My goodness, chapter four! Now, this really is a record for me.I'm writing like mad.

I don't own the Prince, etc, etc, but I do own Nesia, Rico, Quinn, and the plot

When the Prince stumbled up onto the deck, the first thing he noticed was that is was still raining. It wasn't as hard as it had been, although it still came down in a steady drizzle. He stepped out onto the deck, not minding that he was getting wet from the rain. Looking around for Nesia, he saw her standing behind the tiller on a raised deck at the back of the ship. He started towards her, managing not to fall at all on his way there.

"What do you want me to do?" he said when he stood next to the captain, trying to keep his voice even and empty of emotion. She smirked, though never taking her eyes off the sea in front of the ship.

"Rico, would you be so good as to show our friend here our lovely selection of mops?" Nesia called to the man standing nearby. He grinned, and handed the Prince a ragged mop and a wooden bucket.

"But it's raining," the injured man protested.

"Rain isn't going to get rid of the oil on the deck." The man groaned inwardly, but took the mop anyway, and looked about for the oil spill. There it was, near the back of the higher deck,

It was about six feet in diameter.

"You should be able to have it finished soon," Nesia remarked. "Or you'd better. Because you won't be eating until it's done." Rico laughed, and then went down to the lower deck to tend to some other business.

Meanwhile, the Prince was trying to figure out a way to clean up the mess without falling in it. He put his crutch down carefully, then began to scrub at the mess on the deck, while practically leaning on the mop.

By noon, he had about a quarter of it cleaned up. Nesia came up behind him, and looked at what he had done.

"I guess you won't be getting lunch then," she remarked. The Prince growled, and spun, shipping the mop handle out around him. Nesia was quicker, though, and she ducked, and swept his feet out from under him with her leg. He fell heavily onto his back, right onto the oil spill. The woman laughed as she walked away, leaving the man to get up by himself.

"Damn you!" he yelled after her, which only made the captain laugh harder. Swearing darkly, the Prince got to his knees and, using the mop as a support, stood up shakily. There was oil all down his back, and even with the rain constantly drenching him, it would take ages to get out. He continued to clean the deck, though, determined to get it all done by dusk.

But by the time the sun had set, the Prince still had a section about a foot across to do. Nesia came up on the deck to check on him, and laughed when she saw him still scrubbing away.

"No supper either," she shrugged, and leaned against the nearby rail to watch him. She had a plate of food, and was eating it slowly in front of him. The Prince scowled, and tried to think back to how he had survived for a long time without eating, back on the Island. Nesia continued to watch him, however, until he was finished cleaning the whole mess.

"Am I allowed to leave now?" the Prince asked acidly, turning to face Nesia. She grinned.

"Sure. You can sleep with the rest of the crew below decks. I hope you don't have anything against hammocks." She then left, going below decks, leaving the Prince alone to find his way to his bed. Muttering to himself, he limped after her, carrying the mop and bucket in one hand, and leaning on his crutch with the other. He left the bucket and mop beside the door that led below.

He found the rest of the crew in a long room, lined with bunks on either wall. At the end, there was a hammock strung between the two opposite walls; he assumed this was where he would be sleeping. He hobbled over to it, trying his best to be quite, and flopped into the hammock. Resting his crutch against the nearby wall, he took off his armor, dropping it on the floor with a muffled 'thud'. The man then laid down, trying to get to sleep.

A sand monster came towards him. His scimitar snapped out in, cutting a deep gash in the things chest. The Dagger of Time drove deep into the things stomach, sucking the sands out of it. Another one appeared behind him- he spun, chopping its head off. They were surrounding him, reaching hungrily for him with their rotting arms. He fought like he never had before, like a tornado of death as he whirled with his scimitar and dagger. He stabbed a large one in the chest, and was about to finish it off with his dagger, when it spoke to him.

"My son, what have you done?"

The Prince watched, horrified, as the sand creature turned into his father.

"Father!" he screamed, trying to cover the wound with his hands. But it was too late. His face was locked in a death scream. He had killed his father, like he had seen himself do so many times before.

He felt another hand grasp his shoulder, and he instinctively turned and stabbed the thing in the stomach. But he gasped when he saw who it was.

"Farah!" he cried. The woman stared at him, her pain evident in her eyes. She crumpled down as he took his sword out of her, her blood trickling away as she took her last few breaths. "No," he moaned, "I didn't mean to..."

