Archive of Our Own

Inej had never owned a house before.

Well, to be fair, she had never lived in one before either.

Growing up, Inej never had felt like she was missing out on something. The Suli were travelers, performers, and were always on the move, so most of them, including her, never understood the concept of staying at one place for a long period of time. Of course, not being allowed to own a piece of land to actually try it also helped.

Her first experiences of being stuck at a place for a long period of time had come later, when she was owned by Heleen and was a prisoner in the Menagerie, followed to being a member of the Dregs. She was allowed to leave the Slat, of course, but her freedom was still limited to a contract that stopped her from fleeing back to her community across the True Sea.

But even then, when she was free to do as she pleased, free to leave the Slat, leave Wylan’s home, leave Ketterdam, with her ship and her crew to travel around the world doing the Saints’ work, there was an uneasy feeling towards it. 

Back in Ravka, the caravan always welcomed her with open arms, almost as if she had never left them. It took a while for that to happen — as much as the Suli always welcomed their own, Inej had become someone different from the girl she used to be, and it took some time for them to understand why she would never fully come back to them. She would always have a place in her parents’ wagon when she visited, always have a part in the life she should’ve led, but the fourteen year old who hadn’t known how the world worked would never come back.

Ketterdam had become her home as well, as disturbing as one would’ve thought it would be, after everything she went through. Wylan and Jesper had made sure she always had a place to stay whenever she was on land, designating a large room in their mansion for her to use and decorate as she pleased. And, of course, there was the Slat, once again.

Her small room had been given away to some other member barely a week after she left the Dregs. It wasn’t anything personal; with Kaz as the new Barrel boss and Pekka Rollins nowhere to be found, the Dregs were on their way to becoming the strongest gang in the city and it wouldn’t be long before people approached him to join the group. They needed the space.

But now she owned a few of Kaz’s drawers, the right side of his bed and a cot for when things got to be too much for one of them.

Even so, she longed for more. 

As Suli, she belonged both nowhere and everywhere. But as Inej Ghafa, she longed for a place to always come back to, a place to call hers . 

Not anymore.

The feeling only grew stronger the longer she thought about it. Whenever she was in Ketterdam, jumping across the rooves, her eyes seemed to look out for some sort of alternative, somewhere. It made her feel guilty, if she was being honest. Kaz, Wylan and Jesper had opened their homes to her, made sure she was comfortable and wanted there, and Inej felt somewhat selfish to want a place for herself.

Inej wished she had someone to talk to about it as well. The boys, as well meaning as they were, would probably get too involved and meddle their way through the entire process. And Kaz, well. Truth be told, there was a part of her that wanted to be able to give him something back as well. Kaz had given her so much already — her knives, her freedom, more than once, her ship, help with her dream, his heart. And even though she was seeking a house for her, it would be for him as well. But keeping all those thoughts, all her insecurities to herself, well. It was those moments that Inej missed Nina the most. 

She had done it anonymously, of course. If Ravka didn’t allow Suli to own land, the Kerch wouldn’t even hear about it, no matter what amount of money she would throw their way. Their god may value profit, but prejudice spoke louder than money most of the time. 

Aside from that, everything was above board. She had bargained, paid upfront and signed everything through a proxy, and then it was done. Inej owned a house.

It was nothing too extravagant, nothing that would draw too much attention or raise questions, in a secure neighborhood not too far from the Barrel, Fifth Harbor, or Wylan’s home. The house seemed as far from a common Kerch residence, at least on the outside. 

Inej had bought it from an elderly Ravkan couple who had decided to spend the rest of their years back in their country, finding Ketterdam’s weather did nothing for their fragile health. They left behind a beautiful two story house, big enough for the both of them, with a large sitting room, two bedrooms and bathrooms, a dining room, a small kitchen with beautiful wooden cabinets and window boxes surrounding the house.

The first time she saw it after the purchase, Inej couldn’t help but imagine what laid ahead of her, having something so permanent in her name. Her parents would have a place to stay, whenever they chose to — they had, in fact, wanted to spend more time with the boy she seemed so determined to come back to. Her mother would surely gift her more of her handmaid quilts and small tokens fit to make the house more homely and bring the beauty of the caravan into the ugliness and practicality only the Kerch could provide. 

Kaz, of course, was the first one to know about it. She had showed up on his window one morning after closing the deal and left a note, asking for him to meet her at the following address in an hour.

