Archive of Our Own

“Hey, Cap’n!”

Kingsley rolled over in his hammock, daring to expose his back to the door as he’d been so often told in his youth never to do. If the sleep-interrupting interloper standing outside of it wanted to take a shot at his exposed back, she was welcome to it. At least he’d get to sleep through it.

The knocking persisted. A determined tabaxi woman would not allow a door to keep her from what she wanted, and Clothesline would not be above breaking it down and calling it a rescue attempt if he pretended he didn’t hear her. “Cap’n, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

He swore into the bundle of old laundry he’d turned into a pillow and twisted a bit, so he could speak without his voice being muffled. “What is it?”

Clothesline’s tone didn’t change, not even a lick of relief that her captain hadn’t died in his sleep. Classic. “Squalleater’s back in port.”

Kingsley blinked his red eyes in a way that was wasted with the door closed and no one present to see it but the mirror above his dresser. “I thought I said only to wake me for good news.”

“Yeah, but Avantika’s picked up some new meat, and you’ll never guess who’s among ‘em.”

He didn’t want to guess. He wanted to sleep off this fucking hangover until the next Calamity. “Make it fast, Dropkick.”

He heard the indignant hiss from the other side of the door that said his nickname had rankled her in just the right way, as always, but his amusement died as soon as she spat out, “Your brother.”

---

The King’s Folly was a ship that had been built entirely for piracy for a captain who probably should have considered other career moves. When the Clasp came unglued at the seams, a dozen rogues and assassins and thieves suddenly felt like they needed to find other means of making money. Some tried to build their own enterprises, but most of them had fled to the Lucidian and the promise of the Revelry.

The problem was not every rogue could be a pirate. Dashiell Doggett certainly thought he could be one- a swashbuckler by trade and rich enough to buy himself a ship and a crew. He’d fled the Clasp before the end came with a handful of people he trusted and a few he probably didn’t, but had been eager enough. He’d made it into the Revelry and stayed in it long enough to pick up Kingsley, a young shithead, mercenary, and pickpocket from the Run on his own for the first time, and train him up. Then he went and ate a bullet in a disagreement he wasn’t equipped to handle properly as a pirate that would have been simple enough as a rogue, and through a series of fortunate circumstances that Kingsley was not at liberty to discuss the exact details of, the Folly became King’s Folly.

That was two years ago, which incidentally was the last Kingsley had heard anything from his twin brother- a message from Cree Deeproots telling him in simple terms that Lucien had died that ended in a spell-slot unfriendly shouting match between the two of them and his bard. He hadn’t spoken to Cree or any of the other Tombtakers since.

And now, out of fucking nowhere, Lucien was sailing into Darktow alongside the fucking Squalleater, like he wanted to make absolutely certain his re-entry into his little brother’s life was as unpleasant as possible.

He hit the planks at a run, hangover forgotten, not even bothering to throw on his coat as he pushed past Clothesline on his way up the stairs. Kingston LaForge, his bard, was leaning over the edge of the ship with the spyglass, taking in every detail of the Squalleater and the sister ship that sailed alongside her as she approached Darktow.

Kingsley plucked the spyglass out of his hands and Kingston nearly plummeted into the ocean. By Melora’s grace and his own phenomenal luck, he managed to right himself.

“‘Thank you for the spyglass, Kingston,’” he said drily, adjusting his leathers. “Oh, you’re very welcome, Captain.”

“A little less lip from you, Page-Turner,” Kingsley murmured, half-heartedly, as he searched out the group on the deck of an unfamiliar ship called The Mistake. Strange bunch- not the Tombtakers at all. Not a familiar person among them. And what kind of name for a ship was that? “He doesn’t even have Cree with him? Clothesline, are you makin’ shite up?”

Someone in the cluster of colorful people huddled on deck shifted and Kingsley felt his stomach drop. Knowing Lucien was out there, alive and fucking well somehow, was one thing, but seeing him standing there with the wind whipping his hair… It was almost too much. Suddenly, he was a kid again. Suddenly, the world seemed so much smaller than it had been moments before.

He swallowed and pulled the spyglass away so he could blink wetness from his eyes. He was not going to bawl in front of his crew like a toddler who missed his big brother. Fuck that. Lucien owed him several apologies and a few rounds of drinks before Kingsley would even consider their family ties fully mended enough to go back to their old dynamic. And maybe not even then- he was a captain now. He wasn’t Lucien’s tagalong twin. The little parasite he’d called him during their last big fight.

His grip tightened on the spyglass as that memory threatened to overtake him. Later. He’d work his way up to all the anger he’d been holding onto since that night in Eiselcross three years gone now. There was a lot of bragging to do before then. Could a parasite have control of his own Revelry ship and the clout that went with it at only twenty-five? Likely not!

He put the spyglass back up to his eye to get one more look at Lucien and frowned as the initial shock gave way to confusion. “What the hell is he wearing?”

—-

Molly hadn’t been okay since they met Avantika. The accidental ship acquisition? That was remarkably fucked up, but shitty situations happened. What was the other option? Die? Not get anything out of the experience at all? Evidently, the same logic applied to getting into bed with pirates (literally in Fjord’s case) and exploring cults and sneaky sea snakes via firsthand experience, but Molly felt worse about that shit than he did the other.

Or maybe it was just that he hated Avantika.

He really, really hated Avantika.

She had looked at him like she recognized him, but had asked for his name before making an assumption. She always seemed to be watching him with her lips curled too knowingly, like she anticipated his movements before he made them. Sometimes she asked him pointed questions and stared through him like she knew he was feeding her lies.

