometimes annoyed stares. People weren’t used to seeing someone like him sitting on their expensive and elegant chairs. They simply weren’t made for him.

Still, Wylan never commented on anything. Sometimes he caught Jesper’s stare in a meeting and all he did was nod- like he was on autopilot. Jesper didn’t know what to make of it. Was he just another face in Wylan’s business-related crowd? Sometimes he wasn’t that sure if Wylan was only keeping him around because of the promise they had made months ago. Was he just pitying him? 

Jesper didn’t know if being Wylan’s secretary was the lowest or highest point of his life to date. 

Occasionally, he wondered what life would be like if he had never made that deal, not being Wylan’s eyes. Nina’s offer echoed in his ears. Ravka … Would he dare to leave home and become a Grisha? Probably not. 

He would have been back at the Barrel, sitting at a gambling table spending the money he had till it vanished. At least working with Wylan saved him from going broke again, he concluded. Still, was he happy with where his life was at now? Spending his days waiting for the next meeting, talking about things he had little interest in with people that didn’t interest him?

Wylan though … The ginger’s presence was steady and when they weren’t in a meeting, he was okay to be around. Jesper didn’t mind his presence, he rather enjoyed Wylan’s witty remarks and random facts. 

The past few days though, the ginger seemed less and less enthusiastic about anything. Dark circles seemed to have formed permanently below his eyes and he seemed to be sighing a lot – and it didn’t seem to be because of Jesper’s breathtaking presence.

“Wy?” Jesper mouthed, poking the ginger’s shoulder lightly. Wylan didn’t seem surprised, turning discretely towards him with a tired smile. 

“What happened?” Jesper read the ginger’s lips. 

“You cool?”, he mouthed back.

~~~

Wylan had the audacity to snort, suppressing his laughter at Jesper’s question. He opted for a small hands-up and a smile that nearly reached his eyes. Sincerely, he felt tired and spent.

He didn’t know business. Kaz had taught him the basics, which felt more like the principles of manipulation, bribery and theft – which Wylan had decided pretty quickly, were better than nothing.

His father had given up on him early on, realizing Wylan’s bad relationship with letters would make him a bad businessman and would let people exploit him freely. His father never imagined, though, his son would have found Jesper, the only person Wylan could put his trust on fully - and did so every day. 

Jesper was the one responsible for what came in and what went out, who might prove beneficial and who was to be avoided. He read stacks of papers daily, and even though his legs wouldn’t stop moving and tapping the floor, he read them all and reported every line he found even slightly useful back to Wylan. While all Wylan could do was sit and wait, pretending the numbers he could make out at the sheets in his hands were enough.

He didn’t understand why Jesper was still there. His awkward fidgeting at the meetings they attended together made it clear that he felt out of place. Wylan was sure Jesper was longing for action, his revolvers out, not hidden inside his jacket. Sure, they were sharing their profits but was Jesper missing the Slat? Did he want to go back to risking his life every day? To feel the thrill of chasing and being chased? Was Jesper still around him out of pity, trapped in a promise he had made while in action, when he wasn’t sure if he would make it out alive to see the next sunrise? 

Maybe, it was the same as his awkward confession, a stupid phrase that kept replaying in Wylan’s mind even though he had hit stop months ago. Maybe I like your stupid face.  

Wylan was annoyed with himself about how a six-word sentence that nearly insulted him made him feel so tingly and weird inside. He soon realized though, as the battle came to an end, as his dad backed off, as Kaz won whatever feud he had with Pekka Rollins, that some things that are best left unsaid can rise in the heat and uncertainty of a battle and what happened between him and Jesper had been one of them. 

We were fugitives, bounties on our heads . Of course, some emotions would be misunderstood , Wylan repeated in his head.

What happened with Jesper was one of them. Wylan was passable and the time they had spent together just- was like that. It meant nothing more. Jesper might have kissed him twice, or once – damn Kuwei – but as things calmed down and they went back to their lives, old and new, he didn’t approach him again in that way - apart from the occasional flirting - and Wylan… Wylan felt really stupid to have expected something more.

Wylan poked the side of his cheek, annoyed with himself. This wasn’t time for his thoughts to be drifting. The meeting… He had to speak with Lady Kadrir and make sure their agreement held,even though the head of the Van Eck family had changed and he needed to speak with that white haired man and give his condolences to that Lady and so many things he had never pictured himself doing ever before.

He never expected to be here. When his father still tolerated him, Wylan dreamed of a music school and maybe joining a theater orchestra with his flute. Even when his father decided otherwise, he still hoped for a demo-related work at the Crows or maybe someone reaching out and joining a traveling band… never business. His father had made it clear early on that he was not suited for that and it was the only thing Wylan and his father had agreed upon. He wasn’t sure he would like it… and he had yet to decide.

Business was… weird. Wylan’s perspectives of it had been two; one when he was growing up, seeing his father busy with paperwork he was always signing… and then, there was business the way the Dregs did it. Meetings under the fold of darkness, sometimes gunshots sounding along, a gambling parlor expecting tourists and sailors from far away…

Yet, what he felt he was doing on his own, was different. Sure, Jesper seemed to be writing and reading tons of stuff but Wylan thought of business as constant meetings, a lot of useless information in his head and a relentless bell ringing in his head reminding him to be polite yet entitled. That was the way. 

At first, he liked being good at it, memorizing estates, meeting people that didn’t look at him down their noses, because Wylan Van Eck possessed property the same way they did. He sat and talked and traded in the language they understood.

Still, that feeling had slowly drifted away, as the bell in his head rang louder and louder. He felt lost and disconnected, yet he wouldn’t stop. He was more determined than ever not to give up. Those meetings had come to be the only place where he felt like he proved his worth. The only thing he could be good at and be of use.

“Mister Van Eck.” 

It was his turn to speak.

“As my father retired and passed me on new property, I’ve made the decision to establish a reliable network around the Van Eck brand.” Words scripted and exercised in front of a mirror, delivered to an audience just like in a theater. 

It’s fine . I can work like this. At least that’s what he convinced himself as he went on with his speech.

