Disclaimer: I do not own Fable.

Author's Note: Hey guys sorry about the delay. I've been having technical difficulties with my computer. I couldn't get to my story to post the next chapter. I hope you enjoy and look forward to your feedback. Again, thank you so much to everyone who is still following! Some big changes to this chapter. Brace yourself.

Warning: There is very VIOLENT CONTENT in this chapter. Lets just say this story is rated M for a reason. If you don't like that or you aren't old enough, you know the drill. And in case you don't, here it is: Skip It Or Go Read Something Else. I personally couldn't care less if you're underage and read it, I mean, I've been there, but if you don't like it or can't handle it, then you really shouldn't.

Chapter Three

Turning the Tables

It was seven days later. Sparrow was at home, standing next to the window in her office. Mrs. Kumar had just served her a light lunch, but Sparrow wasn't interested in food at the moment. She'd finally received replies to the letters she'd sent out to the other mayors of Albion, and stood reading them with a scowl on her face. Daniels had delivered them to her with his morning report, then gone straight to the jailhouse to relieve Sedgewick, who had taken on the nighttime shift of guarding their prisoner.

So they're all coming, she thought to herself. She found herself almost wishing they weren't. Not that she was surprised. The Pirate King was a living legend, and if nothing else the other delegates would come out of curiosity. But at least if they'd refused to come, she could have held the trial on her own straight away, and then carried out the sentence at dawn, negating the need to fulfill his request. As it was, however, they wouldn't be arriving for at least another month, which left her no choice. The sacrifice had to be made, and soon, meaning she would have to escort the Pirate and one of his crew through the Marsh.

It still perturbed her that he insisted on coming along. She couldn't see any particular need for it, other than the Pirate using it as a means to escape. But then, she still had his ship, his crew, and his gun. And he would be bound in shackles, of course. It wasn't like he would make it far, even if he did manage to get away.

Briefly, she considered taking Daniels or Sedgewick along with them, as extra insurance, but she decided against it. That would only divide her focus. She would be more focused on keeping them safe, and she knew from experience that that could have bad consequences. No, she worked best alone.

Taking quill to parchment, she wrote a brief missive to Daniels, letting him know of her decision, and to carry it out. She would take a shift guarding the prisoner this afternoon, and in the morning the prisoner's hands were to be heavily bound, but his feet left unshackled. The same for his 'volunteer'. They would leave at first light. She summoned a guard to deliver her missive, then retired back to her office.

Sparrow could have laughed aloud when she first laid eyes on Reaver the next morning. She had arrived at the jailhouse at the crack of dawn to retrieve the Pirate, and after seven days in that chair, allowed out only once a day to use a chamberpot, to say he looked awful did not begin to tell it. His hair was askew, looking lifeless and dull, and the creases in his face and clothes suggested he had not had a restful night in a long time.

The Pirate was glaring at her through hazy eyes, thinking for a disoriented moment that she looked different this morning. Her hair was pulled back in a long braid and wound in a coil atop her head. The loose shirt she wore was pure black trimmed with liquid-gold cloth, complemented by tight black trousers and black leather boots that reached to her knees. He shook the distraction away as he remembered his predicament, and the look he gave Sparrow promised severe retribution; instead of being properly intimidated, however, his captor had the audacity to smirk at him.

Sparrow had no sympathy for the man, and checked his bindings without compassion. Sedgewick had bound him very well. His wrists were held closely together behind his back by manacles, and even his elbows were bound together by a length of rope. A chain was attached to his manacles, so that she could keep him connected to her. The Sheriff handed her the end of it, and entreated her to be cautious.

"I've secured him the best I can while keeping him mobile," Sedgewick said, "but you should remain vigilant."

Sparrow thanked him, then pulled on the end of the chain to urge the Pirate forward.

"Stay ahead off me," Sparrow instructed. There was no way she was going to trust this man to walk behind her. The Pirate sneered at her but moved to the fore.

"Must I truly be walked on a leash like a dog?" he snarled.

Sparrow did not dignify him with an answer.

Down on the boardwalk, they were met with one of Reaver's own crew, who was shackled in a similar manner as his captain. Sheriff Sedgewick stood the man next to Reaver, then used a sturdy rope to tie them together at the upper thigh, like the three-legged race competition held during the summer festivals.

"Oh, now, really," the Pirate said. "Isn't this going a bit far?"

"You said you wanted to come along," Sparrow said. "This is how it's going to be."

"And I'm to be left unarmed and helpless?" Reaver complained. "I won't even be able to run if there's danger, strapped as I am to this oaf."

Sparrow looked at him in disbelief. "Of course you're going to remain unarmed. I am more than capable of handling whatever we find in the Marsh. Now be silent and let me do my job."

