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                                      Stout was grinning. And perhaps that was something best kept to himself. But this woman...this whore of the man he called son, was much more than he thought. He had been a fool to doubt Alaric. He knew his strength, and his vision. He certainly wouldn't have allowed a female to stay on this ship if she were not worth the trouble. And now, his eyes were opened. The first mate had thought to cry out when it seemed the crew was about to turn on him, however now he saw that their was no need. Alaric had chosen his voice; someone of his own nature who did not stand for betrayal. Stout had heard her story. He had been watching her and the captain for a time. He knew that she had suffered at the hand of her lover, and lost her son. But despite being rough around edges Alaric had his charms. Once those around him fell for them, there was no turning back. It seemed that this woman wasn't far from finding exactly where her loyalties would lie-- maybe for the rest of her life.

                                      The gun shot had been a surprise. One that pleased Stout greatly as Estelle made it clear that the ramp was to come down immediately for the sake of the captain's life. Jolly had taken the handles of the wheelbarrow from the two crewmen and rushed to get the man to Eager, but as first mate he thought it best to stay with the woman. Should Alaric make it out of this situation, he would want to see her alive and well. Stout feared that other's of the crew had also been thinking mutiny. Power was valuable among men who knew not how difficult it was to rule. Some thought the captain too kind, other's thought him too harsh. And some moved whatever way the wind blew them. Alaric would not be happy to hear how quickly some had turned on him. And Stout had decided it best not to tell him at all. But now that Estelle was speaking once again, waving a dangerous weapon around as if it were naught but a toy, he figured she would be the one to warn him of some of the crew's intentions. Albeit after the blatant display of gunfire and death, he doubted that anyone would try such things again-- at least for a while.

                                      Eventually, she descended the stairs after the other's and went to sit by the captain's doors. Stout soon found his voice, clearing his throat to address the group. Most of the men were asleep, and the small handful that were awake were the night cleanup; meaning Trigger, and Lank would be appalled to hear about the situation that occurred in the morning. "The lot of you get off Alaric's ship."

                                      "Sir, you can't possibly believe--"

                                      "I do believe. You men have no allegiance to yer captain. Or you would have killed that man as his whore did."

                                      The men exchanged glances, not sure what they should do. Stout was the only man left on the deck with them. He wasn't tall, or large. He was hardly a threat at all. And he could see that they were thinking about overthrowing them while they had the chance. Yet, Stout showed no signs of fear. His expression was unwavering and his hand was held out toward the wooden ramp that lead to the shore. "We will tell Alaric what we did when he wakes, and let him chose our punishment."

                                      "So that you may have time to slit his throat whilst he lay sleeping?"

                                      "You can lock us in the brig--"

                                      "Speak for yerself mate! I'd rather die on my own accord." Three of the men started toward the ramp, thinking the captain merciless. But four stayed, standing firm with the one who had thought it best to allow Alaric to chose their fate.

                                      Stout looked on at them, and they at him before he waved his hand at them to let the ramp up and set sail. With only four men on deck, he would have to do some of the work as well. However, he thought it for the best. If he didn't find something to occupy his mind, he would be concerned about Alaric until he woke, or joined the gods in the heavens. Nevertheless, if his assumptions about his son were right, then there was likely another father in the clouds looking out for the boy, whom Stout believed, would not allow him to die this way. If there was one thing the captain had always desired-- it was an honorable death. And this...this was not that.

                                      The dead of night came swiftly, as those above settled into their positions, and those below waited to see if the captain made a recovery. The door to his cabin was shut and the hallway empty of all but Estelle, who waited outside the entrance for a verdict. But what she likely didn't expect to see was the small orb of light that descended the staircase and floated in her direction down the narrow corridor-- starting small, but growing bigger the closer it got to her form. And once this anomaly was before her, it flickered slightly and there was a spout of darkness before a silhouette appeared. The moonlight shown upon it with great favor making it hard to see, but with one step forward the presence became clear.

                                      Ares body gave off an aura that was undeniable to any human. Who he was, and why he had come was fairly simple. He did not want Estelle to give up hope that she had done the right thing. He could not intervene to save his son; making him had been taboo enough. She had done well, and he wanted to offer this woman something she thought to be out of her reach, should she continue to show such bravery. She knew not the delicate balance that could be upset by the death of Alaric. But she would soon enough. "Estelle Fareye Whitlock. I am Ares, god of war." His wings fluttered behind him briefly as he drew a breath, his eyes glancing over his shoulder to be sure that no one was coming. He would make this conversation quick. "I have come to thank you for saving the life of my only son. He is arrogant and self centered, like his father, but he means well." He cleared his throat. "I have come to offer you your own son, should you continue to assist mine in making it to Rivdar as he desires. His birth was no mistake. And your involvement in his life has helped guide him more in three days, then I have been able to do in thirty three years." Ares smiled then, as he became a ball of light once more. "Farewell. 'Til we meet again." And with that, he vanished...

                                      Unfortunately, despite the night that Estelle had, Alaric's had been much less eventful. So when he woke, he found himself in a frantic state of trying to catch up. Both Eager and Jolly had spent the night by his bed, their heads resting on either side of him before he shot up in a panic. The weakened state of his body was unknown until he had tried to propel himself toward the floor. "Wait, captain please!" Jolly screamed reaching for his arm, as the man cried out in pain and clasped his shoulder in disbelief. He glanced down at his chest, which had been wrapped again and again with bandages, and yet still blood oozed from his body and soaked the material like water might do a wash cloth. In addition, his bicep stung, and there was sticky tape holding a soggy tan piece of sheet in place over the wound.

                                      Alaric remembered only bits and pieces of the night. But he knew no matter what he had suffered, he did not want to be in this humbling state upon his bed when there was more work to be done. The gods had spared his life, which only made him even more confident that saving the life of his mother was in their will. However, should his crew grow restless, he knew that mutiny would soon follow this escapade. "Jolly, I need to get up. My men need to see my face and know that I live."

                                      Both high ranking mates exchanged glances as he groaned and clutched his chest before throwing his feet off the side of the bed and making a feeble attempt to stand. "Please! You barely made it off the island alive--"

                                      "Estelle...where is she?"

                                      "We don't know."

                                      "Wrong answer." He snapped looking back at his bosun with reprimand in his eyes. "Knowing this lot, they probably hung her from sails."

                                      "No, not after last night..."

                                      Alaric was curious now, stopping in his tracks as he turned to look at his men. "Explain yourself..."

                                      "The night crew...they wouldn't let us on the ship. They thought you were dead, and wanted to take it for themselves." Alaric clenched his jaw, trying not to lose his cool before Jolly finished with the story. "She took your pistol. And she... she killed a man."

                                      Suddenly, the captain's mouth fell slightly ajar. He found himself in a state of bewilderment, as his eyebrows fell. "She killed one of the crew?"

                                      "I would not have believed it, had I not seen it." Jolly looked afraid, as if he was expecting the man to set fire to his own ship. "Sir..."

                                      Alaric honestly wasn't sure what to feel, but that didn't change what he indeed felt. "She is amazing...isn't she?"

                                      "She shot you."

                                      "And it was amazing..." He grinned.

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                                                                              Estelle wasn’t quite sure what had happened to her nor if she was to believe that she’d actually been visited by a god. But his aura had been unmistakable and to deny it…. It didn’t take magic to know the difference between illusion and divine intervention. No, she knew he’d been real. But then why? Why speak to her of such matters when his son lay just in the other room? She’d put his life in danger. She’d almost gotten him killed on several occasions. And yet somehow Ares felt her suitable to continue leading his son, his only son, onward to victory. It was a lot to take in and in no way did she think that the crew would believe her even if she were to speak openly of such visions. But it mattered not. If there was even a sliver of a chance that she could see her son again… to be able to hold him and take care of him as she ought have and to love him as a mother should…. then she would do as the god wished and stay by his son’s side. Even if she perished in the process. For in her eyes her child was worth it. And she was slowly beginning to understand that this man was as well. ”Hello? Anyone home?” Estelle flinched as she registered the hand waving in front of her and blinked several times before looking up at the man attached to it. ”Any news?”

                                                                              ”I was about to ask you the same….”

                                                                              ”I….. I don’t remember anyone coming out.”

                                                                              ”Didn’t sleep a wink?”

                                                                              ”Not one.”

                                                                              ”Nor I. Now don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty to be done. But I’m just not sure how effective that will be if he-“

                                                                              ”Just do what your told and continue on as if all were normal. He’s not dead. So don’t you dare-“

                                                                              ”Ah now calm down I didn’t mean anything by it. Listen, just let us know if you hear anything.” But it didn’t take long before she did. Just as the man moved to walk away the sound of Jolly bidding the captain to wait followed by the man’s gruff cry of pain echoed throughout the corridor. Estelle couldn’t see it, but she was smiling. And that much was at least seen by the crewman as she stood abruptly, knocking over her seat, and made for the captain’s bedroom door. The man was grinning. And for some reason that frustrated her just as much as it relieved her to see him alive. Had he been in better condition he would have had something to smile about but this…. He was practically in shreds. ”I don’t find anything particularly funny about a near death experience, but I suppose we all cope with the shock of almost losing our life in different ways. It’s good to see you’re still kicking, captain.” It was only then that she felt her own lips still split in a joyous expression and immediately replaced it with one of cool disposition. She needn’t give him any ideas. ”I uhm…..” How was she to tell him? That his father was a god? And he a demigod? That she was meant to help lead him to Rivdar? No it was too much and if he didn’t think her mad, he’d dismiss her claims for an attempt to somehow ensure her own safety in some way. If Ares had wanted him to know now then he would have told the man himself. Coming to her surely must have been more out of discretion than importance. There was already a lot weighing on Axton be it his crew’s mutiny, his wounds, or the perilous journey ahead. And she refused to burden him further. At least not while he was down. ”You shouldn’t strain yourself. It’ll do you good to rest until we’ve reached a place where we can seek out proper medical care. No romping about, prodding men with blades and guns. If you haven’t already noticed, those bandages won’t last forever….” Estelle didn’t wait for permission to enter but instead pushed passed the others and approached the man’s wardrobe where she pulled out a thin shirt and began tearing the fabric into strips. ”If one of you think you could set him a chair in the bathing room…..” She hadn’t even a chance to finish her inquiry before one of the men grabbed the chair from behind the captain’s desk and began lugging it into the other room where she followed with the strips of cloth and ran a quick bath.

