Sorry this chapter is so late! My plans to update it a week early backfired thanks to my job and then my Grammar Knight was swamped with finals and her own stuff...its been a rough month indeed and honestly i will be glad when it is all over (thank god for Halloween_

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Next week starts Novemeber and NaNoWriMo, and since i now i can write a novel in a month i'm taking an unorthadox approach to the challenge by taking the month off to finish Timaeus Part 2. I have much of the next chapter planned i just need to figure out one part and take a day off to type it (which is damn near impossible with my job, but i will power through) also as i am sick an tired of missing my deadlines, i want to Finish Part 2 or at least get at least two chapters written ahead so i'll have them prewritten and pre-grammared and ready to post and this way I can start doing weekly updates again. My readers don't have to wait and i don't have to stress about deadlines so i think this will be a good set up. As this will be the last chapter until November 30, I made it an extra long chapter with a couple of plot twists i think my very patient readers will enjoy!

As always read, review, comment, critique, post theories, ask questions, make notes and go nuts!

Disclaimer: i only own the plot.

Chapter XXXVI: Storm

What settled next over The Eye was a dreadful kind of calm that nearly had the Quartermaster screaming and wrenching her hair. In the seven days that followed, the storm that was her Trierarch and her loyal friend's marriage had reached a still kind of peacefulness that both men endured uncomfortably. What had started as a raging storm between them had dwindled to a series of small, almost hopeful battles. Yet Yugi's passive dealings with the crew and Timaeus' silent reassurances had quickly put an end to that. In those days, they'd barely spoken, save for the morning meals that Rhebekka insisted she bring herself—if only to start some kind of conversation. When they did speak, their questions were clumsy and their words awkward, as if they'd both forgotten how to use their tongues. They fell into their robotic routines with an awkward smile and a cold distance. At night, Timaeus ate with the crew and Yugi in the galley with her, and in the morning, the day followed in the same repetitive routine that left her frustrated and barely able to bite down her tongue.

While outside the marital sphere, the Great Sea had done all within her power to detour the green dragon from its destination. The wood and canvas had served well enough, but by the second day, the wind had turned traitorous. For six days, the winds had been against them and if not for the galley's many oars, they'd still be battling along Tanitic Lake's sand bed. By Day Seven, however, the wind had abandoned them completely—a perfect mimic to the cold war the ship's masters had taken. Now, here they were, eight days later and still not a breath to fill her sails. Luckily, with two hundred oars and the men to row it, The Eye was far from helpless in a calm like this. She only wished her masters were the same—herself included.

"Daft and useless creatures," she groaned, burying her pale face in her folded arms, stealing a single glance over the railing. Over the side of the ship, the great cog groaned and the slow, steady swish of oars churned little waves in a slow rhythmic beat that made Rhebekka's stomach queasy and her bored brain dizzy. "Has my own marriage not taught me that?" She snorted. "Men." Even in her worst fits, she couldn't remember feeling so snappy, and yet she could not bring herself to be angry with them.

For all her raging, she knew her Trierarch and her friend well. She understood their frustrations; Yugi, she imagined, still held some lingering anger for whatever it was he held Timaeus responsible for in the conditions of their wedding. She dare not ask what it was. He would not tell her, she knew, but he no doubt felt that his own opinions and desires had become lost in the order of things, and that left him determined to stand on his own. It had left him with a new duteous zeal and a determination to prove his worth, to both the crew and himself, she imagined—and, she suspected, to armor himself against the lingering feelings that were still so clearly growing inside of him despite, or perhaps because of, everyone else's insistence that he'd ought to enjoy it because it was just advantageous and just his match. All it had done was to leave the poor lad drained and uncaring, and refusing seek aid from anyone but his own stubbornness.

The Trierarch hadn't faired any better, though the opposite were his issues. It was clear as the day was long that the Trierarch found Yugi desirable—his spirit as well as his being. How could he not? Yugi was attractive, witty, fiery, independent, clever, and downright fearless. And reckless and stubborn to the point of vexing, but they were survivalist traits as well, and everything about him called to Timaeus' nature like a predator seeking the perfect mate. To Timaeus, Yugi was a precious challenge: he was brave, he was beautiful, he was exciting, he was challenging, and he matched the Trierarch in wit and will of iron the strength of a raging fire. Timaeus was in love with him, even if the man was too new to such emotions to understand it quickly, let alone confess to them. And it was there that the issue occurred. Timaeus wanted nothing more than to shower Yugi with his affections, but Yugi denied him—not out of unrequited feelings but out of spite. Timaeus respected Yugi enough to let him decide the pacing of their marriage and his desire to handle himself, but there was only so much apologizing, sympathizing, and amend-making a man could do before his patience depleted and the frustration and pain of constant rejection made him bitter.