On they trudged up the hill leading out of town, and as the road turned soggy and the white fog began to press in on them, Sparrow's senses immediately flared out, seeking information in the eerie silence. Everyone and everything, even the marsh itself, seemed to be holding its breath. Even Reaver remained thankfully silent, but he seemed unimpressed by his surroundings. He had put on an expressionless mask in place of his normally charming smile; his eyes were hard and as cold as the grave, and she flinched away from them.

The fog was so thick this morning that they could barely see a few feet in front of them. Sparrow and Reaver knew the way by heart, pressing forward in silence. The young pirate with them appeared scared out of his mind and he stumbled several times on the road, nearly taking Reaver down with him.

They were lucky. They made it all the way to their destination without mishap, though the lack of resistance on the part of the Marsh made Sparrow nervous. At the large stone gate guarding the Shadow Court, Sparrow took the dark seal from her pack and inserted it into the grooves like a key, turning it three times before an audible clickpierced the silence. She forced the doors open. Sparrow shivered as she got her first look at the Shadow Halls. Almost a decade had passed since she'd last stepped foot here, but nothing had changed. She could detect no sign of danger, but remained alert, prepared for an ambush.

Reaver did not speak a word; he could feel an invisible weight pressing down on him, dampening out his soul. He felt this every time he came to pay his debt. He knew it to be the weight of his past, of Oakvale, but he refused to think of it. That wasn't me, he told himself. He steeled himself against the weight, holding his regal head high, leading his sacrifice forward with no thought of him as more than an object. That man was not me. That past is not mine. I am not him.

At the entrance to the cavernous chamber where the debt would be paid, Sparrow stopped their progress long enough to remove the chain that linked her to the Pirate, and then cut the rope that bound him to his crewman. Finally she took the dark seal and tucked it into the man's belt.

Reaver gave a her a bemused look.

"Take him in by yourself. I'll wait for you here."

Nodding brusquely, he nudged his sacrifice forward with his shoulder, shoving it forcibly into the Court, his jaw clenched in determination.

Sparrow sighed, feeling a heavy weight pressing down upon her. This wasn't right, but… a deal was a deal. The man isn't going to die, a voice in her head reminded her. It sounded horribly like Reaver. But he was right. Soon Reaver and his man would stand trial, and then they would be gone from this world anyway. Then she could get back to her life. Positioning herself well to the side of the archway, she aimed her pistol and waited for the Thief to return. Strange, but she couldn't hear anything going on in the inner chamber. What was happening?

A sudden surge of power and a high scream answered her question. She didn't have to wait long before a withered form came running wildly out of the Court, sobs and screams echoing off the cavernous halls. He took no notice of her as he ran past, his screams echoing horribly off the stone walls. She called out to the man, trying to calm him, but he seemed to have gone mad, clawing at his face and shrieking as though he was being tortured. Before she could do or say anything, or even figure out how he had been released from his shackles, he ran headlong down the hall, where a long spike was protruding menacingly from the stone.

"No!" Sparrow cried, but the man did not stop. He ran straight into it, impaling himself on the jagged bit of metal and then hung limply from it as blood gushed out of him. It had gone through his heart.

Stunned, Sparrow looked at his lifeless body, horrified by what she'd just seen. Before she could even decide what to think, she heard dignified footsteps coming from the chamber, and then Reaver stepped through the archway.

His sacrifice had fulfilled its purpose. Reaver looked almost as young as she, and as fair as any maiden. The creases in his skin had vanished, and his hair was sleek and smooth once more, the golden brown so rich it seemed to shine in the darkness. His eyes, blue like the sea, immediately sought hers. They were empty of everything save a fierce, primal hunger that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You – !" she whispered into the deafening silence. "You said he was a volunteer! That he was willing to do this for you!"

Reaver looked at the impaled body, hanging limply from the wall. "He did volunteer," he said, his face and voice devoid of all emotion.

"And did you tell him what was going to happen to him?" Sparrow almost shouted, suddenly shaking with anger.

The Pirate shrugged in answer. Sparrow felt herself go cold with fury as she kept her pistol trained on him. "You're a monster," she hissed. "I should kill you now. You don't deserve a trial. You don't deserve to live."

"I am a monster, and worse," the Pirate said. "But we both know you don't have what it takes to murder me, Sparrow. You're much too noblefor that."

"You'd deserve it," she whispered.

The Pirate did not answer, but walked over to her, ignoring her pistol that was still leveled with his heart. He kept coming until the barrel was pressed against his chest, and Sparrow shuddered as his sharp gaze pierced her. She sucked in her breath, unable to look away from his hard, soulless eyes. They burned her, drained her, made her unable to think. They were hypnotic, swirling with darkness and shadows, and Sparrow had to fight hard to make herself look away.