His face was stoic when she broke the news, as she expected it would. He had walked through every room with her as she told him the modifications she wanted to do to make the house less Kerch, explained how that didn’t mean she would stop her work, but it was nice to have a place of her own to rest and have more privacy — something she lacked both at the Slat and at the mansion.

Knowing Kaz as well as Inej did, she knew he would take that personally. Logically, Kaz understood her decision wasn't personal, or even calculated to take a step back from them, as if she was leaving him in a different way, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt his feelings. He had made space for her, given her a safe place to stay and did what she had asked for: showed her no armor.

But she hoped he’d understand how she was willing to do the same when she opened the bedroom door and called it theirs.

***

Kaz never stayed. He never brought anything but a change of clothes. Only spent the night when she specifically asked him to and didn’t come close to the house when she was away at sea. Called it her house.  

He did ask questions, however. How much was the listing price on the house? How much did you bargain for? Did you have it inspected to see about structural damages? Did you further investigate the previous owner's lives? Found any secrets worth hiding? Did you find someone qualified to take a look at the contract before you signed it? Do you still have it? May I look over it? How much are you expected to pay in taxes for owning a property this big? How would you maintain it while you're at sea?

Inej was almost disappointed. Part of her expected Kaz to go full Kerch about the proceedings — of course he’d want to know if she made a smart investment or wasted her money on some dump that would eventually bleed money left and right until she had no other choice but to get rid of it. But the other part, the one farther away from her mind, hoped he’d focus on the gesture itself rather than the logistics behind it.

For a while, Inej wondered if that was a Kerch thing — the uneasiness of a woman owning property, not having that power of the provider over his shoulders, perhaps a bruised ego from being taken care of. She wouldn’t blink an eye at most people in the country who would feel that way, but that wasn’t like Kaz, feeling undermined because of someone’s gender. Feeling undermined because of her.

But in Kerch, even more than in Ravka, the gender norms were more specific. Back in the caravan, living together with another man was unthinkable until marriage, but the sense of community, more often than not, overruled the entire notion of what a man or a woman was supposed to do or how they were supposed to act.

It was hard for her, having him behave that way. In the beginning, when they were still getting to know one another, battling off their demons and fighting for everything they conquered now, holding his hands for a long period of time was almost as intimate as the first time he kissed her, all those years ago. Every toouched conquered was a step further to their future. There was no shame to what they were doing. Finding pleasures in each other’s bodies seemed an intangible action and sometimes, not a thought she’d considered having. But Inej didn’t like that the house seemed merely a place where they would meet and sooner rather than later, he’d leave. 

She’d never dare to compare the feeling building in her chest from the terrible experiences of having men coming and going out of the lynx’s room in search of pleasure to the intimacy she shared with Kaz under her own roof. But every time he left the house in the middle of the night or after dinner to deal with some business or didn’t show up unless explicitly invited, the pain in her heart was almost too much to bear.

Inej wanted to build something more with him, something as permanent as he’d allow himself to have, and the house was a symbol of that. Wouldn’t he want that too?

The question kept troubling her mind for months between her voyages and her stay in the city. At sea, there was so much to distract her from it — there, her job had her utmost undivided attention, from planning and rescuing the people in need to punishing those who seeked pleasure when it was not willingly given to them. Even at nights, when everything was quiet and she could rest, the plans of her next move kept her awake and busy, almost too much for her not to be thinking of him.

But then his letter arrived. His messy scrawl filled an entire page, front and back, with news of the city, updates on his business, answers to her questions and words he fought so hard to be able to say that showed her the boy within the monster Inej always believed existed. Yes, at the age of twenty-four, Kaz was now a man, but to her, he’d always be the boy she fell in love with.

It was in those moments she allowed herself to long for him, to wish to return to his arms and the feeling only he was able to give her. But the question always came back, tormenting her in the back of her head, whispering over and over again. Wouldn’t he want that too?

It was harder when she was in Ketterdam, having his attention directed at her. She knew he knew something was troubling her, but Kaz hadn’t asked. He would, soon enough. It wasn’t like him to leave things unknown or unresolved, especially when it was about her, but he always respected her time to share anything she wanted with him.

