After Nik unceremoniously dumps me back in my cell not unlike the gilded cage my father kept me, I flop down on the bed and try to collect my breath along with my wits. It seemed like so long ago I felt oppressed by my surroundings, yet here I am even more strictly ensconced. My tongue darts out to gather the lingering taste of him on my lips; salt from the sea air, honey from the morning tea, and temptation from a place I dare not name. My hand presses against my breast in a bid to cease the racing of my heart, but it's no use. I have somehow joined the long line of women who lose their head, and possibly their virtue, over the handsome pirate who terrorizes foreign ports.

"Your father was right about you, Rebekah. You are nothing but a be-corseted ninny hell-bent on bringing shame down on our name. No one will buy into whatever excuse you tell them or yourself. It's time to focus on your escape and not on what it would feel like to hear him groan your name out in ecstasy again." I refuse to give voice to my real wish, which is for Nik to bring about my own excited utterances.

Luckily for me, the wastrel of whom I speak decides there is no place in this ship he would prefer less than my boudoir and a solid week passes with no sign of him. My mood soon matches the biscuits delivered with every meal; dry, brittle, and a bit salty. Word of my surly mood must have made its way to the captain who paid me a visit one evening before supper. Fully prepared was I to lay into him, demanding to know at what point I would be given my freedom when I noticed the cut above his eye and the bruising beneath his jaw.

"Saving more damsels in distress, Nik, or being the cause?"

"It would appear the crew of slave ships, while toiling in the most detestable of occupations, are also not above jumping a man when his back is turned enjoying a pint in port. Made no difference to the fact I already intended to clean their ship out, but it did move up the timeline a bit."

"You attacked a slave ship? I know you set yourself as the most fearless man at sea, but don't you think that is taking it a bit far? Those people are barbaric even in ways I won't accuse you of, so wouldn't it be wiser to stick to cruise liners of the wealthy or shipments of tea?"

My tone is flippant, but my concern is real. In the time I've been stowed upon this vessel, I have come to know many of its crew and they are crude, of course, but decent people. Other than my initial attacker, no one has been anything but warily civil and although I know them to be criminals, the stories I'd heard of what passes on board those floating nightmares caused me to pale. The slave trade had been illegal in England for several years and there was talk of ending slavery altogether. My father rolled his eyes when I made my impassioned pleas for him to influence his cronies to pass such legislation.

"Always the champion of lesser creatures, both children and animal, Rebekah." I always took him to be chiding me for being too soft-hearted, although his words were so off-putting in their context.

"It's how we make our living, Bekah, or has your time at sea dampened your brain and had you thinking we were merely scruffy businessmen? No one should be allowed to profit off of such misery. We take their ill-gotten gains and make sure the funds are more meaningfully spent. Burning the ship afterwards so they may never again contain human cargo is purely a bonus."

My mind is in turmoil as I process this information. I know our servants revered the Pirate Niklaus Mikaelson as some sort of updated version of Robin Hood, but my father had squashed that nonsense as silly romanticism of the impoverished and envy of their betters. Could there be something more to this man who kissed like an angel and made me want to sell my soul to the devil?

"I was just sitting down to dinner, Nik. Would you care to join me and tell me what it is that inspired this career choice."

I provide a hesitant smile, truly intrigued by this contradiction I see before me.

"I will dine with you if you will answer me one question, Bekah. Why do you call me Nik?"

A flush washes over my cheeks and I ramble off an answer in the hopes my words make any kind of sense. "You are named Niklaus, but that is far too formal for someone who has kissed me so thoroughly and Klaus sounds like a stodgy old man, who you quite certainly are not, and those dimples look like they belong on a Nik and…oh bother! Will you dine with me or not?"

A slow grin spreads across his face, highlighting those dimples I had just spoken of and making him seem both innocently boyish and dangerously charming.

"I'll tell Bertie to bring in another plate."

Nik leaves to arrange or for our dining while I attempt to straighten up the room and myself. Far too quickly we are once again in close proximity as we sit at the small table dining on fish and biscuits. More biscuits, or hardtack as Nik referred to them. I referred to them as awful. We were also sipping on wine, which I hoped would loosen his tongue more than my own.

