Chapter Text
Inej Ghafa was on a mission.
It was a mission of secrecy, like most missions were, but not in the usual way.
The Wraith had landed on the coast of Fjerda after months at sea. Inej was giving her crew ample time to rest and resupply while she carried out her own task. It required her to go inland a bit to a very familiar cliff-side fortress, though this time she entered as a guest and not as a criminal.
Nina greeted her with the usual bone-crushing hug and ushered her inside the Ice Court along a series of grand hallways and narrow corridors. The place was regal and sparkling, a stark contrast to the gloomy and menacing prison sector they'd come through three years ago during the heist. And it was certainly different to be walking in leisurely and not sneaking about, pretending to be someone other than herself. In a way, it felt liberating.
They settled in a round room with views that overlooked the bay. If Inej squinted hard enough, she might have been able to make out the Wraith docked somewhere far below. Nina folded herself into a plush armchair and helped herself to tiny almond tarts and krumkake. She slid the tray across the table toward Inej, who was too nervous about what came next to even think about eating anything. Her stomach felt like it was tied up in a tense knot. After catching each other up to speed on their lives and their friends and the most important details, Inej finally brought herself around to the actual reason for her visit. She hated to kill the mood, but she needed answers to a question she'd been keeping inside for years. Nina was the only one she trusted enough to provide them.
“Nina. I need to ask you something.” She started, looking distinctly uncomfortable, but determined. “It's about something a corporalki can do. Well, healers, more specifically.”
“Alright,” Nina said apprehensively, lowing her plate of cake back to the table.
“When I was first brought to the Menagerie, I was told that I needed a type of procedure . Before I... saw any clients.”
“I have heard of things like that,” Nina said slowly. “There are quite a few different types of procedures that are done in the pleasure houses.”
Nina herself had worked out of a pleasure house, after all, and while her line of work wasn't the same as the rest of the girls employed at the House of the White Rose, she knew more than enough about the goings on behind closed doors. The girls all had their own methods when it came to their bodies and keeping certain unwanted issues at bay. Some used corporalki-made tonics. Some used objects. If there were mistakes and a girl ended up with child, it was either the end of her career at the house or a medic could be called in to remove the problem before the girl got too far along, but that procedure was risky. It was better to avoid any mishaps in the first place. As a heartrender, Nina hadn't had the skills to help any of them with their preventative measures. It was a precise science that was easy to botch. She wasn't about to take any chances in that department.
“There was a man...” Inej continued, staring at her lap rather than at Nina, as if that would make talking about it any easier. Her voice grew smaller and smaller as she spoke. “The one who did the procedure. He was grisha. Tante Heleen had some kind of deal with him. She didn't tell me what it was for, just that it would be good for me and that it was necessary if I was going to be employed there. She said it was normal. That all the other girls had the same thing. And I hadn't bled yet at the time. I kept expecting to as I got older. But I'd heard that sometimes it didn't happen if you were in stressful situations or if you were over-active. I'm sure climbing walls and rooftops didn't help. But even now... nothing. That man, the grisha, I mean... I think whatever he did to me was permanent.”
Nina looked horrified.
“I didn't know any better at the time,” Inej explained. “I couldn't have protested even if I'd wanted to. I just let him do it. I didn't know what was happening.”
“There were other ways!” Nina burst out in outrage. “Other ways that aren't permanent! That horrible, evil woman! She had no right!”
“Neither had I,” Inej said quietly. “I didn't have any rights in that place. I wasn't offered a choice. It isn't... something that can be fixed, is it? Can it be reversed?”
“Inej, I'm so sorry,” Nina answered tearfully. “If he did what I think he did... it can't be. Once something is removed from the body, a corporalki can't put it back. I mean, not once whatever was taken is gone. Not if it's something that's happened years ago and the body has adjusted. Heartenders and healers can mend bones and alter blood flow and have an affect on what's already there. But once something is altered in such a way...”
“Of course,” Inej said quickly. “I understand.”
“Were you...” Nina cleared her throat and tried to be as tactful as she could. “Were you thinking of having children?”
“No!” Inej responded hastily, her cheeks coloring slightly at the implication. “No. I can't. I mean, I don't... I have too much to...” She stopped, tongue tied, and attempted to start over. “No. I don't want children. Not now, anyway. It's just... that's not really the point. I only wish it had been my choice to make.”
A strangled-sounding noise escaped Nina's throat and she reached out to pull Inej into a hug.
“You're crushing me,” Inej choked out a few seconds later after Nina's embrace only tightened.
“Sorry.” Nina sniffed, releasing Inej from her smothering grip. She contemplated another awkward question. She didn't want to pry, especially where Kaz was concerned, but... “Has Kaz ever suspected?”
“No,” Inej said awkwardly. “Well, not that I know of. Maybe he has. It's not like he doesn't know the types of things that happen at the brothels. But it's not something he would ever bring up. Not to me.”
Nina nodded. Kaz usually did know everybody's secrets. He had known Wylan couldn't read. Had always known the reason why Nina was so hellbent on getting Matthias free from prison. But the good thing about Kaz was that despite all his snide remarks, he never judged. After all, it would be hypocritical of him to judge a person when he himself was full of his own secrets and faults. It was one of the few things Nina actually appreciated about him.
