I must thank 'Awesomeness' for reviewing each chapter as I've posted it, without fail. I'm so very glad you're enjoying this, and I hope I haven't jinxed it now.


When Reaver woke the next morning, he was alone. He chuckled to himself - he'd experienced this behaviour before, and it didn't really surprise him that Garth had fled the bed. He dressed and went downstairs, trying to guess just how brightly Garth would blush upon seeing him.

The answer was very. He found Garth in the kitchen, fetching himself a drink of water, and the Mage nearly dropped the glass upon seeing him.

Reaver bit back his laughter. Garth would not appreciate such blatant mockery at this point. Instead, he nuzzled Garth's cheek and nipped his neck lightly, to see how he would react.

Garth did not pull away. A very good sign, as far as Reaver was concerned.

"What, don't I even get a kiss good morning?" Reaver teased lightly. Garth chuckled, and the maid - whom Reaver had ignored pointedly until now - stared at them openly.

"Sweet girl, be a dear and tidy up the sitting room. I believe I left some goblets in there by accident." Reaver said. He would have addressed her by name, but he couldn't remember it. Was it Abigail? Or perhaps Jessica? No, Jessica was the gardener's name. Wait, no it wasn't - the gardener was a man.

The maid muttered something and scurried out of the kitchen, forcing Reaver out of his thoughts. He grinned at Garth, who, despite having relaxed a little, was still blushing.

"I'll make this quick, so that we're not interrupted," he said, gesturing to the door pointedly. Garth nodded, looking interested.

"What happens next is entirely up to you," Reaver continued. "This can be a one-time thing, or we can caboodle again." 'Caboodle' was a great word, he decided. He needed to use it more often. "However, it's up to you to make the next move. And while you can be a-dorably shy, you're no coward. I know you'll have no problem informing me of your decision." He smirked one last time before quitting the room, Garth's thoughtful gaze burning into him as he went.

That night, it was Garth who knocked on Reaver's bedroom door, and Reaver received him gladly.

**

Garth's spirits were high.

After the initial attack, no one had seen hide nor hair of the Spire Guards. Oakfield and its people were blessedly safe, at least for now. He was in such a good mood that he even accepted Hammer's invitation to join her at the Sandgoose for a drink. She looked tired, but it did little to deter her satisfied happiness.

"I guess Reaver scared them off!" she said triumphantly. "They've run off with their tails between their legs."

Sparrow's daughter was with them, nursing a tankard of gods-knew-what with disinterest. Garth had learned that she was fond of formalities, often addressing himself or Reaver as Master. She seemed relaxed around Hammer though, willingly addressing her by her name without looking uncomfortable.

"They could simply be regrouping," she reminded Hammer sharply.

"Killjoy," Hammer accused good-naturedly. "Ever heard of small victories, hmm?"

Garth chuckled. Hammer and Reaver had actually been working together over the past few weeks with little arguments. Had Garth not witnessed it, he would not have believed it. Small victories, indeed.

Thanks to Reaver's discretion, or lack thereof, on that first morning, the whole of Oakfield seemed to know about their relationship. His maid was apparently a gossip. On the whole Garth didn't mind - he saw no reason to keep it secret - but he was growing rather weary of the jealous glances, the curious stares, and that one indelicate woman who seemed set on having a threesome with him and Reaver. The first time she approached him, Garth had only been able to stare at her in shock until Hammer noticed his state and rescued him. Now, he ignored the woman entirely.

He was counting: 23 days since he and Reaver first had sex; 21 since Hammer had confronted him about it (oh, that had been fun); 17 since Reaver had first asked Garth to take control.

Hammer had stared at him, unblinking, the dark circles under her eyes adding an almost demonic depth to her gaze. It was the first time that Garth had been truly unnerved by her.

"Oh, come on, you're better than that." she said bluntly, at length. Garth cocked an eyebrow at her.

"And here I thought I had my own free will," he replied, just as blunt.