~~~ 

Chapter Text

Wylan rested his head on the cold window-glass. A futile attempt to ground himself from the paper resting in front of him. He took a sip from his hot cocoa that Lara, a maid under the Van Eck family, had prepared for him and dragged the curtain, obscuring him from the rest of the empty corridor.  

Wylan had discovered he loved tight spaces early in his life. It was around the time his father had started backing away from him, instead of teaching him a thing or two himself. Wylan had been left then, to his own devices and his tutors.

Small Wylan had thought it a sign of him growing older even though a prickling sensation had nudged his tiny, as a child’s fist, heart. Deep inside, he knew that he was the one that had done wrong and maybe that was why after it, he had worked harder and harder, excelling in studies where letters weren’t present. It was easier to focus on maths and science.

Still, letters seemed to matter because his father’s look of utter disappointment and disapproval seemed to grow harsher each time a tutor filed his resignation explaining there was nothing he could do to make his son’s eyes stop wandering, straying from their goal. 

As his third language professor in a trimester had gotten up and shook his head, probably to himself, seven-year-old Wylan had come to a sudden realization; He didn’t want to see his father’s eyes nailing him down again. He disappeared down the corridor before his teacher had managed to collect his papers from the wooden desk.

He didn’t remember much of the first time he disappeared behind the curtains of a dusty windowsill on the second floor. Maybe he cried or he simply took a nap. Maybe he didn’t bother doing a thing as he curled himself on the marble surface. 

He did remember though, that he had felt like a small weight had been lifted off his chest. Even though he had laid in that cold corner for hours, when he had decided to emerge again, dirty and with a runny nose, he had felt refreshed and powerful –or as powerful as a grade school boy could feel-. Escaping his father's glare had been worth it.

After the next teacher had given up, Wylan had found himself back at the same windowsill, dragging a blanket along and curling up with it, watching the streets below as the sun set. He had left the blanket there, too sleepy to drag it back, as he walked away. 

The next time he visited the windowsill, the marble had been scrubbed clean and the blanket had been folded neatly on top of it. 

Gradually Wylan had started hiding in small spaces like that more and more, each time needing less of a reason to. A cellar, a cupboard, a closet… Somehow having something surround his small figure had felt oddly comforting. When his mother went away for good, Wylan vanished as well, sometimes sneaking in snacks and sweets to make sure he wouldn’t go hungry. His father didn’t seem to care, maybe he even preferred pretending he didn’t have a son. Wylan was okay with that – or as okay as he could be with being disowned.

A droplet fell on the window right in front of Wylan’s eyes, shaking him from his thoughts. He frowned at the cup resting on his thigh, the chocolate in it long gone cold. He placed his mug on the windowsill, his eyes drifting, without meaning to, to the cause of his growing anxiety. 

The letter remained sealed in front of his curled figure. He had turned the front side down in a weak attempt to forget the familiar handwriting inscribed at its front right below the prison’s blue seal. 

Wylan’s excellent memory had backfired this time. His father’s curvy handwriting hadn’t changed. He could only guess what was written; maybe his name or an address, yet he couldn’t stop staring, pleading for it to make sense. His father was taunting him. He had found a way to remind him of the failure he was. 

