Ten:
On Night's Tides

The streets of Bowerstone lay dark and silent. The city looked deserted but for the few staggering drunks that were still making their way home and the even fewer guards, standing and freezing at their posts. Dirtied snow lay piled up against houses and in alleyways, pushed out of the streets so people could still get about. Ice formed at the very edges of waterways, held at bay only by the constant boat traffic. Soon, the only lights in the city were those of taverns yet to close and the fires of the homeless that had yet to burn out. Even the gaslights lining the paths were burning low, guttering in every breeze.

A lone carriage rode through the darkness, its shiny black lacquer rendering it nearly invisible in the midnight hour. The driver, wrapped in a thick coat and wide-brimmed hat, didn't appear to notice the cold; he drove on heedless of the snow. No one noticed their passing.

Victoria, on the other hand, was cold; freezing in the brumal air. A carriage should be warmer, her mind insisted as she snuggled deeper into the warm velvet and fur of her cloak. She was sharing it. The cloak, that is. Nero had burrowed under every bit of fabric Victoria wasn't hoarding, curling up against her thigh for warmth. Victoria wished that, like Nero, she was asleep. The silence around her was beginning to grow unnerving and she was much too cold for any conversation; ignoring, of course, that just a few hours previous she had been so chatty that she had exhausted her questions to Reaver, before noting his annoyance at the unending interrogation and growing quiet so as not to annoy him any further.

Victoria rubbed her gloved hands together before curling her arms close to her chest and, mindful of her sheathes, she crossed her legs as she stared blearily out the dark, slightly foggy window.

They passed into Industrial, the shops of Bowerstone Market becoming warehouses and run-down homes. Factories rose up, tall and imposing, between buildings to dominate the skyline; black and brooding sentinels against the cloud-laced velvet sky. Gas lights, spread too far apart to be of any real use, burned low here as well, creating tiny islands of light amidst the dark. Victoria saw not a single person on those streets, not even the homeless, and felt a pang of loneliness.

The Resistance was headquartered nearby. Victoria wondered how things were going for them. If they were any closer to overthrowing Logan. If they were crippled by the loss of Ben and herself, or emboldened. Most of all, she missed Walter. He had always been a part of her life, and to be so close to him now without being able to see him or give him a hug or something just seemed unjustly cruel.

But she couldn't try to go to him and wouldn't even consider asking Reaver. She could just picture the conversation. You know those friends of mine who hate you and Logan? Well they're headquartered nearby. Can we drop by for a moment? I miss them terribly. Victoria nearly snorted. Yeah. Like that was going happen.

They followed the bends of the inky Bower River and, as they drew nearer the sea, the temperature dropped even further. Victoria took an experimental deep breath, icy air searing her lungs, and frowned at the mist it produced. Great.

Slowly, the docks rolled into view, and Victoria had to admit that they were creepier than the dead city around them. Unmanned ships bobbed like icebergs in the black water. Crates, barrels, ropes, bundles…all left in heaps as though forgotten for the night. Everything was eerily dark, poorly illuminated by what moonlight there was. She did a double take, raising her head from her hand as she noticed a tiny pinprick of light in the distance. They drew closer and she realised she had been wrong in her assumption that the docks were deserted: a man stood at the edge of one of the piers, apparently alone. Victoria felt a sliver of unease slide through her for the guttering lantern the man stood under gave him a strange, almost ape-like appearance—long, bulky arms and a squat, barrel-shaped body.

"Higgs," Reaver said cheerfully, making Victoria start in surprise. He ignored her, continuing to look out the window as they approached. "Excellent."

"We're finally here?" Victoria yawned, stretching slightly. The cold made her body stiff and she lamented not being able to soak in a hot bath. There are people here who are homeless. Stop whining. She uncrossed her legs and straightened up, feeling somewhat abashed. "Not that the cold isn't doing wonders for keeping me awake, but…it's about time."

Okay, so maybe crabbiness won out over humility sometimes.

"Trust me, Princess, soon you will wish it were only this cold."

Victoria nearly groaned. Instead, she set about waking Nero, who, most understandably, did not want to wake up.

The carriage pulled to a stop and the driver opened the door for them. Victoria clambered out, her stiff limbs aching in protest. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy when Reaver smoothly departed the carriage with a grace that was simply lost to her. Why did she never look that elegant doing something so simple?

"Still alive, I see, Mr. Higgs," Reaver called, straightening his coat as he made his way over to Higgs. Victoria followed closely behind him with Nero at her heels.

