Chapter Text
Matthias was nine years old when his heart shattered for the second time. His best friend had been lying to him for as long as they had known each other. But this was not some harmless half-truth. It was a betrayal that cut deep into his heart, for it had been her kind—but soldiers of fire, inferni—who had taken his family from him. And she hadn’t even been brave enough to tell him.
It was nearly midsummer, and Matthias and Hanne were playing in the garden, as they often did. They were running wildly among hedges twice as tall as them while blue, yellow and pink flowers gilded the verdant leaves. The pair was playing a favourite game of theirs, one where Matthias sat near the house while Hanne hid. Matthias would then try to find her, checking all of the secret hiding places she favoured. When he found her, Hanne would bolt off, and Matthias would follow, running as fast as his short legs could carry him. After Matthias caught her, it would be his turn to hide, and they would continue either until Ylva came looking for them, or they tired themselves out.
The sun shone down softly from overhead, sky clear and blue. Matthias was searching for Hanne, calling her name. She was well hidden. When Matthias came upon the hidden cove both he and Hanne swore was haunted, he hesitated. He had looked almost everywhere else in the garden, and the cove was damp, echoing, and cold. Whenever he entered it, his neck prickled as though someone was watching him. But Hanne had always been more daring than him, and it was likely she was in here, giggling with the anticipation of their chase. Steeling himself, Matthias stepped out of the comforting sunlight and into the reaching darkness of the cove.
“Hanne?” He called out, unwilling to go further. “Are you in here?”
“Ooooo,” came a voice from somewhere in the depths of the darkness, and Matthias let out a strong curse word that a child of his age shouldn’t know, promptly running out of the cave. He scrambled along the gravel path, not daring to look back. He wasn’t in the mood to encounter a ghost. But Matthias, in his haste, was not looking at the uneven path. A small divot in the ground caught his foot and sent him tumbling to the ground, rocks scraping his hands and knees. Letting out a sharp cry, Matthias slapped his hands over his mouth. What if the ghost could hear him?
A figure stepped out of the darkness, long auburn hair glowing in the sun. “Matthias?” said Hanne, looking around. “It was just me. There’s nothing to be frightened about.” Her eyes finally found him, and worry flashed across her features. Hurrying towards him, she spoke. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“It’s just a scrape,” said Matthias, feigning cheerfulness. Crouched down beside him, Hanne raised an eyebrow. As she stared at him, his smile wobbled, and he lost in his struggle to feign nonchalance.
A sympathetic smile flashed across Hanne’s face. “Exactly as I thought. You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine, Hanne,” Matthias snapped. He had shown enough weakness already by running from the cave. If Matthias truly wanted to be a drüskelle, he would have to be stronger, less cowardly, and never show any fear. That’s how the legendary warriors were in the stories, after all. But at his irritated tone, Hanne shook her head in faint amusement, more hair tumbling loose from the braid Ylva had attempted to wrangle it into. She bent over his right knee, which was bleeding profusely, bright red stark against the pastels of the garden and Hanne’s pale dress.
“You’re not, and I’m going to help. There’s nothing you can do to stop me now,” she laughed, poking Matthias in the side. He scowled, but even he knew it wouldn’t fool anyone, especially Hanne. She could read his moods better than anyone. Loose pieces of her hair tickled Matthias’s leg as she leaned closer to inspect the wound. She brushed her hand over it with a strange sort of reverence, like the Suli fortune readers would over a crystal ball in the stories his mother read to him back when she had been alive. As Hanne continued in her inspection, her brown eyes fluttered shut, small hands still hovering over the scrape. Matthias peered at her. What in the world was she doing?
A sharp pain pinched his knee, and when Matthias looked down at his leg, his skin was climbing over the wound, knitting itself back together before his very eyes. A gasp escaped his lips. Heart racing furiously, he scrambled away from his friend—from Hanne—who watched him with wide eyes.
“You. You did this,” Matthias whispered, glaring. Hanne remained crouched on the ground, and swallowed hard. That was confirmation enough. “You’re grisha. A drüsje. One of them.”
“Matthias—” she began, rising. Hanne reached out a small, soft, brown hand towards him, and Matthias practically growled.
“You stay away from me.”
Hanne’s hand fell limply to her side, and, nostrils flaring, she spoke. “I don’t want to hurt you, I promise. I thought you trusted me, or otherwise I never would have thought of telling you. You’re my best friend. I need you, Matthias,” she whispered, voice breaking. Matthias looked away, trying to hide the emotion twisting in his heart. Biting his tongue, he managed to spit his next words with the sort of vicious anger that would make Jarl proud.