"Ooh pun, Mage! Pun!" Reaver called excitedly from somewhere in the background. Garth hadn't even known he was there.

How Reaver, centuries old, managed to have the libido of a teenage boy was beyond Garth. He liked sex, and he wasn't afraid to ask for what he wanted. Garth, who had grown up in a gypsy camp with an alcoholic father, had never heard such filthy language. But he was eager to please ("A born cocksucker," Reaver once said brazenly), and willing to try just about anything Reaver suggested.

He was not a naturally assertive man, so he had to force himself to dominate Reaver when the Thief first requested it. Garth felt awkward as he ordered Reaver about, but as the night went on Reaver became more vocal than usual. Regardless of whether it was because he truly did enjoy being dominated, or because he simply wanted to encourage Garth, Garth had grown more confident after that.

"How does it work, you and Reaver?" Hammer asked curiously. She'd had time to grow used to the idea, and even admitted begrudgingly that while she didn't particularly like it, it hadn't really surprised her.

"How does what work?" Garth asked, bewildered. Elisabeth froze, staring determinedly down into her drink, Hammer suddenly blushed bright red, and Garth unfortunately understood.

"You can't be serious," he muttered. He took a drink of water, for the first time understanding why some people were driven to drink.

"Well, you're both men!" Hammer exclaimed. "How do two men have sex?"

"Are we really having this conversation?" Garth asked disbelievingly. "Really?"

"Hammer." Elisabeth's thin lips were tweaking up into a smile. "It helps if one of the men bend over."

"But what does tha- oh good gods!" Hammer flushed even brighter as comprehension dawned on her, and Garth had to fight back laughter in spite of his embarrassment. "How do you know that? No, wait, don't answer that. As far as I know, you're Sparrow's sweet little princess with a love of porcelain dolls, got it? Got it?"

"Understood," Elisabeth replied, a faint tone of amusement in her voice.

"And you," Hammer rounded on Garth. "I will never look at you the same way again!"

"I should hope not. The life of a monk is far too sheltered, it seems." Garth scoffed, and Elisabeth was actually giggling, Hammer was stammering, and he wished Reaver was witnessing this moment with him. Garth would have to tell him later tonight.

Nothing had changed outside the bedroom, and for that Garth was grateful; he disliked obvious displays of affection, especially in public. But after sex was the time when they truly talked, and Garth was realising that Reaver often spoke about himself without saying anything at all. But he was slowly opening up to Garth during their private moments, and the closeness that Garth felt to him often inspired him to initiate a second round.

"Do you still sacrifice people's youth?" Garth had asked one night. His head was resting on Reaver's shoulder, and his arm was slung across Reaver's body; it was the one time he allowed himself to cuddle.

"Of course. If I don't, I die." Reaver said simply. His unhesitant reply told Garth that he was open to answering questions about this topic, so Garth proceeded.

"How often do you need to do it?"

"Every five or so years. I know when a previous sacrifice has 'expired', shall we say, because wrinkles begin to slowly appear on my face. It is most unsightly." Reaver sighed.

Garth chuckled, even as he pondered. "Five years… so when do you next need to make the sacrifice?" he asked.

That gave Reaver pause. He frowned down at Garth. "Tell me, are you asking this because you're genuinely curious, or are you asking because you wish to save some nameless innocent-" his lips curled into a sneer at that word "-from the Shadow Court?"

Once, Garth knew he would have been offended by the apparent lack of trust from a bed partner. But such was Reaver's way; he was as distrustful as Garth, and liked his secrets as much as Garth liked his own.

"Genuinely curious," he confirmed simply. Reaver relaxed again.

"You should probably ask a cat what curiosity leads to, but if you must know, I sent someone off about a month before you arrived. The next appointment is a few years away now." He chuckled to himself. "It is truly astounding how many people willingly read aloud foreign words from an old book."

"Do you ever regret doing it?" Asking that question was a gamble, and Garth was fully prepared for Reaver's temper. Luckily, Reaver only smiled.