Between Yugi's stubbornness, the men's cruelty, and his own inability to make any change, Rhebekka was stunned her Trierarch had lasted this long. But despite that understanding, it had infuriated her. Yugi was being stubborn and embittered, and Timaeus was being passive and reprimanding, and the two of them were obstinately determined to be silent.

"Daft as the day is long!" Rhebekka growled and slammed her fist against the railing. Then she gasped when the ship swayed and her own fist wobbled. Her front crashed against the railing and her belly immediately protested on the sudden pressure. She cursed the waves as pain shot through her and bile bubbled in her throat. She clung desperately to the rail to steady herself. Instead, she caught sight of the repetitive motions of the oars and the spinning swells they stirred and could hold it back no longer. She clung desperately to the rail and retched over the side, coughing and cursing the indecisive sea.

"Never thought I'd see you puking over the side of a ship," Timaeus chuckled behind her, but not unconcerned. "Yet here you are, green as a rotten fish." He handed her a towel and a cup of ale.

"Please." It was more a command than a plea. "Do not mention fish to me." She took a swallow to clean out her mouth then downed the rest. "It's stress. What do you expect, when I have to deal with you lot?" She wiped her mouth with a harsh swipe. "Daft fools, the lot of ya." She took another swig and found the ale cup empty. She cursed and stormed past but Timaeus grabbed her wrist.

"Where has this madness come from?" he demanded, though not ungently.

Rhebekka snatched her wrist back. "I'm overworked, overstressed, and at my wits end."

Timaeus blinked owlishly. "If you're that in need of help, I'm sure Yugi—"

"Oh bloody hell, Timaeus, what do you think happened to my wits? It's your consort you should be arguing with, not me! At least then, you two would be talking!"

"Rhebekka," he said, low with warning. "I've told you—"

"Yes, yes, you want to give him space, you want him to decide what happens next, you want him to come to you, I've heard it all before," she snapped in challenge. "All the good that it's done you, hasn't it?"

Timaeus' glare sharpened, unyielding and holding no more room for sympathy or argument. "I'll hear no more of this." He turned to leave.

Rhebekka snorted. "Fine, then. I see my counsel no longer interests you," she snapped, but this time, she sounded more defeated than angry.

Timaeus stopped and turned to her. His face was stony, but his eyes flickered with something that was almost desperate. "What else would you have me do, Rhebekka? I've tried speaking with him. I've tried to be patient. And I've tried sympathizing to his wills. He will not listen. If I am any more sympathetic, I'm likely to take my own head."

"Then tell him that!" she pleaded. "Make him listen. I know you care for him, and this is all difficult for you, but how can you expect him to come to you if the two of you do not speak? If you do not listen to each other?!" Her voice bled with a desperate pleading and her eyes burned with dying hope, but Timaeus could not look at her and give her the condolence she so desperately craved.

"Fine." She exhaled. Her shoulders slumped, defeated. "I will say no more." She turned and headed for the steps to the galley. "Keep him with you today. I have no need of him."

She didn't wait for Timaeus to answer, and dragged herself back to the sanctuary of the kitchen. She nearly stumbled twice and scolded the oarsmen to steady their hands. She cursed the swaying ship when her stomach once more rebelled on her. She calmed it well enough and poured herself some wine. The nausea settled, but was by no means truly tamed.

"Rhebekka?" She spun to the soft voice. Yugi was already there, carrying a basket of freshly-peeled apples she'd ordered mashed into a juice. "Are you alright?"

" 'Tis stress," she said flatly, and rubbed her sore eyes and sore temples. "What else could it be?"

"Rhebekka," he said gingerly. "If you are ill, I can—"

"I am well," she cut him off and proved so by arranging a large tray with a helping of boiled eggs, fried bread, dried dates, and bowls of porridge. Then she poured two mugs of water, pulled the apples' basket from his arms and thrust the tray in its place. "Go bring that to your husband," she told him. "I won't need your help today." She tried to stay calm. Frustrating as he was, Yugi was still a sweet boy and she had no desire to lash at him with her attitude.

"And… do what?" he gaped at her, surprised.