“We aren’t friends, not after this. You’ve betrayed me.”
“Stop it,” said Hanne, voice choked. Matthias didn’t look at her again, instead turning heel, shoes crunching on the gravel. He practically ran away, tears streaming down his face. Hanne, his best friend, the only person who truly seemed to care about him anymore, had betrayed him. “Matthias,” Hanne’s voice echoed towards him, the sound hopeless, hollow, and hurting. He turned, looking down the path, where she stood crying, just as he had been.
“What do you want?”
“Please don’t tell my parents.,” she whispered, words fragile as bird bones. Matthias hesitated, considering. The drüskelle in the stories wouldn’t give into Hanne’s plea. And he shouldn’t either. But the last vestige of loyalty that remained twisted in his heart, and he found himself unable to turn away. A lump formed in his throat as he stared at her, both of them silently crying. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady his shakiness.
“You have my word.”
***
The boat rocked unsteadily underneath Hanne’s feet, but they were not unused to the motion. It had been two and a half weeks since they had taken their first step onto the grimy little ship, and much had changed in that short period of time. Freed from the expectations and pressures of their parents, Hanne had been able to consider what they truly wanted in life, beyond dreaming of escape. Because they had escaped. But plans only went so far, and it was time to make new ones.
A sky the colour of a perfect winter morning stretched overhead, and Hanne took a deep breath in, sucking in the cold, salty air of the open ocean. The fresh air filling their lungs and brine coating their skin was not unwelcome; while it was different from a winter-steeped wood, it was still invigorating. Perhaps instead of settling down somewhere unremarkable, Matthias could teach Hanne how to sail. Something told them that they would enjoy this life, one of hard work and routine and a touch of adventure. And besides, there was a strange liminality to travelling, a constant uncertainty that Hanne both loved and hated. Either way, it would surely make for an interesting life.
“Is it not beautiful?” came a voice from beside Hanne in thickly accented Fjerdian. They startled, pulled from their thoughts. Beside them was one of the other passengers of the ship, a beautiful redheaded woman with an eyepatch and distinctive scars all across her face. Hanne had seen her around before, and faintly remembered that her name was Genya.
“Yes,” they replied, searching Genya’s face for any indication of why she was speaking to them. It revealed nothing, her uncovered eye firmly planted on the horizon. “There’s something breathtaking about open water.”
A faint smile drifted across Genya’s face. “The ocean is unconquerable. The majesty, the raw power… it’s something we mere humans can never compare to.” Her gaze was still on the ocean, but Hanne’s was not. There was something strange about the woman, something off. But they couldn’t quite place what it was, not when the woman wouldn’t look them in the eye. Genya, obviously still waiting for a response, gave Hanne a quick glance. They hummed a response, but said nothing more. Genya’s fingers traced the railing in swirling patterns, and after a moment of thought, she spoke. “You know, I’m not usually one to pry, but it seems strange to me that a person like you would pay for passage on a ship like this heading to Ketterdam, of all places.”
Hanne’s lungs constricted. There was no way the woman knew the truth about them. But what else could it be? The only question that remained was how could their parents had found them this quickly. What else might his woman know? And what was she going to do to them? “Excuse me?” was all they managed, staring at Genya, heart pounding furiously.
“It’s just strange to me that a clearly talented grisha like yourself would go to Ketterdam. Ravka seems like a much safer place to be. And besides, you obviously have money. Why wouldn’t you have booked passage on a nice ship? I wouldn’t want Captain Sturmhond to hear me say this, but it is a bit of a dump.”
Hand creeping towards the wickedly sharp knife strapped at their hip, the only gift from their father they had ever treasured, Hanne spoke, voice low. “What do you want from me?”
“What do I… Want from you?” Genya replied, blinking. She was openly staring at Hanne now, amber eye locked on theirs. “I suppose I don’t want anything, though an answer to my question would be nice. I would understand, though, if you would like to pretend this never happened.” There was no animosity in her gaze, no anger, no accusation. She was simply stating facts. But Hanne couldn’t help but feel there was something more to her question, some caveat or loophole they would fall into if they answered incorrectly, or even at all. Hanne swallowed, hand still gripping the knife. While Hanne didn’t want to answer her question, perhaps Genya could answer theirs.
“Well then, I want you to tell me how you know I’m grisha. It’s not like I go around telling everyone I meet about my highly feared abilities.”