                                                                              ”If you keep those on for too long they’ll collect bacteria it’ll get infected.” Despite knowing what he was, Estelle was surprised to find that she wasn’t afraid of him. Nor did she didn’t respect him any more than he’d given her reason to. He was a demigod, yes, and she was entrusted by his father to continue helping him. But oddly enough the way she had felt about him prior to having met the god of war hadn’t changed. If anything she was wary. What she’d seen the day the captain had lost his temper made sense now and no longer did she think the storm to have merely been a coincidence. He was more powerful than she’d assumed. And yet still this did not unnerve her. She’d done everything wrong and even so he seemed just as level headed should she have been nothing more than a breeze passing by. Completely unaffected by her recklessness. Had he sought to put an end to her, or in the very least punish her for her actions he would have done it already. His mercifulness had gone without explanation. But it could wait. Right now she needed to ensure that his wounds were properly taken care of and as soon as she got the chance she would leave the ship in search of a healer to do the rest. ”Come. Take a seat, Alaric.”


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                                      There was authority in her voice when she entered. It was clear to him that she had been waiting for him to wake; and maybe, there was a possibility that she had been concerned for him as well. It was the only reason he could imagine that she would kill a man threatening to steal a ship she cared nothing about. Then again, such was her only hope of staying alive, as it was apparent from the rude welcoming they received that an island full of werewolves would not make a good place to start a new life. Still, he had seen the brief joyous expression that graced her lips before she began giving orders.

                                      It was odd, but it almost as if she had been doing this all her life. From what she had told him, she had been some sort of coordinator back in Moriel, perhaps that called for her to take the lead in the regards of certain projects the royals needed done. But this was no Kingdom. This was a pirate ship, and only he appointed those who were allowed to do such things in his presence. It was disrespect to give orders when the captain was around to do so if he wished, and moreover, she was directing some of them toward him. In addition, the man wasn't even sure how to address the fact that she had called him by his birth name...Alaric. It wasn't that he didn't find favor in being referred to that way-- just not by a woman who was suppose to be his whore. She was acting more like his captain. And his men didn't even seem to take notice to the comfortability Estelle seemed to attain with him seemingly overnight.

                                      He watched her with narrowing eyes as Jolly and Eager rushed to grab the chair she requested, bringing it into the bathing room. Whilst she proceed from the his closet, where she grabbed a shirt and began tearing pieces from it for whatever reason.

                                      Alaric said nothing at first, his gaze shifting from her as she urged him to come and sit, to his men. "Out, the both of you." Alaric growled, his gravely tone a bit surprising to the both of them. But they knew that Estelle was obviously overstepping her bounds. Perhaps they thought that he would find it endearing. However, he only found the fact that she worried for him worth his affections. It was not her job to tell him what to do, or how to do it. Alaric was a grown man, and he could damn well take care of himself.

                                      "Sir, she is only trying to help--" Jolly whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. However, the captain shrugged him away and swung his head toward the doors.

                                      "Now." He demanded firmly, as the two eyed Estelle nervously before exiting the quarters; reluctantly closing the doors behind them. And once he was sure they were gone, he started toward her with an intense stare in his crystal blue eyes. His arm reached out and retracted with her's in tow, pulling her close to him so that the men would not hear him yell if they were waiting outside the door. It was apparent that Jolly already found favor in this woman. For what reason, he couldn't be sure. Part of him worried that she had lain with some of the crew without him knowing. He feared that she may have been conspiring with them to overthrow him while he was weak.

                                      "Is this your ship, Estelle?" It was a rhetorical question, one that was made obvious by the very serious expression on his face. His chiseled chin was titled upward slightly as if to exalt himself above her. "Do you make the rules? Do you get to tell my men what to do? Sentence them to death? Allow them to live?" He laughed abruptly-- a mere dark rumble leaving his lips. "Have the gods come from the heavens and given you permission to talk to a man as powerful I, as if he were naught but a child?"

                                      Alaric finally breathed, his attention falling to the bath she had ran. He had been so distracted by everything else, that he hadn't thought that perhaps she been trying to seclude them from the others so that they might be...alone? It was a foolish thought. She had made it clear that he was not her type. And yet, he was afraid that he had just ruined his chance to have her. "What is this?" His hand fell immediately from her, and his eyes lost their indigence. "Am I to get naked? Is this...my reward?"

                                      He had never been taken care of before, not like this. He thought she was trying to undermine him. He knew not of what it was to have someone do something for him without having to ask for it. For someone to want to assist him with anything without him first consenting to it, was beyond his comprehension. And therefore, what she had said in the room about infections and bacteria had gone over his head. All he knew was that she was telling him what do before the very men he expected to respect him for the mere fact that he took orders from no one. As a matter of fact, the idea that the crew had thought of leaving him on the island did not shock him, even in the least. When they saw a man weak, that was the best time to strike. This was how he had become captain.

                                      He wondered if it was because of her that he was still alive...

                                      Alaric's expression was rapidly changing, he had gone from angry to sullen in a matter of moments. He was starting to remember last night. Was this why the gods had sent her? Did he need saving? Had she...saved him? "Or is it I, that should be rewarding you..." He swallowed, reaching down to peel the soggy, crimson bandages from his torso, revealing bloody scars that ran deep into his chest. The flesh had been torn from him, and were it not for her-- he could have died...he almost died. It was not the gunshot that would have done him in. Not at all.

                                      "Do not EVER, call me Alaric! I'm your captain." He snapped at her, before having a seat in the chair his men had put next to the tub for him. Heaving a heavy sigh, he leaned forward to run a frustrated hand over his face. When his men found out that it was a woman that had saved him, there would be mutiny. "My memory has betrayed me..."

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                                                                              Estelle had convinced herself that she was without fear of this man as he was simply that. A man. But she could not deny the twinge…. the urge to flee the room upon having been met with a suspicious gaze and harsh tone. Alaric had dismissed his men, leaving her to face his wrath. And what a wrath it was. Estelle tugged on her arm as the captain loomed over her and spat sarcasm with each indignant word that left his throat. The pure arrogance of the man alone was unbearable but to think that she so much as cared of the order of his ship because she had interest in it alone was appalling. She did not seek a higher rank amongst these men nor did she yearn to take his place as the crew the night before had wanted. No, it was merely in her interest, and his own, that she might aid him where it was needed. That was all it was. But the pirate was simply too stubborn to see it. She wasn’t sure what to say. It was clear there was no reaching out to the man without consequence and even had she been given the chance to, her train of thought would have immediately been interrupted by the preposterous assumption he made upon looking to where the bath lie. ”Nak-….. No. You will keep them on.” She proclaimed with a huff and rubbed her wrist gingerly as she took a step back. Watching as he then went on to experience a revelation of sorts and inquired if it was she he was meant to be rewarded. Estelle’s look of offense immediately dropped and she watched in silence as the man moved to sit in the chair, removing his soiled bandages and revealing to her the wounds inflicted the night before. They ran deep into his chest and yet although they had nearly cost him his life there was something strangely alluring about seeing the man so distraught. For once he seemed uncertain of himself and all that he knew. It was certainly a well deserved change of pace. ”Yes well….. during times of stress, no matter how strong we are, things often can be skewed. Experiences frayed, and beliefs changed…….. Who is to say that my recollection of the night’s events were not as distorted as your own?” She didn’t know why she was offering him encouragement especially after he had practically spat on what compassion she had given him. But for some reason it felt important to keep the man’s spirits alight. And not only because his father was depending on her to keep him on the right path. He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of her having possibly been of some help to him and whether that be out of fear of owing her or because he thought her lesser was irrelevant in that moment.

                                                                              ”As I recall, that shot in your arm very well could have been a product of my foolishness. I was trapped in a wardrobe after all. And I do not recall having refrained from pulling the trigger even after the beast had died. It… wouldn’t be too unbelievable to think that I might have shot you whilst you were pulling me out. And that these injuries here were obtained upon fighting off the wolves in the hall and then managing to make an escape for me through your room…You were about to stave off the rest so that I might live and appoint your first mate the new captain of your crew as your dying wish. Don’t you remember?” It was a dramatic tale that tore away the heroics she had committed in saving his own life and in turn placing such an honor onto him. Granted she expected the idea to go to the man’s head and it would likely backfire…. But the intent was there. It was a legend he could tell all in passing should he choose. After all who was she to claim that she’d spared the life of a god? She’d never done any good in all her life. Why give others reason to believe she could now? ”Try not to over think it. It’s only logical. Your men wouldn’t believe me even if I were to claim that you owed me your life. Which you don’t. You’ve spared my life plenty in the past. Don’t suppose they’d think you’d stop now.” Estelle knelt before him as she snatched a cloth from the side of the bath and dipped it into the water before then gently dabbing away at the open wounds and ringing the garment so that it might flush out any impurities that lingered behind. ”But don’t think this changes anything. I may owe you but not all of us repay others with meaningless sex.” He was an attractive man but as previously expressed, Estelle had no intention of involving herself with the man in that sort of relationship. More so now than ever. He was the son of the war god, Ares, who had entrusted her to care for this… man….. in exchange for her son. She would not ruin her chances by intruding on whatever plan the gods had in store for him. ”Be still. Try not to move….. captain Estelle got up and moved behind Alaric and began lacing several strips of fabric at a time around the man’s chest, tying them in tight knotted chords.