“Anyway, I can't really picture him as the fatherly type,” Inej said, her mouth quirking.
“You never know,” Nina said with a wink. “People do change. Maybe one day Dirtyhands will give up his life of crime and settle down for a life of domesticity.”
Inej snorted, picturing Kaz tucking a child into bed then retreating to his room to read a novel before retiring for an early night's sleep. The entire concept was laughable. Kaz would allow himself leisure time when the sky turned brown and the grass grew purple. “I doubt that.”
“Well, it may be something you decided you want one day. Having your own child isn't the only way. There are other options.”
“True.”
“Kerch isn't exactly overflowing with orphans, but Ravka certainly is, if that's the way you'd like to go eventually. I even know some people who run a home for children who are very well-cared for. I'd be happy to make introductions.”
“Thank you.”
Nina sighed. “I'm sorry I don't have a better solution for you. I wish I did.”
“It's alright. Thank you for telling me all this. I just... needed to know.”
X X X X X X X X
Inej let herself into Kaz's bedroom at the Slat at half past midnight. She had left her coat on the back of his desk chair, as she always did, to alert him of her presence in the room. It was one of the unspoken codes they kept to. It was still early in the night and she had wanted to be there before he returned after his day's work, just so she could mentally prepare herself for the difficult conversation that was coming.
As she sat cross-legged on the bed, her anxiety only grew. Not only was the topic an awkward one, but what was inferred by her just bringing it up was even more uncomfortable.
She had been sleeping at the Slat for the past two years. It had been a gradual thing, but everything between her and Kaz had always been gradual. It had taken Kaz months of practice to be able to hold her in his arms, but it had taken Inej even longer to feel comfortable enough to lay down in the same bed as him. She trusted him completely, but when the room was dark and she felt him shift on the mattress beside her, her memories would take over before she had a chance to stop them. Kaz would turn into any other faceless man paying to be in her bed and she would turn into a hollow version of herself, resigned to let anything and everything happen to her. In the past, she had vanished the moment a man came close to her. The hardest challenge she had ever faced was remaining Inej Ghafa, her true, vulnerable self, in the same situation.
At first, she could not even turn to look at him. She huddled on her side of the bed, faced toward the wall, trying to control her own shaking. Sleep had been impossible until two consecutive days of trying ended with her passing out only from exhaustion. After that first breakthrough, it had gotten easier. She could reach across the space between them and touch his hand. Slowly, they inched closer. Months later she could press her arm up against his. A year later she could rest her head on his shoulder. Finally, she could allow Kaz to snake an arm around her waist and pull her close. To fall asleep in his arms had felt like a miracle.
And that was where they had drawn the line. At least, for now. To be close was enough. To feel loved and safe without expectation or judgment was a gift that Inej thanked the Saints for every day.
Had their relationship been normal, at least by Kerch standards, they would have formally courted, married, and been well on their way to bringing heirs into the world. But they followed nobody's rules but their own. Children had never been brought up once. Sometimes Inej still felt like a child herself. But sometimes when she saw a mother walking home with a baby on her hip or a father holding the hand of his son as they crossed a bridge... sometimes her mind wondered. She wondered what it might be like. Wondered if her future might one day take an unexpected turn. She wondered if Kaz's thoughts ever mirrored her own or if a life of business and running jobs was all he ever imagined for himself.
It was hours later when she finally heard the familiar uneven gait of Kaz's footsteps climbing the stairs. Her heartbeat ratcheted up a few notches as he let himself in. She could not see him as he entered the room, but she knew his eyes had found her coat immediately and recognized the signal.
“I need to tell you something,” she said as soon as he appeared in the doorway. She would waste no time, lest she lose her nerve.
Kaz glanced at her sharply, sensing the serious note in her voice. But her face was calm, if only a little anxious.
“Alright,” he said slowly, discarding his suit coat in the attached room and tossing it on top of Inej's. She could be just as austere as he could when she wanted and Kaz could tell that this was one of those times. He left any trace of his usual sarcasm behind him as he lowered himself onto the bed beside her.
“It's something I've long suspected, but I just recently had confirmed,” Inej started, hating how rehearsed and formal her words sounded. She'd practiced this speech all evening but every trace of it vanished the moment Kaz sat down. She was thankful the room was dark because her cheeks were already flushed with embarrassment. It wasn't a topic she liked talking about. Not just to Kaz, but to anyone. She knew none of it was her fault. But she felt shame over it all the same. There was no nice way to put it. She was sterile. Infertile. Less of a woman than other women.
The last part wasn't true, of course, but it was still hard not to compare. She stuttered over her words as she forced out the story, recanting with as little detail as possible, saying just as much as she needed to make Kaz understand. She kept her gaze down at her knees, pointedly avoiding his eyes as she spoke, not wanting to see the pity or the anger that she knew was brewing there. She could see his fist clenched tightly out of the corner of her eye as she neared the end.
“I just thought you should know,” she finished awkwardly, her voice fading to a whisper, “that there will always be... something missing. In me.”
