In the blink of an eye, a person's world can produce the tremors of an oncoming disaster to flip their world upside down. A torrential warning that can make them realize how important those who make up that world truly are to them.

In this case, the tremor was the unmoving body with pale, blue skin that rested limply in his arms, and the earthquake that threatened to follow was the prospect of an early grave for the brother he solemnly swore to protect.

However, a fact that appeared to be little known amongst the spirits who controlled the weather, was that Liam Jones would destroy the gods themselves if it meant keeping his little brother safe.

And that was the truth.

So, as the rain continued pelting his back, making the worthless jacket he wore cling to his skin and chafe, he lifted a fist; bringing it roughly back down to land on Killian's chest.

And, as a wave ripped over the rocks behind Liam and the boy who continually grew colder, he clung to what little he could on shore in order to keep them there, and desperately blew air into his brother's lungs.

Another couple of hits.

A breath.

Repeat.

Do not worry, little brother…

A resounding strike to the chest.

For little does the god who dare fill your airways with the sea's tides know…

A hand over his nose, and a deep exhale.

I would assassinate kings…

"Whomp! Whomp!" two more rough punches.

Move mountains…

"Please breathe!"

And extinguish all fires in Hell to keep you by my side, little brother.

His own breathing was ragged with the exertion of attempting to wake his little brother, and he nearly collapsed on the sand beside him. His chest heaved, his hands shook, and his lips began to tremble.

"Please, Killian," he whispered to the ever still form beneath him. "I need you. I love you".

His hands dug into his brother's arms as a beat passed. Two. He let out a sigh and dropped his head to his life's only joy and nearly sobbed at his foolishness for letting him fall over the side of the ship.

What kind of brother would make their own blood stand by the side of the ship you bloody-

A strangled noise ripped forth from Killian's mouth. His head shot up.

His body began convulsing as he attempted to get all of the water in his lungs to return to the ocean. As Liam lifted him into a sitting position, he heaved his last drop of water, continued panting, and fell with exhaustion into his older brother's arms, which immediately made sure to wrap around him in a vicious hug.

"Oh, thank goodness," he sighed into the hair of his brother's wet head. "Don't you ever do that again until I'm dead, do you understand?" His arms' embrace grew tighter with the request.

Between light coughs, Killian was able to mumble, "I'm sorry, brother. I did not mean to fall off." Not minding the roughness of Liam's hug, he snuggled closer.

"You needn't apologize, little broth-"

"Younger," he muttered.

"Younger brother," he agreed, despite knowing that the man before him would always be smaller than himself. "Just please don't ever get yourself killed. You're all I have, you know?"

Fiddling with his older brother's wet and torn up jacket he mumbled tiredly, "I know, brother, and I'm honored. However, I cannot make any promises that I might not be able to keep. Living can be awfully hard when every force of nature and everyone you've ever slaved for seems to have a vendetta against you." A look of melancholy that both of the brothers were so heartbreakingly used to flashed across his features. "I do not want to disappoint you if those forces do take me some day."

Hearing those words from the mouth of the one person he loved was like taking a sword through the chest. His brother had been through far too much, for now he was talking about death as if it was something to welcome or something he deserved rather than something that would rip them apart. And, not only that, but he felt that were he to die, he would disappoint his older brother rather than break him to bits until he made up the very sand that they sat on. His little brother did not deserve to expect death. Rather he deserved to live his life to the fullest with the utmost trust that he would only be called to the grave when he was old and satisfied; not young and broken.

Killian needed hope, and he intended to give him that.

"Brother, do you remember mother?" Liam asked.

Killian's eyebrows furrowed, and his head cocked to the side. Their mother had died when he was quite young. It was not unnatural for him to need a moment in order to recall if he did or not.

Eventually he straightened his head again and nodded.

"Just barely, Liam, but yes. I do." His unasked question was clear in his eyes. 'Why?'

He smiled at knowing that he could still remember. Their mother was good. She deserved to live on in memories where she could not in body, even with the son who lost her so early. Unlike with some.

Off of his neck he pulled a chain; gently holding the charm at the bottom as though it were precious.

It was.

"Long ago, Killian, when you were barely but a toddler, our mother gave me this ring." He held it up and let it dangle, smiling softly at being given a moment to just remember rather than constantly working. "I was ill with a plague that had been sweeping through the village. So very ill that everyone thought that I would die within the next week. I was without hope. "

Killian looked haunted by even the thought of his brother not being by his side. His eyes still wide with interest, but tainted with distress.

