Chapter Text
Kaz Rietveld saw his brother for the last time on a bodyman’s cart. His brother’s sick and pale corpse burned into his blurry vision. Kaz had hoped and prayed for Jordie’s eyes to open, to discover he was still alive, but Kaz hadn’t even had the energy to move to shake him. He longed to move, to grab his brother, to jump from the cart, to shout to the bodymen, but he couldn’t. He didn’t stay conscious for long.
The next time Kaz awoke, his brother was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Ketterdam. All he had as far as his tired eyes could see were corpses and the restless tides of the harbor.
Kaz Rietveld died in the black harbor that day, only nine years old. Poor kid, half dead already from the plague, drowned horribly in the cruel waters of Ketterdam. He’d tried to save himself by clutching onto a stranger’s corpse, but the water had been stronger than the weak will of a farmboy. His body was never found.
Not long after poor Rietveld’s tragic demise, Kaz Brekker appeared in Ketterdam, spinning the story of two lives he’d taken already at such a young age. The deaths of two farmboys from Lij he insisted were his own doing, his own fault. His and Pekka Rollins' fault. but he kept that part to himself. He held the tale like armor around his small body, trying desperately to create an image for himself to stay alive.
The first time he used it was when he was trying to get work collecting information for a prominent Barrel boss. The man had laughed in his face at the sight of ten year old Kaz asking for such a dangerous job.
“You, boy?” The man had asked incredulously. “You don’t know what you’re even offering to do for me.”
“I do,” Kaz insisted.
“It’s dangerous work, boy,” The boss had told him. “People get hurt doing these kinds of things. A little runt like you wouldn’t be able to take it.”
“I can,” Kaz insisted more forcefully. The man sighed.
“Kid, the job you’re asking for isn’t meant for a boy like you. I can’t very well risk sending out someone who’ll just run away at the first sight of danger. No, I need someone strong. Someone who won’t back down from a fight. Not a child like you. Not someone who’s never hurt a soul.”
“I’ve hurt people, sir,” Kaz said. “I can do it.”
“Sure you have,” The man said. “Quit while you’re ahead, why don’t you? I don’t have the time to waste on a little Barrel runt like you. Maybe you think tripping your siblings or accidentally pushing someone down counts as ‘hurting someone’ but out here things are serious. Come back when you know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve hurt people,” Kaz repeated. “I know what I’m talking about. Give me the job, sir. Nobody suspects a kid, do they? I’m perfect for the job.”
“You’ll run away from the job is what you’ll do. Consider it a favor, kid. This line of work will change you. You’ll come thanking me one day, when you’re older.”
“Thanking you for what?”
“For letting you keep your hands clean. You don’t want to know what happens to a person’s mind after they’ve killed someone.”
“I have killed someone,” Kaz said, and the man faltered.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve killed two people,” Kaz said. “Brothers. Drowned them in the harbor. I can take it. I can handle the dirty work, sir.”
“A runt like you? A murderer? I don’t think so boy. I think you’re desperate and lying.”
“Jordan and Kasper Rietveld,” Kaz said, nearly proving the man right with the desperation creeping into his voice. “Those were their names. Farm boys from Lij. I killed them, sir, and I can kill again. Let me prove myself to you.”
The man paused for a moment, sizing Kaz up. For a moment, Kaz felt a spark of dangerous, treacherous hope. Then the man spoke.
“No. Final answer. I’m not hiring a runt to do an important job. Go find honest work somewhere, boy. Get yourself away from this kind of life.”
After that, Kaz had left as the Barrel boss told him, and found honest work for a little while. The way he obtained that work may have been less than ethical, but a job was a job, and it kept him alive.
That wasn’t the last time Kaz would use the tale of the deaths of the Rietveld boys to his advantage, nor was it the last time he’d be dismissed as a desperate child trying to be seen as intimidating.
As he stepped deeper into a life of crime, learning to pick pockets and locks, the rumors accelerated. After his first few arrests, the nicknames began. People began to believe the story the washed up child had told all those years ago. The names he said, the people he drowned in the harbor; it all fell into place. They began to call him Dirtyhands. The Bastard of the Barrel followed soon after.
Brekker wore the nicknames with pride. He didn’t care to hide his sins. He wore them openly, unafraid to bring up those he had murdered, conned, and bribed. He told the world he came straight from the harbor, born in the dark waters surrounding Kerch. It wasn’t a lie.
Kaz Brekker didn’t pretend to be a good person. He was unapologetically selfish and ruthless, and yet somehow, for some reason, he’d ended up with a crew who would follow him to the ends of the world. Desperation, he assumed, was the leading cause. His crows had few options, and perhaps in the Barrel, even a man such as himself could be seen as preferable to their other options. They all had their motivations. Freedom, fun, revenge, love, money. He didn’t ask them what they wanted. He knew well enough already. Kaz was always good about figuring out just enough without ever asking. He never liked asking personal questions.
Inej was different. She was better than even him at gathering information, yet she never hesitated to just ask. Curiosity brimmed in her dark eyes some days, and Kaz would be lying if he said he never ached to satisfy it.
It was curiosity that prompted her one day to ask him the one question nobody ever seemed to want the answer to.
“Who were the Rietvelds, Kaz?” She asked, and Kaz froze.
“You’ve heard the rumors, I’m sure,” He said roughly. “The brothers I drowned in the harbor when I was nine. My very first deaths. What an honor for them.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“Yes, you do. You always do, no matter what they say.”
“Why does it matter?”
“I don’t believe you when you say you’ve always been this way, Kaz,” She said, and he knew that already. It wasn’t a very believable lie, but nobody ever called him out on it. Nobody but her. “You were a kid once. Some might argue you still are. Something pushed you down this path, something pushed you to kill those boys. What drives a nine year old to murder?”
“It doesn’t matter, Inej,”
“I think it does.”
“Drop it.”
“Why?”
“Just-” He cut himself off with a sharp breath. “Drop it.”
Inej’s gaze softened as she stared into his dark coffee-brown eyes. She smiled sadly at him. He glared back at her, though it lacked any real bite.
“You didn’t really kill the Rietveld boys, did you?”
“Of course I did.”
“Did you mean to?” When Kaz didn’t respond, Inej nearly reached out to take his hand. She thought better of it and retracted the gesture before it began. “Did you really intend for the Rietvelds to die, Kaz? Or was it just a tragic accident that you’ve chosen to blame yourself for and spin into another myth to keep yourself safe?”
Kaz glared at the wall. Inej knew she’d hit the nail right on the head, and she could see in his eyes how much it hurt, though he’d never say it aloud.
“You don’t know what I did,” He rasped, still glaring at the wall.
“No,” She said gently. “I don’t. And I’m not going to make you tell me, because I know I can’t. And I wouldn’t want to. You can tell me as much or as little as you want, and I’ll listen. I owe you that much.”
“You owe me nothing,” Kaz said fiercely. “No more debts, Inej. You don’t owe me a moment of your time.”
“You’re right,” Inej said with a fond smile. “I don’t owe you anything at all. But I’m going to keep giving to you, Kaz Brekker, not because I have to, but because I want to. I’m free to do as I please, to spend my time with whoever I wish, and right now I wish to spend my time here with you. And to show you that there is someone out here who you can open up to, even if it’s not today, or even if it’s not much. I will be here whenever you’re ready.”
Kaz finally turned his gaze towards Inej. The two locked eyes and she saw countless emotions swirling in his eyes. What was going on in his mind would forever be a mystery to her.
“Thank you, Inej,” Kaz said coolly, and she could see in his features that his walls were back up, the emotion she’d seen in his eyes for just a brief moment already long gone. She smiled sadly at him. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she could only earn a few seconds of vulnerability. Still, she stood by her words. She would not sit here and hold his hand and wait for him to let his guard down. She would not mother him or try to tear his walls down herself. She would continue on with her life, and one day, when this mess of a man, of a boy really, was ready to begin the work on ripping down the armor he’d constructed around himself, she would welcome him with open arms.