2 years after the fall of the Lord Ruler

Elend would die.

Vin could see that, now. She had no way to stop it... and, surprisingly, she wasn't angry or upset. No, she was just... sad. She knew all of this had been an extension – that she should have lost Elend at the Well of Ascension. That didn't stop her from wanting to save him. That didn't stop her from wanting him to live. He was the best man she'd ever known – anyone had ever known. She wasn't desperate to save him, but she still wanted to.

She wanted him to live on.

He deserved to live on, and she was a goddess now. She would not just sit by and do nothing... not even as Ruin did his best to block her from directly affecting the world. She couldn't touch his soul or fix this world... but she could touch his mind, especially now that he was so in tune with her. She could ensure that Elend, or at least a part of him, lived on.

Just before the sword that would kill him fell, she reached out to him once more, seeing the brain patterns and how they related to memories and copied it. Then she sent those copies back to him... with a little extra. He'd need it.

It wouldn't save this world, but it would give another world a second chance and that... that was enough. It would have to be enough, because she would die facing Ruin. She knew that as much as she'd known Elend would die.

But maybe, out there somewhere, Elend could live, even if she couldn't.

If she'd had an actual face right now, she would have smiled sadly. Then she steeled herself and turned to attack Ruin.

xXx

2 years before the fall of the Lord Ruler

In the middle of the night, Elend Venture woke suddenly, gasping as he clutched at his head. It didn't hurt but something was... wrong, wrong, WRONG! Images of people and places and impossible events flashed through his mind, faster and faster and faster. He was losing himself in the maelstrom it created, a silent storm of thought and energy crashing into his consciousness. It may not have hurt, but it was somehow still the most unpleasant experience of his short life – perhaps discluding his misting beating.

A thump sounded as he fell out of bed, legs twisted in the sheets and blankets, but he couldn't seem to do anything about his current, unpleasant position, focus still on his mind and the new memories. His body, already lethargic, seemed to slow further, not really responding to him, and he began to panic. Was he going mad? Yes, he must be, because why else would this... happen...

Under the mental strain, he finally – blessedly – fell unconscious, lost to those foreign images.

xXx

When he woke, Elend had changed. Not physically, no, but he was no longer the boy he'd been yesterday.

He found himself on the floor of his typical room – the room he distinctly remembered going to sleep in the night before and the room he hadn't actually seen for more than a year – since he began to actively seek out the Lord Ruler's stashes and secrets.

He sat slowly, looking around in the darkness of the morning. He saw his writing desk – the one where he had just been writing notes on his philosophical debates, and the one where he had also written laws to rule his kingdom (will write them?) – and the chair in front of it on the far side by the window. Book shelves filled with books he both owned and borrowed from the family libraries on a semi-permanent basis stood near the desk, as unorganized as ever. Tindwell would be ashamed. The way a king kept his inner sanctum reflected on him in subtle ways, she'd told him.

But... he wasn't a king. That was... blasphemy, the likes of which even Elend couldn't stomach. He may not agree with the Lord Ruler's way of, well, ruling, but he certainly didn't want to take over his position... like he had?

Portraits hung on the walls, and while he could barely make them out in the darkness, he knew each one. A painting of his mother, Lord Ruler rest her soul, and another of his family – he'd taken that one down after Straff had abandoned them...

"What in the Lord Ruler's name..." Elend asked, rising unsteadily to his feet, pulling them forcefully out of the tangled mess of sheets. He stood there by his bed for several seconds, just trying to sort out what had happened. Thankfully, a knock at his door distracted him from his growing panic and he called for the person to enter.

A skaa servant hurried in holding a tray filled with food. She took one look at Elend, standing there in his bed clothes, and jumped. She obviously hadn't been expecting him to be up. She recovered quickly and bowed hurriedly, (he was a little impressed that she managed to do all of that without spilling), remaining silent. She had dark hair, a squat nose and scars down the side of her face. He recognized her. She'd been a servant of house Venture for years and yet, he realized, that he didn't know her name. He never had. He squashed the guilt at that thought ruthlessly.