He was quick to relieve it.

"Not Mum, though," he said. "Never Mum. She always believed that I would get better. She sat by my side and told me stories, and gave me hugs, and cared for me, telling me that I would be better. Until the day that I didn't. Her and fath… Brennan," he corrected himself, not daring to call their former master who sold them into complete servitude a father. "They left for almost the entire day, leaving us with a nurse. I thought that I was going to die alone. However, very late at night, Mum came back home, quick to put a fresh washcloth on my forehead along with a fresh kiss." He was fond of that memory. Realizing that she had been doing what she always did right before he fell asleep. If he had died, she never would have let him be afraid.

"And?" Killian prompted, pulling Liam out of his reverie.

He chuckled a bit at his brother's impatience. "And then she pulled out this ring. She placed it on my thumb and told me that as long as I wore it, I would be protected by forces stronger than dark magic, stronger than demons, and definitely stronger than any plague. By the next week I was better."

His brother's eyes were filled with wonder as he asked, "What sorcery is this ring? How did they get it? You were on the verge of death, how did it heal you?"

Liam was glad that he could still be awed by things such as magic, for he had lost that quality mere days after regaining his life.

"I still, to this day, do not know, little brother," he replied, shaking his head. "I do wonder if it was some sort of sorcery that they used in order to save me, but at that point I forgot to care." He sighed a bit and gave a sad smile to a curious Killian. "A short time later she died from the same plague, Killian. She was able to save me, but not herself. I probably gave it to her when she kissed me, but she never said it was my fault. She simply told me that she loved me, and that she wanted me to protect you." he gestured with a slight nod.

Killian blushed at the sign of affection from his deceased mother, prompting him to continue as he hated to see him seem honored at such a simple loving request from someone that he should know loved him.

"Killian, I will protect you," he said, using a voice that held the conviction of a captain, despite having spent his life as a slave. He had found that love for his brother did that; made him strong. "I will protect you until my dying breath because I love you."

He looked deep within his eyes, making sure that he absolutely knew, and then he put the ring in front of them.

"Take it, Killian," he said. "If this ring does truly have the ability to keep one safe, then take it. I will not let you die."

Killian looked at him nervously, as though he doubted that he was supposed to take it. He gave him a gentle nod.

His brother reached for the ring, but it was hesitant, scared.

And after a breath he said, "But what about protecting you, Liam? What if you die instead?" His tortured blue eyes bore into him, begging for assurance.

He knew that he could not promise anything, just the same as Killian. However, he would not allow his little brother -his true love, if he was being honest- to think that he would ever be abandoned again, or that his guardian was a coward.

"Brother, I will not leave you. I will never leave you. I'm strong, and I know what I'm doing, aye?" he asked.

"Aye, Liam. I have never doubted you," he responded with his voice leaking with confident pride.

He couldn't hold back the joy he felt at his brother's admiration. What high praise!

"Then do not doubt me now, Killian. Take the ring and be safe, or else I will not be able to live knowing that you are in the hands of fate. Give me some peace of mind." He knew that his brother would never want to cause him trouble. He was far too good for that, and always felt guilty for their trials as it was.

It was a low route to take, but it always worked.

"Alright, brother," he whispered, still nervous, but also still easy prey for his guilt trips.

He gently took the ring and chain and put them over his head. He then looked up, once again asking for reassurance.

"Good lad!" he said as relief flowed through him. "Now, let us find some shelter and something to eat. I am your captain now! And we will never be cold and starving in the belly of a ship again!"

"Aye!" he responded, boyishly. His face lit up with a smile, no doubt at finally realizing their freedom.

And, for once in the long years that led up to this moment with his brother, where he reminisced and made good on promises, he felt happy, and sure of their future. However short that future would be.

For, in truth, he knew the secret of the ring. His father had spat it at him day in and day out since the day their mother found peace within the ground.

"The holder of the ring will be protected and saved from all forces of the earth that could possibly harm them. Save for when the ring is handed to another. Death will find them then, and for every time that their life was saved by the ring, their life will end with finality."

He knew the phrase by heart, and he knew the consequences of his recent actions, but he was not selfish, nor was he a coward.

For he knew that his father allowed their mother to hand him the ring when he could have sacrificed himself instead. He knew that, despite his father's hatred for the son that seemingly killed his wife, that he was haunted by his own guilt. His father knew of his own treachery as well.

And, Killian, the lover of good form that he was, would not have a brother that held back from protecting him in the face of death.

His brother would be safe.

He was sure of that.