Ten days passed before Reaver received a reply from his old crew. After about a week, Sparrow had tried to nag Reaver over the delay, but Reaver had simply reminded him sharply whose fault it was that there were no pirates in Albion. Sparrow had left him alone after that.

After the meeting, Reaver had tentatively approached Garth, his hesitation only apparent in the slight change to his posture. His shoulders weren't thrown back and his head wasn't held as high, his usual air of arrogance deflated.

"How did you know what to ask Sparrow for?" he demanded, and Garth knew for sure then that sometime during that meeting, his pride had been bruised.

It could have been worse, Garth reminded himself sternly. Sparrow could have killed him. He was lucky to have foreseen that argument getting out of hand, because it took a great deal of concentration for him to defend others with his Blades. He had begun to gather his Will as soon as Reaver refused.

"You were always complaining about that council. I figured you would want them to leave you alone." he replied. Reaver's refusal had hurt him - after all, he needed Reaver to sail to the Spire as much as Sparrow did - but he understood. Reaver would not have been thinking about Garth, only about how much he hated Sparrow, about how much his rejection would insult Sparrow. Garth had probably only crossed his mind later.

"Should I have asked for something else?" Garth added. Reaver shook his head.

"No." he muttered, and sighed. "No, Mage," he said again, louder this time. "You did well. I… I'm grateful."

Garth forced himself to keep his face impassive as Reaver stepped forward. His fingers trailed across Garth's cheek gently before he gave Garth's lips a chaste kiss.

"I would have agreed to go eventually," he murmured, his fingers still stroking Garth's cheek. "But not for him."

With that he broke away and left the room, leaving Garth reeling. Outside the bedroom, Reaver never showed such tender affection. It left Garth confused, overwhelmed, and almost desperate for more. Reaver was an infuriating man.

True to his word, Sparrow brought the Normanomicon for Garth to study within days of the meeting. Sparrow didn't meet his eye as he handed the book over, though whether it was because he was angry that Garth had defended Reaver, or because Reaver was hovering in the background, watching him mistrustfully, Garth couldn't tell.

"Thank you, Sparrow," Garth said honestly, though he was reluctant to touch it. He knew the book was made of human skin; even if he hadn't read about it, he would have been able to tell. Such an object was surely a foretoken of back luck. He flicked through the pages cautiously. They were filled with runic symbols and ancient words, the likes of which Garth usually only encountered when he studied Old Kingdom artefacts.

"Him, Garth?" Sparrow muttered finally, his eyes flickering upwards to glance over Garth's shoulder at the man standing vigilant in the doorway. "Really?"

"Really." Garth said shortly. He wasn't about to have this conversation again. "Have you any other secrets of his to tell me in the hopes I might start to hate him, or are we done here? If you have some complaining to do, go tell Hammer. She's nice enough to listen."

Sparrow scowled. "I'll be back for that tomorrow morning," he said coldly. "So make the most of it now." With that he brushed past Garth and bumped shoulders with Reaver on his way to the front door, though Garth couldn't tell whose fault that was.

"You've found the magic words that make him go away!" Reaver exclaimed, grinning. "You truly are the greatest Mage in the world!" Garth laughed at that.

Reaver had to wrestle the vile book from Garth's hands to get him to come to bed that night.

Sparrow knocked on the door at the crack of dawn. Garth answered it groggily (Reaver had refused), cursing whoever thought it a bright idea to invent mornings. He all but shoved the book back into Sparrow's hands, wondering why he hadn't invented a spell that could freeze time completely. Sparrow looked at him expectantly.

Garth scowled. "From the little time I had with it," he stressed irritably. "I can gather that there are spells both to raise the dead, and bring the dead back to life. The latter is an extremely complicated spell. If Lucien's men managed to get a hold of it, I highly doubt they would be able to actually use it."

Sparrow nodded simply and left, and Garth trudged back upstairs to fucking sleep. Mornings and Sparrow made for an awful formula.

Reaver's reply arrived late at night, by carrier pigeon. Reaver tore open the seal and read, his face expressionless the whole time. Garth was curious to read it too, but he refrained from looking over Reaver's shoulder; he knew Reaver hated that.

Finally, Reaver gave a low chuckle. "Oh, Leonardo, you little minx," he murmured provocatively, and Garth scowled. Suddenly he wasn't all that interested in reading the letter, lest jealousy rear its ugly head within him. Reaver glanced at him as he tucked the letter into his bedside table's drawer.