Then he took a closer look. He realized that he'd just seen her the day before going about her chores... but he also hadn't seen her since the Lord Ruler's fall nearly three years ago.

He wasn't sure he could handle this... dichotomy for much longer.

She didn't say anything, just standing there and holding the (very heavy looking) tray as she faced him expectantly.

"Speak," he commanded, a little blankly. None of his servants had acted like this when he'd been king...

"Would you like your breakfast in bed, M'lord?" she asked softly. "Or would you like me to set it up on the table." She gestured to the table and chairs in the room she'd just entered from, his sitting room.

He blinked. "I'll..." he paused, Tindwell's disapproving frown flashing through his mind causing him to snap straight. "I'll take it in the other room."

She seemed a little taken back (he usually took it in bed) but didn't say anything. Instead she nodded and hurriedly took the tray back to the room she'd entered from. With an unusually (completely normal) straight back, he followed her into the other room, ignoring the fact that he still wore only his sleep clothes and sat at the table, taking the utensils out and finding the half loaf of bread first.

"Can I get you anything else, sir?" the servant asked.

Part of him wanted to smile and simply assure her that he was fine. Part of him wanted to confidently tell her that that would be all. It was such a little thing. Why did it bring such a conflict?

Before he could open his mouth to answer, though, something occurred to him.

"Yes," he said, a little slowly and uncertainly, but then Tindwell wasn't there right now, was she. (Did she even exist? Or had all of that been a... very detailed dream?) "I've had a rather... strange dream. Could you tell me what year it is?"

The woman gave him a strange look for just a moment before nodding.

"The year of our Lord's Rule 998, M'lord."

That shocked part of him to his very core, somehow. He refused to let it show on his face, but he nodded in affirmation. Then he took a bite of the bread. It, like most food, was brown and dense, but he hadn't had such a luxury in so long... (He'd had it yesterday too. Same with much of the other food on the tray.)

Ugh, he'd need to get this all sorted out, somehow. It all just seemed to grow and grow inside his head... if he didn't do something about it, he'd end up doing something really stupid. So he mentally assured himself that he would do what he normally did and get some journals he could just write it all down on. It seemed like a perfectly logical, viable answer... and then a thought crossed his mind. If it isn't written in metal, it cannot be trusted.

"There is one more thing," he said crisply. He was about to tell her that he knew his request would seem strange, but then Tindwell telling him that kings don't explain themselves caused him to pause. He frowned at the voice. Elend still wasn't a king and no amount of strange, future memories would change that. Still, he'd worked so hard to get a better reputation... Except he hadn't. He'd never cared. And yet, he couldn't not care at the moment... and that didn't even make any sense!

Yes, he had to write this all down.

"I need several sheets of metal," he said as he rose.

"Metal, M'lord?" the maid asked, baffled.

"Yes," he replied, searching for some paper to write the request down on. That shouldn't change at the moment. He didn't think that Ruin could (or would) focus on him... unless he'd somehow known that Elend's memories had returned... Well, he'd find out this way. After all, Ruin was still contained at this point. He wouldn't have as much power. Right?

He finally found a sheet at his desk in his room and wrote his request down, quickly jotting some dimensions and trying to figure how much it would cost to make the required sheets. Well, it would depend on the metal used. They'd have to be fairly thin, but thick enough that he could scratch on them without warping the plating with all the words, and he'd want a lip on each side to frame it. He could paste some paper over it to hide his writings if necessary. After all, Straff was nosy to say the least. It was anyone's guess as to whether he'd want to know...

Elend paused and his eyes widened before he closed them and focused on breathing. His father was still alive. As he should be, a part of his mind said. I'll have to remedy that, another part of his mind insisted. Except his father would be extremely difficult to neutralize...