"My business is finished here," the Pirate said quietly. "Unless you're planning to execute me now, we should get out of this wretched place."

Swallowing hard, she jerked the pistol away.

"Fine," she said. "Let's go." And after reattaching the chain to his manacles, they headed back out into the fen.

It had been several hours since they'd left the Shadow Court, and still they had not found the road out of the Marsh. The fog was so thick it was like a swirling white soup, and though it was probably mid afternoon, they could not even see the sun, so it was impossible to know for sure what time it was. Sparrow was growing apprehensive. She'd never had so much trouble finding her way out of the mist before. It almost felt as though the Marsh was deliberately toying with them.

Despite her frustration, she was doing her best to try to keep calm and find the road, but Reaver's constant sighs and impatient comments were distracting her. Finally, when she could take no more, she said, "Look, if you're so smart, why don't you try to find the way?"

The Pirate smiled and shrugged. "Why would I do that? I have to admit, I do enjoy watching you squirm."

"Well unless you want to spend the night in this awful place, I suggest you stop distracting me."

The Pirate chuckled. "If anyone could use a little distraction, it's you."

Sparrow didn't know what to make of that, but before she could think of anything to say in reply, she heard a familiar, hair-raising shriek tear through the silence of the Marsh. They both wheeled around, and through the foggy mist they saw the cloaked, spectral form floating menacing toward them.

"Banshee," Sparrow whispered as Reaver drew closer to her.

"More than one," he hissed back, and Sparrow looked around to see a second apparition floating out of the mist, followed by two more. Standing back to back now, she and the Pirate shifted around in circular pattern, trying to keep them all in their sights at the same time.

"I count four," Reaver said.

"I've never seen so many attack at the same time," she said, drawing a second pistol out of her boot.

"I don't suppose you're going to let me use that," the Pirate said.

"Of course not," she said, aiming both her weapons at two of the banshees.

"I'm thinking now might be a good time to let bygones be bygones."

"You've got to be joking."

"Even if I were, they're not," Reaver said, nodding toward the banshees. "And by the looks of things, you've only got a few seconds to decide."

The banshees were drawing in closer now, and Sparrow could hear their whispers of despair inside her own mind. Soon they would summon their young, and she would be horribly outnumbered. As much as she hated to admit it, should would need the Pirate's help with this one. If she wanted to make it out alive.

"Fine," she snapped, putting the spare pistol back and reaching for her knife. "You better not make me regret this."

Quickly, she sawed through the ropes binding his elbows, then using her Strength, she broke the chain between his manacles. She hesitated, however, when he held out his hand for the spare pistol, but they were completely surrounded now. The shrieking of the banshees was becoming unbearable, and already one of them was summoning her children.

"Here!" she said, thrusting the spare pistol into his hand. He took it from her and they stood back to back again as they were swarmed by tiny banshee children. They were easy enough to kill, but in numbers they could overwhelm.

They fired shot after shot, eradicating the horde of banshee children, before attacking the banshees head on. They could only tackle two at once, however, and Sparrow could feel the other two draining her of life, their insidious messages being whispered in her mind, trying to pull her into despair. She glanced at Reaver over her shoulder, but he stood straight and tall, his expression hard as he relentlessly assaulted the banshee closest to him.

His shots were so fast and accurate she could barely follow them. Indeed, he dispersed the first banshee with ease and was on to his second before she'd finished her first. Before he could kill that one too, however, they summoned another horde of children to attack them.

"Don't you have some kind of magic ability that could take out these things?" he asked impatiently.

Sparrow was surprised at his suggestion, but she did not answer. She hadn't used her Will in several years. Not only did she rarely have the need, but it made her townspeople uncomfortable to see her wielding magic. The use of Will was an ancient, mostly lost ability. Her people accepted that she didn't age, they accepted her history as a Hero, but for the most part they were happier when she made herself as much like them as she could. And that included limiting the use of her abilities. Over time, this had resulted in their weakening, until at best she could summon a handful of flames to light a room.

This, however, was not something she wanted to share with the Pirate King. "Are the little banshee children too much for you, Pirate?"

He sneered at her, and said nothing more. They finished off the children, then two more banshees, attacking the final one in unison. By now Sparrow could feel herself faltering, the constant drain on her life force was finally having an effect. She tried not to show it. She could afford to let the Pirate see that she was weakening.

When they'd taken out the final banshee, Sparrow did not stop to take a breath. Without so much as a warning, she turned her gun on the Pirate, who stood looking at her with a wry smile on his face.

"Once again, I find myself at the end of your barrel," he said with mock regret. "Can there be no trust between us?"

"No," Sparrow said. "You are still a criminal, and my prisoner. I must keep you in custody and take you back to Bloodstone. Drop the weapon."

The Pirate did not look intimidated, only amused. "Well, Sparrow, it looks like we're going to have a problem there."