And then, before they made their way into Darktow, she had leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I hope your brother is excited to see you alive.”

That was it. No explanation. A clear threat, too, if he ever heard one. It was all the clarity the Nein needed to realize that they needed to deal with her before it was too late and they ceased to be useful to her. The brother thing had derailed them a bit, but at Molly’s pleading, they had dropped it for the moment. There were bigger things than that out there.

Now they were docking in Darktow, schemes building in their heads as they made their way down the gangplank and towards a pub they could talk in, and all the while, Molly hung back in misery, head reeling.

A brother. Lucien had a brother.

He didn’t know how to approach this and he was so consumed by trying to figure out a plan of action that he bumped right into Caleb’s back when the wizard stopped on the docks and he kept walking, unaware of what had caused the hold-up.

“Easy, Mollymauk,” Caleb whispered, catching by the shoulder before he could even look up properly. Once he did, he understood why Caleb felt the urge to hold him steady. Had he not, Molly might have ran back to the The Mistake and never returned.

They were about to pass a docked ship with King’s Folly emblazoned across her side in deep purple cursive lettering, but had been stopped by the sight of a figure at the top of the gangplank, currently strolling down it at a lackadaisical pace. His hair was shorter, his tattoos a little less garish and pronounced, and his clothing darker, but there was no denying the rest of him was Molly’s exact duplicate.

Not just a brother- a twin.

The Nein didn’t know whether to push in closer to Molly or part so the doppelganger could get through, so Molly met them halfway and pushed through himself. He saw no other way around it- this was happening. He had to embrace it, even with the ache in his stomach and the fear in his heart.

They met in the middle. The new tiefling looked him up and down, appraisingly. “You look… different, Lucien.”

Molly opened his mouth to give an answer to that, but all that came out was a wheeze as Lucien’s brother drove a fist into his stomach and doubled him over. “That’s for fakin’ your death, you shithead.”

“Right,” Molly choked, one hand clutched his stomach, while the other raised upwards to signal for the Nein to stand down. “I deserved that.”

Just as he was processing the attack, he was suddenly yanked into a hug. A nicer alternative to be sure, but one that hurt just as much. “And this is just ‘cause I actually missed you.”

There was something unnervingly comforting about the hug, and maybe Molly was a bit too quick to assume the root cause was that everything was fucked up and he longed for easy affection to soothe the ache left behind by the hassle the last several weeks had been. He returned the embrace, not giving a bit of thought to whether or not Lucien would. It seemed the right thing to do and, much like Cree, Lucien’s brother tensed a bit at it, but then relaxed.

And then he pushed him away with a bit of force, desperate to reclaim his dignity or something like it, more than likely. Molly had lived for two years with the Knot sisters. He knew how twins behaved enough to probably fake it, and he was going to need to fake it. Cree was one person. This was a twin who just so happened to be a fucking pirate with an entire crew and all of Darktow at his back. Fucking up here could cost him and everyone else a lot.

Right. No pressure.

“So this is the lot you’re runnin’ with now?” It hit Molly then that he didn’t know this asshole’s name, and had no way of properly introducing him. “And you’re all with Avantika, no less.”

Molly gave Fjord a panicked look over his shoulder, hoping for him to save him. Like a true captain, he stepped forwards. “With Avantika implies there’s more to it than it is…” He trailed off, waving his hand to indicate that perhaps an introduction was in order.

(Fjord was officially his new hero.)

The twin took the bait. “Kingsley. Captain Kingsley the Cutthroat, at your service.” He swept into a grand bow. “Not surprised Lucien didn’t drop my name, given how things ended between us.”

“Right. The ritual. And the book. And the lady from the Capitol.” Beau drawled out the list, squinting suspiciously to see if any of that rang a bell to Kingsley, while Molly gave her a hard whack on the leg with his tail to hush her up. (She glowered, but the damage had been done, and now it was out there in the open. No whap in the leg would change that except make Molly feel better.)

Kingsley’s expression fell briefly, only for him to yank himself right back into cheerfulness as if it had never happened. “So you all know about that. Well. Good to know he’s developed a sense of communication in his second lease on life. You look a lot more colorful and less bleak and sulky than the ‘Takers, anyway.” He reached over and pinched the fabric of Molly’s coat. “And what is this? You look like six temples worth of iconography vomited all over your coat.”

Molly tugged his sleeve free, a sudden instinct overwhelming him that he couldn’t name. “Oh you’re one to talk. What’s wrong with your hair?” He reached over and tried to ruffle the longer hair on top, and Kingsley recoiled.

“Oh you decided to grow yours out and now you think you can have an opinion on mine now, is that it?” Kingsley stuck his forked tongue out. “You look like a walking jewelry rack. Since when did you get to be so impractical?”

Not having anything to say that wouldn’t probably give the game up, Molly froze, the easy banter dying away, which allowed the rest of the Nein to swoop in and steer the conversation. “Perhaps we could catch up at a tavern of some kind?” Caleb offered. “I am sure there is a great deal that ought to be discussed.”

“Like how you got mixed up with Avantika?” Kingsley chewed on the inside of his cheek. “You end up with the most fucked up people, Lucien.”

“I really, really do,” Molly nodded, dumbly.