And wait, was he actually considering somehow detaining or capturing (or even... murdering) his own father? Although... considering what his father had done to him and his people and Vin... would do? Might do? Probably would do...

What in the Lord Ruler's name had happened?

He could figure that out when he wrote it all down, but he couldn't do that unless it was on metal... so he shook his head and looked down at the paper he was writing on, quill in hand and ink dripping down to splatter on the space he'd let it hover over. He shook his head and went on writing. The Lord Ruler was alive, which meant he'd have to be careful and bide his time.

Funny, he didn't remember being this paranoid in the past or in the future... possible future?

Ugh.

He finished the instructions and turned to hand them to the servant. "Here," he said. "Take this to the head steward. He'll know what to do." They didn't have a terrisman as a steward, but every house had a steward. He wondered briefly why his father had never insisted on a terrisman (or woman) as a steward, seeing as it would always only be the finest for Straff Venture, but ultimately dismissed the thought. It didn't really matter now.

"Yes, M'lord," the woman said softly, curtsying. As she turned to leave, he saw how thin she looked – gaunt and pale. Treated like typical skaa. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd hurried around the table and caught her arm. She stopped, glancing back at him fearfully. He held up a finger, then went over to the loaf of bread and tore a chunk out of it.

"Here," he said. "Eat quickly."

Her eyes grew as wide as saucers and her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"You're not going to go against a direct order, are you?" he asked, placing the bread in her hand. "Just promise me you won't tell anyone, and I won't either." She looked at the piece of bread fearfully, then looked up to see him watching her expectantly.

Gulping, she moved the bread to her lips and began to chew it.

He smiled as she ate, happy to wait for her despite his earlier words. She looked utterly sick when she'd finished and he wondered how long it had been since she'd eaten.

"Good. Now hurry. And make sure you have no crumbs on you." It wouldn't do either of them any good if she got caught.

She nodded, brushing herself off as she turned, fleeing out the door as quickly as she could. Elend frowned after her, wondering if maybe having her eat that had been a mistake. Perhaps she was intolerant? No, the Lord Ruler had somehow made it so that people could eat the food of this world and she wouldn't have lived long if she...

How in the name of all that was holy did he know that?! What did 'intolerant' even mean in that context?

And yet, he did know that, as surely as he knew ash would fall. It was true. Somehow the Lord Ruler... Rashek, had gained the same power Vin had...

Vin...

Groaning, he turned and began to eat his breakfast again. He would figure this out. He had to. For his own sanity if nothing else.

xXx

Elend spent the day sorting through everything now in his head, carefully analyzing what he could. By the end of it, he'd come to a couple conclusions.

Firstly, he had to trust these new memories. They were too detailed and too... fantastical for him to have just dreamed up. Elend was a bit of a dreamer, but he was also far more realistic than someone who could even begin to entertain the idea of overthrowing the Lord Ruler... let alone what came after.

Secondly, he'd mainly gotten his own memories back from the future; they came from another Elend Venture. As impossible as it all seemed, there were too many consistencies for him to count them as anything else. Simply the way he thought, even as a king, had such a familiar ring to it that he couldn't discount them as anything else. Even if that realization made him a little sick.

Thirdly, his own memories weren't all he'd gotten. His new sense of paranoia, the ability to pick a lock (he'd tried to put that into practice on one of his storage trunks, and while it had taken him far too long, he'd succeeded and was confident he could do it again)... and a pocket (he had yet to try that one).

And then there were facts – many about Ruin and Preservation (the old gods, of all things) that he simply shouldn't know.

And there was only one source he could think of.

A teenager with short, dark hair, suspicious eyes and the loveliest smile.

A half-skaa Mistborn.

The most amazing person he'd ever (never) met.

His future wife, and the person who would somehow inherit Preservation's powers.

He had to trust his memories because part of him could only trust her – the strongest person alive (including the Lord Ruler, if his memories were indeed correct).

Part of him could only stare in awe at what this woman had done – but that part of him couldn't love her, not yet. After all, how could he love someone he'd never even seen before?