"They left as soon as they received my letter," he said shortly. "They should be here within days." A small smile played involuntarily across his lips, and Garth knew he was eager to get back to sea. That, or he was excited to see this Leonardo. Garth managed to keep the scowl from his face this time.

"Aren't they afraid of going to the Spire?" he asked curiously instead. Reaver shrugged as he climbed back into bed.

"Probably, but they also believe I can shoot any enemy without trouble," he replied. "Which is true, but these Spire fellows take a fair few shots to die, unless one gets them right between the eyes. Or in that soft spot at the back of their skull," he added thoughtfully. "At any rate, we should get as much rest as we can. They will arrive any day now and if I'm not there to greet him, Leonardo will sleep his way through the town until he finds me."

Garth scoffed. "You're not that hard to find," he pointed out flatly. Reaver grinned wickedly at him as he wrapped an arm around Garth's shoulders, pulling him close.

"I never claimed to be." he said simply, and Garth groaned. Of course Reaver's favourite crew member would turn out to be a hedonist.

**

Truthfully, Garth couldn't recall Reaver's old ship; he had only caught sight of it briefly before the Great Shard destroyed it. But as it sailed closer to Oakfield, Garth couldn't help but admire this one. It was a wonderful colour of mahogany, with tall, proud sails, and it looked as large as Lucien's ship had been when he first set out for the Spire. It certainly suited Reaver.

"What did you call her?" he asked Reaver, as they stood on the docks, watching it anchor. As it was, the waters around the Oakfield docks were too shallow for a ship like that to pull in, so they would have to catch a rowboat to it.

Reaver glanced at him in surprise. Garth had admitted the previous night that he knew next to nothing about ships, but he did know that they always had a name. And for some reason, they were always female.

"Charon," Reaver replied simply, and Garth smiled. That certainly suited Reaver, too.

A rowboat left the ship, growing closer, rowed by only two of Reaver's crew. As they neared the shore, one of the men stood up, shouting incomprehensibly to Reaver as he waved his arms animatedly. A shout from the other man forced him to sit back down, and Reaver chuckled.

"Well, that's just typical," he commented lightly, and Garth gave him an alarmed look.

"And these are the men we're to be sailing with?" he asked. Reaver laughed.

"They are far more competent than they appear," he replied simply, and Garth didn't feel reassured in the slightest.

As they pulled up to the docks, the man that had stood jumped from the boat, not even bothering to wait for it to be tethered. He was a handsome man, his skin the same golden brown as Reaver's, only deeper. His long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, the bangs too short to be tied framing his face strikingly. His dark eyes lit up with joy as he all but bounded up to Reaver.

"Ah, Captain! It has been far too long, yes? You look well." He spoke with a thick accent, stumbling over the clearly foreign words. His natural charm more than made up for his clumsy Alban, and as much as Garth didn't want to, he found himself liking this man.

"Leonardo," Reaver chuckled fondly, hands held out in front of him. "I trust the journey here wasn't too difficult?"

Leonardo took Reaver's hands in his own, squeezing them tightly. "No, no. No trouble." He glanced over Reaver's shoulder at Garth curiously, his dark eyes scanning the Mage. "This is he, yes? Your companion."

"Indeed." Reaver stepped away from his first mate, presenting him to Garth. "This is Leonardo, Garth. You needn't be shy around him," he added, seeing Garth's hesitant gaze.

"Leon is my nickname. You call me that." Leon grinned as Garth nodded, and held out his hand for Garth to shake. "The Captain, he says interesting things about you. Did you know that?"

"No," Garth replied, startled. Without letting go of Garth's hand, Leon rounded on Reaver.

"Shame on you, Captain! Such things should be said, not written!"

"Things like what?" Garth asked curiously. Reaver scowled as Leon grinned cheekily at him.

"Away with you-"

"He says, you are not free, not to be touched. Do you disagree?" Leon asked hopefully, but Garth shook his head.

"No, I don't." he said shortly, pulling his hand free of Leon's grasp. Leon wailed melodramatically.

"Captain Reaver, you never share, you! So possessive you are! And now, I shall not have either of you!" He leaned in closer to Garth, as though he were about to reveal a big secret. "He likes you, he does. He liked me too, but it is not the same, no! My people, they have a word for this, but Alban is clunky. Focused so little on beauty and love, so harsh is it. No doubt you have noticed, I am unskilled."