"Aye, Captain. Not for lacka tryin', though," was the gruff reply. Higgs didn't look as ape-like as his silhouette had promised. His thick coat explained his barrel chest and his arms only looked long for the sleeves of said coat were much too long for him. Higgs' most startling quality, however, was his copious amounts of bristly grey facial hair to make up for the fact that he had gone bald beneath his cloth cap.

Victoria was too busy staring blankly at Reaver about him being called "Captain" to notice Higgs's extremely weatherworn face was creased into a smile. Captain?

"Aren't we all?" Reaver chuckled softly. "Are we ready to cast off?"

"I think so, sir. Lawson's gettin' edgy. Says we should be expectin' a storm."

"With good reason." Reaver sounded thoughtful as he looked first from the sea, then to the sky, and finally to Victoria, who could not have given him a look of greater puzzlement if he had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Ah, yes. Shall we get on, then?"

Higgs gave a quick, respectful nod and led the way down the pier. He and Reaver discussed things on the way that Victoria was sure had to do with the ship, but that went right over her head. Which was just as well, because Victoria was unsure if she was expected to help aboard the ship or not.

Victoria slowed and trailed behind the men as they neared the ship. Her brown eyes widened as she looked up and then continued looking up. It was…huge. That was the only way Victoria could think to explain it. A scattering of lanterns kept the long deck somewhat illuminated and Victoria could see people hurrying about it. She also caught sight of a couple black shapes moving about the masts and rigging. People were all the way up there? It gave her vertigo just to think of being so high up amongst the lines and canvas with no support.

Feeling nervous and hesitant, Victoria caught up with Reaver and Higgs, the latter of which was sorting out luggage with their driver.

"So," Victoria began awkwardly, "I guess the rumours are true and you really are a pirate?"

"They are," Reaver replied, thoroughly amused by her nervousness.

Victoria was unsure whether to be excited or worried about that information. She'd been fascinated to learn about pirates as a child, but the thought of being amidst them made her uncomfortable. She wondered how they would react to her. "I…thought it was bad luck for a woman to be aboard."

Reaver's smirk turned secretive. "I think the crew will make do."

There was a double meaning to his words, she was certain, but Victoria didn't understand it. She had a feeling the joke would be made evident soon enough and so let it slide.

Reaver gestured her up the gangway first and she hurried up—it had been a long time since she was on a ship, and she couldn't help but be curious how different it would be. Once on deck, she found herself staring about, fascinated by everything that was happening. Reaver's crew was extremely diverse; some looking like they'd barely come of age and others as though they'd spent their entire lives aboard a ship, some handsome and others so weatherworn and scarred they were mildly frightening. One in particular, the bosun, made her feel particularly meek and defenceless. His head was shaved, his massive body was rippling with muscles; his height was impressive and his smooth, ebony skin was so dark it rivalled Page's. Victoria noted the whip at his side with apprehension.

As Higgs climbed onto the deck, Victoria caught sight of a lithe, cloaked shadow standing at the wheel. Before she could observe it for very long, the cry of "Captain on deck!" came from Higgs and a chorus of greetings rose from the crew, distracting her.

Victoria stood to the side as they sent forth a flurry of questions and remarks Reaver's way. He handled it better than Victoria had expected, issuing orders and answering queries with practiced ease. Once everything had calmed down, there was a quick mock-roll call as they rattled off names just in case there was a new member one of the crew had not yet been associated with. Victoria was suspicious that it was more for her benefit, though, as she learned that the dark skinned man answered to Ames Bedeau. She received a surprise shortly after Higgs had announced his name and position as second mate.

"Lawson; first mate," a voice called. A woman's voice.

The Princess turned toward the wheel, seeing that the figure had removed their hood to reveal a pretty woman who was decidedly impish.

"Kitten," Reaver said, his tone faintly scolding and completely at odds with the pleased smirk spreading across his lips.

"Welcome back, Cap'n," Lawson said as though she were a school child up to no good.

Reaver gave her a look that was indecipherable to Victoria, but obviously made loads of sense to Lawson, before issuing orders to cast off. The deck, once more, became a flurry of movement and Victoria stood in the middle of it all as sails were hoisted and they prepared to weigh anchor.

After a few moments, Victoria realised Reaver was no longer at her side. However, despite her not being directly under their captain's thumb, the crew seemed to neither notice nor care that she was there. She received a couple bids for her to move out of the way, but no dark looks or threats or otherwise malevolent behaviour. Of course, she thought slightly sulkily, they could all just think I'm Reaver's little toy and they don't want to risk his wrath by doing something to me.

"'Ello," Lawson said from right behind her, her heavily accented voice forcibly cheerful. "Victoria, righ'? I'm off watch, wanna cuppa?"

The petite woman was exceptionally muscular and bristling with energy, her pin-straight, flaming red hair falling out of its various bonds from her constant fidgeting. Her dark brown eyes darted everywhere, completely on alert.

"I—yes, thank you, Ms. Lawson," Victoria said politely, unsure how to react and aware that she was being moved out of everyone's way.

The pirate shook her head slowly, leading the way to a door that led below deck. "Don't bother with titles here, there's no need for 'em. 'S just Lawson. An' there's no need for thanks, either; I was told ta watch ya."

Victoria gave an annoyed huff. "What sort of trouble could I possibly get into on a ship?"

"You'd be surprised."

As they descended below deck, Victoria had the curious sensation of being lowered into a rabbit hole. The walls were close, barely four feet across, and the ceiling so low Victoria had to wonder how people taller than her, which she usually found to be a rarity, could get through without having to duck. The hall's lighting was questionable as they approached the galley and Victoria could hear the thumping of boots and the muffled shouting of voices from the men above.

"Still," Victoria admitted, regaining her previous train of thought, "I don't exactly feel trusted."

"Ah, but have ya done an'thing to earn trust?"

Victoria opened her mouth to say that of course she had, but stopped herself. Had she? She felt guilty when she realised she hadn't. It's only Reaver, her mind insisted petulantly. Does he really deserve your trust? She frowned. Only if I want his in return.

"Wait," Lawson said sharply, stopping in front of a slightly open door.

Victoria, anticipating something bad, immediately froze. She peered intently through the gloom, watching as Lawson bent over to grab something.

"Damnit, Scur," the redhead grumbled, straightening up with a rumpled-looking tuxedo cat in her arms. "How many times 'ave I told ya, hmm? Not 'fore we get out ta sea, ya daft ratter. Bad Scurry."

Scurry purred, looking regally at the humans with a superiority that rivalled even Reaver's most arrogant of looks. Nero, who'd been following his mistress, suddenly grew alert, his ears perking up as he strained forward to sniff Scur with a whine. The cat yawned, clearly unfazed.

"Bloody cat," Lawson muttered fondly, giving it a gentle toss into the room beside them so that the cat landed on a low shelf. It took Victoria a moment to realise the shelf was actually a bed and Lawson closed the door quickly, cutting off Scurry's next escape attempt.

They continued on their way, entering the galley in short order. There were tiny, overstuffed cabinets everywhere and an ancient-looking cast iron stove that looked so small it could have been a child's toy. One small, scrubbed wooden table took up about half of the room and a large group of mismatched chairs had been squished in around it. One of the cabinet doors was slightly open and the Princess saw a large variety of small, tightly sealed metal tins and a couple glass bottles with their corks covered in wax to water-proof them. Victoria wasn't sure what to think of the tiny, cramped room and so she decided not to comment about its state. However, as Lawson busied herself with a cupboard, Victoria said quietly, "You don't like me, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"Why?"

Lawson set a kettle on the small stove, lit it, and turned to frown at her. "I don't trust ya. You're usin' him ta make ya feel better about yerself."

Victoria was visibly taken aback. "I'm not using Reaver for anything," the Princess retorted, unsure why the truth felt like a lie. "I don't even like him."

"Really?" Lawson looked sceptical at best.

"Really. And let me remind you that you don't know me. You've no right to judge."

The redhead flushed. "You're right, I don't know ya. Bu' I know wha's been happenin'. The men, ya see, don't give much a damn ta what goes on on land. Bu' I do, an' I listen; an' I don't want ya takin' him down with ya."

Victoria stared at her, dumbstruck. Was Lawson…warning her off Reaver? Before she could stop herself, Victoria blurted, "Are you in love with him?"

The woman froze as if slapped, clearly puzzled. As revelation dawned on her, her expression turned to one of disgust. "What?! No! My tastes are a little too specific ta be in love with him."

Victoria paused for a moment, confused, before it finally dawned on her what Lawson was hinting at. "Oh!" Victoria gasped, turning red. "So you're—? I—I thought—I mean, you were so angry and he called you Kitten and I—I just—"

"Kitten's a damn stupid nickname he came up with when I firs' joined the crew an' I hate it. I was angry 'cause I respect the damn man—he took me in an' gave me a job when no one else would. 'Course I'd defend him if some cunny walks in here, half-cocked like she's out ta settle a grudge, any one o' us would. Where's yer head at, girl?"

Blushing furiously, Victoria accepted the mug being handed to her, grateful for something to hide behind. She wanted to say something anything, to defend herself, but she didn't know what she could say. The fact was, she had been walking around "half-cocked" for the last few months, barely thinking straight or with any amount of wisdom. If she had met herself, she probably would have been suspicious, too. "I apologize for taking liberties."