But he was looking forward to meeting her because if these extra skills and knowledge were what he'd gotten from her... and that didn't even count how much he could tell he adored her in the memories. Yes, he would keep his eyes open for her.

If he could only remain sane for that long.

xXx

He didn't get his metal sheets for nearly a week. He spent those days locked away in his room, exercising (because apparently, he'd need to fight in the future – what a terrifying thought) and reading books from his favorite philosophers or catching up on his studies. He still had access to some of the best tutors available, if he really wanted to contact them, and a couple still came by for the odd lesson, but he was (thankfully) left mostly to himself. Periodically, he would look out the window at the ash-covered ground, the gray skies and the bustling, whole city. Luthadel was truly a sight to behold and he found that he was very suddenly fiercely protective of it. He'd seen it in ruins and abandoned. Seeing it teem with life now – with his people (no matter what the younger half of his soul thought) – eased his heart.

What it didn't ease him was his lack of allomantic powers. Going from a normal human to a Mistborn had been a shock – a pleasant one (of course, so had not dying at the time), but a shock nonetheless. Going back to being a normal human...

Part of him longed to spend his time out in the mists – wished with all his might to push and pull his way across the town with his wife trailing behind him... or ahead of him as was more likely. He doubted he'd ever have been able to really gain the fine control that just seemed to come so naturally to her. He'd be lying if he said that it hadn't made him a little jealous, but more of him had just been so grateful she was in his life at all.

Unfortunately, even if he'd somehow brought his allomantic powers back in time with him, he'd have to remain in the house. If only to keep up the facade of normalcy. That meant, he'd have to try and recall his old habits and live up to them, especially when around his father. He would be expected to dine with his father at least a couple of nights a week, when they didn't have balls to attend, and he couldn't really get out of that without drawing negative attention. The problem was, he wasn't sure he could speak to his father without drawing that unwanted attention as he was now.

The Elend Venture of the past had been a passive-aggressive boy who hadn't ever had the spine (or motivation) to really stand up to his father. He'd been a comparatively (to his future self at least) shy scholar who cared more for his books than basically anything else. Vin had once told him that he'd tended to go around in a sort of half-distracted daze, as if nothing else was really his problem to deal with or, when he was particularly annoyed, simply not worth his time. He hadn't meant to give that impression at all. He really had been distracted by his studies and philosophies more often than not.

The problem was, Elend wasn't sure he could act that way anymore, not when part of him fully intended to act like the kings of old, no matter the illogicality of it all. Ugh, his future self needed to work on his pride. Their pride? No wonder he'd had a mild headache for a while now.

The thing was, he didn't have much of a choice. He'd have to act normally if he didn't want to raise his father's suspicions. For all his father's faults (and the man had many), he was a shrewd and cunning misting. Little differences he could chalk up to Elend 'growing up', but anything major – a change in demeanor, for instance – and his father would watch him non-stop. And Elend knew all too well how much easier it would be to catch Elend slipping up with his tin-eye ability.

So, despite his future self's annoyance, he'd very carefully made sure that the image he projected had been the perfect image of a bored scholar when he'd made his way to dinner the second night after he'd gotten his (and Vin's?) future memories. He forced himself to shuffle into the room and practically plop into the chair, instead of lowering himself regally, and he made himself look bored, with just a touch of resentment to color it all.

His father had already been seated, and watched Elend with a disapproving frown only barely visible. Elend had forgotten how much he loved seeing that expression.

As soon as he sat, the servants came in, setting the food down with a hurried familiarity. The woman with the scars was there, but Elend made sure that his eyes didn't linger on her or anyone else as he waited for the food to be prepared.

Once they'd stepped back from the table, Elend sat forward, as if it cost him great effort to do so, and then picked up his napkin, putting it on his lap. This was going to be the hard part, because he had to have decent manners without letting his future self's manners take over. They would be too good. He mainly accomplished this by eating slowly, playing with his food and fingering his drink before taking it and sipping.