Garth suddenly realised where he had seen that look of utter admiration before. Keiran. It was exactly the same expression Keiran would give Reaver. But where Keiran's infatuation was innocent, Garth had no doubt that Leon had acted on his many times.

Pushing his jealous thoughts from his head, Garth forced himself to chuckle. "Your grasp on the language is far better than some native speakers I've met." he replied. Leon beamed, but his reply was cut off by an irritated shout from the other pirate.

"You fucking arse, you wait until the boat is secure before you run off!" the man raged. He looked at Reaver and pointed at Leon accusingly. "He still does it, Reaver! He's all raring to go when there's fun to be had, but as soon as the necessary but boring jobs pop up, he's off like a rat up a drainpipe. Oh yeah, and hello."

Reaver shook his head. "Beat the enthusiasm out of him, then." he suggested simply. "I can't do anything about it."

"We tried whacking him over the head with a two-by-four, but that only put him to sleep for a coupla hours." The pirate shrugged and looked curiously at Garth. "Who's he, then? You his new toy?"

Garth scowled. This was going to be a long trip. "Something like that," he replied, forcing himself to keep his cool. The pirate grinned and slapped Leon on the back.

"He's from Samarkand, you can hear it!" he declared, and Leon laughed. "Told you this one wouldn't be Alban! What's your name, then?"

"Garth."

"That's not a Samarkand name. They had names like… like…" The pirate faltered, scratching his head in puzzlement. "Well, I'll be damned! I can't remember!" he laughed. "I was screaming them all the nights we were there, too!" He held out his hand to Garth. "My name's Kevin." he said cheerily.

**

It was easy to tell which of the men had sailed with Reaver, and which of them hadn't. Those loyal to the Thief pressed forward as soon as he stepped foot on deck, shouting greetings and teasing obscenities. Those who had never met him lingered in the back, some interested, some glaring at Reaver with curious hatred. Garth supposed they didn't consider Reaver their Captain. They probably resented him for forcing them to sail this far. Garth would have to point that out to Reaver later, in case the Thief hadn't noticed yet.

Garth sat a little way away from the group, content with simply watching the little reunion. A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he looked up into the leering face of one of the pirates that had been watching Reaver hatefully. The man leaned in, breathing his foul breath across Garth's face.

"Who're you, eh? You 'ere to 'ave some fun?" the pirate gawped at him, and Garth felt disgusted. He had seen that look on some Spire Guards' faces before, and he had to fight to keep the panic down.

Then he realised he had no time for these idiots, let alone the ones that were disloyal to Reaver. With an exasperated sigh, he threw a handful of fire into the man's face. The man screamed, and all attention was turned on Garth. He could hear Reaver laughing over the chatter, and felt a little better.

"You fuckin' bas-" The pirate's threat was cut off as Reaver shot him, his body falling lifeless to the deck, his cutlass tumbling from his hand. Garth's panic died completely now, knowing that Reaver was still keeping an eye on him. Reaver beckoned him over, and Garth complied gladly.

"I thought you had told them," Reaver muttered to Leon. Leon frowned.

"I did," he said, and several men around him nodded to confirm this. "The newer ones, they do not listen. They are too arrogant."

Reaver sighed long-sufferingly and wrapped his arm around Garth's shoulders, pulling him close. "Listen to me, all of you." he announced, his voice gaining a commanding edge. "Lay one hand on the Mage and you'll end up like that fellow over there!"

"Yeah: a real ugly corpse!" Garth recognised Kevin's voice from somewhere to the left of him. Reaver's crew all burst into laughter.

"Reaver, these new men feel no loyalty to you," Garth warned quietly. "They've never met you before."

Reaver blinked down at him before sighing again. "Understandable, but unacceptable." he replied softly. "I'll keep an eye on them."

"You ain't my Captain!" someone called, well and truly confirming Garth's statement. Garth didn't even see the man until Reaver shot him.

"Anymore statements like that and you'll end up like that fellow," Reaver said plainly, tucking his gun away. The newer members stared at him in horror, but his old crew laughed boisterously; they were obviously used to this sort of thing.

Once the laughter died down, Leon eyed Garth curiously. "So, you are a wizard, yes? Captain Reaver did not mention that. Those lines, they are… Will? I was curious, but wished not to be rude."

Garth didn't want to like this man. He hated the way he looked at Reaver, the way Reaver spoke so fondly of him. But Leon's natural charisma and handsome smile made him almost impossible to dislike. Before he really knew what was happening, Garth found himself smiling back at the man. He felt Reaver's arm around him tighten.