He woke up suddenly as he hit the floor heavily. The breath whooshed from his lungs, and her groaned in pain, clutching his side that had hit the floor. He rolled over onto his back, and saw Nesia looking down at him with an amused look in her eyes.

"Maybe hammocks aren't for you then," she remarked, smiling crookedly. The Prince scowled at her.

"How long were you watching me?" he asked, not bothering to get up.

"Long enough to know that you seem to have something against sleeping peacefully," she replied. "You were thrashing around quite a bit."

"And I bet you enjoyed watching me fall on the floor?" the Prince added darkly, closing his eyes. So he didn't see Nesia's grin grow wider, or her foot approaching his side. He gasped in pain as her booted foot connected with the same side he had just fallen on, and his eyes flew open.

"What can I say?" the woman called as she walked away from him. "I enjoy seeing you in pain."

For the next week, that was how life for the Prince was. Nesia forced him to do long, hard, and seemingly pointless tasks, denying him food or water until he was done. She and the rest of the crew also seemed to enjoy torturing him at any possible moment, hitting, kicking, and pushing him, and seeming to try every time to lend a blow on a wound he already had. He couldn't retaliate, not when he was still as weak as a kitten, but took these beatings with a straight face, and no reply.

On the morning of the day after that week, however, the Prince was not awoken by falling on the floor, but was shaken awake by Nesia. He opened bleary eyes to see her and Quinn standing over him.

"Are you sure it's been enough time?" Nesia asked Quinn, prodding the Prince's side.

"Of course," he replied, rolling his eyes. "His injuries weren't that bad. They'll be all healed up now." Nesia nodded.

"Wha-" the Prince started to say, but the woman cute him off.

"Take off your shirt," she told him. He blinked at her, wondering if he had heard the woman right. "Or do I have to cut it off of you?" she threatened. The Prince was quick to sit up and take his shirt off after that remark, throwing it on the floor. Nesia drew a long, think dirk from her belt, and proceeded to cut the bandages that wrapped around his chest off, while Quinn took off the splint on his wrist.

"They won't be healed; it's just been a week and a half. Broken ribs alone take a month to heal, and..." The Prince trailed ff as the bandages around his chest fell away. Apart from some scars, there was no signs of the deep gouges that had been on his sides, and his ribs were smooth and even. Nesia ran a hand over his ribs, feeling them to all be in place, and touched the scars on his sides. Meanwhile, Quinn had the brace off his arm, and was rotating his wrist slowly.

"You did good work here," Nesia congratulated the man as she cut off the bandage around the Prince's head. She brushed back his hair to inspect his ear, running her thumb and forefinger along the edge of the ear, where they had been forced to cut it off. Quinn rolled up the leg of his breeches, and made sure that his knee was working fine. The two continued to strip the man of his bandages, satisfied that all his wounds had healed perfectly.

"It's amazing what a difference it makes when I put magic into my bandages," Quinn remarked to Nesia. The Prince looked at his now healed injuries with respect. He felt, well, as good as new.

"Now get up," Nesia ordered the man, "there's work to be done." With that, her and Quinn left, going above decks. The Prince dressed quickly, and was up on the deck soon. This was the first time that he was able to get up without the use of a crutch to lean on, and it filled him with a new energy and vigor. He bounded up the steps to the higher deck, where Nesia stood at the wheel, and was about to ask her what he should do, but he stopped, as a thought came into his head. Narrowing his eyes, he approached the captain slowly.

"Just out of curiosity," he began, leaning on the rail in front of her, "how is it that I couldn't walk until now, when you took my bandages off and declared me healthy." Nesia didn't even look at him when she replied.

"I was drugging your food," she stated calmly. "It's so much easier to torture someone when they can't put up any resistance." These words made anger begin to build in the Prince.

"Is that what my role here is?" he asked bitterly. "Just some thing for you to kick around for your perverse pleasure?"

"More or less," Nesia replied offhandedly The Prince started to inch his hand towards a pair of scimitars that were propped up against the rail he leaned on. Once the blades were his, he leapt towards the woman, intending to run her through.

"You bitch!" he spat, even as she jumped away from his thrust. "You have gone too far this time!" This made her laugh, even as she drew her own swords; a cutlass in one hand, a thick short sword in the other. A man came up to take the wheel that Nesia had left, not giving the two as much as a glance.

"You want to fight me then?" Nesia asked teasingly. "Bring it on, bastard."

Oooh, it's a cliffy! Hahahaha...I'm so evil.

Actually, I'm kinda pathetic. And my hands are bloody freezing, damnit.

Reviews please!