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                                      Something about this woman rubbed him all the wrong and right ways at the same time. She had seen through his sullen expression, and knew exactly his fears when it came to the crew. Perhaps because she had see the mutiny in their eyes for herself last night. So here she was, willing to pretend she had forgotten what had happened on the island, and made up a different story entirely. And although she had seemed offended at his mention of getting naked, he was starting to think that Lank was right-- perhaps she was merely playing hard to get. Why else would she do these things for a man who had made it clear that he planned to kill her-- unless she was hoping that laying with him would make him chance his mind. Maybe she hoped to become his whore permanently. Yet she spoke of meaningless sex as if it was not what she wanted.

                                      For a moment, he contemplated what she could want in return for staying quiet about what she had done for him. Surely she could use it to gain the crew's favor and overthrow him. But perhaps control of the Sea Dragon was not in her stars. It was possible she simply wanted his word that he would not strike her down once they arrived in Rivdar. Yes, that was it! He understood now that no matter how much he desired to be desired, Estelle was still concerned with his so called 'lover,' and the fact that he had made her a promise in regards to her fate. Again, he felt like an idiot. However, he was relieved to have an end put to the idea of mutiny upon his vessel.

                                      Alaric watched her as she moved from knelling before him, to behind him to tie the strips of cloth she had fashioned from a shirt in his closet, around his torso. He thought that maybe it was his turn to tell some truths. She had trusted him enough; seen enough honor in him to believe that he would do the right thing and grant her a life not bound by the notion of death at every corner. So Alaric thought best to clarify what he had said to her when she accused him of being selfish. It could have been his wounds, or the medicine Eager had used upon them, maybe it was even the pain that rattled his entire body. But the idea of telling someone else about his saint of a mother, made his heart swell with joy.

                                      "Meaningless sex is all I know. I have never loved a woman. Not romantically." His lips moved, but his voice was foreign to even his own ears. He spoke with a tone that did not command an audience, but rather shied away from one. "I allowed you to assume that I spoke of a lover, when I was talking about my mother." He knew it wouldn't change her mind about anything; wanting to engage in such things was either instinct, or it wasn't. Still, he continued his confession without shame, looking on into nothingness-- as if there was no wall before him, only empty space.

                                      "I lived in Salia until I was thirteen with my mother, and her master...an evil witch who cursed our land and kept us prisoner for her own purpose. When she was killed, we rejoiced, but it was short lived, for we knew not how to live on our own, and were without proper funds. I sold myself into slavery that year-- servitude upon this very ship. The captain was ruthless, and after ten years of being beaten into submission, I killed him and took his men as my own. I returned to my mother with gold, and glory, but no physician could cure her..."

                                      Alaric bit down on his lip as he eased himself up out of the chair once she had finished, and glanced over his shoulder to look at her. "The Keeper is my only option. The witch, Olivera, had also planned to visit him. For what reasons, I don't know. So I took her list, and I do her work. I will go to this helper of the gods, and demand that he give me the cure for my mother. I heard of a man named Daemos, who received his favor. And I seek to do the same."

                                      He turned slowly to face Estelle, his eyes having lost their color. "I have not seen her in ten years. I...I miss her..." His legs were carrying him toward the woman, although he didn't know what he was doing. He was so lonely he wanted the company of anyone who would have him. Alaric's palm found the wall just by her head, as his body gently pinned her against it. "If you will not repay me with sex, then can I repay you with such?" His form leaned over her, as the heat from their collide muddied his mind with illogical thoughts. The back of the man's free hand gently drifted over her face, pushing away strands of lovely golden colored hair-- before his fingers rushed under her chin to lift it...

                                      And then the door opened; it flew back in a furry and he could hear the heavy breaths of his bosun and cook. "Sir, please don't kill her! We can't let you--" Jolly was looking at the back of Alaric, as he was pressed up against Estelle in the corner of the bathing room-- his face turning bright red in embarrassment. He was sure this interruption would be the cause of his death. "Ohhhhhh. You wanted us to leave...so you could..."

                                      Alaric sighed, slouching forward as he released the woman and turned to look at his men. "You've interrupted nothing." He knew what the answer would have been. And was glad they had interrupted. He had been too vulnerable, and knew not how to repay a woman for saving his life; his only leverage over Estelle was the fact that he could kill her. Telling her he wouldn't, might make her run off again. Alaric needed to rest. He needed to think-- straight. In turn, he went and sat on the edge of his bed waving his hand haphazardly. "Leave..."

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                                                                              His mother. The entirety of their time together she had been led to believe that the man had been trying to save the corrupt relationship he had with a lover by sparing her from sickness when really his efforts were meant for the only woman capable of fully understanding the inner workings that made up the man before her. She no longer saw the captain as a man of infidelity but rather one of good intentions as his father had said. Still it wasn’t enough to dismiss his poor behavior or his lack of subtlety when it came to lust as even now he refused to refrain from expressing as much. Pressing his body against hers as he hovered over her and placed a palm against the wall beside her head. Her breath held as the back of his other brushed over her face and pushed back strands of her hair and yet despite her previous unwillingness to commit such acts with him she found herself too stunned to say as much now. The abruptness in his change of mood was far too quick for Estelle to catch on and had he proceeded further she wasn’t entirely sure she would have been able to fight off such advances. The situation was overwhelming and the amount of information she’d received on the captain’s previous life was still registering when the door to the bathing room burst open abruptly revealing a startled and panicked Jolly who went about sputtering objections against what should have been her death. Fortunately what he’d happened upon was anything but a hostile encounter and she watched in speechless silence as the bosun’s face went from a healthy shade to one of dark red in a matter of moments. The breeze of Alaric’s warm breath passed over her bare shoulder as he slouched forward and reassured the man that he had not intruded in on anything despite how their position spoke otherwise. Her lips parted in a sudden exhale and her heart skipped what felt like several beats before she was able to peel herself off the wall and run her hands briefly over the front of her body as if to confirm her own existence. Her own face had flushed a shade darker and had Alaric not openly dismissed them she would have stood there for hours contemplating what it was she might have allowed to transpire. She’d made it clear. She wanted no part in the man. But then why has she hesitated? Why had she not lashed out? It was wrong. It was all wrong and the fact that his lover was actually not a lover at all but the woman who had birthed him should not have changed her feelings towards his proposition. Estelle had decided early on that she would not make the same mistake she had made prior to having met the captain. He was a bad choice and to openly accept him despite knowing the dangers in associating with the likes of him, god or not, would be foolish. He was not of this world and she barely knew him. Not to mention the continuing theme of homicide that ran through their relationship. He had wanted to kill her at the start. He’d been cruel. Could the simple fact that he had changed his decision as well as given her more insight truly change that?

                                                                              He was still her captor. And yet without him she would have died. There were pieces… parts of him that held kindness and generosity as the god had proclaimed. Good intentions. But despite this he still needed plenty of work. And Estelle wasn’t quite so sure she was capable of assisting him in such. But she had to try. If there was anything worth fighting for in this world, it was her son. His life had already been plagued with sin in having been born and before she could so much as attend to him as she ought to, she abandoned the boy. She’d been given a second chance at life. Was it not fair that in repairing a god’s son, she re-obtain her own and receive a second chance at motherhood as well? ”The captain?” Estelle had stood in front of the now closed doorway to the captain’s quarters completely absorbed in her own thoughts but not alone in the least. The man from before had returned and looked down at her with expecting eyes as he awaited her response. ”He’s fine. Just needs rest is all. It would do you good to tell the others. I would like to claim he’d be in bed for the next few days but, as I’m sure you know, the captain takes orders from no man. Or woman for that matter.” The deckhand laughed merrily and gave her a swift pat on the back before running off to clarify the situation with the rest. She on the other hand was slightly less eager to join the rest of the crew or anyone for that matter. She had learned a great deal more about the pirate than she’d bargained for and by no means had she expected to upon boarding his ship. But now she was not only entrusted with this information, but the duty his father had lain upon her shoulders as well. Then there was still the matter of how she perceived the man under it all as that too had changed. She was not in the mind to be waving any more guns around and it had been clarified that she was not to give orders to the crew. So, uncertain of what to do with herself Estelle resorted to the simplest and most lowly of tasks that wouldn’t require too much thought. Cleaning. Yes, the captain Axton was a man of pride but his ship, although glorious, was nothing to smile at in its current state. Such details were something only a woman such as herself would have noticed but given the chance she was determined to make the Sea Dragon quite the spectacle.

                                                                              ”Is that…. lavender?” It was everywhere. Tucked in corners of the boat and only visible if one were looking for it specifically. Unfortunately such could not be said for the smell. In an attempt to please their captain after the previous night’s mutiny Estelle had managed to persuade two deckhands in assisting her with the ships cleaning. One of which was swinging along the side of the ship on a plank of wood and scraping off the barnacles that had managed to plaster themselves onto the vessel after years of traveling the open seas. The deck was spotless and the wood scrubbed of any grim it had taken in over the Sea Dragon’s use. Polished off with an oil she’d been given from Eager which was where she had managed to get the beautiful purple herbs as well. The entire ship reeked of the perfumed flower but alongside the salty breeze, one could not deny the tranquil feel it gave off. ”It is. The captain will be sore. And he’s a hot head if there ever was one. I’m hoping that a change as subtle as this might offer him a more calming state of mind if only for a little while. After all that has happened I don’t expect him to be settling down any time soon but it’s worth a try.” The gesture earned her a goofy smile from the man as he rubbed the back of his neck and let out a sigh. ”Suppose it’s sort of nice to have a woman’s touch around here. Even if yer bad luck.” Estelle grinned and tucked away another cluster of lavender beneath the wheel before nodding in a form of gratitude. ”And I suppose it’s sort of nice to be called a woman instead of a whore for once. Even if you’re a pirate.” The man chuckled before going on his way to assist the rest in their daily duties, leaving Estelle to mull over the simple task of making things around the ship a little more pleasant. Even though she wasn’t sure how long it would last. After all…. The man was the son of the god of war.