“It was a bit of an accident. That happens to us a lot, it seems,” Caleb continued, pushing himself out of the comfort of the crowd to stand at Molly’s shoulder. His heart gave a little leap at the gesture, but he kept his eyes forward, less Kingsley take note of it. If Lucien was as awful as he was implied to be, then what sort of person was a brother who called himself the Cuttthroat and captained a Revelry ship? He didn’t want any of the Nein dragged into the unknown riptide that Kingsley represented, least of all Caleb.

Kingsley chuckled. “Now that sounds like a story.” He glanced over his shoulder to his ship, where Molly finally clocked a cougar-like tabaxi and, shockingly, a drow watching them all. “Oi. Watch the ship. While I’m gone, Page-Turner’s in charge.”

“Like fuck he is!” The tabaxi snapped, while the drow did a little fistpump.

“At long last. Recognition,” he drawled, only to get punched in the arm.

“Recognize my fist in your face, Kingston.”

“They’ll be at it the whole time I’m gone. No one will go near the ship,” Kingsley preened, gesturing the Nein forwards towards the island, proper, for what little it resembled an island with its towering cliffs and strange shape. “And it’s good for them to get it all out.”

Molly chewed the inside of his cheek. He could see shades of himself in Kingsley and he wondered just how much of himself was based on Lucien or if Lucien had been nothing like his twin and Molly somehow ended up accidentally resembling him. It wasn’t a productive series of thoughts, so he swallowed it down and just kept walking.

“The Plank King’s gonna want to meet with you since you came in with Avantika, so he can lay down the ground rules,” Kingsley explained. “He’s a real charmer. You’ll love ‘em.”

“Avantika mentioned that…” Beau drawled. “So we probably shouldn’t, uh keep ‘em waiting.”

Everyone wanted out of this situation as much as Molly did- well, clearly not everyone, as Nott had moved to the head of the pack and was trying to engage Kingsley. “So you’re Lucien’s twin, huh? Must be nice to see him again. Maybe you could tell us some things about him. He’s sooo secretive.”

Molly took his foot and gently nudged Nott behind him. “Ignore her. She’s… She likes to stir the pot.”

Kingsley just barked a laugh. “So they know about your creepy cult shite, but not anything else? That’s classic you, Lucy.”

“Lucy,” Beau choked.

Molly didn’t react to the nickname, finding it perfectly acceptable. “That seemed important for them to know. Everything else was need to know.”

“Uh-huh.” Kingsley eyed him up, and for a brief moment Molly was terrified he’d said the wrong thing, but Kingsley just shrugged it off. “Well, if you need to know any embarrassing stories about Lucien as a kid, I’ve got all sorts.”

“Oh please don’t.” While Molly could stand to humble the bastard, he didn’t want to give him that much power. He feared for his own identity and any trace of Lucien might try to overwhelm him.

Kingsley led them away from the docks and to the first tavern that promised the kind of atmosphere the Nein required. It was crowded enough that he was certain they could slip away and find someplace private and away from Kingsley, but as soon as Molly began to form the plan, the entire tavern suddenly zeroed in on them.

“Am I seein’ double?” A human woman with a hook for a hand and wild, unruly black hair barked out, nudging one of her compatriots- a dwarf with a nose that seemed permanently ruddy.

“Looks like the Cutthroat's got a shadow!”

Soon the whole tavern was buzzing like a hive of eager insects, all of them curious about the group who came in with Avantika but had connections to Kingsley. There was no safe place to stand that wouldn’t get him cornered by someone eager to press him, and so Molly was forced to huddle between Caleb and Fjord and try to make himself smaller while Kingsley ran to get them drinks.

Beau slipped away sometime during the first run of questions and desperation for information about the infamous and supposedly very dead Lucien and came back before the drinks arrived. “Guess Kingsley and Avantika have got some beef. Everyone’s smellin’ blood in the water.”

“Avantika only cares about you-know-who,” Molly snapped, feeling snide and petulant. Beau took his attitude in stride and just moved on.

“Yeah, well they think it’s a power play to fuck with Kingsley. Maybe we can use this to our advantage.”

Molly shook his head. “We can’t overcomplicate this. Too many moving parts and it’ll all go tits up.” He glanced sideways- Kingsley was leaning on the bar, chatting up the bartender, his tail flicking idly. “But we can’t just blow him off either. It’ll just make a bigger problem. He’s not like Cree- he’s not gonna listen to what I have to say. He’ll just… stalk us or cause a problem on purpose.”

“So if we can’t clue him in on the plan and we can’t ditch him, then what’re you suggesting?” Fjord lowered his voice.

Kingsley began making his way over, arms laden with drinks. He looked so happy. Happier than even Cree had, which was saying something. The last thing he wanted to do was indulge this, but looking at the situation they were in, there was no getting around it. Kingsley knew everyone and Molly was clever enough to figure out how things worked in a place like this. If something went wrong here, then the entire island would be against them. “Sibling bonding?”

—-

Their time at the Bloated Cup was, mercifully, cut short by Avantika swanning in, exchanging nasty barbs with Kingsley and then collecting the Nein to bring them to the Plank King. All told, Molly would have preferred to keep the Plank King’s company over more time with Lucien’s twin, but that wasn’t an option, so he just let the fly-eaten, rotting heads outside the Plank King’s throne room be a firm reminder of what the cost of failure here was and moved forwards.

They had time to work out their plan of action in the interim period before Molly had agreed to meet Kingsley again and spend a night on the town with him alone. Everyone had something they were meant to be doing to ensure everything went smoothly, but only Fjord and Molly had tasks that would leave them alone and vulnerable.