Eventually, his father asked after him, making polite small talk as the meal wore on – as if they actually had anything more than a barely working relationship. As usual, Elend spoke at length about his studies (a subject he could easily go off on, no matter the time period), sticking as best he could to what he'd read about in the last couple of days. His only deviation came when he slipped in a statement Sazed had told his older self about how a strong body could enhance a strong mind, and implied that he would like to begin to study fencing again. His father just watched him from across the long table, face blank.

"I am glad you seem to have finally seen sense," Straff eventually said.

Elend blinked. "Sense? What do you mean?"

"How long has it been since you last picked up a weapon at all?"

Years (days). "I suppose it has been a while," he said, hoping he sounded a little sheepish and pushing aside the image of a disapproving Tindwell in his mind. Honestly, that woman was far too scary if she popped up in his future-self's memories this often.

"I will make arrangements for you to return to fencing later this week."

Elend had to work to hide his surprise. "I... see. Thank you, father."

Well, it seemed Straff hadn't always completely despised his only legitimate son.

That thought made Elend briefly wonder if he could find Zane and some of his other brothers and sisters. Vin had been convinced that Zane hated his father... of course, she had been convinced that she could turn Zane to their side before he'd tried to kill her, too. Still, it was a thought. Elend had the proximity and his father's trust, currently (as much as Straff Venture could trust anyone in any case). Zane had abilities and knowledge... Together, he was sure they could likely neutralize the current head of the Venture house. If Zane was even open to the idea and didn't want to destroy Elend too...

He'd have to think about it, but if he decided to go ahead with that plan, that would bring up a whole bucket load of problems. He'd have to find a way to get a hold of his Mistborn brother and speak to him without dying… Maybe he could swing a visit to Urteau? The Ventures still had a large sway there, after all... If he could get Zane on his side, then it shouldn't be difficult to remove his father from the equation (hopefully without outright murdering him... that thought still made Elend a little sick).

He still couldn't believe he was so calmly contemplating his father's removal. It made him wonder about his future self's morals... but no side of him could deny that Straff Venture was a threat to the coming world, and his removal would give the entire world a far better chance of living.

Just how cold had his future self become?

Is that what power did to people?

He suppressed a shudder.

"So, will you tell me why you've spent a small fortune on metal plates?" And there went the other shoe.

Elend scoffed, trying to sound amused and drawing on his future memories to seem confident enough to sell it.

"Small fortune? Please, father. We spend more on what we eat in a week than I did on those plates. And it's for an experiment... for my studies."

"What experiment?" Straff asked, not sounding interested at all. Which probably meant he was actually curious.

"I had some ideas about new binding on my books. I'd like to find a way to preserve them better." After all, he'd specifically asked for non-allomantic (or at least allomatnically useless) metals, those that weren't in high demand. Those that could look pretty or were soft enough to carve easily, but otherwise, weren't worth too much.

Straff raised an eyebrow and didn't look impressed.

"I... heard some things about some other metals too. Read about them and... wanted to do a couple of experiments with aluminum as well, if the other experiments work out."

His father raised an eyebrow, finally looking interested, if skeptical. It wasn't the most well known fact that aluminum was allomantically void, but it was something his father would likely know.

"Where... did you hear about that?" he asked.

Elend realized his mistake but refused to panic. Instead, he watched his father for a couple of seconds, straining to come up with something before an excuse came to mind. He smiled.

"So, there is something important about it! I knew it! It's allomantic somehow, right?"

Straff's frown deepened.

"I remember aluminum being mentioned in a couple of my books, and wondered why they were mentioned but not explained. I figured there had to be something to it."

The older man's expression seemed to cool. "Elend, you're playing with fire."

But he didn't tell Elend to leave it alone. "Perhaps it would be easier to know what I was playing with if I knew what it could do."