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                                      Alaric didn't like to be rejected. Anyone who didn't immediately succumb to his will, was lost to gunfire or steel. And such was the way he had lived since he became the captain of the Sea Dragon. So why was this woman still alive? Why hadn't he simply done away with her, when she made him feel this way? Was her presence worth it? Were more test from the gods needed to get him into the heavens? Or was it an excuse? A reason to keep her around.

                                      He hated having time to think. The more he did so, the more decisions he regretted. Alaric knew Stout was right. He should have let the Prince kill Estelle and taken her blood. But it had been so long since he had a companion that the man hadn't been in his right mind. And now, he was starting to worry that this woman was here merely because he wanted to be her presence-- not the other way around.

                                      His entire day was spent pacing his room, and turning away his men until he finally fell asleep with his back up against the door for fear that someone would come in and see the disheveled state of mind he was in. And the next day was no different. Luckily, Lank had his heading, and once they arrived in port Alaric would be made aware. He needed to attain the blood of an orc next, and such were hard to find, being as most were scattered throughout the Land-- many were hired by scoundrels to do their dirty work.

                                      The captain wasn't a heartless man. As a matter of fact, he considered himself to be too sentimental at times. But he had been raised by two women, and such was apparent given the fact that the child from Moriel and her mother had been spared. For a moment, he found himself wondering about that little girl-- Sophie. She had wanted him to come back and visit her. It was a strange inquiry. One he was starting to think about more and more. He wondered if she had foreseen his return for some reason or another.

                                      Ever since that blasted trip to the fairy Kingdom something had changed. But it was only now that it was starting to cause concern. Alaric felt weakened by the events that had followed Moriel. And he wondered if the gods were disappointed in his choice to stay hidden from them. He had done nothing worth noting in two days. He hadn't even barked a single order. Perhaps he was afraid of facing his men after what had happened, because even if they didn't know about what had occurred on the island, he did-- the guilt was written all over his face.

                                      And then there was Estelle, whom he had cornered in the bathroom and humbly offered a romp in his sheets. He was use to asking for what he wanted, but in a much more demanding way-- one that wasn't allowed to be refused. However, she had gone rushing from the room like lightning to the ground. Alaric wanted to be feared, and although she pretended not to be afraid-- he had seen fear in her eyes; sadly, that was not the reaction he desired from her. So what did he desire, if fear or sex? He had offered it, but he didn't start to tug on her clothing-- instead, he was about to offer her his embrace.

                                      Alaric groaned loudly as he shot up in his bed feeling the ship come to a halt on a bank of sand. He jerked forward, running his hand over his face to wipe the sweat from it before he felt for his bandages; they were stained crimson, but not nearly as badly as they had been two days ago. Estelle had done a fairly good job of cleaning his wounds, and with a bit of rum he had nearly forgotten his physical pain after being consumed by the mental.

                                      Alaric bathed and removed a tan tunic from his closet without the sleeves, and put it on, tucking the hem into the belt of his pants. He then put his boots on, finding the door of his chamber where he made his departure. The captain wouldn't have been surprised to find the deck had gone up in flames without him to properly give the orders, however he found that things were much less cataclysmic than he thought. As a matter of fact, the Sea Dragon was practically sparkling beneath the morning sun. In addition, he thought he smelled flowers, when there was naught by city streets and large buildings ahead.

                                      His men were sauntering about, some yawning into closed fist, others with mugs in hand, but most were getting the ship tethered to shore. The city where they made port was called Weknox. It was a lawless town, without a leader-- where anarchy seemed to reign. It was a dangerous place, especially to dock his ship where everything important to him was all in one space, but it was easier than trying to locate an orc in a normal Kingdom. What was worse, was the fact that the captain couldn't simply stroll into a town and hire one. Normally, an outside agent would hear you speaking about what you needed done, and the orc would contact you if word got back to them that you were in need of their assistance.

                                      Estelle would certainly come in handy. She could talk some men up in a bar, and hopefully word would get back that she needed help retrieving someone-- or better yet-- wanted someone dead. But he feared that they might take the money and kill her. And it had already been established that Alaric wanted to keep her around. Unfortunately, an orc would not be willing to help a man as apt as the captain was with anything; if he needed a man killed, he could do such himself...but a woman, a woman was a different story.

                                      He reached out and grabbed the back of the neck of one of the men that was passing him by, causing him to squeal in his grasp like pig, as he pulled him backward. "What is that blasted smell?"

                                      "Uh, sir-- ouch!"

                                      Alaric's fingers had crept up and grabbed pieces of loose stringy hair to pull back on, as he was already growing impatient. "FASTER!"

                                      "Right, yes...um, your whore...she requested that we make your vessel smell nice. You know, cause you wasn't feeling too well."

                                      His eyebrows fell, mostly because he attempting to hold the angry expression on his face. But it was fading far to quickly. "I don't like it."

                                      "She said it would keep you calm..."

                                      "Tell her it didn't work." Alaric replied simply, pushing the man onto the ground at his feet to step over him, as he headed toward the quarterdeck for Stout and Lank.

                                      "Ahoy, captain! Are you feeling better?" Jolly called from the crow nest, a great smell plastered on his face.

                                      Alaric glanced up, offering him a flick of his wrist as he ascended the stairs and found himself at the helm of the Sea Dragon.

                                      "Oh thank the gods! You are well." Stout exclaimed with a smile, turning away from Lank-- who wore a smug look upon his face.

                                      "What do you think of the job your whore has done on the ship. The men seem to be enjoying her touch." Alaric narrowed his gaze, and the quartermaster quickly changed his tune. His grin vanished, and he waved his hands left to right, nervously shaking his head. "No, not her touch! N-not that anyone was touching her! We all know that's your job, captain! I meant, as far cleaning the cobwebs out of this place." Lank rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh. "Looks good right?"

                                      Stout was looking apprehensive as well, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. "You haven't seen her in two days. Did you want me to call for her?" Stout asked, swallowing a lump in the throat as he approached Alaric.

                                      "Do I look like I miss her?" He rebutted rhetorically, a curious look on his face.

                                      "No." His first mate replied without hesitation. "I-I just thought that maybe you wanted to see that she was well."

                                      Suddenly, he was feeling unnerved. Had one of these men lain with her? And everyone was trying to cover it up? Why did he even care? He wasn't going to punish her. She had saved his life. He could talk to her. She did things without him having to ask.... She was a friend, not his whore. "I wanted her to practice shooting. As you can see, she is still in need of work." Alaric pointed to the bandage on his arm, where he had been struck with a silver bullet. "Instead, she's been wasting my crews time, redecorating."

                                      "Sir, are you alright?" Lank blurted suddenly, not sure why he hadn't been reprimanded for how loosely he had chosen his words in regards to Estelle.

                                      "I'm a vision of physical perfection. You tell me." He turned and glanced up at Jolly. "I need my men. I don't want to spend more time here than I have to."

                                      "Yes sir. Estelle too?"

                                      Alaric rolled his crystal eyes. "Is she a man!?"

                                      "I don't know sir, is she?"

                                      "JOLLY!"

                                      "Yes, yes! I'm going, I'm going." He giggled, descended the latter with haste.

                                      "Are you not bringing her along?" Stout asked tentatively from behind him.

                                      To which the captain responded with a shrug of his shoulders. "It's too dangerous..."

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                                                                              The past two days had been painfully dull and as much as Estelle hated the idea of getting used to life threatening situations, threats to her well being, and mind boggling disputes, she had to admit… She’d missed him. The forty eight hours she’d been left to mull over her own thoughts and stew in her pre-conceived notions had given her the time she needed to realize that not all was as black and white as it seemed. The god had been right. There was more to Alaric than she knew and as long as she continued to aid him in his quest she need not fear for her life. He was a stubborn, self absorbed, prideful man who found favor in himself alone. But despite this he could not be blamed. He was born in hardship and forced into a life no child deserved to live. How he managed to survive this long was beyond her as she was certain that even the son of a god could not surpass such trying days without breaking underneath the pressure that weighed him down even to this day. He was not without his share of scars. But he’d made it. Perhaps that was what drew her to him. The potential he held and the mystery behind his decision to spare her despite it having been of no benefit. She’d seen him show mercy unto others and although it seemed uncharacteristic of a pirate, he managed to do so without losing face amongst his men. But with her….. Alaric seemed determined to prove himself without fault. He spoke of her demise openly as if it were still a possibility, called her his whore, challenged her as if she were not possible of bringing upon his demise, and treated her as rough and brash as he did the men on his ship but with more tolerance. And it intrigued her. It was slowly becoming apparent that she had obtained a place amongst Alaric’s crew and although she wasn’t sure what it was, she wasn’t going to question it. She needed a new approach. After having shared each other’s past and saving their lives, attempting to murder him and escape no longer appealed to her. Of course there was the reward that his father had offered but after having been given time to fully consider all that had happened…… helping him seemed so much bigger than her or her child. It was still of great importance to her that she be able to mother her son but it was clear now that it did not stand alone. They were heading somewhere and it had been vital enough to gain the gods attention. Something was coming.

