Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

The other Hanged Men went down much easier than Bloodgrin. The Whispering Witch had killed Alder's wife Bridgette, the current Scion. The Witch moved by slipping through the weave of Fate. Ymir ripped her from it and broke her neck, and became the new Scion. The Baronett fell next when he attacked the Fateless One at the Offering Ceremony on Akara-Tor. He made quick work of the last of the Hanged Men, his neck snapping with an oddly satisfying 'crack.' The Baronett had been a competent sorcerer, but Ymir had faced the Dark Empyrean, one of the most dangerous mages to ever walk Amalur. All that remained was Dead Kel, deep in the caverns of Akara-Tor. Rast insisted on coming, said he couldn't be trusted to take care of himself. He wondered if this was what having a wife was like.

Hm. Akara was a sentient tree from Nyralim's brood, and Kel just wanted to die and stay dead. He certainly wasn't expecting that. He also wasn't expecting Kel to be such a handful. While there were certainly stronger opponents, Dead Kel was a master swordsman, and he could travel through the ground like a root golem. Thankfully he had Rast at his back, holding off the Faer Gorta. Kel's blade soared past his ear, shaving off a few hairs. That would teach him to let his mind wander in a fight. Kel came in again, Stormblade parrying the vicious assault as a blast of lightning found its mark in Kel's face, sending the pirate king reeling. Before he could move in for a killing blow, Kel disappeared into the ground again. Unlike a root golem, there was no way of knowing where he would pop up.

"A little help please!" squealed a feminine voice. So that's where he went. Rast was cornered by a pair of Faer Gorta, and now Dead Kel. The scourge of Gallows End already had his sword raised to strike her down. She was defenseless and there was no way he could cross the distance separating them in time, even if he used magic. In an instant, Ymir did what anyone would do when faced with a split second decision: He acted on instinct. "Get over here!" he bellowed, thrusting out his left hand, a harpoon flying through the air and into Dead Kel's back, pulling him through the air. Before he was even half way back Ymir had gone into Reckoning and was moving toward the middle of the platform. He felt something materialize in his hand; a chain with a spiked ball attached. This promised to be especially brutal. Swinging the ball to gain momentum, he brought it crashing down into Kel's chest. With a sudden rush he felt himself leave Reckoning, absorbing the Fate of his fallen foe. The man who had once been the bane of every ship between Rathir and the Frostbreak Sea was dead, his abdomen almost completely flattened. Shards of bone stood out against his red coat and the fiery red glow in his eyes had vanished. Not even Akara would be able to bring him back this time. He pried the sword from the dead man's hand. Good steel shouldn't be left to rust.

The ground began to tremble and the earth far above our heads began to shake loose. He looked to Rast, a look of confusion on his face. He called out to her. "What's happening?" She almost looked amused. "Let me see. Yes, it looks as though we're about to be crushed. We could always run." That was probably the smartest thing he had heard all day. He rushed ahead to clear a path, thinking that any leftover creatures would probably be dealt with easier by him. Thankfully there were only a few boggarts in the way. Little buggers practically exploded when he touched them. They proved to be the least of his problems. A section of the ceiling up ahead was getting ready to come down. Using a trick he picked from his time in the Scholia Arcana, he focused a blast of his magic into the stone of the floor, a column of rock being forced out of the ground, acting a temporary support pillar. Rast looked impressed when she caught up to him. "Wow, where were you when I wanted to kill my ex husband?" He could never be sure when she was kidding him or not.

The exit to the cave collapsed just as they set foot onto the beach. Their timing couldn't have been better. He fell to his knees, the stress of their little jog finally catching up with him. Rast sat beside him on a rock. "Strange," she said softly. "I should feel joyous, satisfied. Vengeance is mine! But I'm not happy. In fact, I'm quite crestfallen. Perhaps my mother was right. "Sometimes killing can make things right, but most of the time it's a terrible idea." He gave her a wry look.

"I don't know about all that. I feel pretty good about how things went. I killed a monster, saved the beautiful captain, and got a free sword out of it."

She smiled. "You know what? I need to find a new role model." He saw her lips continue to move, but there was no sound coming from her mouth. His vision started to blur, and his fingers were going numb. The last he saw before everything went dark was the look of concern on her face.

"What happened this time?" He muttered to himself, eyes adjusting to the light. A scratchy voice answered him. "You got careless." It was Quay, the old Fateweaver. "It seems the injuries you sustained in Akara-Tor were more serious that you realized. Once the danger was gone and you stopped running on pure survival instinct, everything hit you at once. Broken ribs from a root golem, poison from a crudok, and multiple sword wounds from Dead Kel. You've been out for almost a week. The good captain carried you back to the village. She's scarcely left your side. I expect that you'll have a lot to make up to her. I recommend flowers." If Ymir had the strength to throw something at the old man, he would.

He slowly sat up, moving to stand. It seemed he was in the captain's quarters of the Requiem. His trek to the door was slow, and the sudden blinding sunshine outside didn't make the trip any more worthwhile. A small hand grabbed his shoulder, and immediately dragged him back into the cabin. Apparently Rast had seen him before he had seen her. She looked especially annoyed. "You had me worried sick!" she shouted. "Honestly. Why do you act like that, throwing yourself headlong into dangerous situations." She shook head to regain her composure. "No more! Do you hear me?" The point was emphasized with a sharp jab of her finger into his chest. "If you and I are going to woo, and woo with vigor, you're going to be more considerate of my needs. And they are many. Like sex… I mean sex."

'Wait… The fuck?'

"Don't look so surprised. I saw the way you looked at my behind when I was looking out at the water, and we've certainly had our share of moments together. I think you're pretty, and certainly a much better person that any of the other men I've been with. To show that you're my consort, I want you to have the sword on the wall. It was my mothers. She was a terrible person." Ymir could only stare at her, slack-jawed. He'd never met a person so upfront in his life. This woman, whom he had only known for a few weeks, was claiming him as hers. He could only do one thing; His arm shot out and snaked around her waist. Before she could even open her mouth he had her against him, kissing like she was the last woman he'd ever see.

"Lock the door," he growled against her lips. It was his life now, damn it. No more crazed Fae armies trying to kill him. No mysterious Dokkalfar women giving him cryptic clues about information vital to his survival. From now on it was only Rast Brattigan. If nothing else he knew where he stood with her. It was a nice change of pace.

A/N: Rast's dialogue has been modified to suit my needs. She might disappear for a chapter or two, but she will be back. Next chapter will hopefully start the restoration of Gravehal. Once he has a keep, the lord will need a lady…