Straff's expression went from cool to puzzled. Elend kept his gaze.

"Perhaps you could meet me in my office later this evening?"

The younger Venture had a difficult time keeping the surprise off of his face. Was his father conceding?

"Of course, father," he managed to get out smoothly. A little too smoothly. Elend smiled at him, trying to look triumphant, but he was wondering if he'd acted too confident there...

"Why have you decided to experiment with a potentially allomantic metal, all of a sudden?" Straff asked, interrupting Elend's inner panic.

Forcing himself to be calm, Elend shrugged and slouched back in his seat a little. "I figured if I wanted to be a head of House Venture that others remember and respect, I'll need to contribute something."

"Hmm," his father still didn't look convinced, but he apparently decided to drop the subject. "Keep me updated on any progress you make."

"Of course," Elend replied with a nod of his head as he took a sip of his drink. He did his best to ignore the voice in his mind, who sounded suspiciously like Vin (or at least what he figured her voice would sound like as he'd never actually physically heard it at this point) yelling that it could be poisoned. The problem was, if Elend checked for poison or the like, it could tip his father off that something had changed. Well, that something more had changed. Although, knowing his father, he'd already noticed something. Elend had to remember that the man was no fool.

"Let us discuss the ball two nights hence," the older man finally said, changing the subject. Elend didn't bother repressing a sigh, but he also nodded and braced himself to listen to subtle politics for the rest of the meal.

It was just as boring and frustrating as he remembered the first time, even if he could follow it better.

xXx

Elend closed the door to his personal quarters quietly and leaned back against the door for just a moment. Dealing with his father on a one-on-one basis again had been somehow easier and more taxing than he thought it would be. He wondered how long that would last before it got completely unbearable again.

As his father had requested, he'd met the man in his study and the older Venture had explained exactly what aluminum did and why that information was not widely known. Then he'd asked Elend what he expected to find. Elend had told him the truth: he honestly had no idea, and wasn't that the point of experimenting? His father hadn't been pleased. He'd informed Elend that if he didn't come up with some sort of result very soon, he would not be allowed to purchase such large quantities of metal, allomantic or not. Elend had also better shape up and be a little more involved in the family and business if he wanted Straff to keep funding his new interest in experiments.

Naturally, Elend had agreed, and even meant it to an extent. Although, if his father did get fed up and cut off his supply of metal, he would honestly be fine. He'd likely have the metal he needed by the time his father decided to intervene.

After that, Straff had dismissed him and Elend had bid his father goodnight. Now he stood in his room, wishing he'd known how well he'd managed to pull off acting like his old self. He sighed and walked back into his room, unbuttoning his vest as he did so. Just a couple of steps inside, he paused and looked out the window, frowning as the familiar longing caught up to him. It hurt, almost physically, to know he could not be out there right now. Not like he wanted to.

Almost as if in a trance, he walked over to the doors leading onto his balcony and opened them. The mists swirled, disappearing almost as soon as they came inside. Elend breathed them in and walked out into the night, not caring that the ash falling from the sky was already beginning to stain his white shirt, no longer protected by an overcoat or vest.

It was dangerous to be out here. Not because of the mists, of course, but this time of night belonged to the mistborn: belonged to a world he was no longer a part of. It was a world that would devour him whole as he was now. He wasn't even a misting. Or, if he was, it was one of the useless metals that they didn't even test for after the misting beating. He knew Aluminum, as unknown as it was at this point, was counted in that number by those in the know. One couldn't burn away other metals if one couldn't burn other metals to begin with. Duralumin – completely unknown at this point – was the same: only useful to Mistborns. Gold was the most well known... although, now that he thought about it, revealing his past self might be useful to him at this moment. He could bring out and study his younger self to make his own facade more convincing.

He snorted. Of course gold would only be actually useful in his current impossible situation. Right. Just what were the odds?