Fjord, at least, had the benefit of having successfully conned Avantika before. Molly had no such assurances, and the longer he was around Kingsley, the more he knew nothing he said would stand up under scrutiny, but he had to try anyway. If worse came to worst, he fully intended to play up the amnesia angle.

“I don’t know if I like you going alone with him,” Caleb murmured as he twisted the silver thread between his fingers. He couldn’t go into his bedtime ritual right now with so many people scattered to the winds, but tucked safely in the room he intended to share with Nott, he was drawn to the habitual, apparently.

Sitting on the bed, Molly had a hard time not watching every move he made. The distraction wasn’t much of a balm- if anything, it stung on contact with the raw wound that was this situation. “I know I don’t, but it wouldn’t make any sense for anyone else to be with me. This isn’t an old friend- this is a sibling.” He worked his tongue over his back molars, anxiously. “I’ve got plenty against me already.”

Caleb exhaled and bridged the gap between them. “Just be careful, ja? Try not to be noble about this.”

That got a snort out of him. “Are you worried about me, Mr. Caleb?” He dared to flutter his eyelashes and Caleb’s response was a gentle slap on the cheek.

“Don’t be cute,” he murmured with a mischief in his eyes that truly made Molly hope that they all lived through this night. He wanted to see that look again when he might be able to do something about it.

----

Darktow was hardly a beautiful island- all volcanic rock and buildings that were meant for substance and not style- but at night, it felt as if the shadows clinging to the dark rocks had taken on a life of their own and Molly stepped lightly to stay in the lamplight at all times, lest whatever made the darkness home snake out and drag him into it. Even the moonlight felt distant and far away- Catha was waning and Ruidus’s bright red glow cast an eerie shade over everything to compensate.

Kingsley had a place he preferred over the Bloated Cup farther up the jagged, toothy island, and every bit of danger sense Molly had cultivated told him that this could easily be an ambush or a trap, but better he face it alone than anyone else get mixed up in Lucien’s bullshit. He’d sworn he’d protect the Nein from that and he kept his vows.

He just… also swore to protect himself from it. Unfortunately, a vow to oneself is more easily broken than a vow to others.

He had his hood pulled over his head, realizing that the nightlife of Darktow was extremely lively and not wanting to be stopped either from being mistaken for Kingsley or by people who had heard his brother was on the island. People looked at him oddly, still, but it was with the scrutiny of deeply paranoid people observing something new and far too garish in their familiar surroundings, and they went back to their business as soon as he passed.

It felt like hours of winding through the toothy maw of the Darktow streets before he found the Siren’s Lament, a large three-story brothel that stood out like a sore thumb among the rest of the sea-weathered shacks and buildings scattered about. Someone put a lot of care to make this place draw the eye from the coral-colored paint job that must have been painstakingly reapplied to keep it from weathering to the thousands of cracked seashells pressed into the stone path that led up to the massive doors. There was likely magic involved here.

Molly wished he wasn’t so fucking nervous- he’d have appreciated the aesthetics of this place a lot more if he wasn’t.

He stepped through the doors and removed his hood, breathing in the smell of wine and opium and, despite himself, he relaxed a bit. A hedonist’s den- he thrived in places like this, and it would be a lot easier to maintain his con if Kingsley were drunk or stoned.

Someone tapped his shoulder and when he turned he found himself staring up at a statuesque woman with pale skin and almond eyes, dressed in what might have been considered armor if the only thing she was meant to be protecting were her unmentionables. A pair of feathery black wings with dark blue undersides sprouted from her back and mantled a bit as she looked him over.

“You must be Kingsley’s brother,” she said with an unplaceable accent. “His booth is in the corner.” She pointed a long finger in the direction of the private booths where Molly could see a flash of horn and lavender skin whenever the crowds parted just a bit.

Molly nodded and started to move in that direction, but the woman caught him by the shoulder and yanked him flush against her chest. He went rigid in surprise and then relaxed again, his tail curling around his ankle to keep from lashing about.

“If you need anything at all,” she purred in his ear, “Just ask for Katja.”

“Katja. Got it.” Molly swallowed through a mouth that was suddenly too dry and slipped his charm back into place. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Katja chuckled and pinched his cheek a little too hard. “You are just like him. So cute.”

She slipped into the crowd, leaving Molly’s cheek stinging from the intensity of her pinch and his emotional wherewithal shaken. He didnt want to be like Kingsley. He didn’t want anything that tied him to Lucien’s family. He was Mollymauk Tealeaf. To be connected to anything but what he chose to be connected to felt like admitting that his identity wasn’t as much his own as he thought.

For a brief moment, he considered running, but Katja was standing near the door and would most definitely see him, and that was only the beginning of the problems bolting might cause. Swallowing his fear, he began to weave through the crowd with feigned confidence, heading for the indicated booth.

Kingsley had his boots up on the table and a pipe in his mouth. Whatever he was smoking smelled sweet, borderline divine, and Molly had to resist the urge to ask for some immediately. It would be better if he paced himself and smoked and drank out of politeness. If he got shitfaced, then he might fuck this all up.

“I see you met Katja.” Kingsley removed his feet from the table and leaned over, prodding Molly in the cheek where a bruise must be blossoming because the gentle poke hurt enough that instinct took over and he slapped Kingsley’s hand away.

“She’s a treat,” Molly retorted.