                                                                              Estelle rose from where she’d been sitting behind a cluster of barrels, her hair a tad bit out of sorts but otherwise seemingly pleased to see Alaric emerge onto the deck with a dutiful stance about him. She rose a hand and opened her mouth to greet the captain but before she could express her good tidings, smile intact, he ruined it. Estelle’s brow drew together and her cheeks tingled with the abrupt change in color that accompanied it. Growing bitter as she listened to his open indifference at the thought of missing her. It was silly. She knew he was like this. He was rude. Pigheaded. So why did it bother her that he hadn’t said otherwise? She wasn’t supposed to want him to care just because she did. To do so would be to expect something from him and she sought nothing from their relationship. She’d been foolish to think that he would come to same conclusion she had. Not but two days ago he had claimed to owe her for having saved his life. And it seemed as if there had been the possibility of being treated with some appreciation. Unfortunately it had faded over the time they had spent apart and whatever it was they had experienced in the privacy of his quarters had diminished. ”It’s nice to hear you at least thought of me while you were away, captain. Sadly I did not get to practice as much as you would have liked. My target was out of commission it seems.” She spoke with a sharp tongue and a disapproving gaze to match as the fairy’s arms crossed over her chest and her tongue pressed against the side of her cheek. She wanted to be angry purely for the fact that he insisted on addressing her so poorly but in truth her rage was more so directed towards the fact that he planned to leave her behind. ”Did you even plan on telling me you were leaving? Or did you think I wouldn’t notice you parading off with your held high and your bloody bandages fluttering about in the wind. Like it or not, and I’m sure you do, you’re an eyesore even in a crowd. If your looks don’t gather enough attention your own damn mouth will! Don’t you think for one moment you can run off and leave me here. Because you can’t. Call me what you like, whore, slave, fairy godmother, I don’t care! I’m going! And if you so much as think about saying no I’ll….. I’ll…… I’ll sleep with every god damn man on this boat while you’re gone!!!”

                                                                              It was a petty argument. One that baffled her purely for the fact that she even cared that he had objected to her company. But after having been appointed to watch over the man she thought it wrong to allow him to venture off without allowing her the chance to contribute. She wished it were merely for the sake of not being left behind but Estelle knew it was more than that. He was still injured. Two days would not be enough to heal wounds as deep as his and the mention of having shot him only added on to the guilt she felt over what had happened on the island. She’d saved his life, true, but there had been a moment when she’d considered otherwise. It was she who had allowed such things to happen to him and she who had embedded a bullet into his arm, weakening him enough to push him to want to give up. It was embarrassing. But it was also concerning. Surely Alaric could carry his own but this was foreign land. And if it was nearly as dangerous as he thought then who was she to sit by while he wandered off without her to ensure that he was well protected. Estelle had never felt such desire to do so before, to protect someone. Her own child had been void of such. But this time would be different. She’d changed. And for once she cared enough to want to prove it. To keep someone safe. Surely he couldn’t deny her that…..


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                                      Oh but he could. He could deny her everything-- her very breath. And yet she stood here, openly opposing him with slightly messed hair and a twinkle of a challenge in her eyes. Alaric knew not whether he wanted slit her throat for speaking to him as if he was not as close to the gods as she was ever going to get, or if he desired to carry her to his bed. He was both aroused by her open defiance, but woefully distressed by it. This was his crew she was speaking so boldly in front of. And should he not punish her before them, then they might begin to believe that he saw more favor in her than he should, just because he had supposedly lain with her. She was a beautiful woman, such was undeniable, and she had saved his life-- yes. However she had no right to address her captain that way! She had crossed the line far too many times. And although she was his friend, as much as Stout, he still showed the man his blade every once and a while. Therefore, Estelle would not be spared his wrath. Not this time. Nevertheless, should she speak out about what happened on the island. He would simply deny it, and kill any that believed it to be truth.

                                      "What was I do?" Alaric asked, turning to face her, as he noted the gaze of his men from above and below growing weary of the situation. Many knew not whether they should laugh or weep over Estelle's insults to their captain. Most knew that she had done nothing but prepare the ship for Alaric the entire time he lay resting in his chambers. Some thought that she was good for him-- believing that the gods fancied her; that she would bring them good fortune. But as usual, the man they followed so blindly was too arrogant to see that her words held affection and were not meant to trigger his defense. "Was I to pine over you in my room?"

                                      He laughed, his hand moving to his belt as he removed the dagger he had used to kill a man right before her eyes in her honor. "Estelle, you forget whom you are speaking to again, and I will run you through without even a second thought." His smile did not fade, yet his words were like venom. He spoke in honesty, although when that time came, he knew not if he would be able to go through with such an act against her. She was his friend. She had proven her loyalty. All she needed now, was to learn a bit of respect. He was a man, and she a women. It was time she learn her place. "You will stay here. And you WILL NOT lay with any of these men, 'less they want to lose their manhood at my hand!"

                                      "Sir...please. She meant no harm." Jolly said, appearing upon the deck with five other men, all prepared to venture into Weknox in the hopes of finding an orc. The man looked worried as he came up behind her, his eyes pleading with Alaric who looked over his blade momentarily before putting it away. "Let her show-- nay, prove to you...her worth."

                                      The captain chuckled. "How!? By redecorating my ship? Ordering around my men? Or-or, lending her body out for the sake of proving a point!" He growled at him, as the thought of what she had said she would do sank in. The very idea of her laying with one of these scoundrels made him want to set his own ship on fire. She shouldn't have given them such ideas. It was dangerous. He may have sought for her approval, but others would not. These were pirates, after all.

                                      "She claimed you are her target. And you want her to be able to shoot properly. Let her show you what she has accomplished in the two days you were ill. Perhaps she can defend herself and will not be a burden to you."

                                      Stout clear his throat from the quarterdeck to get their attention. "She has already put a bullet in him, Jolly. Why would he give her a chance to do it again?"

                                      But it was too late. Alaric was already grinning down at Estelle rather menacingly, before he snapped his fingers in the direction of one of his crew. "Fetch me an apple."

                                      "Yes, sir." He nodded before running off to do as he asked.

                                      "What a great idea! Yes. Show me what you have learned. Prove to me that you are worth my time." Alaric's expression changed as he whirled around and took several paces in her opposite direction as the man returned with the apple. The captain then took it from him, and placed it on head. He turned, and looked across the way at Estelle. "Get my pistol. And shoot this apple off my head. Then...you may go with me. If you miss, Stout here, will be happy to return the favor."

                                      The first mate lifted his eyes from Alaric and looked reprimanding at both Jolly and Estelle. They knew the captain was insane, and yet poked and prodded him just to make a statement; such was infuriating.

                                      "Go on then, Estelle. You spoke of my mouth, now it is time you pay for yours." His tone was heavy, and his face dark. But somewhere inside he wanted to be proven wrong. He desired for the crew to see in her, what he saw in her...courage.

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                                                                              It wasn’t supposed to but for one reason or another, the ease in his voice as he spoke of killing her stung. She knew he wouldn’t… He’d said such things before and he’d never fallen through. So why did it matter now? Had she not already anticipated such behavior the moment he made a comment about her upon walking on deck? ”Take it back…..” The words were naught but a whisper and barely audible if at all. Had anyone heard it, the demand would be just as easily drowned out by the sound of Alaric’s voice as he ordered her to stay aboard the Sea Dragon. Without laying with his men. Estelle’s eyes burned with an anger she hadn’t felt in a long while as she continuously replayed the threat in her mind. Perhaps she’d been wrong to immediately accept the idea of returning to how things had been as obviously his words had offended her. Logically speaking it was only natural that he return to the uncivil and barbaric manner in which he treated her. But deep down she had hoped that perhaps his moment of honesty two nights ago in sharing the tales of his past meant that they were beyond such talk. Clearly she’d been wrong. But it didn’t stop there. Not only did he feel obligated to make an example out of her but he even went so far as to belittle her attempts to make light of his mood. It had been for him. She didn’t have to tidy his ship. She didn’t have to care how he felt after two days spent locked away in his room, wounded and bleeding, but she had. And in her weakness she’d thought it would be nice if she could do what she could to make his environment a little more pleasant. But of course he had to ruin it. Instead of simply appreciating the effort she’d made or in the least said nothing at all, he and his men were bent on finding ways in which she could prove herself to him. As if she hadn’t done enough to do so. No, apparently the way to prove just how useful she was, just how worthy she would be simply to be allowed in the captain’s presence was not in the form of putting herself in harms way to save him but rather endangering the man himself. It was appalling. The mere idea of having to express as much by shooting an apple off his head….. It was by far one of the most ludicrous, idiotic, and irresponsible ideas he had come up with yet. She was a terrible shot. That much had been proven by the hole in his arm. And as mad as she was about it nothing could compare to the amount of fear she felt upon seeing him place the fruit atop his head with that moronic grin of his plastered across his face. Surely he didn’t expect her to follow through with this……. Oh but he did. And the fact that he dared put her in such a position made her blood boil. ”You honestly don’t think…..” She choked and dropped her aggressive expression momentarily for one identical to what she felt. Fear. This would prove nothing. If she hit the apple she would show herself to be easily manipulated. If she missed he would die. And in turn she would also die. This moment could very well have been her last and she hadn’t even the time to mentally prepare for it.

                                                                              Estelle swallowed hard as she reached for the pistol and brought it up at arms length, both hands wrapped tightly around the handle as her arms shook violently and her eyes widened. The deck was silent and she could feel the weight of their gaze burrowing into her as they waited expectantly. Several moments passed and still she only found herself able to pull the hammer back once she was certain there was no other way. The fairy shut one eye…. and then both before finally dropping her arms down to her side in defeat. She found herself immediately withdrawing into a sullen state as she began backing away only to turn around completely and begin heading in the opposite direction. Afraid to face what would undoubtedly be her death. She’d failed. And he would never allow her to live it down. Surely the gods would curse her for having been so naïve as to think that she could outwit the son of the war god. Not one day would pass where she remembered this. But had she decided to fire away as he’d told her to then she most definitely would have perished at the hand of his crew. It was a double edged blade. But then what of her son? Had he not deserved a better life? Did he not deserve such now? To be raised by the one who birthed him? The idea of her child being left to whatever fate he was led to due to her own refusal to risk all she had drained the color from her face and put a stop to her as she froze in place. If she did not do this…. If she allowed Alaric to venture off on his own into the dangerous city that await them on shore and he died….. She would never be able to hold her baby again. The thought pierced her with such force that before Estelle could put a stop to herself she ripped the pistol from her belt and whipped around. Firing a single shot with one hand firmly holding the gun and watching with cold indifference as the apple erupted into a shower of small flecks of red and white. She held her position for what felt like decades before roughly shoving the weapon back into its holster and marching down the ramp without so much as waiting for him to respond to the abrupt course of action she’d taken. Her temper was ablaze. And if she so much as stayed within several feet of him for a moment more she feared she might do good on her previous concern and put a bullet into his head for having put her through so much trouble.