Shaking his head at the thought, he looked out at the grounds again. Then he took a deep, longing breath before turning around and heading back inside. His Vin-based paranoia seemed relieved. The side of him that would always be mistborn ached. He ignored them both as he closed the doors and loosed the curtains, throwing the room into relative darkness as he finished the process of undressing.

xXx

Of all the parties the upper-class held, Elend enjoyed the lesser balls the most, mainly because they were the least important. Lesser balls (held usually by smaller or less prominent houses) weren't usually the scene of major politicking, even if his father insisted they could be just as important. The greater houses had to be backed by the smaller houses to really corner a market. The lesser houses were also where the Lord Ruler-sanctioned traders, merchants and other such (supposedly) non-Skaa tradesmen and women came from.

The Ventures didn't go to many such balls, unless it was a house they were on particularly good terms with (namely one who had made Straff Venture very happy recently), or one where the Ventures were showing there support to solidify a business deal... or other such similar nonsense.

Elend knew how important all of that could be for House Venture's future prospects (especially now, after he had the memories of a king inside his head), but he found that he'd rather enjoyed returning to just being the heir to a noble house – no current responsibilities or people he had to watch out for. He could sit back and philosophize and plan and study to his heart's content, and his older self hadn't realized how much he'd missed that. (His younger self couldn't help but be horrified that he'd had to give it up.)

Of course, he was still supposed to mingle with certain people, a list given to him by Straff. He usually never did, although he'd made an attempt this time. It hadn't gone over well, mainly because he hadn't wanted it to. Most of his father's machinations regarding him had to do with the fact that he'd made it rather blatantly known that he had no intention of marrying Shan Elarien. His father, while not pleased, hadn't seemed as upset as Elend had expected (more politics, most likely), but that made him quite the eligible bachelor. None of the girls he spoke to held a candle to his future memories of Vin, and so he made the token effort before retreating to balconies and alcoves again. His father knew that despite their discussion at the dinner table a couple of days earlier, he likely wouldn't suddenly change, and he had no compunctions at taking full advantage of that.

While normally, he brought a book to read, this time he had some writing to do. He needed to get down his ideas for his next philosophy session with his friends (if he could still call them friends, knowing what they would do in the future) that he wanted to bring to their attention. The problem was, he'd have to get it from a book. Simply bringing it up would be suspicious, even for him, but if he'd read it somewhere...

So he made himself as comfortable as he could in a shaded alcove away from the party but where he could still watch most of what happened. Setting his ink down to one side, he withdrew a quill and an empty journal. The alcove wasn't the most ideal place to write, but it would allow him to get some of his ideas and maybe an outline down. Leaning over, he dipped his quill in the ink, then sat back and put the implement to paper.

He'd barely gotten down half a page when something – specifically someone – caught his eye. He blinked and looked over to see a surprisingly familiar face that didn't belong to the usual Aristocracy. Elend was honestly so shocked that he couldn't help but stare openly for several seconds too long – because he had not thought he would meet someone from his future so quickly (according to his calculations, it would still be several months before he met Vin, and he hadn't known anyone else associated with her before that).

Figuring he'd better make sure he wasn't seeing things, he quickly closed his books, put his writing equipment in one of the pockets of his suit-coat, and trailed the man. He managed to get a good look at his face and confirmed, to his relief, that he wasn't seeing things. The man he'd seen was, indeed, who he'd thought it was.

Breeze.

xXx

AN: Okay, this has not been beta read and honestly, I'm posting this because I have four chapters written and then I kind of lost steam.

If Brandon Sanderson EVER finds out about this, I think I'll die. However, he says he doesn't read fanfic of his own stuff, so I should be safe there.

Yes, another time-travel fic. I'm sure anyone who has ever read any of my other stuff is shocked. Go figure. But yeah, this has four chapters I'll post right now and then probably never look at again, sorry. :/ It's sad, because it would be fun, but the muses speak all, and they've left this one alone for quite a while. Maybe when I read the Mistborn books again? But no promises.

Anyway, tell me what you think. :)