But that night, lying in bed together, limbs tangled, his mind seemed as relaxed as the body beneath her. Inej enjoyed watching him in those moments where he could just be without a single worry in the world. It pleased her to no end to see him with his guard down whenever they were together, trusting his safety in her hands just like he’d done so many times before.

No one would dare to touch them there. No one knew about it but, even if they did, there wasn’t a world where she would allow them to touch a single hair on Kaz’s head.

Her eyes studied his face closely as his hands, buried in her hair, massaged her scalp. Looking at him when he was like this was one of her favorite things, and she had never felt more comfortable than when they were connected in more ways than she could name, basking in each other’s warmth.

Nothing would make her happier than if they could stay like this forever, she thought.

And, just like that, the little voice in the back of her head whispered. Wouldn’t he want that too?

And because she was tired of hearing that voice for the past couple of months, of wondering what might be going through Kaz’s head for him to not want to be there with her, his name escaped her lips before she could think too much of it.

He hummed in answer, fingers still gently brushing her hair. She hesitated, biting her lip, unsure what to say next. It wasn’t like there was a question she wanted to ask, at least not one that would elicit a satisfactory answer from him, especially the one that she longed to hear. But it was hard to put into words that feeling building in her chest for such a long time.

Perhaps she was silent long enough, or maybe it was the way she tensed in his arms, but it didn’t take long for Kaz’s coffee eyes to meet hers.

“Inej?”

Inej breathed in, slightly squaring her shoulders as courage seemed to find her.

“Stay,” she asked, voice so small anyone else would have trouble hearing it. But not Kaz. 

He frowned, his hand falling down to her waist, confused. “I wasn’t planning on walking back to the Slat tonight. Unless, of course, you asked me to.”

“No,” she said, clearing her throat, trying to clear away the uneasiness in her voice. It shouldn’t be so hard, she thought for a moment, telling him what she wanted, sharing her feelings with him. It was all she ever asked of him, after all, so why did it seem so hard for her to do the same now? “I mean here. In this house. With me.”

It took a minute before any sort of reaction came out of him. She could see his brain trying to process her words, almost like a puzzle that needed solving. Kaz just stared at her for a moment and it was almost too much, having his eyes on her, looking at her that way.

“You mean live here.”

She nodded. “I know the Slat is where you’ve been since you were a child and you conduct your business there. Not to mention it’s closer to the Crow Club and the Silver Six—”

“I didn’t know that was something you wanted.”

Inej stopped. “What?”

“If I remember correctly, you said you wanted privacy. Far from the noise, far from the Barrel.” Inej nodded, waiting for more, but that seemed to be all Kaz wanted to say, as if that made everything clear. He sighed. “It’s hardly privacy when someone is around, Inej.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, but that wasn’t her intention, at all. Even after everything she’d gone through, Inej didn’t like being alone. Growing up, the concept of privacy was lost on her and her community. She was always surrounded by people, no matter where she was. 

Inej had shared a small living space with her parents and would have continued to do so until she had a family of her own. The performers would share a tent to practice their routines, share equipment and knowledge, because having something of their own didn’t make sense for any of them. The Suli were a small community— why would they choose to keep things to themselves when the others could benefit from their skill or knowledge and guarantee their people’s survival?

Even when she was shipped away to Ketterdam, to the Menagerie, Inej shared a prison with other girls in the same situation. The need of someone else was crucial to their physical survival. How many times had she sewed up a girl’s cut before Tante Heleen could see the injury? How many times had a girl whose name she hadn’t even known sat with her on a particularly bad night and just stayed there, holding her hand? It wasn’t often and it wasn’t a friendship, but being alone in that place was never an option if you wanted to make it out alive. 

In the Slat, she had her own room. She had a lock and a set of belongings that were only hers. She collected her knives that were for her own use and served her own purposes. But, once again, Inej was a part of a community. Once you joined the Dregs, you had a number of people who had your back. Even when she was alone, she wasn’t, and deep down, that gave her the comfort she needed to keep going.

“I didn’t mean that I wanted to be alone in this house. I meant privacy for us, without having to worry about anyone knocking at your door whenever we’re together, listening to us, interrupting us.”

“This is your house, Inej. You made that clear from the start.”

Inej lifted herself onto her elbow to look at him, in disbelief. “I called it ours. Our room, remember?”

Kaz’s brows furrowed, and he shot her a surprised glance. “You also called the attic ours, but you don’t live there.”

“I didn’t live anywhere, Kaz. I never had a house.”