Inej hadn't expected Kaz to react instantaneously, but a split second later she found herself pulled into his arms and her face buried in his chest. His response, strangely enough, had been the exact same as Nina's. Her eyes misted over, half from the relief of finally telling him and half from the heavy weight of her own words.
“There's nothing missing,” he contradicted and pulled back just enough to kiss her forehead. “Inej... darling, you could never be anything less than perfect to me. There's nothing missing.”
Inej could hear a slight quiver in his voice.
“You are perfect,” he repeated firmly, pressing another kiss to her temple, “just as you are.”
She couldn't help the tears that finally slid down her cheeks and onto Kaz's shirt.
“Did you think that would matter to me?” He asked.
She shook her head. “No, I didn't think it would. It just... hurts to say it out loud.”
“I'm sorry,” Kaz murmured against her hair. “I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner and take you away so you could have been spared this. Spared from all of it.”
Kaz had nothing to apologize for and they both knew it, but Inej appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
“You're the only one who knows. Well, besides Nina.”
“Nina knows?”
“She's the one I asked about it. As a corporalki. As someone who... worked out of a house on West Stave. She would probably know.”
Kaz nodded. He had generally stayed out of business with brothels, unless he was there for information gathering. It had been less to do with morality and more to do with his own comfort levels with bodies. The thought of them had made his skin crawl. He had always hated going into the pleasure houses on West Stave and would send someone else if he could avoid going himself. He never sent Inej there at all, not even when she was just starting out in the Dregs. It had been the smallest kindness he could manage at the time.
“The only thing that matters to me,” Kaz began carefully, “is if you want me to do anything about it.”
Inej sighed into his chest. She knew a response like that would come eventually. Kaz could keep his fury quiet when he needed to, but she always sensed when it was there. “I don't know. What would it solve?”
“It could prevent situations similar to yours.”
“It's not always a bad thing. Some women want the services he could provide. For many different reasons. The only problem is when it's forced upon someone without a choice. And it's not like you can just make a grisha stop being grisha.”
“I could cut off his hands,” he suggested. “See how easy it is for him to provide services after that.”
“ Kaz.”
“I could... coerce him into using his powers more ethically. And figure out how to make his life very difficult if he refuses.”
“It wasn't him, really. He was just the tool. It was all Heleen.”
“Well. At least that one is taken care of.”
“Hm.”
Kaz had taken care of Heleen years ago.
“Do you want children, Inej?” Kaz asked suddenly.
It such such a direct question that she felt startled. They had never talked about this. It was truly uncharted territory that she was sailing through now. She was still only twenty years of age and Kaz twenty-one. It was entirely old enough to be having children by Kerch and Suli standards alike. It fact, it was even a little late to start.
“I don't mean now,” Kaz said, quickly backtracking. “I just mean... ever .”
“I don't know. Do you?”
“I asked you first.”
“I don't not want them. I guess.”
“A confident, direct answer if I've ever heard one,” Kaz responded sarcastically.
“I just... can't see it working. In our line of work.”
They were silent, each considering the instability and complete unsuitability of their own life's work. Raising a child on a ship while hunting slavers or leaving them with Kaz for months at a time to fend for himself. Running back and forth between gambling halls and dragging the child along to midnight stakeouts. Covering the child's eyes when Inej had her knife drawn against someone's jugular while she pressed them for information or while Kaz smashed his crow's head cane into someone's face hard enough to break their cheekbone. On either side was a life of violence that a child should not have to witness.
“It wouldn't work as the way things are right now,” Kaz agreed. “Not with you a world away on the sea and me working jobs across the city every night. I wouldn't wish a childhood of growing up in this area of Ketterdam on anyone. But who knows what might happen in the future. Maybe our lives won't always be this way.”
“That's optimistic of you.”
“I'm just keeping all options on the table.”
Inej was surprised to hear it. If Kaz was even considering a child, raising a child with her one day, then... maybe it really was possible.
“You'd make a far better mother than I'd be as a father.”
“Don't say that,” Inej said with a frown.
“It's true. I'm not a nurturer. I'm not the type to soothe someone when they're crying. I'm usually the reason why they're crying.”
In spite of herself, Inej breathed a laugh. “I can't argue with that. But I think it would be different. Especially if it was your child that was crying. That's what everyone says: it's different when it's your own.”
“Maybe. But there might only be room enough in my heart for one.”
“That isn't true, either.” Maybe she was the only one that Kaz had ever loved in a romantic way, but there was a handful of others who had wormed their way into his heart, whether he was prepared to admit it or not. “Anyway, maybe we can revisit this topic at a later date,” Inej suggested, burrowing into Kaz's shoulder and pulling the blankets up around her chin.
“I'll write it into my book for ten years from now.”
“You don't keep books,” she mumbled drowsily.
“I might start.”
“Hm.”
“...Inej?”
“Yes, love?”
“I want whatever you want. Whatever it is that will make you happy.”
“And I want the same for you. It's not just about me. We're partners , you know. It's not something that can be done unless we both want it.”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
Despite the heaviness of their conversation, Inej fell asleep that night lighter than she had felt in years.