And it had succeeded all over again, Wylan may have taken hold of the letter before anyone else could take a glimpse at it but he still felt powerless as it rested at his feet. 

He hadn’t bothered to open it. He was certain his father wouldn’t do him the favor of sending a note he could decipher. Maybe it was blank, like the pages of his supposed enrollment in the academy nearly a year ago. 

It didn’t matter. His father had achieved his purpose. He had managed to get to Wylan even from far away and he most likely relished the fact as he sat in his fancy cell in the prison of Bastille. 

Wylan took the letter in his hands, picking at the seal with his nails as he felt his heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his father feeling so close. He had no idea what to do. He couldn’t read what was inside the letter, yet he was against showing the contents to anybody else.

Jesper .

The Zemeni sharpshooter had promised to read for him, to be there with anything he would need. 

Still, why would he want any part of this?

Jesper wasn’t a servant, he was a partner in business - an amazing and really good-looking partner - but Wylan didn’t feel like he could bother him with a feud between father and son. This was deeply personal. Wylan thought that if he was in Jesper’s place he wouldn’t want to hear about the petty problems of a rich and spoiled merchant. 

And he was right.

I am safe . Wylan whispered as he threw the letter as far away from him as he could. He felt a bit better, seeing it land on the far end of the windowsill. 

I am safe . He repeated as he took a hazy breath feeling the air crowding in his lungs. 

He’s far away. He can’t do anything to me. He can’t hurt anyone I love anymore .

He felt his ragged breathing slow down and he reached at his neck to check his heartbeat, feeling it gradually slow down, mirroring his calmer breaths. He would be fine. 

An odd feeling came over him as he let his hand fall to his side.

Jesper. 

He wanted to see him. His heart picked up pace again, this time though in anticipation. 

He drew the curtains back and stood up after checking that there was no one around. He tossed the sealed letter behind the first fancy cupboard he met on his way to the stairs.

It will be better if no one finds it.

Chapter Text

At times Wylan wondered where it had all gone wrong. Where they had lost it, the carefreeness they once felt. At times, his mind strayed to the summer that had passed. When he and Jesper talked and fooled around a lot. When Wylan still hoped for something more.

As the weather grew warmer, Marya Hendriks kept to her room more and more. Wylan could faintly recall his mother’s distaste for the Ketterdam heat and soon enough, when he, along with Jesper, had managed to move their meetings around and arrange a free couple of weeks, they had packed and left. 

The Van Eck country estate was not in any way less big or glorious than the city one. An impending mansion near the village Lij with fields stretching for what felt like an eternity on either side of it. 

Wylan liked it. It had been left empty after, what he had thought until recently was, his mother’s death. He only had faint memories of the house. As he had walked around the building, his eyes often strayed to corners or under tables when he once hid or played. Now he was too large to fit… It felt strange. Still, the feeling he had when inside the house at Geldstraat, the idea that he was trespassing his father’s property didn’t cross his mind. This was their estate now. His mother’s right. 

And Marya seemed to like it plenty as well. She would lay in the fields or sit on the benches. And she painted; she painted the fields surrounding the estate, she painted the music room where her son and his friend laughed, she painted in the morning, in bright colors, she painted as the sun set, giving everything an orange hue. She seemed content. Wylan hoped she was. 

Once, they picked some flowers, making a colorful bouquet and brought it to her. She was so surprised that Wylan had felt bad. It surely had been a while since anyone had done something nice for her. So many years in an asylum, far away from her loved ones, didn’t offer her any chance for gratitude. Yet she seemed so happy as she arranged the blossoms in the vase a servant had brought that Wylan made it his job to bring her a new one every couple of days, when the old ones withered.

A pleasant breeze brushed the place, making the Ketterdam heatwave that they had escaped from feel like a memory from far away.

Each morning Wylan would wake up, a smile on his face as Jesper knocked the door and asked for a walk or a stroll. The tall boy always seemed to be full of energy.

It was on one of these strolls when he realized Jesper’s love for horses. They had wandered a bit too far on that day.

As they came out from a small forest they had decided to explore, Jesper had spotted a barn in the distance. 

“Merchling, I have a feeling about this, come on.” He had waved at Wylan, his eyes never straying from the farm and he had taken off running before hearing his answer. 

Admittedly, Wylan had taken some time to catch up to him, his smaller figure and poor physique not in any way suited to match his tall lean-built friend.

By the time he reached the farm, Jesper was nowhere to be found… until he heard a rhythmic beat approaching from behind him. 