He hesitated for a moment, before nodding. “So you got one.”

“Yes.”

“And now you want me in it as well.”

“Yes.”

For a while he said nothing, and Inej thought that was the end of the conversation. Kaz knew very well how to express his thoughts without saying a single word and if his silence meant keeping on with what they had, well, Inej guessed she knew what she was walking into all those years ago.

Everything Kaz had promised her, he’d stuck to his word. He shed every piece of armor, he had tried to overcome his demons and helped her with hers. Inej didn’t expect him to follow her on every whim just to make her happy, nor wanted him to. As good as they were together, they were still their own people.

“Well,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment at the lack of a reaction. “If that’s all you have to say about it."

“It’s not,” he rasped, finally sitting up next to her, a puzzled look on his face. 

Inej studied him for a moment. “Does that scare you?”

He raised a brow, surprised. “Why would it?”

“Living in this house— it’s different from the life you’ve had so far. It’s a symbol of comfort, of something permanent. Is that something you don’t want or something you’re scared of?”

Her eyes were set on him attentively, trying to find the answer to her question on his face before he could even say it. Sometimes that was easier; sometimes he didn’t even know the truth to answer her questions, but she found it anyway by the way his eyes betrayed his constant need to hide within himself. 

But this time, all she found was a familiar expression in his eyes.

“Are you scheming?”

“I’m trying to make sense of what you want,” he clarified. 

“I already told you what I want. What is so hard to process?”

“You have a house, Inej. As you said, somewhere comfortable, permanent.” She nodded, waiting for more. “That’s not what Ketterdam’s for. That’s not what I’m for.”

Inej blinked, feeling more confused. “What are you saying?”

“Why do you want it?”

It wasn’t the question that stunned her into silence. It was the way he had asked her. Kaz Brekker could be a lot of things: cruel, merciless, manipulating, brutally honest. But if there was something he wasn’t, it was insecure. Even when he was wading into unknown waters within their relationship, Kaz was always so sure of himself and was never afraid to ask the hard questions when need be. 

But Inej also knew he had a tendency to push down his feelings more times than not. Perhaps he had avoided showing her that side of him for a long time, and now she had caught him too off his guard to do anything but show that part of him to her. 

It was interesting, she thought for a second, how he had always made her believe he had the answers to every question one could ask him, especially when it came to her. With a mind like his, she wondered how he could ask such a question, how he didn’t already know what was in her heart. But as she studied his face, watching the furrow between his brow and the uncertainty in his eyes, she remembered that Kaz Brekker, a man with a mind and reputation larger than life, was still only an inexperienced boy, still trying to figure out how to be with someone else.

Ironically, she mused, Inej could say the same about herself. Her insecurities had done the exact same thing, stopping her from seeing what he wanted and, instead, projecting her worst fears onto him without even asking.

“I want it,” she cupped his cheek in her hands and his eyes closed immediately, as they usually did when she touched his face, and he sighed into her warmth. “Because it’s easier to build a home if it’s the two of us together. Is that something you’d want?”

It only lasted a moment, before his eyes were on hers again. “I want whatever makes you happy.”

“No,” she said, firmly. “That’s not how this works and you know it. What I want might be not what you want and I need to know that. I don’t want either of us making choices without a second thought just because the other wants something. I’ll ask you again, Kaz. Is that something you’d want?”

He worked his jaw for a moment. Even though he wouldn’t look at her, Inej could read his face even in the dark of the room. He knew the answer to her question, but it seemed he was fighting a battle with himself to be able to say it out loud. “I do want it. For as long as you’ll have me.”

She blinked at the answer. “What does that mean?” Kaz’s jaw clenched again, but Inej couldn’t handle another long stretch of silence while he carefully chose what he wanted to reveal. Her mind, however, seemed to get there faster than him, so all she said was, “you don’t think we’ll last.”

“I’m not an optimistic person, Inej. I play by the odds and I’m not Jesper. More often than not, I’m right.”

“Kaz—”

“Better terrible truths than kind lies, remember?”

“But why? You are so sure about everything you’re interested in. Why aren’t you with us?” she coaxed, as gently as she could without letting her frustration at that entire conversation overcome her.

“There’s no happiness in the Barrel. You know that more than anyone. So why would it be different with us?”