"I don't know," she said. "That's for you to decide." She spun him around and gently shoved him towards the door. "Eat, drink, then go and make love to your husband, that's what I suggest."

"Rhebek—" He blushed, gaped, and choked on her name, but she only shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Heaven forbid you should actually talk to him." She shoved him out and closed the door.

X X X

One long, awkward walk back to the sterncastle later, Yugi found himself setting the heavy tray on the Navigation Room table and setting up the provided dishes for his and Timaeus' breakfast—his face still red from Rhebekka's jests.

When Timaeus finally joined him nearly half an hour later, he looked haggard and rubbed his temples furiously. Yugi stared at him blankly, waiting for an acknowledgement, but Timaeus didn't seem to notice him.

"Timaeus?" Yugi called to him softly. Determined as he was to stay his distance, it was not in his nature to leave the weary uncomforted. His words dropped like a stone in a well, and echoed just as dully.

Timaeus shot up immediately. He caught a whiff of food, and his eyes adjusted to the tasty spread set for two. He smiled. "Not eating with Rhebekka this morning?" he asked rhetorically, but was pleased.

Yugi shuddered. "She's in a foul mood," he explained.

"Ah." Timaeus needed no further explanation. "I'm afraid that's my fault. She's not very pleased with me." He pulled out a chair and fetched himself a plate.

"Or me, I think." Yugi unfolded his hands and fixed himself a plate of porridge mixed with honey and dried dates. The sugary taste felt odd on his bland tongue. Like a rush to his senses that died in an instant, leaving him feeling drained and weary. "Is she well?" Yugi asked, though the question was awkward on his tongue.

"I'm sure she will be fine," Timaeus said, his tone nervous and lacking its usual confident baritone. Yugi found it worrisome, though when he tried to ask the question, the words jumbled in his throat. Instead, he coughed to cover them and took a sip of mead. It did little to steady his nerves.

"Um…" He struggled, his tongue feeling heavy and clumsy in his mouth. "Are… you alright?" he asked, unsure if he wanted to know, and with no notion of what to say if he was answered.

Timaeus stopped and stared at him. He smiled, but it was weak and pinched. "I am well, sweetling." It was a lie and they both knew it. In truth, Timaeus was not well. His Quartermaster was displeased with him, his men were growing bolder, and yet he could do nothing to reproach them without damaging his consort's image—a consort who, even now, he wanted desperately to speak to openly, but knew in doing so would only set them back. He'd said enough and he knew Yugi was as tired of listening to it as he was of hearing it. Even the damn wind had turned against him and refused to offer even a breath to hasten their journey home, and worse, he'd lost contact with the other three ships three days ago. No, Timaeus was far from well, but he saw no need to burden his young consort with any of that. He had enough troubles of his own.

He stared down at his porridge and waited for Yugi to answer, but he said nothing. Glancing at his meal, Timaeus felt his stomach lurch and before long, even his appetite abandoned him, save for the mead.

"Are you well, sweetling?" he asked. Yugi only nodded and took another bite of porridge. "You know," Timaeus heard himself stumble, his throat tense and dry. "If you are not, you can tell me. You can tell me anything."

"And you can tell me things as well," Yugi returned. He stiffened, like he half-expected Timaeus to confront him about something. But he didn't.

Odd that for all their promises and claims that they could tell each other everything, they told each other nothing.

Silence fell, heavy and deafening over the meal and ended in a strained atmosphere as many of them often did. Timaeus rose first. "Since Rhebekka does not need your help, perhaps you can take the day off to enjoy yourself?" Timaeus suggested.

Yugi blinked at him, almost dejected. "What about you?"

Timaeus hesitated. "There is an issue I must see to. It will take me much of the day."

"Perhaps… I could help you then?" He gave him a hopeful, desperate smile. Timaeus heart ached, but shook his head. His young consort had had enough grief—there was no need to burden him any further. "There is no need for that," he waved him off. "I will see to it, you use your day as you please."

Yugi frowned. His eyes narrowed and his mouth twitched the way it did when he was about to protest. Timaeus braced himself for the fire, but instead, Yugi swallowed a gasp of air and spun to the door. "Fine, I will leave you to it." He gathered the cups and plates and left.

Timaeus watched him go. That was a stupid move! he snapped in his thoughts. Now he thinks I don't think him capable… Or perhaps Yugi had, at long last, wanted to reach out to him, only to be turned away and frustrated? If that were the case, then perhaps now he had tasted the rotten fish stuffed and grounded with ashes that Timaeus tasted nearly every night for the past ten days. It brought him no comfort. Fool, he snapped again. Of course he is not well, but he won't speak to me about that. Timaeus groaned and headed for the helm.

