Chapter Text
Wylan found the letter on a sunny Thursday.
It had been a nice day for the Barrel. There was no rain, no clouds, no biting cold.
Wylan had also been having a nice day. Kaz had asked him to make him a few flash bombs, and Jesper had sat with him while he'd worked, chattering aimlessly. Sure, that was probably because none of the gambling dens would let him in, but Wylan liked to pretend it was because Jesper enjoyed his company.
Nina and Matthias invited them for lunch. Wylan declined, but only because Kaz said these bombs were needed urgently. Not because Wylan still felt horribly out of place whenever he was around all the Crows.
Which was ridiculous obviously. Which was why Wylan skipped lunch that day and spent it in his workshop for work. Not to avoid the sinking feeling in his chest.
(Why didn't anyone bring him anything? Someone always brought something for the other Crows when they took working lunches. Why didn't he get the same treatment?)
When he finally finished the bombs, he went up to Kaz's office, hoping that Kaz would allow him an early night that day. He was in most nights anyways. No one invited him around when the other Crows had late night drinking jaunts.
And that was when things started going wrong.
Because while handing the bombs to Kaz, Wylan happened to glance at his desk, and spotted an envelope with his family crest on it. Wylan had froze, and had not responded until Kaz rapped his knee roughly with his cane.
"What's the matter with you?" He demanded.
Wylan's gaze was stuck on the letter. Kaz followed his gaze, until he saw where Wylan was staring. He snatched the letter and pocketed it briefly.
They stood in silence for a few moments. Distantly, over the blurring of his vision and the ringing in his ears, he saw Inej enter through the window. "Well?" Kaz demanded.
"Has he contacted you?" Wylan finally choked out.
Kaz's expression tightened. "Yes, he did."
"About a job?"
"Of sorts."
Wylan tore his gaze away from the desk to look into Kaz's unyielding gaze. Deep down, everything started adding up. Everything made sense. Why Kaz had snatched him up as soon as he had crawled out of the harbor, why all the Crows had kept him at arms length, why Kaz never asked him to make anything more powerful than a potent smoke bomb.
He had been a job, the entire time.
"How long?" Wylan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kaz's eyes hardened. Somehow, Wylan found his courage. "How long?" He asked, louder.
Kaz and Inej didn't respond. Inej pursed her lips. "Oh." Wylan couldn't remember a time his voice was quieter.
Wylan internally scoffed at the cautious looks Kaz and Inej kept shooting him. He wasn't a wild animal, for Ghezen's sake. He wasn't going to spring up and attack them.
(But the roaring in his ears didn't sound very tame. It felt like a lion was squaring up, readying for a fight.)
Distantly, Wylan noticed the door to Kaz's office creak open, and he watched Jesper, Nina and Matthias all walk inside, wearing identical grim looks.
So everyone was in on it.
Despite all the feelings Wylan was currently drowning in, he didn't cry. He didn't scream. He didn't cause a scene, despite the fact that everyone in the room looked to be bracing themselves for Wylan to attack.
Saints, Nina even had her hands out in defense.
Wylan refused to give them that. He knew that in this moment, all he had with the people who he thought were his friends was his dignity. He would not squander it.
Good or bad, he would exit this room steadily, with his head held high.
Wylan turned and walked towards the door. He refused to give anyone a second glance.
Not Kaz. Not Inej. Not Nina. Not Matthias.
Not Jesper.
Wylan walked out the door. He walked down the stairs, through the gambling halls, all the way out of the Crow Club.
Wylan was impressed at how long he was able to keep his tears at bay.
oOo
Nikolai Lanstov hated Ketterdam.
Yes, he was a Prince of Ravka. Yes, he was a bloody Privateer to the King. Not even he could find something diplomatically genial to say about this Saints' forsaken place.
Case in point, a small boy was sitting on a bench and quietly crying, hugging his bag to his chest.
Nikolai grit his teeth when he noticed all the leering the boy was getting. Deciding to intervene, Nikolai sat right next to him and smiled winningly.
The boy stopped sobbing, long enough to look at him. He wiped his tears and straightened his spine. "Are you here to kill me?" He asked, hugging his bag to his chest defensively.
Nikolai was shocked. "What, no! Why would I do that?"
The boy lowered his gaze, tears welling up in his eyes again, much to Nikolai's alarm. "Everyone wants me dead. No one wants me around, even when I'm just doing what I'm told." The boy sobbed quietly.
Nikolai couldn't believe his ears. How could anyone want this boy dead? "What's your name?"
"Wylan," the boy answered quickly. He seemed to debate something, before sighing resignedly. "Van Eck. My name is Wylan Van Eck."
"Like the Councilman?"
Wylan's lips thinned. Nikolai frowned. Something was off.
Then he saw it. The hunch in the boy's posture, the way he eyed Nikolai warily, as though waiting for him to lose his temper and lash out.
He was hurt. Badly.
"Well," Nikolai threw an arm around his shoulders, ignoring the full body flinch Wylan gave. "Welcome to the shitty fathers club."
Wylan let out a loud snort, making Nikolai grin. He got up, offering a gentlemanly arm to Wylan. He took it, blinking the tears out of his eyes and straightening his spine.
"Do you have anywhere to go?"
Wylan hesitated. Then, he shook his head. "Not anymore. I don't think I ever did."
Nikolai shrugged. "Would you like to join my crew?"
Wylan startled. "Really?"
"Why not? I'm sure you have some skills we could use."
Wylan hesitated. "I can make bombs."
Nikolai grinned. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" He grabbed Wylan's arms and spun him around, making the boy giggle delightedly. "You'll fit right in."
When Wylan grinned at him, unguarded, Nikolai knew that he did the right thing.
Damn Ketterdam, for hurting such a boy.