Note: Sorry for the late updates. Hopefully this story will be updated a bit more regularly now that I'm done with another fic. Thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Onwards.
The Breaking
Chapter 9
He scrambled to get up off the floor. It was cold again. It pierced through his bones and Sparrow shivered. He noticed the heavy, regal cloth covering him and he passed shaking hands over his body. It felt real. This was not an illusion. But the cold still seeped through the thick cloth, almost choking him as he inhaled. Scanning his surroundings with wild eyes, he saw the small spot of light on the floor where he stood.
Her voice was in his head. Her instructions came to him in wispy words, telling him to take a step forward into the darkness. The spot of light trailed him where he stepped. He was surprised to feel weightless…yet it was so cold. He walked. With each step, his body felt ravaged but as soon as he stopped to focus on the aches, they disappeared.
She faded into presence and they walked together into the darkness. The future promised tragedy. She showed him his choices, how he was going to rule Albion, how his royal subjects would serve him, how everything was predetermined even though it was just one of many threads his path could go. She said that his unborn daughter or son would determine the fate of Albion when the world was threatened again. Sparrow could not relate to it. It felt unreal. This was as illusive at the heavy robe over his shoulders, the crown on his head.
He did not want any of it.
She probably refused to be aware of it as she continued speaking, her voice caressing him with its forced gentleness.
Why would he subject his own future to her or anyone else once again? Was his whole life planned according to the way she planned it? He would rather be hurt than feel this false calmness, this false promise that he could make his own choices.
Pushing forward, he peeked into the crib to see a sleeping child inside. His child. There was an odd jolt through his heart that felt both warm and painful. He reached out to touch a rosy cheek but feared that that touch would melt him and he would succumb to Albion's wants. It could break him. He could not put his child through the pain that awaited him or her. Yet, when Sparrow had 'saved' Albion, did he not feel like he had made his parents proud? That he had made Rose and Sable proud? That he had 'avenged' their deaths? Did he not 'save' Albion? He had watched the way his choices, no matter how small, had affected so many lives. Because of his choices, others could live and love. His child had to make that choice in the future. It was futile to try and 'save' himself, when it was saving others that saved him.
Why must he be bound? Why was Reaver unbound? But… the pirate was bound as well, was he not? He was bound to Shadow Court with his own dark dealings.
Why was he contemplating the pirate?
Thinking about this moment, he reached up to touch the leather around his throat. It was like a leash… binding him to the past. He unlatched the collar and grasped it in his hand, feeling the worn and frayed leather against his palm.
She touched his cheek and he stared into her pale eyes, wondering why he even thought she didn't see him craving a loveless relationship. She saw everything. Yet she never expressed anything, neither blessings nor repulse.
"These things you will understand in time. For now, you must live your life and prepare for what is to come," she said to him. In his mind, he knew what must be done. "Take care, little Sparrow. And remember that I am always here, always watching."
Then he woke up because sunlight was scorching his skin. He felt the leather still in his grasp. His throat felt empty without it clinging to him. But it was 'right'. As 'right' as the warm kisses on the band of skin where the leather used to be. The pirate was awake. His hands that had anchored themselves on his waist were trembling. For some reason, that caused a jolt through his body, not of desire or lust but something much deeper that bordered on painful. Sparrow could feel the aches now running down his muscles as he shifted.
The spire statue was gone.
The fingers on his waist dug into the purple bruises staining his skin. He hissed, feeling the warmth settle in his guts. "Your neck looks empty, my love bird…" the deep voice rumbled in his ear. "I ought to give you a better collar, with my name on it." The pirate chuckled. Sparrow pushed himself up. He was surprised that the pirate let him go but not without sighing. "Yes a collar. Then you would, at least feel obliged to languish with me in post-coital bliss." Sparrow moved to the window where his pants had somehow landed. He picked it up, not intending to wear it but to pile it with the rest of their clothing for the servants to clean easily. He just had to breathe for a while. Turning around, his eyes fell on his guest who watched him with a grin that resembled a satisfied Balverine. Sparrow just watched how the sunlight intruding the room had washed Reaver with an almost divine glow. Such a contradicting image. "You look awed, Sparrow. You should be, of course. But my, my, what a view…" Sparrow shivered in the heat of the gaze that raked his exposed skin. When Reaver started crawling to him, he closed his eyes and turned to the window. He leaned his forehead against the glass. He remembered the images Theresa had shown him, of his future. He breathed deeply. When he opened his eyes, he saw his hazy reflection in the glass.
Was it strange that his skin was glowing in a healthy radiance? It was not sallow and pale like the way it was the night before, but glimmering in the sunlight. Was it the sunlight that caused this change?
"Stay," Reaver said simply. It did not sound like a command, more like a plea whispered harshly against his pulse. Sparrow watched their blurry reflection, noticing how tired and worn they both seemed… almost world-weary. "Will you fight with me if I don't let you go? I fancy a good scrap." It sounded like a threat, yet it was smooth against his shoulder where small bites pinched him. Reaver chuckled again as he brushed his lips against the shell of Sparrow's ears. "My 'sin and salvation', she said..." his voice trailed off. Sparrow stilled. What was the pirate talking about?
"My 'sin and salvation'." Reaver rubbed his thumb across Sparrow's parted lips like he was claiming them as well. "I believe it."