"Come, Captain, I have kept your cabin well. Wizard Garth, you follow too." Leon beckoned to them. "Kevin will sail her out. Oh, no worries!" he added hastily, seeing Reaver cock an eyebrow. "He is good, Kevin. Rarely crashes into rocks, ever!" The crew snorted with laughter and Kevin received a few teasing thumps on the back.

At length, Reaver nodded his consent. Kevin bowed deeply. "An honour, Sir." he said mockingly, and Reaver scoffed.

"Come now, you!" Leon demanded impatiently, gesturing to a door that most likely led deeper into the ship. When he began tugging on Reaver's sleeve without consequence, Garth knew that this man definitely received special treatment from Reaver. Why, he didn't know.

Reaver allowed himself to be tugged, leading Garth with him. He paused in the doorway briefly to warn the newer crew in particular, "I haven't shot anyone in a long time. My trigger finger is happy. You'll want to watch yourselves." before he descended the steps leading to the cabin.

Leon chatted the whole way. He would probably get along well with Hammer, Garth noted dryly.

"We missed you, Captain, we did." Leon was saying. "No longer can we capture ships with a single bullet. We must fight now, and so we need brawn, not so much brains, on crew."

"I guessed," Reaver replied simply. He hadn't removed his arm from Garth's shoulders.

"Ah, that is why I am not dead, no?" Leon teased. "That first man you killed, he was a competent fighter, but no brains, none. That second one, he thought he was brilliant. You showed him, you. I missed you."

"I left you in charge, Leonardo. You can shoot whoever you please."

"Ah, yes, yes, but I prefer blades. Not as quick, but pretty, very pretty."

Though Garth had nothing to compare it to, the Captain's cabin was lovely, and looked like it had come straight out of Reaver's own home. Cabinets lined one wall, shined to perfection, their locked doors barely rattling as the ship gave a sickening lurch. Underneath the long, thin window ran a little cushioned bench, and Garth smiled, remembering the bench they had all but defaced back home. In the centre of the cabin was a small, round table and chair, polished as well as the cabinets. There were two sets of drawers, and finally, there was a large bunk built against the opposite wall to the door, its edges raised to keep its occupant from tumbling out on high seas.

When the ship lurched, indicating that they had set sail, Garth gasped and stumbled, clutching onto Reaver for support. He briefly wondered why the furniture wasn't moving about, before realising that everything was bolted down. Reaver didn't even seem bothered by the sudden movement, and held Garth up easily.

Leon noticed. "No sea legs, Wizard Garth?" he asked kindly. "No matter! You will learn. For now, you sit. That bunk, it is surprisingly comfortable. Do not sit on the edge, no, or you will have a strange mark on your buttocks." He held out his hand to lead Garth to the bunk, and Garth hesitantly took it.

Reaver was laughing. "Do you speak from experience there, Leonardo?" he asked. Leon grinned as he helped Garth climb over the bunk's edge.

"A little, yes." He stepped away from the bunk and made his way easily back over to Reaver. "While you were gone, I thought to keep it warm. Alas! Your elegance escapes me." Reaver laughed again.

They did look handsome together, Garth mused. They were roughly the same height, and Leon's outfit was far simpler than Reaver's. His white blouse was loose, V-necked, and cuffed in at the wrists. He wore simple brown trousers, tucked into calf-high boots, and he was clean; most of Reaver's crew were. Reaver had high standards for his crew, and Leon met them easily. How many times must they have tumbled, naked, into this very bunk? Garth tried to push the image of the men having sex from his mind, but to no avail.

Until Reaver and Leon began to converse in another language. Garth easily forgot about everything else then.

The language was beautiful. Melodic and enchanting, it flowed from their mouths like a siren's song, and Garth could only listen, wondering why he had never asked Reaver to speak Aragonian to him before. Hell, he had forgotten that Reaver could.

Of course, it made sense that Leon was from Aragonia. His startling handsomeness, his stated preference for his own language over Alban, that accent… And it explained Reaver's obvious favouritism. How often would he have a chance to speak the language outside of the country?

"He likes this," Leon commented suddenly, and Garth realised that both men were looking at him. He blushed faintly and looked away.

"Did he not know you could speak this?" Leon asked Reaver curiously. Reaver shrugged.