Kingsley just laughed and sank back against the worn cushions of the booth. “She’s an erinyes. You don’t usually see them mingling on the Material Plane, but she got into some shit with Zariel, herself, and a hundred years ago, the Plank King gave her sanctuary and let her build this place.” He blew smoke rings over his head. “She sets off my blood something awful, but we left the Orders so we didn’t have to listen to what they taught us, didn’t we?”

The Orders. Cree had mentioned something like that. Molly dug his fingers into the woodgrain of the table and longed for a hit off that pipe to steady his nerves. “We did, indeed.”

There was a few seconds of awkward silence that Molly hoped to the Moonweaver was perfectly acceptable for two siblings who hadn’t seen each other in ages, one of which was presumed dead. He had no idea what to say and he was hoping Kingsley would take the lead and Lucien being quiet and generally unwilling to contribute was in-character. When it felt like this situation was becoming unbearable, Kingsley finally slumped forward, tapping the dregs of his pipe out onto the table, idly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?” The absolute loss in his voice threatened to undo Molly. He’d been considering Kingsley an obstacle, a threat to his personhood, but, much like Cree, he was just someone who lost a person close to him that Molly could not and would not be.

The urge to tell him the truth hit him like a bolt to the chest, and he pushed it down. The truth was dangerous and it only cut and left people to bleed. It wouldn’t serve him here.

Molly sucked in a breath. “Things went really wrong.”

“Oh, well no shit,” Kingsley responded, mockingly.

Having never had siblings, Molly wasn’t sure if the urge to slap him was normal or just his own frustration at the mounting complications begging for an outlet. “Really, really wrong. I haven’t even been in contact with Cree. I met her by accident, but I told her not to say anything. Things are… they’ve been rough for the past couple of years. I’ve been trying to figure things out.”

“By runnin’ with Avantika? That’s not exactly an improvement over the last.” Kingsley breathed in deeply and exhaled through his nose. “Are you part of her cult now ‘cause your old one fell through?”

Molly tensed. He was in danger of snapping his nails against the table. “No. She’s a means to an end. One of my… current group has a thing going on with her. And it’s not going to matter soon.”

Kingsley hemmed and hawed over that sentence for an agonizing few moments and Molly realized he’d said too much long before he leaned over conspiratorially. “Maybe we should take this upstairs, brother. There’s no love lost between me and Red, after all. I might be able to help.”

The panic rose like bile, clenching his heart. He wondered what the likelihood of getting out of this by faking sick would be. His eyes darted around, and, seeing the amount of people observing their table with interest, decided that wasn’t going to fly. Kingsley had the advantage here- everyone knew him, and even if Kingsley couldn’t see through the lie, someone else might.

Trying to argue for staying down here among the crowds held a similar argument. Alone was dangerous, but Molly had a better chance of taking Kingsley one on one if it came to that. Maybe it wouldn’t. He wasn’t doing so bad at this, really.

“I don’t know that there’s really that much to say, but… sure.” He pushed himself up and Kingsley followed suit, taking the lead towards the stairs. He gestured and someone nearby threw him a set of keys.

(Molly glared at his back. He didn’t have any reason to be such a fucking show-off. Who was he trying to impress?

Oh. Right. His stupid brother, apparently.)

The second floor was just as lavishly decorated as the ground floor and it was mostly just a dozen rooms that wrapped around the staircase that came up straight into the middle of the floor. The walls were the same bright coral color of the outside of the building and exotic plants were spaced between each door. Kingsley tossed the keys up and down, whistling to himself, as he sauntered to a door on the far left and unlocked it, like he didn’t have a care in the godsdamned world- well at least one of them didn’t. When he was waved inside, Molly obeyed even if his instincts screamed not to put his back to someone he didn’t know well enough to even pretend to trust.

It was fine. He would make up some shit about Avantika and maybe Kingsley would realize that getting away from Darktow and onto the next thing was more important than a family reunion. If he could just wave him off like he did Cree, the chances of him seeing him again were definitely in his favor.

Just breathe, Mollymauk. You’ve got this.

The room was lit by low candlelight, likely meant for creatures with darkvision. Molly blinked a few times to adjust his sight and noted the rungs on the bed and the table of riding crops, chains, scarves, clamps, spreaders, and just about everything else for use in extremely kinky encounters.

“The hell, King-” he started to say before there was a whip crack in the air and something entangled around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He had long enough to process this was a whip around him before he was yanked back and into the wall so hard that he bounced off and hit the ground, still impossibly tied up and unable to get free. The door was kicked shut, darkening the room farther and when Molly pulled his face out of the carpet, there was Kingsley, holding the other end of the whip, his eyes narrowed.

“I know it’s not a disguise spell. Those don’t bruise.” He poked at the bruise on his cheek with the toe of his boot and Molly flinched away from it. So Katja had been a test. Fuck. He was so stupid. He knew what could happen here and he went anyway.

Because, again, better him, than anyone else. Being right had disadvantages out the arse.

“But you’re not my brother. I shared a womb with that arsehole,” Kingsley snarled, planting a foot on Molly’s back and pinning him down even more. “I’d like to think I’m a lot more clever than you’ve been givin’ me credit for.”

Molly just groaned and pressed his face into the carpet. “This is so complicated. You’re not going to believe me.”

“You keep sayin’ that,” Kingsley scoffed. “Believe what? Are you a doppelganger?” He pushed Molly over onto his back. Winding him up even more into the whip like a fucking yo-yo. “No… You can’t be. A fucking doppelganger wouldn’t make Lucien all doodled up like that. What would be the point?”

“I’m not a doppelganger, but you’re right. I’m not Lucien.” He hissed between his teeth. “What gave me away?”