It was not enough. He'd placed his shabka around his wrist, his cloak around his shoulders, carried himself across the threshold, and sworn Yugi his protection—but that was as cruel a jape as their wedding had been. He wanted to chase after him, to reach for him, hold him, to break through the armor of his devoir. He gladly would have given whatever solace he might, but it was no good. Yugi only pushed his comforts away and so to respect his husband's wishes, as much as it burned him, Timaeus remained silent.

I want him. Timaeus admitted as he marched up the steps. But I want him to want me as well. I want to comfort him. I want to hear him laugh. I want to see him smile. I want him to bring me his joys, his woes, his tears, his smiles, and his lust. His lips twisted into a bitter smile. But he won't, because it would make him appear weak.

The deck was empty and quiet, save for the steady rhythmic creaking of oars and the splash and slop of water. He found himself staring at the gray water, his soul tired and his spirit weary. Ryou stood at the wheel. He flashed him a small smile, but said nothing when he arrived. For that, he was grateful.

Yet again he was reminded of his husband, distant and dutiful. I want him to come to me willingly. Not my Quartermaster and not my Navigator, me! He stopped and had clenched the railing so tight that when he heard a crack, he regained his senses and pulled away. Only his strict pride kept a flush of shame from his face.

Again, he turned to Ryou and smiled. "Any change in the wind?"

Ryou shook his head. "Afraid not, nor has the tide been in our favor. We'll have to charter another course."

Timaeus nodded and pulled a map from his doublet. Despite it all, he could not bring himself to hate or even be angry with either his Sailing Master or his Quartermaster. If anything, he was glad Yugi had allies, but it didn't make the pain any less bearable.

X X X

Left to his own devices, Yugi strolled into the deck in a foul mood.

He dared not venture below; not with the whole crew acting as oarsmen, and Rhebekka having one of her fits. Yet neither did he feel like venturing to the sterncastle. Not when Timaeus was no doubt handling whatever it was he needed done, without his help. It burned him, to be dismissed like a child. To be sheltered and babied. Had he not promised to let Yugi handle his own? Or had he only proven himself so inadequate that the Trierarch saw him as incapable of handling even the simplest chores? Whichever was the answer, it only made Yugi bitter and angry.

He was a Prince of Kemet. He was the Consort of the Trierarch. He was going to be the Magistrate of Locri. Why was he still being treated like a child? Yugi collapsed against the railing and growled over the edge. He focused his frustration on the sea, and was suddenly overcome by jealousy. The sea was harsh, wild, uncontainable, and untamable. The sea didn't need to prove herself to anyone or anything. The sea wasn't restricted by duties and vows. The sea was pure freedom. The sea was everything he wanted and everything he would never have.

Or could, a deeper part of him said, mollifying and smooth. She wasn't wrong, you know… Rhebekka's words returned to him, but Yugi brushed them aside, harsh and deliberate. He pulled himself from the railing and his hands rose to clench his head.

He needed to think. Needed to get away. He spied Ryou on the stern deck and rushed up the steps, eager for his friend's guidance. Then stopped short when he saw him glancing sideways at a map with the last person he wished to see.

"Oh, Magistrate," Ryou said politely. The map crumpled in Timaeus' fingers as he stiffened.

Tension rolled over like a thick fog, and Ryou felt it chilling his spine. "Should I leave you?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," Timaeus said curtly, and rolled up the map. "We're finished here."

He spun to Yugi who glared at him. "I thought you had the evening to yourself?"

"I have," Yugi insisted. "And I'm doing with it as I choose."

"And what have you chosen to do with it?" Timaeus crossed his arms, the hint of accusation in his tone.

They stared at each other, eyes hard and challenging. Unyielding emerald and pearl and stubborn violet.

"I want to see what's too important that my Lord husband chose to conceal it from me."

"My Lords…" Ryou stuttered uncomfortably behind the wheel. His fingers shook violently and he struggled to steer. "Mayhaps I should..."

"Stay!" They both ordered, not breaking their glare. Ryou obeyed.

" 'Tis nothing you need to worry about," Timaeus waved off, but Yugi remained, his stance determinedly stubborn. "You need not worry about me, Yugi," Timaeus insisted. " 'Tis not your duty to protect me. I am the Trierarch. You are my consort—"

"That's right!" Yugi cut him off angrily. "I am your consort! