Six of Crows One-shots

Crow-lings.

Hello everybody, with my last few days of freedom from the awful clutches of obligation, I shall write to all of you a small idea that I have been playing around with for most of this break.

A little bit of context: Kaz and Inej have children, twin boys and an younger daughter. I know that there is a lot of upset within the fandom about Kanej kids, and I am here to say I do not think these two having children would be easy, or that they would keep to their lives of crime and plundering if they were to have children. In fact, most of this is just my guesstimating.

However, though I doubt it would be easy, I do not think it impossible for the two. So, if you feel the need to throw your opinion upon me like the truth, instead of enjoying this quick little snippet, I would like to inform you I work for free, own none of this series nor can I influence what happens with cannon, and do this for pleasure and enjoyment of both myself and peers.

Which brings me to my point, Enjoy!

Erik was a small, sickly child. This did not mean the boy was weak, or mild. Rather the opposite.

He gave an irritated sigh as he leaned on the window ledge, eyes staring out the country homes window. Kaz, who was working over his desk in the corner of the room, ignored the sigh. It was a common enough occurrence. Inej had taken Petyr and Anya to practice the tightrope.
Erik burst out in a small coughing fit, which had concerned Kaz. He set down his ink pen and moved toward his son.
"Erik—"
"I'm fine, Da." He said in a hoarse voice. Kaz kneeled before him, and Erik grumbled.
"Yes I took my pill, yes I'm fine. No there's nothing you can do." He dismissed, Kaz frowned, sometimes the kid was a little too much like him.

Erik's skin was sickly pale, and his frame small, but his dark brown eyes were fierce.
"Your homework is finished then?"
"Yes..." Erik's curiosity had been captured, his father expected the homework to be done, and rarely asked if it was.
"Good, follow me." Kaz lead his son into the attic of the building, it was dusty and filled with blades and weapons stored for the gang. Erik let out a soft breath of surprise.
"Pick one."
"Y-you're joking." He hesitated, his small shoulders tensing together. Kaz's hand rested on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I know what it's like to be thought weak, to feel held back. Your mother will teach you how to climb, once you're a little stronger. In the meantime, I'm going to teach you what I know."
"Ma gifted me a knife, can I use that?"
"Yes and No. Pick a different weapon. It's best to be versatile with many weapons in case you don't have the choice of your own."
Erik snooped about, fingering along the tools. He managed to get a hold of a steel rod, often used for beatings and torture.
Kaz watched his son play with the rod, testing its weight and heft. "I like this one..."
Erik grinned widely when he turned back to his dad, and Kaz's heart stopped in his chest briefly. His son had inherited his wife's smile, and since he'd fallen ill he rarely smiled anymore.

Over the next few years Kaz did his best to teach him all he knew. The boy had already taken on learning business and budgeting from Kaz. When the lessons began it became clear that Erik easily picked up any weapon given to him, and sleight of hand came with some patience and discipline.
The more Kaz helped his son, the closer they became. They often worked in silence, Kaz helped Erik build endurance, learn to block, and how to see someone's tell. There had been times when Erik's sickness would cause him a dizzy spell, or a coughing fit. Kaz held him, and hoped that the world be alright for them.
One day as they were sitting in the attic, their paper work finished, and a combination lock sitting between them. Erik spoke up.

"Da... you said you were like me?"
"Not exactly, I was a cripple and I— well it's something like a disease that is not contagious, that you get when something horrible happens. It makes you weak, nauseous."
"You said was... you fixed it right? Is there... is there a way to fix me?" Kaz abandoned the lock, his gaze focused on the so familiar face and got up, moving towards his son. He kneeled so he was at eye level.
"I still have that disease, I get scared, tired, and weak. It's the getting back up that makes you strong. And as for my crippled leg, I went to the healer when I found out your mother was going to have you." He touched his sons cheek, forcing himself not to shudder. To be present for his kid.