Kingsley kneeled in front of him and pressed the tip of a finger into his nose. “Lucien has never gone a day without going absolutely batfuck insane over me callin’ him ‘Lucy’ and you didn’t even flinch.”

“Of course.” He thunked his head against the floor. “So what’re you gonna do? Torture me with sex toys? Is that the sort of relationship you two had?”

Kingsley responded by planting his hand in Molly’s face to shut him up. “This is just the room I always go to, but you’ve got to admit it’s kind of intimidating.” It took a moment, but he finally removed his hand and dropped down onto his ass on the carpet. “Right, so… Who exactly are you? Identical stranger? Not likely. That only happens in stories.”

“It’s kinda true?” Molly wiggled in the whip’s hold. “Maybe you can get this off of me?”

“Not until I get an answer I like.”

Realizing that there was no negotiation to be had here, Molly sighed. “I’m… Two years ago, I woke up in a grave near Shadycreek Run. I didn’t have any memories. I had no idea who I was or why I was like that, and I was picked up by a circus. None of Lucien’s shite means anything to me. I’m Mollymauk Tealeaf.” The longer he talked, the more Kingsley’s face began to sink into despair- he believed him, but at what cost? His voice softened, “I’m truly sorry about your brother.”

That was a lie- Lucien got what was coming to him, probably, but Nott had been right, for a certain degree of the term. Lucien did have loved ones. People who would miss him if he was gone for good. And here he was, a physical reminder of a person who was dead and not coming back. A walking pinch of salt to dig into old wounds.

Kingsley dropped the whip and Molly was finally able to wiggle himself free, while he kneaded the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck. Fuck. I told him not to trust that uppity Empire cunt, but he wouldn’t listen. He always thinks he knows best.”

“He sounds like a real arsehole, if I’m honest.” Molly kicked the whip away and pulled himself into a seated position in front of Kingsley, who just looked miserable as his hands fell down onto his lap. He wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

“He was my brother. We were all we had until he got obsessed with that fuckin’ book.”

A chill went down Molly’s spine. Too much Lucien-based information always threatened to break him out in hives, but some press of an urge to need to know the danger always kept him asking anyway. “Yeah… Cree mentioned that. There was a ritual?”

There was no answer to that, only a snort. “You must have really convinced Cree. She hates my guts right now, but she would have warned me if she thought you were a fake.”

Molly didn’t want to examine the implications of that too closely. “Why does she hate you?”

A long silence dragged on between them. Kingsley raked his fingers through the carpet. “I blamed her for letting him get killed.”

“...Yeah, that might do it,” he winced.

“They just didn’t listen. They all were obsessed with this Nonagon shite and I had to walk away. I couldn’t watch him get himself killed or… or worse.” Molly almost asked what worse was, and he was spared the draw of his impulsive curiosity by Kingsley finally looking up and eyeing him. “Mollymauk Tealeaf, you said? That’s a terrible name.”

Molly made an indignant noise. “Oi! It’s a fine name. You’re a sailor- you ought to like seabirds.”

“I wouldn’t name myself after one.” Kingsley rolled his eyes. “I like Tealeaf though. Hm. Kingsley Tealeaf? That’s got a nice ring to it.”

At that, Molly balked. “What?”

Kingsley flicked his wrist. “Lucien and I didn’t have any parents, so we never did the whole surname thing. I’ve always been sorta annoyed by that. I could be a Tealeaf, though.”

Molly still wasn’t wholly processing the situation. “So after all this… You’re just going to-”

“Claim you as family?” Kingsley intercepted the sentence before Molly could finish. “Why not? You’re not a monster out to kill me. You seem to really hate Avantika- I don’t think that part was shite. I just assumed you were trying to frame me for it. Why not keep you?”

None of it was making any sense. Molly dragged a hand down his face. “Because I’m not your brother. I’m someone else. Someone you don’t even know.”

“Yet.” Kingsley pushed himself to his feet and went to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be honest with you. Feathers…. This is probably at least mostly selfish. I do miss havin’ a twin brother. And there at the end…” He breathed a long sigh. “Let’s just say… Lucien was not my brother anymore. He was… I don’t know what. I hoped I could get him back and then I hoped Cree could, but it didn’t happen, and he died, and I thought he was gone for good and I was just going to be alone. You might not be Lucien, but you’re still my brother.”

Still on the floor, Molly felt his heart clench again for an entirely new reason. Loneliness was one of his worst fears. He could think of nothing else that he’d hate more than being alone. But at the same time…. “Kingsley, I can’t stay here. Those people I’m with- they’re important to me.”

The hope left Kingsley’s eyes and then flickered back to life again just as quickly, like a candle caught by the wind that somehow survives to pull itself back together. “...I can work with that. We’ve got the night, don’t we?” He patted the bed. “Sit a spell. Let’s get to know each other.”

How could he say no to such an invitation? (Easily, but it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. How often would he ever meet a person who knew Lucien who would accept him as is? As a wholly unique person and still love him anyway, despite not even knowing him.) He’d never wanted a sibling or a blood family. He made up plenty in his head, but they weren’t necessary.

Now that he had one freely offering to be the brother from the childhood he never had, he could see some of the appeal. Swallowing down the last of his apprehension, he went and sat down on the bed next to him. “Dunno if I’ll be anything like what you’re expecting, but… We can try this out.”

Kingsley slapped him on the back. “Are you kidding? I’m finally the older brother. This is gonna be great.”