"I don't see any problem."

"I do," he said, his lips curving in a wide smile. "I have no desire to return to Bloodstone to find myself at the end of a hangman's noose."

"I can't let you walk, Reaver," she said. "I have a duty to perform, and you are not leaving this Marsh without me."

The Pirate laughed lightly. "Oh, how right you are, Sparrow."

And then the Pirate was running toward her, but running wasn't even the right word. It was as though he was moving through space and time; he moved so fast that she could barely see him. She tried to shoot at him, but he was barely a blur, dodging her bullets as easily as if she were throwing rocks at him. Sparrow could barely credit it. She'd known he was the Hero of Skill, but she'd never imagined he had this kind of ability. In the few seconds it took her to fully grasped the situation she was in, he was no longer in front of her, but behind her, and she felt a sharp blow to her skull before she lost consciousness entirely.

When Sparrow finally managed to pull her senses together, the first thing she became aware of was a dull ache in her head, accompanied by a sharp pain against her cheek. Someone was slapping her, not hard, but hard enough to pull her away from the oblivion she'd been swimming in.

With some effort, she opened her eyes to see Reaver kneeling in front of her.

"Welcome back, little Sparrow."

Confused, she took in her surroundings. They were no longer in the Marsh. Instead they were on the hill overlooking Bloodstone.

"How did we get here?" she asked, her mind foggy.

"I carried you."

Shaking her head, she tried to sit up, but she couldn't move her arms. Looking down, she saw that the chain she'd used to tether the Pirate to her was wrapped around her all the way down to her to her waist, restraining her arms to her sides. Underneath the chain, she could feel her hands, tied behind her back.

"Reaver," she growled. "Release me at once."

"I don't think I will," the Pirate said cheerfully, pulling her up into a sitting position. "I think I like you better this way."

Her heart jumped up into her throat.

As though he sensed her discomfort, he said, "Now, now, Sparrow, no need to fret. Just play nice and there will be no need for anymore... unpleasantness."

"Fine," Sparrow growled. "I concede you've beaten me. Let that be enough. You're free to go."

Reaver let out a quiet chuckle. "Not quite, little Sparrow. I still need my ship, my gun, and my crew. Youare going to be my ticket out of here. A kind of insurance, if you will. We're going to walk into town, demand that my crew, my Dragonstomper, and the Reaver IIbe restored to me, and board my ship. And you are going to do this all without a fuss. If sense in you any effort to escape, I will kill you and everyone in your precious town, do you understand?"

Sparrow felt her heart leap inside her chest. She knew he was serious. She didn't care what he did to her, but she couldn't let him harm her citizens. "Yes," she replied. Reaver smiled and pulled her Nightwatchfrom his belt, then pulled her to her feet. Holding her close to him, he kept the pistol to her head as they entered Bloodstone together, taking slow, calculated steps. The first people on the boardwalk to notice them set out to panic, but at Reaver's insistence, Sparrow instructed them to go inside the nearest store or home and lock the doors until this was over. They obeyed her instructions, and the pair reached his ship without incident. The guards posted were alarmed to see their Mayor in peril, but again she spoke soothingly, instructing them to retrieve the Pirate's gun and release his crew. One man took off at a run, and Reaver turned to the remaining guards.

"Now, I demand you step away from my ship," he drawled silkily. "Once the lad has returned my precious Dragonstomperand my crew, we will be on our way."

"Not until you release the Mayor," one of the men protested.

Aiming between his brows, he was ready to fire when Sparrow spoke. "Jackson, don't get smart with him. Just follow my orders and do as the Pirate says."

Defeated, the guards backed away. As they reached the opposite side of the cobbled road the guard returned, bearing the Pirate's pistol. Sedgewick and Daniels were hot on his heels.

"Yeh filthy bastard, release her!" Daniels roared at the Thief.

"Daniels, please stand down," Sparrow almost pleaded when she saw the Pirate start to raise her pistol again. "Don't make more of this ridiculous situation than what it is."

Daniels didn't seem to hear her, so fixed was he on Reaver, who smiled patronizingly back at him. "What manner of man threatens a woman? Take yer fight up with me, Pirate King."

Without hesitation, Reaver removed the pistol from her head and pointed it at her Commander, then squeezed the trigger once, and Daniels fell to his knees on the cobblestones, grasping his right shoulder in agony as bright red blood splattered across the ground.

"Yeh soulless son of a whore, tha' was a cheap shot," Daniels snarled.

Reaver merely shrugged. He hadn't meant to miss, but Sparrow had slammed back against him at the last second, ruining his impeccable aim. Restraining her tighter, he retrained the pistol on her as he smiled at the bleeding man. "Your precious mayor saved you that time," he said. "It won't happen again."

