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a moment in time (but you were never mine) mistborn fanfic


FireandAshes

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A bit of a Marsh character study set after Kelsier and Mare are imprisoned in the pits. Rated general, angst because it's Marsh. All pairings are canon. Constructive criticism welcome. This is also posted on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net under the names MentallyIllTelepath and the7horcrux respectively. (I hope I'm doing the format right, I'm kind of new to this site)

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Kelsier was grinning again.

Marsh could barely glance at that smile without his blood turning to ice—that insufferable smile. And, almost worse, it was directed at Mare. The woman that Kelsier had won because he always won.

"Marsh is worrying again." Mare said, her dark eyes sparkling. Lord Ruler.

"Marsh is always worrying." Kelsier said dismissively.

Marsh bit back a scathing reply—Kelsier didn't deserve that—but maybe that's the reason I'm the one doing good in the world while you're stealing from the Lord Ruler's stronghold, you have more money than any man could ever need, why—?

"Perhaps if you weren't so cavalier about this I wouldn't need to." He said.

Mare's lips curled up in Marsh's direction. His pulse thudded.

Stop it.

So, maybe there was another reason why Marsh found Kelsier's smile insufferable.

"Marsh would worry if the plants were green and the sky was yellow." Mare said cheerfully. "It's just who he is.

I have to worry, Marsh thought. Because you never do.

He forcibly brought his eyes back down the table.

"This job is going to be perfect." Kelsier said, unbearably confident as always. "We're breaking into Kredik Shaw itself! Mare, after this job, we'll have enough money to go somewhere where we won't have to run anymore."

Wouldn't that be nice. Marsh knew that Kelsier and Mare could leave this afternoon if they wanted to, but for some reason they always had another excuse.

Mare laughed, the sound like bells. Kelsier scooped her up and they spun together, their hair flying. Her joy was contagious. Marsh almost smiled, himself.

Almost.

"Anyway, Marsh, you're sure you can trust who you're sending?" Kelsier asked, blowing a strand of his blond hair off his face.

"As much as you can trust anyone in the underground." Marsh replied. "I've worked with him before. But you won't be telling him enough of the plan to do any damage anyway, correct?"

Mare nodded. "Only Kelsier and I know the full plan." Marsh only knew the details that would help his part of the job. Kelsier didn't fully trust him—that was fine.

The fact that Mare didn't trust him was the thing that hurt him the most, though he didn't admit it.

"I'll instruct him to meet him outside Venture Manor. He'll be wearing a blue cloak—his name's Redd."

"Thanks, Marsh. I'll give you some of the cut."

"That would be appreciated."

"You can use it for that… rebellion you're running."

Marsh stiffened. He just had to bring that up.

"Yes, how is that going?" Mare asked, genuinely curious.

Marsh carefully unclenched his hands. "The skaa refuse to rise up, and the few who have joined us are criminals of the worst kind running from the Lord Ruler, but we can't turn them away. We have few numbers as it is."

"Marsh, we're criminals." Kelsier noted, smiling.

"At least I do good with what I steal." The words were out before he could stop them, and Mare looked at him.

Marsh drew in a slow, steady breath. "I apologize. That was uncalled for."

"We'll be doing good." His brother wasn't smiling anymore. "The Lord Ruler will have a sizeable dent in his fortune."

Marsh didn't trust himself to respond and instead inclined his head. Mare was studying his face with a gaze that seemed to pierce his soul. He looked away.

"Send me word once you've finished the job, if you would."

"We will." Mare said—Kelsier didn't say anything. His eyes were cold, flinty. In these moments, Kelsier's resemblance to their father was striking.

He stood and nodded to them. The two brothers didn't hug. They hadn't done so since they were children.

Marsh watched their retreating backs and couldn't repress a chill up his spine.


Dockson's eyes were red.

Marsh's fingers felt cold.

"Marsh," Dockson greeted him. His voice was smooth as always, but Marsh thought he detected a slight tremor.

"Dockson." He waited, his heart thudding. "News?"

The only tie he had to the man was Dockson's status as Kelsier's right hand man. As the leader of the rebellion, he had kept good ties with many in the underground in case he ever needed a job—but he didn't know Dockson well.

He told himself that he had other contacts, but the part of him that was brutally honest told him that he tended to stay away from anyone associated with Kelsier.

The other man avoided eye contact. "Marsh, I'm afraid I've just received word that Kelsier and Mare…" He looked away and cleared his throat several times. "They've—they've been sent to the Pits of Hathsin."

Marsh felt a sudden surge of coldness. Of course, he hadn't heard from them in a few months but he'd… he'd just assumed…

"Who told you?" He asked, ignoring his trembling hands.

Dockson took a step back. "A contact I trust."

"Who?"

Dockson rubbed the back of his neck. "Cladent, the skaa woodworker. He used to be in the army and knows someone who guards the Pits."

Marsh spun on a heel and found himself facing the only window in his house. A red sun in the sky. Had it always been red? Mare said once that it had… it had used to be yellow…

"I'm sorry. I know that you and Kelsier grew up together." Dockson said.

Marsh realized with a start that he hadn't thought once of Kelsier. He didn't turn around. "Thank you for bringing me this news." He was proud to say that his voice was perfectly even.

A few moments later he heard the door shut.


That night, Marsh laid in bed, his eyes perfectly dry. His chest ached. He hadn't cried yet. Mare at least deserved tears.

Of course he felt grief about Kelsier (of course he did) for anyone who was sent to the Pits of Hathsin never returned. It was as good as a death sentence.

He wasn't sure it had sunk in yet. Kelsier was always just there, an immovable certainty in Marsh's life. Someone who would always be doing ridiculous, reckless jobs that he always pulled off, somehow. The brother who everyone had always liked more—the brother who Mare had picked instead of him.

The one who survived, despite everything.

Marsh left the rebellion the next day. No explanations, though his subordinates badgered him for one. No excuses, not even to himself. Because if Kelsier and Mare were dead, what chance did Marsh have?

In the end, one thing about Kelsier had always irritated him the most.

Kelsier had bravery—a trait that Marsh had always wished he had had.

And Mare—she had kindness. What did Marsh have? Responsibility that he had never shirked, and that had gotten him nowhere. A mind for figures and memorization that had stuck him in his father's ledger accounting while Kelsier went to balls and represented the house.

A cold heart that no one had been able to soften, and the woman that had finally melted it hadn't been his to lose.

She was Kelsier's, because he had bravery, and that insufferable smile.

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