—-

They talked for most of the night. Kingsley, at Molly’s request, shied away from stories about Lucien, but he was happy to talk about himself. He was certain that as many tales of his exploits were as embellished as Molly’s own, but that made their connection even more clear. Molly might not be Lucien, nor did he want to be, but Kingsley was his brother. Blood ran deeper than the soul, and this was better net gain from a previous existence than some stupid blood powers.

By the time the dawn came, they had collapsed in a curled heap on the bed, still dressed and snoring. The only reason Molly woke up at all was because of Jester in his head, speaking in a panicked tone. “Molly, where are you? We really really fucked up and we have to go now! Are you alive? Meet us at the docks. Please answer.”

Exactly twenty-five words. She must be freaked out. Molly leapt out of the bed so quickly that Kingsley jerked awake. “Jester, I’m alive. I’ll be down there as soon as I can. What happened?”

Jester Sent back, ”It’s real fucked up. I’ll tell you later. ALSO GET HERE FASTER THAN YOU CAN. Please, please, please.”

“Okay. I’ll… figure something out.” Fuck. What did they do?

Kingsley rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “‘S goin’ on?”

Molly grabbed for his bag. “Oh, nothing big. Just my arsehole friends really stepped in it, apparently. I need to get to the docks.”

“Quickly, apparently.” Kingsley’s disappointment made Molly’s tail droop between his legs, but he perked up a bit- pulled himself up by his emotional bootstraps, more like. “Right, well, fortunately for you, your big brother knows his way around all the secret passageways.”

“You can’t just say you’re the older one. We’re twins, aren’t we?” Molly narrowed his eyes and got a noogie for his troubles as soon as his newfound brother leapt from the bed.

“Nope! You said it yourself. You’re two. That makes me the older brother now.”

“Ow! You’re gonna fuck up my jewelery, you arsehole.” He stomped on Kingsley’s instep and he recoiled with a pained laugh.

“Fuck, that hurts and I’m so frustrated that I actually missed that.” He swatted him on the arm. “Come on. The secret tunnels await.”

“I do love a good secret tunnel,” Molly muttered.

Kingsley flashed his fangs. “And I love imparting wisdom to my baby brother.”

Molly’s sigh was long and aggrieved. “I’m going to kill you. I changed my mind. This was entirely an attempt to assassinate you. You’ve fallen right into my trap.”

They kept walking downstairs, their banter continuing with no pause, beyond Kingsley stopping to say hello to the early birds lurking the Siren’s Lament. “No take-backs. We have the same last name now.”

“Is that how this works?” Molly cocked his head. “That explains so much about marriage.” Off that, Kingsley stuck his tongue out and Molly pinched it between his fingers, causing him to recoil again.

It was enough to make him forget the Nein were in trouble, but the second they were outside, the fear came back in waves. The streets were full of whispering people, talking about the Plank King passing judgment on interlopers and something about Avantika being executed.

Kingsley and Molly froze at the same time, taking all of this in. Without wasting further time, Kingsley grabbed Molly by the wrist and began to haul ass towards one of the tunnels, while Molly hoped and prayed that this wasn’t something he had lied about to seem more spectacular.

They left the well worn cobblestones and ducked into a gap in the volcanic rock wall where an alley dropped into a dead end. It was a horrifyingly tight squeeze and Molly had to tamp down on his panic. Tight spaces always reminded him of waking up in the dirt, a barely remembered trauma, but one that shot to the forefront of his mind each and every time he felt closed in.

The gap opened up a few feet inwards, narrow still, but with enough room to walk in single-file straight through. The anxiety he felt for the Nein and the discomfort of traveling through a still too tight space made him desperate to fill the silence and lacking anything else to say, he fell back on teasing Kingsley. “So you didn’t lie about everything?”

Kingsley saluted him with his middle finger. “Fuck you, you arsehole. I only lied about some of it. How much did you lie about?”

“Not as much as you might think.”

“The ghost with no feet?” Kingsley’s eyes glowed in the dim light just like his did and he cast them towards him over his shoulder.

“Oh no, that one definitely happened.” Molly preened.

“And the nergaliid? That one has to be fake. There’s no way a Blood Hunter would’ve had a fiend in his camp for two years and never noticed.” The silence that followed Kingsley’s bark of a laugh cut him off abruptly. “...Wait. You really didn’t clock that?”

“No! I didn’t clock that.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And even if I did, why would it matter? I didn’t think he was hurting people at the time.”

“Oh he was definitely hurting people off the clock, Feathers.” Kingsley went quiet for a moment, likely triggered by Molly’s own miserable silence. Somehow this banter turned against him. “Like I said before, Lucien and I- and the rest of the Tombtakers, honestly… We left the Orders because we didn’t necessarily agree with killing everything that didn’t belong. They were too self-righteous for our blood. But some things… They really are monsters and there’s no argument to be said for it. Not everything is like Katja.”

At that, Molly softened. “Are you talking about Kylre or whatever Lucien got involved with?”

“Six of one, half a dozen of another.” Kingsley waved a hand as light began to filter into the cavern and the sound of water and the caw of seabirds suggested a closeness to the docks. “I know you don’t wanna deal with Lucien’s shite and I would much rather you not deal with it either, but…” He stopped at the entrance of the cavern, the light behind him casting an eerie glow around him while throwing him into near-complete shadow with only his red eyes visible. “Be wary of anything with nine eyes.”