Dismissing him, Reaver turned to the guard with his grubby mitts clutching the Pirate's precious gun. "Bring that here. Nice and slow now. We don't want any more accidents, do we?"

The guard inched forward, holding Sparrow's gaze. She cautioned him, praying he wouldn't try to be brave and do something stupid. But the gun was given to the Pirate without incident.

"Now, all I need is my crew," the Pirate said. "You weren't keeping them in the jailhouse, so I can only assume they've been locked up elsewhere in the town. I'd like them released."

Sedgewick looked to Sparrow, who nodded again. Taking a team of ten guards, he left the scene and it seemed hours had passed before he returned, when in fact it was only a few minutes. When he returned, he and his men were escorting their thirty-some prisoners back to their ship, and Reaver smiled his satisfaction.

When all the men had reboarded the Reaver II, she and the Pirate backed slowly down the dock and up the gangplank, Reaver holding off her men with only his pistol. He shouted a command that the anchor be raised and they set sail immediately.

"I will be keeping your Mayor," he suddenly announced, and Sparrow glanced over her shoulder at him in alarm. "She will be my prisoner, and my property, until I either kill her or tire of her. But who knows, I might just keep her," he added with a wink at Daniels, who cursed loudly and came running up the dock after them, but the tide was already pulling them out. Sparrow, too, fought to get away, but knew it was futile. Reaver's hold on her was unbreakable, and once the gangplank fell away into the water, she knew there was no point. With the chain wrapped around her, she would sink straight to the bottom of the harbor.

"Sparrow!" she heard Jack calling to her. "Sparrow!"

"Take care of Bloodstone!" was all she could yell back before they had sailed too far away for him to understand her.

Disheartened, Sparrow she watched as her town grew smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing altogether into the sea mist. Only when it was gone did she became aware of her surroundings, of the men working on the ship around her, then of the Pirate holding her closer than was still necessary. Dimly, she wondered what he thought she would do if he released her. Run away? Indeed, right into the frigid water, miles out to sea, wrapped in a heavy iron chain. Or not.

With trepidation, she looked over her shoulder at her captor, uncomfortably aware that their roles were reversed. He was looking down as her with a smug, satisfied look in his eyes, and she suddenly felt defensive. When she tried to jerk out his arms, he tightened his hold.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his eyes alight with a kind of triumphant glee.

She didn't answer. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked baldly.

Reaver smiled. "Maybe, maybe not," he said. "You took me prisoner and locked me away in your jailhouse. I'd say turn about is fair play. Perhaps I should keep you in the brig overnight," he mused. "Or perhaps I should have you executed, as you planned for me."

She swallowed hard. She was at a disadvantage here, on his ship, with his crew, out at sea. It did not look good.

His lips curved into a smile as if he read her mind. "Perhaps you should have taken on those banshees alone. You might not be in this mess."

Cheeks reddened, she opened her mouth to tell him that maybe she should have left him for dead instead, but he pressed a finger to her lips. "Now now, not another word or I shall happily gag you." Her mouth snapped shut and his eyes twinkled vindictively. "Good little Sparrow." Grasping the chain around her, he dragged her to his cabin at the stern end of the ship, roughly tossing her inside the door. "Wait here for me," he ordered. "Unless you have a mind to get better acquainted with my crew," he added, looking at her thoughtfully for a moment. Her glare intensified, letting him know that whatever he was thinking, it wasn't happening.

Once the door was shut and locked, she turned and examined her surroundings. At first, she considered she might be in the wrong room. Or on the wrong ship. This room was exactly what one would expect of any sea captain, with comfortable leather chairs, map tables, and a desk filled with charts and papers. A compass and a globe of the world dominated the center of the room. She spent several minutes pacing around, taking in the maps and charts, and though she was very familiar with Albion, the maps of Samarkand piqued her curiosity.

On the opposite side of the room was a wooden door. Hesitantly, glancing around as though afraid to be caught, she moved closer to it. It took some work, but eventually she managed to grasp the handle with her bound hand, and cracked it open ever so slightly. She gasped as the interior was revealed to her. This was obviously Reaver's private cabin, as it had his unique, strong personality stamped all over it. It was dominated by boisterous shades of red, black, and gold. The walls were lined with cabinets that were probably priceless, made from an exotic wood that was the same hue and intensity of burning fire and inlaid with gold, and the wooden floor was covered with a thick, plush rug in coal black, with fur so thick she knew her feet would sink into it. A large bed took over the far corner, and was covered with black sheets, but most decadent of all was an airy flame-silk canopy that covered the top, with silk panels that would conceal the interior once let loose from their cords. But even then, the fabric was sheer and would only partially hide its occupants. The room was completed by a full length mirror lined the wall opposite the bed, obviously placed there for the Pirate to admire his own reflection upon waking.