Genya smiled at that, as if they were friends. “It’s not obvious at all, if you were wondering. I’m a tailor myself, so I know the signs when I see them. Your hair was obviously a rush job, probably did it yourself. While you do have calluses on your hands, with some inspection, they clearly aren’t from the hard working life of a farmer. And besides,” she added, mouth twitching, “your lips aren’t even chapped. Any self-respecting farm boy has chapped lips.” There was a good-naturedness in Genya’s tone, but her words still stung. Hanne’s hand went to their mouth, brushing their lips. The thought hadn’t even crossed their mind when they had been tailoring themself. And the fact that Genya, who just happened to be travelling on the same ship as them, could see through their disguise? It was a clear indication that this rescue mission was doomed to fail. Hanne swore softly and turned their gaze back to the ocean. Perhaps it would have been better if they had never left at all, if they still thought that Matthias was long gone, and they were still living the life their parents thought they should lead. Because if this was any indication, they would be back home in Fjerda, stuffed in skirts and petticoats in only a matter of weeks.
Genya gently touched Hanne’s arm, a conspiratorial look in her eye. “We’re still going to be on this boat for another week. How about instead of you worrying about your disguise, I teach you what I know?”
***
Matthias was alone. He had thought that becoming a drüskelle would bring him all the friends and companionship he could ever want, but oh, how wrong he’d been. It turned out that Hanne’s dauntless attitude to making friends was not one shared by many. His silence seemed to turn away the attention of the other boys. Once, an instructor had asked them why they had joined the ranks of the drüskelle. Matthias had answered immediately, and with enthusiasm. Quiet had fallen over the room, and the teacher had been unsure how to respond. Having dead parents didn’t seem to help the friend count. All he got were pitying looks for weeks. And now, nearly seven months in, when the other boys weren’t teasing him, stone cold silence was to be expected.
Jarl Brum had stopped in a few times to check on him, and while Matthias appreciated the visits, he was only reminded of Hanne. Hanne, who he had turned away nearly a year and half ago, to whom he had only spoken to when strictly necessary since her betrayal. Or should he even call it that? Hanne couldn’t help who she was. She knew she needed to keep her abilities hidden, or otherwise unspeakable things would happen to her. And what had Matthias done except make that fear worse? Hanne had trusted him. It was he who had done the betraying. He stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of him and swore softly.
“I’m such an idiot, aren’t I?” he said, leaning back in his hardback chair, staring at the whitewashed ceiling of his room. “No wonder no one wants to be friends with me. If I can’t keep the only friend I’ve ever had, then… I wouldn’t want to be friends with myself either.” A lump grew in his throat, and unbidden, tears rose to his eyes. Matthias tried to blink them away, but instead, they slipped out onto his cheeks, hot and salty. A sob ripped from his chest, sound raw and aching, and he curled into himself and let all the emotion out. He had been missing Hanne more and more every day since he left home, and it had taken him until now to realized how stupid he was being. And Hanne must hate him—he hadn’t sent her a single letter in the seven long months he had been gone. Placing a hand over his mouth, he let out a few more gasping breaths, trying to muffle the sound of his distress. The other boys didn’t need to think he was pathetic on top of being a loner.
After he got his tears under control, he took out a sheaf of paper from his writing desk, and pen poised, began to write to Hanne. Maybe she would throw this letter away immediately after getting it, but it was worth a shot. It wasn’t her fault she was grisha, but it was his fault he had reacted badly. Hanne didn’t deserve his hatred. They were the only person the other had.
***
Hanne hurried through the streets of the Barrel, half-running through the nearly empty streets. The plague sirens had sounded nearly an hour ago, and they were nowhere near their hotel in the financial district. The panicked rush of bodies had been startling at first, until someone had finally been patient enough to listen to their broken Kerch and explain what was going on. Even if the plague could be contained relatively quickly, Hanne would be confined to their room for two weeks or more. Their search for Matthias would be halted, and their funds drained. It was just in line with everything that had happened on this journey so far
:
upon arriving in Ketterdam, Hanne had spent nearly the entire day searching for a hotel to suit their needs, while simultaneously discovering that Ketterdam was much larger than they ever could have imagined. They had been wandering around the city’s various districts for the last week and a half, desperately inquiring if anyone had seen Matthias. Even if the people they asked were willing to listen to them—which happened far less frequently than they’d hoped—no one had even heard his name. Even in the small corner of the city filled with Fjerdian immigrants, their search had come up with no new leads. Hanne had turned every stone in Ketterdam. And with each passing day, their anxiety mounted. What if Matthias wasn’t even here? What if he’d already left for Fjerda, only for them to miss each other entirely?
As Hanne sped through the dark, damp, dirty streets, they listened for Matthias’s heartbeat. In addition to endless inquiries, they had been searching with their powers. Hanne knew Matthias’s heartbeat as well as her own—even better, maybe. But the few that were close enough for them to hear were strange and unfamiliar, just like this shameless city.
The plague sirens continued to ring as loud as ever, and Hanne cursed under their breath. If they didn’t make it back to their hotel in time, there was no telling what would happen. And that was something that Hanne didn’t want to find out. They could see zentsbridge in the distance, and, pumping their legs, they hurtled towards it. The beating hearts of those hiding safely in their homes faded. For just a moment, there was silence in Hanne’s head.
But like a crow's caw sounding over a frozen lake, new sounds entered their perception. Even distracted as they were, Hanne listened to their rhythms.
Babump. Babump. Babump.
They knew that heartbeat. They had spent their childhood playing together, their adolescence speaking treason, and, for the past year, Hanne had been listening to it in their dreams. There was only one person who it could be.
Matthias.
Stomach twisting, Hanne stumbled to a stop, breath ragged. That was Matthias’s heart, the rhythm they could recognize anywhere. Heedless of the plague sirens and the two steady heartbeats accompanying his, they turned away from their destination and raced towards the underside of zentsbridge. Each step stretched for an eternity. Matthias was so close, and after a lonely, aching year, they could finally see one another.
“Matthias,” Hanne cried, coming to a stop beside the water. Frantic, they searched the scene and finally, their eyes landed on their dearest friend. His head lay in the lap of a large, pale girl, tears streaming down her face. Then Hanne saw it.
The blood.
So much blood, too much blood, pooling on Matthias’s chest. “No,” they whispered, gut wrenching. Would Djel pull them apart just as they had found one another? Hanne took a few unsteady steps towards Matthias, but before they could get any closer, the cool kiss of metal pressed against their neck, stilling their movement. Hanne’s heart raced and their body shook, but the person behind them was steady and sure, their hand unshaking.
“Take another step,” their captor growled, “and you’ll only know death.” Hanne swallowed, knife bobbing on their throat. They didn’t have the best grasp on Kerch, but it was clearly a threat. The girl on whose lap Matthias’s head rested looked up, glaring at them through red-rimmed eyes.
“Who are you?”
Chest rattling, Hanne took in a breath, trying to get enough air to respond. “Hanne. I'm Hanne.” Their eyes were still on Matthias, on his pale, blood-drained face and shuddering chest. He couldn’t die here, not now, not like this. They had come too far. Realization struck Hanne like a punch in the stomach. “I can save him. Please, let me heal him,” they begged. When the girl narrowed her eyes, Hanne continued. “I’m a grisha,” they added, desperation lacing their voice. The girl’s gaze shifted over her shoulder, where Hanne’s captor stood. A silent conversation occurred in the course of a heartbeat, and the girl nodded. The knife whisked away from Hanne’s throat. They threw themself down at Matthias’s side, hand going to his sickly, pale face. They stroked his cheek, smiling at him through teary eyes.
Matthias blinked several times, moving his clear blue eyes from the pale girl to Hanne. His brow furrowed, and he reached up to touch their cheek with a shaking hand. “Hanne?” he whispered, brushing their face with a trembling hand. “Have you come to bring me home?”
“No,” Hanne whispered, fighting back tears. “I was hoping you would save me. Turns out that was a foolish delusion.”
“This isn’t the time for sentimentality,” the girl barked in perfect Fjerdan. “If you truly can heal him, do it before he fades away entirely.” Chastened, Hanne turned towards Matthias’s torso. They tore away his shirt, revealing the wound. It was grotesque. Blood was everywhere, the edges of his skin were jagged, and the bullet was buried deep in his body. Hanne swallowed, mouth dry. They had never healed anything even near to this level of severity. Hanne faked a smile and whispered reassurances to Matthias in Fjerdian. “I’ll save you, don’t worry.”
“You have to.” The pale girl spoke again, her green eyes sparkling with fire. Hanne didn’t know who she was, or why she cared for Matthias so, but it was clear she wouldn’t get in their way. They busied their hands with his wound, feeling for the bullet. It was buried deep within him, and his heart faded with every beat.
Gritting their teeth, Hanne began the excruciating process of pushing the bullet out of him. Matthias groaned in pain as they worked, and though their heart twisted, they didn’t stop. After an eternity, they finally eased the bullet out of Matthias’s body. It slid out the last few centimeters wetly, slick and pungent with blood and gore. A girl—the one who had been Hanne’s captor—stepped forward and removed the bullet from his chest, and clutched it close to her heart. She stared at Hanne, eyes filling with tears.
“Thank you. You’re an answer to our prayers.” Hanne nodded stiffly. They hadn’t saved Matthias yet. Every heartbeat left him drifting further away from life, and as Hanne stitched together organs and repaired arteries, they hoped that he hadn’t lost too much blood. The girls watched, barely breathing, the pale one stroking Matthias’s hair and the other mouthing what could only be prayers. Hanne prayed, too, though to whom they had no idea. They would have any god or saint who would listen.
Footsteps clattered on the cobblestones behind them, and two more frantically racing heartbeats sounded in the periphery of Hanne’s notice. Who were these people? Friends? Enemies? The small girl let out a relieved breath, and neither of them came close to Hanne. A softly muttered conversation echoed out from behind them, but they blocked it out as best they could. Matthias was all that was important. If he died, what was there for Hanne to live for? The girl holding his head remained similarily focused, breathing in time with Hanne and watching their work with careful eyes.
When Hanne sealed the wound, their hands resting gently on Matthias’s stomach, they looked at the girl, hollow. “I’ve done all I can,” they said, voice quiet at the knowledge of their own inadequacy. Even with all Djel had blessed them with, it might not be enough for Matthias.
“Thank you,” the girl whispered, voice raw. “I… I had hoped that somehow, a heartrender might find us. And here you are, like a saint out of the stories.”
“I’m no saint,” Hanne laughed, the sound bitter and exhausted. Matthias’s heart was still weak, still faint, still on the verge of fading away forever. But the girl, even with everything, smiled at her, eyes bright and full of tears.
“You’ve saved him.” She stared at them, gaze intent. “I can’t feel him dying anymore.” Hanne blinked. Feel him dying? They had never heard of anyone with an ability of that nature, not even in the depths of forbidden books they had searched through, desperate to understand themself. But the girl seemed serious. Hanne doubted she would joke at a time like this, anyway.
The girl who had been Hanne’s captor stepped close to them, gazing at Matthias’s prone form. “Nina, will he live?” Nina smiled up at her. It seemed enough for the girl, who let out a soft gasp, hand flying to her mouth. She spun towards companions, a Kerch boy with a cane and a gangly Zemeni boy. The Zemeni boy held out his arms, and she stumbled into him, drawing strength from the embrace. As steady as she had been through the crisis, it seemed that hope was enough to break her. With an uncertain glance at the girl, the Kerch boy walked over to Hanne. Though he tried to cover it, relief was evident in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said. “No sum of money will ever be enough to repay you.”
A startled laugh broke out of Nina. “I don’t think I’ve heard you apologize to anyone in my life,” she said, eyes dancing with mirth. Matthias must truly be fine, if she could find humour so easily. “And to say Matthias’s life is worth more than kruge? It’s entirely unlike you, Kaz.”
He turned his steady gaze on Nina, then it slowly travelled to Matthias’s unconscious form. “Perhaps my priorities have shifted,” he said softly. Hanne couldn’t help but feel they were watching some fundamental change come upon this Kaz. Nina seemed to come to the same realization, and the laughter faded from her eyes.
“He changed you,” Hanne said, in halting Kerch. Kaz turned towards her, squeezing the head of his cane. Though he didn’t respond, his stiff posture was confirmation enough.
“He changed all of us,” Nina said, smiling, though there were tears on her cheeks once again. Silence fell over all of them as they watched Matthias breathe. The love that these people carried for him washed over Hanne. Just as they had travelled across an entire ocean to find him, not knowing if their search would yield favourable results, these people would go to great similar lengths to protect him. This was his family, the first one he had in over a decade.
The Zemeni boy’s voice broke the stillness. The girl stood beside him now, strength returned. “Thank you for saving him,” he said, scrubbing his face with his arm. “Matthias is…” he trailed off, eyes finding the new skin where the bullet wound had been. “Matthias is the most loyal person I’ve ever met. He’s ridiculous, grumpy, and unpleasant, but he’s one of us. We would be nothing without him.”
Hanne nodded, chest tight with emotion. They looked around at the ragged family Matthias had found: a girl with powers of death who looked at him like he was her lifeline, a soundless wraith who would kill to protect him, a broken boy whose heart had been softened by his company, and an enemy turned friend. They weren’t who Hanne had imagined him building a life with, but they were better, because they loved him.
Smiling, Hanne spoke. “Thank you. You care for him, you protect him, and you love him. I may have healed his wound, but in truth, it was each of you who saved him.”