Molly had barely any time to process that before Kingsley turned back around, and led him towards the docks where The Mistake waited. The Nein, however, seemed to be tracking his approach from the Squalleater’s deck, instead.

“Huh. Looks like they got Avantika killed and claimed her ship as theirs. Your friends are wild.” Kingsley nudged Molly’s shoulder and, just like that, the heavy conversation they’d just had evaporated like mist. Maybe that was another part of being a sibling- going from heavy topics to lighthearted ones at a moment's notice.

Molly watched as Kingsley shifted from one foot to another and then thrust out his hand. “Don’t be a stranger, Feathers. If you ever need any assistance on the high seas…. Well. You know someone in the Revelry.”

Molly took the hand to shake, but kept a firm hold on it, not willing to let go just yet. “Which is good, because I think we’ve really fucked things up here, if Jester’s message is any indication.”

“Only while this Plank King is in power.” Kingsley winked. He yelped as Molly yanked him into a hug.

“Don’t get yourself killed, Your Highness,” Molly murmured in his ear and he tried not to react to the fact that Kingsley stiffened significantly at the nickname. It was harder not to react to a sudden dampness against his cheek.

Kingsley shoved him back and shook his head, subtly pawing at his face to hide what were probably tears. “Well. Go on, then. Don’t get your shiny new ship sunk.”

Molly hesitated. He had entered this situation wanting to leave it and now he just wanted a little more time. But the Nein were calling him and he had to go.

He’d see Kingsley again. He was sure of it.

---

Kingsley, still blinking back tears, watched Molly make a run for the Squalleater and lingered on the docks so long to watch it sail off that Clothesline and Kingston came down from the King’s Folly to check up on him.

“You okay, Capitan?” Kingston squinted at him. “Your eyes are a little red.”

“For fuck’s sake, his eyes are always red, Kingston.” Clothesline shoved him so hard he nearly fell off the dock, but caught himself on a pole just in time with a war whoop of victory. Neither Clothesline nor Kingsley acknowledged it. “So, uh… How did it go? Was he seriously not Lucien like you said?”

“Nope.” Kingsley popped the ‘p’ on the word. “But he’s still my brother.”

“Like your mom had triplets and she didn’t tell you two about one?” Kingston rejoined the conversation as if he hadn’t been thrown out of it.

“Sure, Page-Turner,” Kingsley patted him on his head, moving to the ship. “Let’s go with that.”

“Shit. That’s good. I’m gonna use that in my next book. I can already see the set-up. Might make a good sequel to Two Witches, One Broo-”

He was cut off by Clothesline clotheslining him. This time he did tumble off the dock and hit the water. “You can come out when you’ve learned to shut your mouth.”

“I love it when you do this to me! It just strengthens our love!” Kingston yelled back, mockingly. From the sounds of it, he was having some difficulty yanking himself out of the water in his sodden leathers. Kingsley would send one of the crew down to get him out. He was the only person on the damn boat with magic. They needed him.

“So, uh, what’re we gonna do next, Cap’n?” Clothesline asked, once they were both at the helm.

Out on the horizon, the Squalleater was barely a blip in the scenery, but the King’s Folly was fast, and Kingsley wasn’t ready to lose a sibling this quickly. “Let’s see what these chaotic bastards get up to next.”

“The ones who started a fight and got Avantika iced?” Clothesline’s ears flicked. “...Cool. I’m down. They seemed like fun.”

Kingsley gave the signal to call the crew on deck and for someone to get Kingston and began the process of setting sail. After so long docked and bored and nursing hangovers, it would be nice to have something new to chase.

Plus the look on Molly’s face when they came up beside his ship was going to be classic.

And if the worry that gripped his heart when Molly used Lucien’s nickname for him on instinct had any part of this, he wasn’t going to speak that out loud.

---

On the Squalleater, after explanations had been given and Molly had gotten his rant out that he’d only left them alone for a night, the party split up to do their individual tasks, while Molly remained on deck, watching Darktow disappear.

Caleb came up on his left and followed his gaze. “Well… That could have gone better, couldn’t it?”

Molly blew out a breath. “Could’ve gone worse.” He eyed him. “Wall of Fire?”

“Seemed a good idea at the time.” For once, Caleb didn’t cow or regret his decision. He seemed quite solid on it. That was good. He was growing. Sure, it wasn’t necessarily the smartest plan, but he had conviction about it. “We could have all had our heads on pikes.”

Molly gripped the railing. If that were to happen, he would probably have been fine. Kingsley would have spoken for him, but the image of all of the Nein’s heads lined up outside the Plank King’s Throne Roost, being feasted on by carrion birds and flies, made his stomach churn. “Don’t. It didn’t happen. We’re not gonna dwell on it.”

“Ja. Right.” Caleb sighed. “I am glad your meeting with Kingsley went well. I know you don’t care about having a past and you prefer to keep your feet in the present, but… Maybe some things are worth holding onto. Especially if they accept you as you are. That is not an easy thing to ask.”

He knew nothing of Caleb’s dark past, just that he had one. That was more than he needed to know. Caleb was a sadsack of a man, but he was a good person, as far as Molly was concerned. A wonderful person to have at his back. And for someone who claimed social awkwardness, he always seemed to know the right thing to say whenever he had to face Lucien’s past and came out of it fretting.

Lacking the words to express that, because his tongue always got entangled where feelings and Caleb were concerned, he just leaned in closer. “Hey, Caleb.”

Caleb blinked and cautiously regarded him. “Was?”

Molly’s grin widened. “I have a brother.”