“Merchling!” He heard Jesper’s laugh before he could see the tall boy appearing behind a stable, his arm turned up and holding a rope as a large shadow approached from behind him. 

Wylan held his breath.

A stunning horse approached slowly after him, a bit hesitant in its step, as it was most likely disturbed during its alone time, yet not displeased to be woken up.

“Jesper?” Wylan started.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Jesper reached to pat the mare’s nose. “She’s such a nice girl.” As Jesper kept patting the horse’s ears Wylan took a moment to approach, admiring the mare on his own. 

From what little experience he had with horses, even Wylan could see that she was built for horse-riding. She was standing proudly, taller than Jesper, her dark brown mane moving with the wind, waving her tail lazily, kicking at flies who dared to approach the white spots that covered her hips on her otherwise brown body. She really was stunning.

Jesper, having taken his time greeting his new friend, nodded at Wylan to approach.

“There.” He held her nose briefly pointing at the ginger to do the same. 

Wylan met one of her eyes as he rubbed her nose softly, trying to contain his laugh, afraid he’d scare her away. She neighed, shaking her head and he gave in, breaking into a huge grin.

“She’s…” He gestured vaguely at her form. 

“I know right!” Jesper grinned back, his eyes lighting up as he moved slowly towards the mare’s back, patting it hesitantly. “You ever ridden bareback, merchling?” He asked absently.

“I’ve never ridden at all actually.” 

“What?” Jesper turned to him instantly, his surprise slowly melting into excitement as he patted the mare once more. “Then you’re gonna love this.” 

Without further ado, in one swift and precise motion he climbed on top of the mare’s back, patting her side gently as she barely moved a muscle. 

“I knew you were a great girl.” He turned his attention to Wylan, gesturing wildly.

“I told you I can’t ride.”

“That’s why we’re riding together.” Jesper winked.

“I-” Wylan stalled. “She’s not even our horse, Jes. We’re practically trespassing.” 

“Oh, come on, merchling, we’re just borrowing her. She’s having fun too.”

“Okay.” Wylan took Jesper’s hand hesitantly and cursed silently as he was dragged on her back, sitting inches behind Jesper, the sudden proximity along with the altitude change and the adrenaline making him dizzy. “Wow,” he breathed.

The world was the same, yet different on the back of a horse. Everything seemed far away, the flowers and grass moved in sync with the wind, a giant, multi-colored sea, pointing to the small hills in front of them. 

Wylan grabbed Jesper’s waist self-consciously as he glanced down at his feet. They weren’t supposed to be this high off the ground. Jesper turned to look at him, a wild grin on his face.

“You ready merchling?” 

“What for-” Wylan didn’t manage to finish his sentence as Jesper had already signaled to the mare to take off. She walked steadily, slowly at first, Wylan too entranced to comment on it, his eyes moving wildly around the scenery unfolding around them.

~

Jesper had thought he had forgotten how to ride. It had been a long time since he had had the chance. Ketterdam wasn’t horse-back riding friendly the way Novyi-Zem’s open streets had been. Yet, the moment he had set eyes on the mare huffing excitingly below him, he knew he had to at least try.

He glanced backwards to Wylan, whose hands had slowly found their way around his waist, holding on tightly. Jesper wasn’t the kind to crave prolonged physical touch but he found that he didn’t mind Wylan’s smaller figure wrapped around him. The ginger smiled as their eyes met and Jesper, for a moment, forgot that they were on top of a horse somewhere near Lij.

“Don’t speak too much if you don’t wanna end up with your tongue bitten.” He winked, knowing that Wylan, against his best wishes, would end up all red and shy. He was fun to mess up with, even after months of the same routine, he would react all the same.

He pressed his thighs on the mare’s back and she instinctively sped up, her walk turning into a trot and Jesper threw his head up, feeling his cheeks hurt from his wide smile. 

He had missed it, the wind in his face, the steady presence below him, the rhythmic sound of hoofbeats… Horseback-riding grounded him yet made him feel free to engage with his five senses, see the beauty of the world around him with no filter applied.

He felt Wylan’s arms wrap around him tighter as the mare switched to canter, going a bit faster, and soon enough into a gallop, the grass becoming a blurry scene below them.

They returned the mare to her home, as the sun reached its zenith. Jesper frowned as he felt Wylan’s form moving back, preparing himself for his descent, yet he didn’t want to duel on why.

He patted the beauty goodbye, whispering a promise of seeing her again before walking towards the ginger, ruffling his hair and asking him of his first horseback-riding impression.

~

“Next summer, will you teach me how to ride?” Wylan had asked on the same day, as the sun had hung low on the horizon.

Now he wasn’t as sure there would be a next summer to think about.