"We both 'ave been taking 'em," Lawson admitted uncomfortably. Moments passed in silence as they sipped their tea, though it wasn't entirely uncompanionable. When they were nearly done, she added, "I still don't trust ya."

"I'm fine with that," Victoria said, surprised to realise that she truly was.

A short ringing of a bell sounded, and Lawson looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "D'ya wanna see where you'll be sleepin'?"

Victoria smiled into her mug. "Please."

There was a blissful weariness that descended upon Reaver's body every time he went to sea. The overload of strenuous activity exhausted him better than even the most satisfying of lays, which was a good thing. If he was exhausted, he fell right to sleep and, if he slept as lightly as he usually did at sea, he did not dream. Not dreaming was wonderful.

As they entered upon open seas and the need for both watches to be on deck together diminished, however, he found himself confronted with a very frustrated Kitten. Which he knew from experience, and from a great deal of memories that would scare a great deal of people (namely men) away from his first mate—including a rather vivid memory of her making a man a eunuch for insulting her—that leaving her frustrated only led to even more trouble. Soothing her, unfortunately, was also trouble, and he ended up having to remind her that it wasn't her place to question him. When eight bells finally rang out and midwatch ended, he left the slightly peeved woman alone so he could attempt to sleep. Ames and Higgs could talk to her if she really needed it, but he doubted she would. Kitten usually just seethed for a few hours and then was fine, so it seemed unlikely this time would be any different.

It was sometime after four in the morning that Reaver finally found himself entering his darkened quarters. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he began shrugging off all unnecessary clothing; after all, if you had to sleep, it was best to sleep in enough clothes to get you through a battle, should one happen to occur.

He paused as a soft sound broke the stillness of the room. Reaver, quietly as he could, slipped over to the bed. Victoria lay there, clad only in her night things and trapped in a dream. A very good dream, if Reaver had to guess. The Princess was flushed, her body twisted sinuously in the sheets as she tossed her head from side to side.

Tossing his shirt onto a chair, he sat down beside her, watching with interest. Don't fight it, ma sirene. You'll feel so very much better if you just relax.

As if in response to his unspoken words, Victoria gave a frustrated sigh.

Further intrigued when the blankets slipped to reveal her bare leg, Reaver slid closer to her. Tease. Slowly, he placed a hand on her ankle, sigil-marked fingers looking somehow foreboding even against Victoria's own tattoos. He paused upon realizing that he couldn't remember actually touching her bare skin without gloves on before. He'd always made it a point to not do so, in fact. Her skin was soft and overly warm to the touch. Feverish, even. His fingers barely graced her skin as he slid his hand further up her leg, slowly as though she might shatter if he was too quick about it. Reaver could feel her trembling and relished when he heard her whimper.

Regretfully, he found that the blankets kept him from going higher than the middle of her thigh. He traced patterns along her skin and pressed a kiss against the side of her knee, not wanting to move the blankets and risk her waking and ending his fun. Someday soon, Reaver thought, tracing her pulse solicitously, you are going to stop being such a little tease, sirene.

Reaver pulled his hands away, pushing down silly things like thought and emotion. As he rose to his feet in an effort to finish getting ready for bed, he decided that it was almost unfortunate that the Princess's chances of surviving the voyage were so slim.

AN: This now concludes our regularly scheduled update of pirates and voyeurism. So, new chapter is up, E3 is tomorrow, and Reaver's being naughty. Just a normal week for us all, eh? :P I have to admit, I had fun with this chapter. It was hard to write, but it was great fun as well. My apologies for not being terribly chatty, right now, I'm in slightly ill humor, so...have some cookies and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. =) See you all soon. Please review! ^^

Dev. Notes: So...I've got a really long-standing love of pirate ships. When it came to transportation to Bloodstone, it was kinda a no-brainer for what to use, especially given Reaver's background. Since the Reaver was blown to pieces in Fable II, I wanted to do something entirely different than it. Peter David's Reaver short (go buy it and read it, if you haven't yet) mentions that his ship is a schooner, which is fine and dandy, but schooners, though fast, just aren't big enough for me when thinking about how big Reaver's personality is. I considered a brigantine, like the Marianne, but...in the end, I decided it was either go big or go home and I went with a frigate. Which is a war ship, for those of you that don't know. There's a few reasons for this. One, frigates are huge; they can do vast amounts of damage and also take a lot. Two, camouflage; the navy also uses frigates, so what better way to blend in than by using a similar ship? I'll...give you more ship info next time. Toodles for now!

[Edited; ver.3]