"Not anymore."

"He flirts with people, you know," Hammer said suddenly, watching Garth closely, pulling him from his thoughts. "Why do you let him get away with that?"

"It's his nature," Garth replied simply, and thought it was true, there was more to it than that. The first time he caught Reaver doing it (15 days ago) he felt a little jealous, but he had told himself the same thing he just told Hammer. Besides, their relationship was hardly serious, and Garth was under no delusions that it would lead to something more - no matter how much he wanted it to. Sparrow had once accused him of being Reaver's new toy, and perhaps that was true, but Reaver treated him well enough that Garth knew he wouldn't be broken anytime soon.

But on that particular night, when Garth asked him why he had flirted in front of him, Reaver had sat back and purred that he needed to be punished.

Garth didn't mind it so much now.

Hammer changed the topic. "Sparrow's actually sending more men to help with the watch here," she said, and she sounded disbelieving. "He said he couldn't spare the guards before. What changed his mind?" she asked Elisabeth.

Elisabeth lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Master Reaver wrote to him," she said, and both girls looked expectantly at Garth.

Garth chuckled. He knew what Reaver had threatened, if Sparrow didn't concede; he was going to call his old crew - his old pirate crew - up from Bloodstone if Sparrow refused to send anymore guards. "They have a high-walled castle with few entrances to watch," he'd spat. "We have an entire bloody town."

Garth shook his head at the girls. Hammer scowled.

"Tell us, or I'll tell him you sneak out on patrols when he's in town meetings," she threatened.

Reaver's plans had made sense. "Let them bring the fight to us," he'd warned Garth. "Don't take yourself to them." But Garth couldn't sit by and do nothing.

"And what do you think he'll do to me if he does find out?" Garth challenged her. "Short of making me his prisoner, there's nothing he can do to stop me. He'll simply have a tantrum and sulk for a while afterwards."

"You say 'sulk', I say 'shoot some poor sod who looks at him funny'." Hammer retorted. She sighed, realising she wasn't going to get any answers from him. "In any case, Sparrow will be here next week with the extra help."

"He's coming too?" Garth asked, startled. Elisabeth suddenly smirked at him.

"He's bringing my brother to help us. Keiran is a year younger than I am." She took a small sip of her drink before she chuckled. "You should watch yourself, Master Garth. Keiran has quite the crush on your Reaver."

**

It was interesting to Garth to see how far he could push Reaver's patience.

He suspected that Reaver cared for him in his own twisted, megalomaniacal way, so he knew he could get away with a great deal more than most people. So when Elisabeth approached him in her free time and shyly requested that he tutor her in Will, he quickly decided that the best 'classroom' would be Reaver's own yard.

Though he had never taught it before, he could relay to her how he learned to harness Will, and control it. She seemed satisfied with that.

She knew a handful of spells, though none were particularly powerful. At best, she would be able to stun an enemy. But he told her that for an eighteen year old, her control of the Will was impressive. And while it was true, he had masterfully left out that he had been able to control Will at her level when he was ten. He had grown truly interested in Will at age nine, after all.

"The power must come from deep within you, at the very core of your being" he told her. He wasn't sure if he was explaining it too clearly, but she was listening attentively nonetheless. "At the moment, you harness only what is on the surface. Concentrate, look deep within yourself; you will find the power there."

"Can you show me?" she requested. "What you can do, I mean."

Garth frowned thoughtfully. At the very back of Reaver's yard stood a massive tree, so large that he doubted four men could link hands around it. He pointed it out to Elisabeth.

"Your father could damage that tree with his Will, but I doubt he could knock it over." he said, and she nodded. "What spell should I use?"

"Shock," she said quickly, and she flushed at her earnestness. "It was the first spell I learnt." she explained.

Garth nodded. To him, using Will was a second nature. Like he did with breathing, he barely gave it any thought. The bolts burst forth from his outstretched hands, surging up the tree and cracking its trunk. It fell with a deafening crash, smoking.