                                                                              She wasn’t like him. Estelle didn’t think she needed to prove herself to anyone especially not the likes of him. She’d done enough to earn her place. She wouldn’t have been there if she hadn’t. So why was it he was determined to prove otherwise? Did he still think her inferior? A possession? A prisoner? It wouldn’t have surprised her. For all the good he did in silence he countered with selfishness where it counted. The island bearing werewolves had been plenty dangerous but it was now that he had decided to question her ability to keep up. Perhaps she’d been wrong to encourage him that night, to allow him the option of claiming his place as savior when really it had been quite the opposite. Perhaps it bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Either way Estelle was done playing his little games. Their relationship would be strictly as his father had intended it and nothing more. And as soon as she had her child she would leave Alaric to do as he liked. If she was so useless and expendable as he liked to point out than he could certainly get along on his own without her help after she’d completed her mission.


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                                      Alaric feared she was going to walk away from him. And then what? He leave her here? After she had just put the idea that she was willing part her legs for anyone, just to get back at him, in the heads of every man here? He was beginning to think that the Sea Dragon was no place for a woman if he was not here. Especially not Estelle.

                                      He knew not how to care for someone-- not properly. Loving his mother had come natural, but these people that surrounded him would be hard pressed to see the same affections he showed her. His threats, although hardly ever empty, were a way to make his men fear and respect him. Most of what he said he would do, he did. And men that did not hold themselves to their word, disgusted him. So why had he said that? He could see now that it had hurt her. Alaric knew that she was angry. He had seen many faces in his life, and eyes often betrayed any expression if you knew how to decipher the look in them.

                                      She had proven herself to him, yes. But she had not done so for the crew. He was trying to keep her alive. Surely Stout would have run her through by now had he known that his captain was merely keeping her around because he enjoyed her presence. Women made men weak. Yet, Estelle was strong. She knew how to handle herself. And most importantly, she was gift from the gods. Alaric knew so now more than ever. Of course, he had a funny way of showing it. But she wasn't any better. She had spoken to him as if she had forgotten who he was. She had seen signs of mutiny with her own eyes, and yet opposed him openly.

                                      Moreover, it seemed that he wasn't even going to receive an apology. No instead, she was turning away from him, giving up. Maybe she was afraid of killing him. For surely her life would end soon after. But that was difference between them. Alaric had faith that would not kill him. So much so, that he feared not putting his own life on the line. She wouldn't understand his methods. He came off as a mad man most times, with a thirst for blood and no fear of death. And in a way he was. He believed the gods saw favor in him; so why couldn't she.

                                      Alaric would never express such openly. To show her weakness would be the end of him. He wished she could read his mind. He was eternally grateful. But this was the only way he knew how to demonstrate it to her. The crew would need to see her worthy. And then she could stay, without the title of whore-- but whatever she would chose. Still, Estelle would need to learn respect for authority. She would need to fear him to some degree; or at least he thought. Although he didn't particularly like the look in her eye when she turned away from him. Alaric even thought to stop her and demand she take up his challenge.

                                      Luckily, he didn't need to. Before he could even register what had happened she had whirled around, firing a shot that shredded the apple atop his head into shards of a million crimson pieces. He was surprised-- no, shocked that she had done so without even bothering to size him up. But maybe she didn't care. Maybe he had made her so angry, that killing him meant nothing. And in a way, that aroused him. He felt more attracted to her in that moment than he ever had in the past. Estelle was everything a woman should be, but she was made for battle.

                                      A small smile passed his lips as he watched her storm off toward the ramp. It was apparent that there was no talking her out of coming now. Jolly jogged over, running his hand over his captain's hair as the crew gave a hearty cheer for her efforts in proving her worth. Albeit, it was not he who needed the proof. "She did well." His bosun whispered, his eyes trailing over his shoulder. "We should send her to do our dealing with the orcs. They would never suspect a woman so...beautiful...to be so..."

                                      Alaric's lips moved without his consent. "Apt?"

                                      "Indeed, sir."

                                      "It is dangerous." He breathed, finally able to tear his eyes away from her for a moment.

                                      "She can take Trigger along. She can say he is her hired hand."

                                      "Then certainleh the orcs would wonder why I didn't just kill the enemeh myself." His gunner replied, cutting in on the conversation with a large bag of supplies in tow.

                                      "Jolly, you will accompany her."

                                      "Why me?"

                                      "Because, no one would think you able to assassinate anyone."

                                      "That is not a compliment, sir."

                                      Alaric grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "No it's not."

                                      "Is it the hair?" Trigger and Alaric exchanged glances as they too headed for the ramp to prepare for their departure.

                                      "Yeah, it's definiteleh the hair." Both men broke out into laughter, as Jolly followed with a sigh-- rolling his eyes indignantly.

                                      ---------------------


                                      He had decided it best to leave Stout behind this time. The chubby man had barely recovered from his romp on the island anyway. And he needed his best man to guard his most prized possession. Therefore, the decision was an easy one. Despite his size, Stout was a man to be feared on the battlefield, and would do well to protect the Sea Dragon, or die trying.

                                      On land, Alaric inhaled deep, taking in the landscape before him. Most of it was desert, but the land was covered in architecture that most Kingdoms would not see for many more years. It was advanced in weaponry, and magic. The city was beyond it's time-- powerful and dangerous. Should one have earned it's leadership, he would take over all the lands with his wealth, knowledge, and prosperity. The bank of sand they had docked on, led to the port, where the group could make there way into the city without being searched. But they would have to separate to do so.

                                      Fortunately, Alaric had been here before. And knew of a place where they could convene and talk of the plans they had to slay an orc. In addition, a place to rest would be in order. His body was already aching under the stress of being up and about. He would need a healer, or he feared what ailments might set in. But first, he needed to talk to with Estelle, whether she wanted to hear him or not, now that they weren't the ears of those hoping to overthrown him in every corner. He could explain to her that it was not he who was looking for a sign of worthiness. If she went into this mission with a mind clouded by her wrath, she would not succeed. And in honesty, he feared her death, more than he feared failing this task. Should the orcs find out that he was looking for them, he would never locate one.

                                      "This way." He said softly, jerking head toward the docks as they started through the sand in such a direction. Every once and a while, he glance back at Estelle to see if she was desired his attention, but it seemed such was for naught. He did not catch her staring... Once at the end of the shore, he gathered them beneath the poles that held the wooden plank which jutted out into the water, to quickly give his orders. "Although this town is lawless, those who rouse suspicion can be ambushed. Everything we have will be taken from us, and we will be killed. So it's best we do no go in together. I will meet you at the tavern in the Square. It is called Jublin Place." He eyed them with a sigh. "It is there we will discuss our plans for the orcs."

                                      Jolly handed Alaric his own bag, as his men nodded and started off. However, he reached for Estelle so that she could not leave him so quickly. The wind from the ocean ruffled through strands of her hair, making her appear as majestic as mermaid to him. Her mere scent was alluring. "If I weren't so sure that you cared for me, I would have thought that you had no regard for my life back there, the way you just fired my pistol all willy-nilly." He spoke softly, some of his men were still in earshot.

                                      "This is place is dangerous, Estelle. Hardly a place for a woman. But I know you to be strong." He reverted his gaze momentarily to the ground. "It is my crew that has doubts. Should they find out that you are not my whore, and that I keep you around simply for good fortune-- they will kill you." Alaric plucked a pouch from his side, and upturned her hand to place it in her palm, and then he proceeded to removed a cloak from his bag to toss over her shoulder. "If you are not at the tavern in an hour. I will come find you." He said simply, his eyes looking up toward the direction of the city as if to signal her to depart with haste. "Do not make me come find you."

                                      Alaric wanted it to sound as if he was warning her about running away as she had before. But alas, that was not his concern...

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                                                                              Estelle didn’t even want to look at him. He should have known better and yet he persisted on being reckless with his life and the lives of others. It wasn’t a game to her. She knew first hand just how easily it could be taken away and it surprised her that despite how hard he had fought over the years for his mother and his own survival as well, he did not come to the same understanding. Life was a gift from the gods and not something to be taken lightly. And yet here he was, battered and bruised, testing her by putting a gun in her hand after she’d previously threatened to kill him, shot at him once, and put a bullet in him the second. But surely her son would be worth all this trouble. It was only a matter of putting up with it in the present. Unfortunately that was easier said than done as already Estelle could feel the captain’s gaze as he looked back at her. However, she refused to allow her eyes to meet his own, crossing her arms firmly over her chest in a pout and following the rest of the men as they piled in beneath the docks. The ocean washed over the shore not too far from where they stood and she could practically taste the sea salt in the air as they huddled around one another in preparation. Alaric was quick to get to the point of the matter and whether she was angry with him or not, it was important that she listened. She had seen what happened when she doubted him. Her denying the existence of the beasts he sought on the previous island had led her to be just as careless as he and in turn it had almost cost her life. Now was no different. Alaric made it perfectly that the town they would be entering was known for being dangerous and should they give its occupants any reason to suspect that they were there for anything outside of what normally occurred in the seedy street ways and alleys, they would be killed. It occurred to her then that in order to survive and obtain what it was they had come here for, not only would they be splitting up…. but she would be separated from Alaric. Estelle’s arms dropped to her sides and her anger was immediately replaced with a look of concern. It would be the first time that she was left to her own devices in a populated area by choice and not only that but one known to be volatile and unforgiving. She was determined to live. But could she do so in a place such as this? Where she did not belong? Blending in, in Tavare hadn’t been terribly difficult but here….. Estelle hesitantly turned away as the group began to break up to face the town and its people but before she could do so she felt a firm grip take hold of her arm.