“Because it’s us. ”

“Exactly. It’s us. The life we lead is not meant for happy endings, because that doesn't exist. You seek your enemies at sea, and I, in Ketterdam. No matter how we play it, the future is uncertain, at best. There’s no need to keep fooling ourselves with a life we cannot have.”

Inej stayed silent for a while, contemplating his words. It broke her heart that he had such little faith in what they had, especially after everything they went through together. Deep down, she knew he was right. How many girls had died in the Menagerie? How many gang members were shot in the head while they were asleep? How many had she killed before they even had the chance to live?

The world wasn’t kind, especially to those like Inej and Kaz. They had to work harder, fight harder, and want more than anyone else to live the life they chose to, but even then, that wasn’t enough. Still, no matter how logic screamed in her face about all this, Inej didn’t want it or him to be right about this, about them.

Some might call it naivety, that sort of thinking, but that was not it. It was faith. Inej believed in them, in his feelings for her and hers for him. She believed they could overcome anything put in their way, fight tooth and nail to get the life they wanted and deserved, apart or together. There wasn’t one moment she ever thought that what they had would ever fade away, not even for a second.

But she couldn’t force that same belief on him, could she?

So, instead, she said: “When you think it’s time for us—”

“No,” he looked at her, eyes harsher. “I will always want you, Inej.”

“You just said—”

“But I won’t have my feelings and what I want to get in the way of what you want. When you decide to leave and never come back, I won’t stop you.”

“Kaz,” she whispered, carefully. She waited until his eyes met hers to continue. “That won’t happen.”

It was clear as day, watching him, that he didn’t believe her. It broke her heart.

“I wouldn’t say that if it weren’t true. I don’t take what we have lightly and I want you as much as you want me, if not more.” She stopped, letting her words sink in. “It’s why I bought the house, it’s why I come back each time, because I love you. I don’t care if this is all we have, if you don’t want more than to—”

“I do.”

“What?”

“I want more than this, with you.”

The words were almost too much for her and it was so surprising, it took a minute for her brain to process what Kaz had just said to her, to realize what they implied. “But—”

“You were bound to me with a contract before. I didn’t think you’d want that again.”

“Suli ceremonies don’t have a contract.”

“Kerch ones do.”

It took everything in her to keep the tears gathering in her eyes to not fall down her cheeks. Her heart was beating faster and faster inside her chest as she watched this boy, her beautiful boy who was handing his heart on a silver platter for her to keep and still making it as hard as possible to tell her what he wanted.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t done the same. Inej had done something she had asked him not to do with her: she assumed. Perhaps subconsciously, Inej had imagined how her life with Kaz would be and had accepted it, because she was in love with him. The thought that he would ever want to settle down, perhaps step away from his work with the Dregs and commit under the Saints’ and her parent’s eyes to be hers forever, never crossed her mind. Nor would she want him to. 

Truth be told, Inej didn’t think she could bear hearing his answer to that question. She always told him to stop tormenting himself with all his doubts and questions, he only needed to ask and then he’d know her answer to whatever was on his mind. But Inej guessed she couldn’t fully blame him this time, considering she had done the same. But how could she know he would want to officialize their relationship in such a completely legal, mundane way?

She let a short laugh escape her lips. Inej probably should’ve. The Bastard of the Barrel always valued a closed deal, a signed contract, a sign of commitment for the things he deemed important. 

When she spoke again, her voice was slightly stuffy, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “I don’t feel trapped with you. A signed contract wouldn’t change that.”

His hand squeezed her, twining her fingers with his, tighter. Anchoring himself in that moment with her. 

“We could do both,” he offered, looking at her. “If that’s something you’d want.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

“So would I.”

At that, he cracked one of those rare smiles he saved just for her and Inej followed him, unable to conceal any drop of happiness within her. He pulled her closer, his hand resting on the back of her neck, meeting their lips together. The kiss lingered, growing warmer and deeper, Inej’s hands cupping Kaz’s cheeks with such care as if she was holding the most precious object in the world. To her, she was.

She felt his breath against her lips when they pulled apart, a hair’s breadth from closing the distance between them. 

“Are you proposing to me, Wraith?”

At that, she laughed, finding his lips again for a shorter kiss, feeling his smile against her. She felt like kissing him all night. “Not yet,” she said. “Let’s share a house first. We’ll get there eventually.”

“Yes,” he said, dragging his thumb along her cheek. “We will.”