Elisabeth gaped at him. "I don't think I could ever do that," she muttered.

"Of course not. You are one of the rare Heroes that can harness all three abilities - Strength, Skill and Will. It comes from being a descendant of the old Archon," Garth explained, and Elisabeth gave him a startled look. "Your power is spread evenly across these specialties. The power it would take to control each of them as Hammer, Reaver and I do would overwhelm your body, ultimately destroying it."

She flushed. "I didn't know-"

"My dear Mage." Reaver was standing on the balcony that adjoined his bedroom. Garth could tell he had just woken up. "What the hell."

Garth smiled as innocently as he could. "I am tutoring Elisabeth in the ways of the Will," he explained simply.

"No, you're tutoring her in the ways of destroying my house," Reaver shot back irritably. He ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. "Make any other holes in my walls and I will order the workers to use you to patch them up."

"You think that would work?" Garth asked, holding back a smile.

"It might," Reaver replied flippantly. "And you would be a sight better than those ugly boards they used last time." Though they were only temporary, Reaver had objected loudly to the wooden boards placed across the hole in Garth's old room's wall. He sighed loudly. "Just keep it down, damn you." With that, he retreated back into his room.

Elisabeth was gaping at Garth, and when she spoke next she sounded all of her age.

"How come you haven't been shot yet?"

**

The only downside to his relationship with Reaver was that his nightmares about Lucien and the Spire happened more frequently. The closeness that Garth involuntarily felt to Reaver served as a trigger, reminding him far too vividly of his relationship with Lucien.

He would always be woken, without fail, by Reaver's firm grasp on his arm and his loud complaints about being unable to sleep with the Mage around.

It took Garth a moment to calm down, during which he battered Reaver's hand away as he struggled to remember where he was. Then he flushed brightly. "Sorry," he said quickly.

Reaver made an impatient noise as he climbed out of bed. "What did Lucien do to you?" he asked gruffly, before quickly adding, "That warrants keeping me awake all night, that is."

"'Tis your fault I'm in here," Garth pointed out, refusing to answer Reaver's question. In truth, his last encounter with Lucien had been the same as all the others, at least on the surface. It was why Lucien initiated that final time that haunted Garth; he had wanted to manipulate Garth, to twist his mind and use his feelings to bring him back over to Lucien's cause. With loving touches and heartfelt promises, Lucien had tempted him.

Perhaps what frightened Garth the most was that he had almost given in that day.

"I'm forcing you to be here, am I?" Reaver's tone was clipped; he was in no mood for jokes. He went over to the vanity and poured himself a glass of wine. Garth allowed it without comment; his subconscious was slowly starting to separate Reaver from the violent drunks he had known in his childhood.

"I'm sorry," Garth muttered, looking away.

"You say that so often, Mage, that it's starting to lose its meaning," Reaver replied bluntly. He sat on the end of the bed and took a sip of his wine. "So are you going to tell me? What he was to you, I mean. Your sobs leave little to the imagination but I find myself wanting to hear it from you when you're awake."

Garth wondered how his face could feel so hot when his body was covered in a cold sweat. "Whatever conclusions you've drawn are correct," he said shortly.

"A vapid answer," Reaver spat. "What does it matter if you loved a madman? You enjoy revelling in your grief-stricken guilt far too much to let it go, I think."

"Shut up," Garth replied hotly. Would that the Thief not be so clever! Of course, then Garth probably wouldn't have found himself so attracted to the man in the first place.

Reaver chuckled humourlessly and took another drink of his wine. The silence that followed was lengthy, and it pressed down on Garth as though it was trying to suffocate him. Reaver's expression was contemplative as he swirled his chalice around gently, watching the wine spin inside it.

"You know, Mage," he said finally, his soft voice breaking the silence as loudly as a gunshot. "I was married, once."

Garth stared at him for a long time, his heart skipping a beat at this unexpected and very private admission. "I have a hard time picturing that," he said finally.

"So do I, now." Reaver sounded faintly amused. "She was a pretty young farm girl, innocent as snow. Her name…" His brows furrowed together, and Garth had no doubt that he was struggling to recall even the simplest details about this woman.

"It was so long ago that it feels like a dream," Reaver said, still looking puzzled. "Imogen, I think. Yes, it was. Anyway, it ended in accordance with tradition, when her death parted us." He began to laugh, as though he had made a great joke. Garth could only stare at him with a mix of amazement and disbelief. The more Reaver revealed about himself, the less Garth seemed to know.

"Of course it goes without saying, Mage, that the number of people that have known about this during my lifetime can be counted on one hand." Reaver was deadly serious now. "All but one are dead, and that can easily be rectified if you tell anyone about this, understand?"

"O-of course," Garth replied, as dryly as he could manage. He forced himself to smile. "Do you trust me so little that you feel the need to threaten me every time you reveal something personal? Or do you just enjoy belittling me?"

Reaver sounded truly amused as he laughed. "Trust has nothing to do with my bone-deep habits, Mage." he said, and Garth felt a little better. "It's habit that drives me to reach for my pistol when I'm annoyed, habit that has me drink when I can't sleep. Do not think my threats have anything to do with you, Mage."

"You are terrible at comforting," Garth said, chuckling.

"Could that be why you're smiling, I wonder?" Reaver pointed out, grinning. "You should stop forcing yourself to smile, as you did before. I can tell the difference as easily as you can with me." He laughed again as Garth blushed and drained the last of his wine. "But enough of this talk. Sparrow and his little entourage arrive tomorrow and I'd rather not be half asleep around them. Why he even felt the need to accompany them is beyond me. Perhaps he seeks to knock me around a bit for my little threat?"

"I was told he was bringing his son," Garth said, and Reaver gave him a sharp look.

"The lad that fancies me?" he asked, and groaned when Garth nodded. He climbed back into bed and settled back into the pillows. "The boy is infuriating. And as much as I would love to see Sparrow's face if it were ever to happen, he is a child. I don't sleep with children."

"He's seventeen," Garth pointed out.

"A child," Reaver said firmly. "He should try again in ten or so years; he may have better luck then. Until then, he should learn that 'no' means 'get the fuck away from me'."

Garth could only laugh.

**

Keiran was the exact opposite of his sister. Extroverted and almost impudent, he looked exactly like his father, and yet they were nothing alike. Keiran smiled, he joked and mocked and he talked almost as much as Hammer did. His hair was dyed a flaming red and his skin was deeply tanned, his Will scars barely visible. When he was introduced, he stooped into a low bow, and Garth caught sight of the longsword and the crossbow strapped to his back. When he straightened, he was sneering.

Reaver chose that exact moment to fling an arm around Garth's shoulders and nip his ear playfully. Keiran's eyes narrowed, and Garth cursed Reaver's love of conflict.

"Away with you," Garth muttered, swatting Reaver's arm away. "Try to show some restraint."

"Restraint? Now there's an idea." Reaver chuckled depravedly but he left all the same, not bothering to spare Sparrow or his son even a glance. Keiran smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm going to go find Elisabeth," he said shortly, and with that he turned on his heel and all but stormed away.

Garth clenched his teeth. "I don't know why Reaver isn't interested in the boy," he growled, more to himself than to Sparrow. "Their maturity is about the same."

Sparrow was startled into laughter. "I saw Elisabeth on our way into town," he said, smiling softly. "You have an admirer, Garth."

"Brilliant. Really."

"Don't worry too much. Elisabeth is nothing like Keiran. I'll be interested to see if they get along here." Sparrow suddenly sobered and when he next spoke, his voice was barely more than a mumble. "Hammer told me in one of her letters, but I'd hoped she was exaggerating a rumour or something."

Garth frowned. "Is it any of your business?" he asked tersely. Sparrow sighed.

"Please, walk with me. I want to talk about him."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Humour me."

Begrudgingly, Garth accompanied Sparrow to the coastline, curious about what he had to say regardless of his annoyance. It was only when they were far out of anyone's earshot that Sparrow spoke.

"You know, when I met him, I thought he was a pompous hedonist, but harmless enough." he said softly. He was staring out across the ocean, as though lost in the memory. "After meeting you and Hammer, he was the last thing I expected in a Hero. He startled me so much that I could only think to burp when he propositioned me."

"So I've heard," Garth said, wondering where Sparrow was going with this. If he had dragged Garth to the beach to reiterate his 'Reaver is a bad man, get away from him' point, he was going to be disappointed.

"I thought he was a bloody joke," Sparrow continued bluntly, a wry smile on his face now. "Of course, it was all an act on his part. I quickly learned that he could be just as dangerous as Lucien."

"You exaggerate," Garth snapped, refusing to even consider the comparison.

"I do not. It's why I've kept him on such a tight leash."

"Reaver has no interest in controlling the world, Sparrow."

Sparrow gave him a frustrated look. "Their ends are different, but their means are the same. They both ruined countless lives in order to reach their goals. The only thing that sets them apart is that Reaver actually achieved his."

Garth felt his temper flaring, but kept it under control as best he could. Lashing out would do nothing to resolve the situation. "Tell me, Sparrow; while I understand why, I've no idea how you got him to agree to help Oakfield. What did you do?" he asked, genuinely curious. Reaver had been so tight-lipped about it.

Sparrow's expression was closed, and he was silent for a long time. Garth waited as patiently as he could.

"I'm not proud of it, I suppose," Sparrow said finally. "I knew I'd won when I brought up Wraithmarsh, but he'd looked so hurt. I think I may have even crushed him when I kept pushing the issue-"

"What are you talking about?" Garth interrupted.

Sparrow heaved an exasperated sigh. "Bloody hell, Garth. You're smart, but you're just refusing to figure it out! You've let your fondness of him blind you!"

"What - are - you - talking - about?" Garth repeated, slowly this time and through clenched teeth. Sparrow looked equally irritated.

"Oakvale!" he all but yelled. It was frightening to hear his normally soft voice so loud. "He destroyed it when he made his deal with the Shadow Court for immortality!"

His words rang in Garth's ears and it took him a moment to process the statement's meaning. For his immortality, Reaver had murdered everyone he loved. Garth stared at Sparrow, suddenly feeling ill. He remembered Reaver's wife, how he had laughed when he spoke about her death. How Reaver had forbidden him to ask any questions concerning his life before he became a pirate.

"If it makes you feel any better, he didn't know Oakvale would be massacred," Sparrow said quickly, and Garth realised his anguish must be very visible on his face. "He even has nightmares about it. His grief from it has pretty much numbed him to everything else. It's why he doesn't care who he hurts anymore, I think."

It made sense, but Garth didn't care. He had watched bandits murder his entire family and friends when he was thirteen; that Reaver could willingly give up the lives of his family and friends for immortality boiled his blood.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Sparrow sound, and he actually sounded alarmed. "I'm sorry. I guess sometimes ignorance truly is bliss."

"Indeed," Garth spat savagely. He knew all too well that Reaver was nowhere near an altruist, but this… this was sick.

Something was pushed into his hands. Garth blinked down at it; a small, maroon book.

"Reaver's diary," Sparrow murmured. "I recovered it in his Bloodstone manor."

Garth stared down at it, repulsed. He didn't want to hear anymore. He turned on his heel to make his way back home, intent on locking himself in his study for the rest of the day.

"You're not in love with him, are you?" Sparrow asked suddenly. His tone was reproachful, further fuelling Garth's rage. He stopped and looked Sparrow in the eye, intent on hurting him as much as possible.

"You've no right to judge," he said coldly. "Not when you've remained with one woman, even though you love another."

Sparrow's shocked, grief-stricken face sent cold shivers of satisfaction through Garth.