With a red blush on her cheeks, Sparrow spun around to leave, only to walk straight into something hard. Bouncing back, she peered up and into Reaver's curious eyes.

"I see you're admiring my bed," he said with a sly grin. "Care to try it out?"

She glowered up at him. "Don't get any ideas. Just because you're holding me captive doesn't mean I intend to make this easy or fun for you. If you don't intend to kill me, then just how long do you plan to hold me here?" she asked.

His smile seemed to reach the corners his dark eyes as they gazed at her unblinkingly. "I never said I would not kill you," he said. "After all, you offered me no better."

Sparrow swallowed hard. "You are a wanted man, Reaver. I was only upholding the law."

Reaver shrugged. "I follow no law. You intended death for me. I must decide if I will deliver the same to you." Raising his hand to her face, he trailed his fingers down the curve of her cheek. "But do not fear, little Sparrow. I have much planned for you before that decision is made."

Sparrow swallowed hard, almost afraid to ask what his plans were. Instead she said, "Where are we going?"

He sighed and dropped his hand from her, then moved towards a large wardrobe cut from ebony. He opened it and removed his coat, hanging it inside with care. "I think we may return to Samarkand. As I no longer have a refuge in Bloodstone, I must seek out a new one." He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into a basket before turning to her. "Sounds like a grand adventure, wouldn't you agree?"

Sparrow grit her teeth, but was careful with her tongue. As much as it rankled her, the Pirate King held her life in his hands. "I would prefer to return home," she said as politely as she could. "I am no threat to you now."

His smile was warm, but there was a darkness to it, something she had yet to see in Reaver. She had seen him arrogant, and she knew he was a backstabbing man-whore, but she had never seen a look on him like the one he was giving her now. It was as though apart of the Shadow Court had come back with him, was staring out at her through his eyes. A small part, but enough to send a chill up her spine.

He came to her, graceful and sleek, his hands flashing out to pull her toward him again. She landed against his chest, struggling not to lose her balance and trying to put some space between them. He held her close, Shadows swirling in his eyes and a twisted curve in his perfect lips.

"My little Sparrow, do try to understand, you are my captive now. My prisoner. My property. My slave," he whispered, trailing his finger along her cheek. "You will be whatever I see fit for you to be. You are not to do anything, or go anywhere, without my expressed permission. Do we understand each other?"

Sparrow stared at him with wide eyes. "Reaver," she said slowly. "Please, be reasonable. You don't need me anymore. You're free and can sail off into the great blue yonder for another decade before we need to see each other again." She spoke calmly, trying to be the voice of rationality. It was a struggle to keep her voice firm but soft, but somehow she managed it.

The Pirate shook his head solemnly. "No, Sparrow," he murmured, almost distractedly, bringing his nose to her hairline and inhaling deeply. He leisurely tugged at her braid, smoothing it out until her hair flowed in wavy locks down to her hips. And then his lips found hers. Sparrow leapt back with a jolt of surprise, but he tightened his fist in her hair as he forced her lips open. His was not gentle; his lips and tongue were brutal against hers, taking from her in a drunken fashion until heat flowed through her, spreading along her limbs.

To her shock, her body answered his; breathy moans spilled from her lips as her body was pressed flush with his, arching into him. The heavy chain was a barrier between them, but the Pirate did not seem in any hurry to remove it. Instead he steered her toward the soft bedding, her urged her down, then abruptly broke his lips from hers and pushed her back on the soft bedding.

Sparrow lay there, panting and breathless, her mind momentarily blank until she suddenly felt his hands encircling each of her knees; he parted her legs and pulled them up high against her chest. Her eyes widened in alarm when she felt him pressed against her through their clothes, and she struggled against the vulnerable position, crying out in alarm. Desperately, she fought against her chains. "No!" she cried. "Don't!"

Reaver paused for a moment, looking down at her with a wry grin. "Do you fear me, little Sparrow?" he asked.

Sparrow shook her head. "I am not afraid of you, Pirate," she growled menacingly. "Its just... I can't do this with you."

"But you can, and you will. You belong to me, Sparrow, and I will have you," he said, grinding his hips into hers. Her body trembled, and she fought harder against her restraints. It had been so long since she had used her Strength, but desperation gave her some power, and she could hear the iron chain groaning against the force she exerted upon it.

The Pirate heard it too, and remove himself from her so suddenly she stopped struggling. "Ah, yes, I see now," he said thoughtfully. "I almost forgot. You're trying to break through your chains."

"And I will very likely succeed," she said calmly. "I am no weak mortal for you to control."

His expression cleared, but in its place was a twisted smile. "Well, we'll just have to see to that."

Grabbing her, he yanked her up from the bed and set her on her feet. "Don't move," he said tersely.