                                                                              It was Alaric, of course. That much didn’t surprise her. His explanation for having done what he had however, did. The more he spoke the more she wanted to stay mad at him. But the man had a certain charm about him that couldn’t be repelled and it was only now that she’d managed to see it. He was being humble. It wasn’t in front of his men, but that didn’t change the fact that he was openly addressing his desire to keep her alive. That he kept her around for more than just superficial reasons. Given they were still somewhat selfish but it was something she found easy to over look. Even if she was slightly embarrassed by the fact that he knew she cared about him. ”I said no such thing….. So don’t you go putting words in my mouth. I may not hate you any more than I did the day we met but do not mistake that for caring. It is simply tolerance. And nothing more.” Her eyes were cold and her brow knit together in seriousness but there was reluctance in her words. Falsehood. She did care about him. More than she cared about herself in fact. It didn’t make sense and there was plenty she still hadn’t sorted out as to why her feelings had changed so suddenly but she hadn’t the time to do so now. They had an hour to find the pub and there was plenty that could happen during that time. She needed her wits about her. ”Be careful of what you decide to believe is true. I’m no sign of good fortune to come as I’m sure you know.” She turned away then and moved to leave the cover of the dock but not before pausing and giving him a word of reassurance…. For despite how upset she was….. She did appreciate what he’d done after having been told his true intentions. ”…. But yes. I will make sure to give you no reason to have to come after me……. I’ll see you in an hour.” She neared him for a moment but without knowing what she’d been prepared to do, she immediately backed away and left the premises, pulling the cloak over her shoulders and shrouding her face with the fabric of its hood.

                                                                              It was beautiful that was for certain. And not unlike Tavare the streets were packed with busy buyers and strangers of varying races. However there was an air about Weknox that made her hair stand on end and chills creep up her spine. No one seemed interested in direct eye contact and those who did were either openly carrying a weapon or intimidating in some other form. The gaze of those around her were eerie and penetrating as they cast fleeting glances her way as she shifted through the crowds. There was a large cluster of covered stalls that ran for a good few yards and displayed and offered an array of services from the bizarre to the intriguing. Both of which Estelle had a habit of easily getting wrapped up in. And so it was unintentional that her pace slowed as she browsed the table tops and subtly eyed the vendors tending to other customers in her wake. The voices of the masses carried well beyond the peak of the tents and it was difficult to hear any which conversation going on around her. But it mattered not. For even if someone did decide to attack her there was little chance that they would have spoken so much as a word before attempting to do so. She needed to be careful. Alaric had not lied. This place was dangerous. There was no telling what await just around the corner.


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                                      Alaric heard her words. And to admit that they didn't bother him, would have been a lie. He wanted to hear her say it. Why else would she have saved his life the way she had? Was it simply because he was her way off the island? Perhaps he was foolish to think that she would see all the good they could do for each other. He was here to stave the hands of the gods, who surely wished to see her dead. And it was his need for her, that surely was the only reason she was still alive. So why did he care? Once her use was run out, wouldn't the gods just kill her anyway? Did it matter that it seemed she still found him distasteful? Yet, she refused to stay on the ship for his romp with the orcs. Alaric felt like a fool in telling himself the exact opposite of the words coming out of her mouth. And it wasn't until she turned, drawing near to him, simply to turn and walk away that made him wonder if he was right.

                                      This was precisely the reason Stout thought women to be bad luck. Men could be easily blinded by their charms, or lack of them in Estelle's case. It was obvious that he found the woman appealing; not just physically, but mentally. And it was just as soon as she vanished into the city, that he wanted to call her back. Unfortunately, his pride made him hesitate. So by the time he reached the top of the sandy hill and was on the path into the heart of the lawless town-- Estelle could not be found.

                                      Alaric hid beneath his emerald cloak, his eyes darting around for signs of her, but such did not prove fruitful and suddenly he was overwhelmed with worry. What if she tried to run off? This was not like the island. Certainly she could be free here. He was concerned for his passage into Rivdar, afraid he had angered the gods by letting her go freely, but mostly, he feared for her safety. If the thought of the crew assaulting her was enough to make him want to set his most prized possession ablaze, then the idea of a stranger doing it-- almost lit him on fire where he stood. He may not have understood why he felt this way, but his misunderstanding did not put a damper on the feeling. As a matter of fact, he thought his hands were going numb.

                                      Estelle may not have believed she was his property, but she did not know Alaric. He was a territorial creature of war. And stepping on his land was treason of the highest caliber. In his mind he owned her. Therefore, it was this mentality that brought this side of him to the light. Should another captain have tried to take Stout from the Sea Dragon, Alaric would have ripped his spine out through his mouth just to keep anyone else from utilizing his talents. In a way, he was barbaric. His ways were primitive and outdated. But everyone was so afraid to tell him about himself, that he would likely never know-- and he definitely would not have taken such advice from a woman. He believed them to be far less superior to a man. It was that mentality that kept most women and children safe from his hand. Alaric preferred a fair fight.

                                      The captain's mind was so clouded with foreign thoughts, that he wasn't paying attention to where he was going. And as a merchant passed by with his wares, the man bumped right into them-- causing his cart to fall over sideways, spilling the contents all over the path. Quickly, his distractions subsided, as the merchant growled loudly in frustration and removed a knife from his belt. Shocked, Alaric stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the swipe of his blade, causing his hood to fall and his head of blonde hair and sea blue eyes to be revealed to the stranger.

                                      His assailant eyes widened in surprise, obviously recognizing the captain, and with haste he turned to make his escape. However, the merchant wasn't alone. "That's him! The one seen killing our kin for his own selfish gain!" No, Alaric had not forgotten that he had been here a few months ago. "I know the face of the demon when I see it!"

                                      Indeed, he had killed a man to attain his blood, as he was born of a Vampeera-- creatures of the night, known to feed on the blood of humans for strength; a curse, just like that of the werewolf. He remembered chasing it through the streets with his blade, but it was far too fast. Doing what he thought would slow the beast-- one of his crew killed it's child in the street. Alaric was able to attain the blood of the Vampeera. But he also killed the man who had taken the life of an innocent child. He did not know there would be those who would recalled his face for the purpose of revenge. And he had walked right into one them.

                                      His crystal eyes darted around, as he turned to see who was perusing him. However, he hadn't the time. Rough hands grabbed at him from every angle, pushing him to the ground, which he hit with a thud. Alaric felt his arms being twisted behind his back, and with his wounds he couldn't even think of trying to fight back against the insurmountable amount of Vampeera that surrounded him, coming from every corner of the path. He groaned beneath the pressure, as his hands were bound and his face was pushed into the dirt. "I- wait-- for the loves of the gods!" Alaric cried, but they would hear none of it. They howled over him, tossing him onto his back before picking him up into the air over their heads as if he was about to sacrificed to the shadows.

                                      Alaric struggled to no avail, only to be tossed onto a table where his boots were removed and ankles were bound. Next he was gagged, and his head covered with a rag, as the people cheered. Tragically, he was in darkness. He could see nothing, and he was disoriented and suffocated by buckets of water. Panic set in, and his body trembled in the presence of his fate. He felt like he was drowning, over and over and over again. Until finally, he could not stay awake. His skin lost it's color, and his body went limp, as it was tossed over the shoulder of their biggest villager to be thrown into a carriage where he would face his trail-- tied to a stake in the center of town.

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                                                                              It wasn’t long after Estelle had immersed herself in the crowd that she immediately became enthralled with the objects littering the booths before her. Three stalls in particular had caught her eye. One of which offered books, the second trinkets and jewelry, and the third potions and devices used in magic of varying forms. Alaric had given her a pouch of coin but the purpose for it was beyond her. She didn’t think drinking was a wise idea, especially in a place like this, let alone in knowing she would be returning to the company of the crew aboard the Sea Dragon not long after. And so the temptation to spend it on one of the many strange and appealing merchandise available grew. ”Can I help you? I see you’re interested in my pendants.” Estelle looked up to see a weathered, old woman with a glass eye and matted hair piled atop her head and tied together. She grinned at the fairy but no warmth was felt in the woman’s greeting. In fact, she was rather frightening. ”What are they?” The woman’s face split into an even wider smile that exposed her missing teeth and blackened gums, reminiscent to those of a goblin which would have explained her slightly green tinted skin. ”Charms, my dear child. The finest in all Weknox. Here. Allow me.” She tugged Estelle closer to the booth and took hold of a lock of her hair before cutting off the end and tying it together with a small piece of string. ”The one gifting it places a part of them in the locket and whatever it is you wish upon the one wearing it, it will be so. A fools tale some claim. But I believe otherwise…. So tell me, what is it you wish upon those in your immediate company? An enemy perhaps? Or a lover? Pick your poison. Fortune, pain, suffering, happiness-“

                                                                              ”Luck…. I wish for luck.”