"I am honestly curious as to why you've chosen such a life, Nik. You are obviously intelligent and charismatic. You could have gone into any number of reputable occupations."

"Like your father, Bekah?"

I bristle at the unspoken challenge and malice in his voice.

"Yes, like my father, a man who has worked hard and done very well for himself in an honest field. He uses his ships to bring much-needed goods to shore."

Minutes seem to tick away as Nik plays with the stem of his glass before pushing aside his plate and leaning forward.

"I have a story for you, Bekah. My father was one of those honest businessmen you speak of. He came up from nothing, but worked diligently to better himself and make sure his family was well cared for. He had a head for numbers and went to work for a corporation as one of many balancing its books.

Over time, it was made obvious how much of an asset he could be and he quickly moved up through the ranks until he worked immediately under the Director of the company. It was this access that allowed him to glean information that several of the company's ships were being used off books in the slave trade. The trade was already illegal, therefore my father flew to the Director instead of authorities, so completely loyal was he to this man who ensured his family had a comfortable life with bright prospects. He could not imagine the Director had any knowledge of such crimes and thus went home for the evening to his wife and children, resting comfortable with the peace of mind that he had not only helped to end a terrible crime, but worked to ensure the safety of a pillar of the community.

Within a week my father was in prison."

At this, Nik pauses to take a sip of wine and I pause to remind myself to breath. The tale is Machiavellian in its intrigue, although not unheard of. It was rare in this time for those in the moneyed class to pay for their crimes, so I did not find it hard to swallow that Nik's father may have paid the price for another's misdeed. Yet, I knew there was more. Retribution made sense at this alone, of course, but Nik simmered with a fury born of more and I needed to know, no matter how terrible the truth was.

"Please continue, Nik. Tell me what happened to your father."

"Do you know what happens to families when the head is accused of fraud and embezzlement from one of the crown's favorite companies? The trial was swift and the outcome known before a single word was stated in my father's defense. No competent lawyer was willing to go up against one with royal connections and reams of documented proof, some of which actually had the ink dry from the forgers by the time the trial began.

Upon being found guilty, everything was stripped from us. It wasn't enough for my mother to be a pariah and spit on when trying to go to market; she needed to be made a pauper, as well, with five children to raise. No family was willing to take her in as she was stained with the crimes my father didn't even commit. The burden was too much for a woman from a middle class background and she was dead from consumption within 6 months.

My eldest brother Finn had enlisted in the military prior to all of this and since then died in some ridiculous cause or another. England is very efficient at killing poor men in one battle or another. Nevertheless, he was not around to take up the duties as man of the house; or hovel, as was closer to the truth of our new surroundings.

Elijah was lucky enough to be a young apprentice to a man who did not associate him with the bad reputation of our father and kept him on. He was sending money home to use whenever possible, but was too far way when our mother died so when word reached him, it was too late to save the rest of us from our fate.

Kol and I, being 8 and 10 respectively, were just old enough to be placed in the work houses. Robust boys desperate to eat make for very hard workers. Did you know that, Bekah? They are often willing to work themselves to death in a bid to stay alive. Ironic, isn't it?"

With each word Nik utters, his voice lowers until it is but a growl emitting from the back of his throat. I can feel the anguish coming off him in waves, drowning me in his shared sorrow. A part of me wants to run screaming from the room, but I have never been one to let wisdom temper my tongue and I would not get far beyond the locked door, anyway.

"You said there were five children, Nik. What happened to the fifth?" My tone is hushed, befitting one who truly doesn't long to know the answer to my question.

"You wish to hear about Clair, our only sister and the sunshine that brightened our lives? Since she was just a babe in arms, she was sent to an orphanage. By the time Elijah was able to come for us all she had died from a small pox epidemic that had hit her dormitory. Why such a beautiful child did not find a home can only be ascribed to the fact even one so small is tainted by the father's offenses."

There are tears gathering in the corners of my eyes after hearing all the Mikaelsons have endured. How could one family be dealt so many harsh cards without turning malicious? I know it may appear callous, but I had to inquire anyway. "That is horrible, Nik. I am sorry for all your family has gone through and wish I could do something to alleviate your pain, but I still don't understand. Why me? Why was I taken from my home?"

"Who do you think my father worked for, Bekah?"