Sparrow didn't move, wondering just what the Pirate was up to. It sounded as though he was rummaging through a cupboard behind her, but when she chanced a glance over her shoulder, all she could see was his back.

What is he up to? she wondered.

She had no inkling, and decided that waiting was her only option. As quietly as she could, she continued to struggle against her chains, but she could hardly make any progress now without the noise drawing the Pirate's attention. While she worked at them, her eyes were drawn to the room's only porthole. The sun was setting, and all she could see from her vantage-point was miles and miles of ocean. She thought of their destination; Samarkand was a vast continent to the east, though many of her ships traded with it's westernmost territories, she had never been there herself. Also, most of their trade ships coming from there made port in Bloodstone. Theirs was the closest port on the eastern side of Albion, which gave her hope that once they reached land, she would have no trouble finding a ship that would be able to take her home.

Click.

Sparrow started, interrupted from her thoughts as she felt a heavy metal object fastened around her throat. It fit snugly, and she felt a familiar, half-forgotten coldness sweep through her, chilling her from head to toe.

"What… what have you done?" she gasped. She'd felt this before, but it just wasn't possible. This couldn't be the same technology. "What is this?"

"You feel it, don't you?" the Pirate whispered silkily in her ear. "Your Will being sapped from you. Your Strength diminishing. Your Skill deserting you. Do you remember?"

Sparrow did remember. She could never forget. She'd woken up in the Spire with that horrible collar around her neck. It had suppressed her powers, given Lucien and his Commandant the means to control her, and even punish her when they saw fit. Even though she was a Hero, it had worked just as effectively on her as any of the other guards. It rendered her as weak as any mortal.

"Take it off!" she cried, desperately struggling against her chains. She was no match for the wrought iron now. The metal restrained her with ease, and she felt a lump forming in her throat. "I mean it. Remove this vile thing from me right this instant!"

Reaver only laughed, and steered her toward the wall mirror so they could both admire his handiwork. "I bought this interesting trinket from a merchant in Samarkand. Wouldn't say how he found it, but I found it quite intriguing," he said conversationally, ignoring her command. With one elegant finger he traced the sleek metal ring that adorned her throat. In the very center of it was a glowing red stone that pulse in rhythm with her own heartbeat. "I made some modifications, as you can see. The original model was a bulky, ghastly thing. I prefer this sleek, elegant design, don't you?"

"I hate it!" she almost screamed. "Remove it from me. You have no right to do this to me, Reaver!"

"Would you prefer what you did to me?" the Pirate asked. "Bound to a chair, unable to move even a finger?"

"I would," Sparrow said.

"Well, I prefer this," Reaver said. "I am no fool. You would eventually break through the chains. You could even summon your Will to fight against me. And though your Skill is not enough to match mine, all your abilities together might prove you a match for me. I'll not allow that."

"Are you too much of a coward to face me, then?" Sparrow taunted.

Reaver seemed completely unperturbed. "I have you at my mercy, Sparrow. That is all that matters. You belong to me, and you will submit to my will."

"I will never submit to you!"

The Pirate's eyes darkened. "You will, Sparrow, or you will suffer terribly." The words were deathly quiet, but she did not miss them.

"No," Sparrow snarled.

"Yes, Sparrow," he said. "And to demonstrate this, I think you need a lesson in what it means to be at the Pirate King's mercy."

The Pirate's countenance instantly changed. Sparrow did not get the chance to resist. He grasped the chain around her and dragged her above deck, where the crew paused in their duties to watch their progress. Reaver stopped before the mainmast and shoved Sparrow forward so forcefully she barely caught herself before falling on her face.

"Behold!" the Pirate called out to his men. "The woman who captured the King of Pirates, the Mayor of Bloodstone!"

The men burst out in rancorous laughter and Sparrow felt her cheeks start to burn. "What are you doing, Reaver?" she hissed at him.

The Pirate ignored her. "Now men, I know, for a brief time you thought your king lost," he said with theatrical despair. "You thought me captured, bound for the headsman's block. You thought our way of life had come to an end. But who among you has not seen me cheat death time and again? Who among you truly believed that this woman could bring down the mightiest pirate to sail the nine seas!"

There came another great whooping of shouts from the crew, and Sparrow stared around her in trepidation, fearful of where this was going.

"My escape was a simple matter," the Pirate continued. "The once mighty Hero of Bowerstone has become lazy and complacent, so focused on leading her little flock of sheep that she was no match for the wolf she'd captured." He paused while the crew laughed. "She thought herself my superior, that she could hold me prisoner, and yes, even bring me to justice," he said in his most mocking tone. "And look at her now. Look at how she cowers before me!"

At those words, Sparrow straightened her spine, glaring at Reaver, who seemed unimpressed with her display. His crew continued to shout and jeer, and the Pirate let them carry on for several moments as they shouted taunts and insults at her. Sparrow did not acknowledge them. They were nothing. It was the Pirate who held her gaze; it was he whom she must fear.

"Prisoner!" he barked suddenly. "Kneel before your King!"

Sparrow swallowed hard as a chill swept down her spine, but she refused to be brought low. The darkness in Reaver's expression intensified.

"I said kneel."

At his final word, she felt the sharp strike of a foot against the back of her left knee, and she crashed hard to the deck of the ship. The crew jeered again, and she flung her hair back out of her face as she glared up at the Pirate.

"You see, men," the Pirate called out. "This woman is no match for your king, your god! She is in her rightful place, kneeling before me!"

The crew was almost in a frenzy now, and for a moment Sparrow thought they would fall on her and hack her limb from limb.

"Hang her from the tallest mast!" one man shouted.

"Make her walk the plank!" another jeered.

"Let her wear the rosary of pain!"

The Pirate let them carry on for several minutes, then raised his hand for silence.

"Oh, she will be punished for her blasphemy," he promised fervidly. "For eight days she held me at her mercy. So she will suffer eight lashes as penance. Tie her to the mast!"

A pair of pirates descended upon Sparrow, forcing the chain down her body like a garment until it fell around her feet, and then dragged her toward the main mast. She screamed and thrashed, fighting against them, but she did not have the Strength to resist. She was thrown bodily against the wooden pillar, and her arms were pulled as far around it as far as they could go. They tied each of her wrists with a rope going around the mast, then tightened it to the point that she could not move an inch.

The pirates around her cheered and howled like animals, and for the first time Sparrow felt real fear, though she did her best to hide it. She didn't want to believe this was happening, that Reaver would have her flogged before his men, but when she felt a pair of hands throw her hair over her shoulder and rip open the back of her shirt, instinct took over and she fought at her bindings in earnest.

"Look at her struggle," Reaver laughed cruelly. "Do you wish to beg for leniency, little Sparrow? Do it. Go on, beg me grant you mercy!"

There was a small part of Sparrow that almost gave in. Without her powers, she was weak. How could she endure the punishment that was about to befall her? But then she remember. She had endure this and worse at the hands of Lucien and his goons, and her spine straightened. She would not cower. She would not beg. Unable to turn her head to look at the Pirate King, she simply said, "Do your worst. I will not beg before the likes of you."

More laughter followed her bold statement, but Sparrow didn't care, focusing her energy on bracing for the first lash. When it came, it was with all the speed and savagery of a bolt of lightening, accompanied by the same terrible cracking sound, and it left a trail of fire down her back. Her whole body seized, every muscles screaming in protest as the pain ripped through her. She didn't scream; she couldn't. Even her lungs seem to seize up, until she couldn't breathe.

A second time the lash struck her. Her spine bowed backward as far as her restraints would allow, and from the corner of her eyes, she saw a thin spray of her blood splatter against the deck of the ship. The air that had been trapped in her lungs was expelled with a great woosh, and she found herself gasping for air, but the pain was too much. She couldn't breathe.

Crack! Another lash. Crack! Another.

She was dimly aware of the cheers and shouts surrounding her, but they didn't matter. Nothing mattered as the flesh of her back was torn and flayed. Her fingers grasped the rope until her knuckled were white. She pulled against it, as though holding herself to the mast. She refused to scream or emit so much as a sound of discomfort.

Crack! Crack!

Another two lashes. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head; tears streamed down her cheeks and she bit her lips so hard they bled. I will not scream! I will not give him the satisfaction!

Crack!

Just one more, she told herself. Just one more. It's almost over. Let it be over.

The final lash tore through her, and Sparrow sagged against the mast, breathing heavily. The pirates around her continued to cheer. She did not care. Her back was on fire, her legs barely held her, and it took of her strength not to weep like a child. She would never forgive the Pirate for this. Never forget what he'd done to her. Never…

After several moments, she heard Reaver addressing his men, and she struggled to listen to what he was saying.

"I have taken this woman as my prisoner, and none are to touch her," he bellowed over the cheering. "Let her stand as an example to any who would challenge my rule."

And with that the Pirate King retreated to his cabin. The men went back to their duties, occasionally shouting taunts and insults her way, but in accordance with Reaver's decree, none of them touched her.

Sparrow hung from the ropes in a daze. By now the sun had set, and the moon was making it's way across the sky. Time meant nothing to Sparrow. Only pain. She was drowning in it. But she had survived. Even without her powers, she was alive, and with all her heart she prayed for release, for some kind of miracle that she would escape from the Pirate's clutches.

Author's Sidethought: I hope that wasn't too much. Let me know what you think. Cause it's only going to get worse from here for a while.