"He did, but he probably forgot. I don't exactly rattle off in it at home." He went over to Garth and, despite Leon's earlier warning, perched himself on the edge of the bunk carelessly. "You're suddenly so shy," he murmured softly, forcing Garth to look at him. "You were fine last week."

Garth raised an eyebrow at him. "Last week I wasn't on a ship full of pirates, sailing out to the Spire." he reminded the Thief bluntly. Reaver blinked.

"Ah." he nodded, and suddenly grinned. "So I suppose I shouldn't bother to request you tie me to the mast and have your way with me?" he asked cheekily, startling Garth into laughter.

"No, probably not," he agreed.

Leon looked faintly uncomfortable as he watched them, shifting his weight from foot to foot agitatedly. "Ah, Captain. The course is mapped, but you should check. You know these things, you do." He interrupted hesitantly, as though he didn't want to bother them.

Reaver sighed as he stood up. "All right," he agreed, and they began to speak in that beautiful language again. Leon spoke quickly, confidently in comparison to his Alban. Reaver was slightly slower, and probably had an accent, though Garth certainly couldn't tell. Leon retrieved a map from one of the cabinets and spread it out across the table, murmuring to Reaver. Reaver answered, his voice sounding a little deeper than when he spoke Alban, and Garth closed his eyes to simply listen to it. Why the hell had he never asked Reaver to speak to him in Aragonian before?

He suddenly heard his name, harsh and startling amidst the music, and he opened his eyes to see Leon retrieving something from a different cabinet. He hurried over to Garth, a small vial in his hands.

"The Captain, he says you can get seasick, no?" He grinned when Garth nodded. "No matter! You drink this." He held out the vial. Garth eyed it dubiously, remembering the last little vial that he had encountered. Or rather, that Reaver had. Leon saw his hesitation and shook his head. "It tastes bad, yes, but it will settle you. You will sleep for some hours, then wake fresh. Your head will not be over the side on this voyage, no, no!"

Garth looked over at Reaver. Reaver glanced up from the table to give him a reassuring nod, and Garth took the vial. The stuff certainly tasted awful, and he pulled a face as he downed it. Leon laughed.

"Wonderful, no? Tastes like Alban beer." He took the empty vial from Garth's hands. "You will sleep now, Wizard Garth, and you will dream good dreams. About me, yes?" He grinned as Garth chuckled.

"Have you ever thought that perhaps the users of that stuff don't get seasick because they're too busy sleeping off its effects?" he asked bluntly. Leon blinked and looked over at Reaver, who shrugged.

"It's entirely possible, though only the Mage would be cynical enough to think of it." he replied, a note of affection detectable in his voice. Leon frowned.

"What is this word, may-ige?" he demanded. Reaver murmured something in Aragonian, before pronouncing the word in Alban again. Leon nodded slowly, his grin returning. "Aha, this is you! Same as wizard," he said to Garth, who nodded in confirmation. Earlier, he had thought Leon was charming in spite of his clumsy Alban. Now, he thought that added to it. "Mayge Garth. Hm, no." He paused, frowning. "It is awkward on my tongue. Wizard Garth suits, yes."

Garth wondered why Leon felt the need to give him a title in the first place. "Garth will suffice," he said shortly, and Leon gaped at him.

"Oh, no, no! You are deserving, yes! Wizard Garth… hm." He suddenly grinned cheekily, glancing over at Reaver. "Magical Garth? No. Wondrous Garth, yes! No, Handsome Garth! Very handsome, yes!"

"Titles are a normal way to show your respect in Aragonia, Mage." Reaver muttered. "Just let him go. And you," he pointed to Leon, "shut up!"

"…Jealous Reaver! That suits!" Leon concluded, and Garth couldn't help but chuckle. "You sleep now, you. And you dream - of me, remember! - and we will be out at sea when you wake." He looked over at Reaver. "He will be cold, he will. Samarkand blood is cold, they are used to the warm weather."

"He's lived most of his life in Albion, he'll be fine." Reaver muttered. Garth felt a wave of drowsiness overtake him as Reaver returned to the bunk's side. "Lie down, Mage." he said gruffly. "If you come up on deck when you wake, be careful. It would be a pain to have to fish you out of the sea."

"I can't swim very well," Garth admitted sleepily. Reaver sighed.

"A double pain, then." He took Garth's monocle from him, and Garth found that he didn't even have the energy to protest. He allowed Reaver to push him back onto the bunk and as his eyes slipped closed, he felt Reaver's hand stroke his cheek.


AN: I apologise for the fluff overdose in this chapter.