                                                                              ”Luck…. Well I suppose we can never get enough of that. Luck it is.” The woman grumbled and sprinkled ground herbs into one of the lockets atop the bound hair and a piece of lavender before sealing it shut and holding it in front of Estelle’s face. But as she reached out in a trance like state to take it, the woman pulled back and held up her other hand in demand of payment. Her smile turned wicked as she sneered at her from across the table and opened her mouth to undoubtedly make a snide comment only to be interrupted by the sound of a handful of coin being pressed into her palm. The hand did not belong to Estelle nor did she recognize it to be Alaric’s or that of the crew. In fact she would have been left puzzled for hours had the man decided to leave immediately after. But such was not in his nature. No, she did know him. And such memories came flooding back in an instant the moment he spoke. ”Never thought that you needed luck.” Her heart stalled and her blood ran cold as the sharp tone washed over her and sent a paralyzing shiver down her back. He was the last person she would have thought to see here. But instead he was among the first. ”I don’t” In a swift motion Estelle snatched the locket from the woman’s hand and allowed the ‘mysterious’ man to pay for it, turning away and moving further down the path. But he was just as quick, if not more so. ”Your father thinks you’re dead. We all did. Do you have no decency?” He spat. She could feel the cool of his skin grip hers as he pulled her to a stop in the middle of the road. And for the first time in a little over a year she found herself face to face with the man she had sought to leave in the past all those months ago. The father of her child. An imp she knew by the name of Caspian. ”Decency? And what do you call what you’re doing? Why are you here? I thought you were too good, Caspian.” His expression changed from one of distaste unto that of amusement. A sickening smile slipping over his scarred lip as he mulled over the accusation. ”In bed, maybe. But we all have our fair share of secrets. You certainly do. Besides did you honestly hope to walk into Weknox without seeing at least one imp? You’re father was right, your mother sheltered you far too much. Now look at you. Escaped from Moriel after a failed affair. Leaving your father behind in Nithrill to think his only child to be dead. And what of mine, Estelle? Has he seen his mother? Or did the gods grant the b*****d son mercy in knowing nothing of the mother who sent him away?”

                                                                              Estelle’s eyes lit with fury at the mention of their child and turned on Caspian and struck the side of his face, leaving her breathless. But he didn’t so much as flinch. ”They are good people. I’ve known them for years and unlike you and I, they know how to care for a child. You should understand that. Does your kind not continuously slip their children into the homes of unsuspecting families, trade them with newborn babes and allow their own to be raised by strangers?” Caspian ripped her hand out of the air and pulled her close so that others might not overhear their conversation, if at all was possible in such a well populated market. ”That they do. But your kind doesn’t. Don’t you dare try to press your own faults on me. You know damn well you took that child from me before it was even born!” It was true. At a young age her mother had left her father due to his unending dedication to the imps and goblins of Nithrill, finding such a kingdom to be an unsuitable place to raise her. But as she grew older Estelle often visited her father and grew a degree of familiarity with the races he found himself fascinated with. It was there that she spent several months visiting her father’s home shortly after the death of her mother. And it was there that she had met Caspian, conceived his child, and left shortly after to return to Moriel. He had not known of their son until three months after its birth, having found out through her father. And although he had not once seen the child he had often claimed to feel strongly for it as it was his own. It wasn’t until several weeks before their son was to be sent away that Caspian visited and only agreed to allow her to do such because she’d told him that she knew the family well and would be able to keep an eye on him from a distance…. When really such was a lie. Something he was still unaware of. ”I haven’t the-“

                                                                              ”Time? You’re a dead woman. You have all the time in the world.”

                                                                              ”Patience, you a**. And if anyone did I’m sure it would run out quickly as soon as you entered the conversation.”

                                                                              ”I just purchased you a locket. Don’t you think you owe me a little bit of either?”

                                                                              ”It’s not for me. Now leave.” But it wouldn’t be so easy now that she’d caught his attention. Their brief time together had been spur of the moment without any strings attached. Instead, they were bound by chord. And at the end of it had been a child. ”Oh? For who then?...... Is that it then? You’re still trying to woe yourself into a man’s life? Find the one you are meant to be with? And once you bear his child will you sell it as well? Spare me the story, Estelle. If you want to get rid of me you’ll have to try harder.” He continued to march on after her, his arm brushing against his shoulder as his glowing blue eyes loomed down at her and his white teeth shone brightly. But she wasn’t taken by him in the least. She knew better. Sadly her temper did not. ”No actually I’m-…… I’m….. I’m married.” Caspian let out a hollow laugh as a hand slid to his chest in disbelief and yet his grin only grew wider. ”To who then? I see no one here but you and I. It wasn’t the old hag at the stall was it? Oh you’ve really lowered your standards.”

                                                                              ”He’s waiting for me at the pub.” She seethed and quickened her pace only for him to follow in step. ”Oh good. I can buy the poor fool a drink in condolence to whatever future he had before he met you.”

                                                                              Estelle continued on down the road until the old rickety sign that hung over the pubs entryway came into view as did some familiar faces. Almost immediately she recognized those of Trigger and Jolly but did not immediately address them in fear of causing suspicion although she was more so worried of obtaining such in Alaric upon walking inside with Caspian in tow. But strangely enough the captain was nowhere to be seen and where as she would have expected the imp to notify her concern and make fun of her lack of a husband as she claimed, he seemed oddly unnerved by her subtle panic even as she approached the other men. ”Where is he. He said he would be here.” She hissed over at Jolly only to receive a look that mirrored her own. Worry. Time passed quickly and so did any hope that Alaric would arrive and before long, night fell. ”This isn’t right. He should have been here by now. He should have-“

                                                                              ”This way!”

                                                                              The sound of shouts and angry mutterings rushed by the pub followed by a myriad of shadows as torches flickered past and immediately Estelle’s heart sunk upon seeing it. Without warning she stood from her seat and darted for the door, Caspian following along with Jolly and the rest of Alaric’s men and blending into the crowd of angry faces that traveled deeper and deeper into Weknox. All the while her heart continued bludgeon her chest as she mulled over the reasons for the captain’s absence….. and the possibility that these people might have had something to do with it.


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                                                                              O U T F I T
                                                                              {Out.Of.Cupcakes: }
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Artist Page ~ I do not own these pics. Aenaluck does.
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                                      Alaric was awake by the time they had reached the market square in the center of town. His hair was matted to his face by the water that the merchant been used to simulate his drowning. And now he being thrown into the dirt only to have his clothing cut from his body with a myriad of different sized blades. He was lapsing between states of consciousness due to the pain-- his body being cut with no regard for the wounds he had prior. His body had not had proper time to heal, and it was now that he recalled what Estelle had said. Still, he was foolish to bring her to a place like this-- where he had a history. After the werewolf attack, he should have tread lightly. He had thought, for only a moment, that the gods may have been upset with him for running into such risky situations without a plan. And he had done it again.

                                      This time however, it wasn't that he hadn't thought the entire attack through. It was that he thought too greatly of himself to ever believe that there would be those who wanted him dead, that didn't dwell beneath him on his own ship. Alaric didn't believe his men disliked him for his ways, but rather they sought what all men desired-- power. He thought himself to be far too respectable to hate; should he have been without the ship, it was his assumption that every man would have gotten along with him. Therefore, the fact that Estelle finding him unfavorable bothering him, should have made all the more sense.

                                      Alaric prided himself on being feared, and respected, but likable. Woefully, he didn't understand the complexity of the relationship he sought with others. Even now, these people would not receive what they thought they could drive from his lips with flames. The captain didn't often regret the choices he made. And although he was sorry that the child was dead, he could not control the actions of every man who traveled with him. He had been punished for his crime. Alaric was being put to trail for something these people did everyday. The Vampeera always killed there victims. So just because he had murdered one of them, he deserved to be tortured in the Square-- made out to be some monster? No, he would not have them draw a confession from his lips out of fear of dying. Alaric was not afraid of death. He knew that the gods were proud of him. Even if they did punish him-- such was for his own good.

                                      It was strange how one person could look at another and point out all their flaws, however when it came to themselves saw none. For this could be seen on both sides of the coin.

                                      "Are you going to confess, demon? That you were sent by Hades to kill our children and consume their flesh!" The merchant hissed, grabbing him by the arm with the help of some others cloaked in rags and armed with spears, as they pulled him up onto a rectangular shaped platform that sat at least two feet off the ground. In the center, was a charred wooden pole, meant for burning those who did not see the error of their ways. Although Alaric was sure that even a confession would not help him to avert the very nature that made up the Vampeera; they craved bloodshed unnecessarily.

                                      "Are you!? Are you ready admit that you deserve this!?" The merchant roared again as the Square quickly filled with those eager to see an execution. The cheers and chants grew so loud that Alaric thought them in his head, as he squinted from the golden rays of the evening sun which caressed his face from atop the tents and stone buildings of the town. His large, yet torn body was hauled onto the stage and he was prompt up against the stake as the crowd gathered around.

                                      The merchant shoved him, wrapping his fingers around his neck-- squeezing him tight and holding his head high in the hopes of intimidating the pirate. Still, Alaric would not break. "Say something you piece of filth!" The man proceeded to spit at his feet, but captain had endured enough! He lashed out-- his hand shoving the man off the platform into the crowd; the people grasped, as he hit the dirt with a thud. "Tie his hands together you idiots!" He screamed, as they subdued Alaric with a stab to his shoulder. The blade pierced his skin, and he cried out loud slumping forward, whilst they bound his hands behind his back around the pole.

                                      However, as the blood trickled down his arm and onto the wood he found himself unable to do anything...but chuckle; it was sharp and sudden, cutting through the aimless banter in the quarter like a knife. Slowly, the merchant got to his feet, his eyes holding an abundant amount of disbelief, as Alaric broke into a fit of cruel laughter. "What is so funny!? Is the death of a man and his child a laughing matter to you, demon!"

                                      "No, certainly not." Alaric replied simply, his face red not just from the incredible amount of agony he was being forced to endure, but the situation as well. This was so ludicrous! It had to be a test.

                                      "Then you confess?"

                                      "I do..." He replied simply, his smile vanishing. "To murdering a creature whom I saw kill a woman in the street, by sucking her dry. And to slitting the throat of the disobedient lout who took the life of his child."

                                      "LIES! You ordered your men to kill the boy!"

                                      "Say what you will, pig. But I am not a man capable of taking the life of something so innocent."

                                      "YOU ARE NOT A MAN AT ALL! AND IN THE MORNING, YOU WILL DIE, AND IT WILL PLEASE THE GODS!" He growled, turning and pushing the people out of his way so that he could return to cleaning up his wares off the road. Four very large men stayed with Alaric, who dropped his head as the sun went down and the crowd thinned. Once night fell, the man could barely keep his eyes open from exhaustion. His hair fell over his brow whilst he stood exposed to all that passed him by-- his body sweating and trembling from the loss of blood.

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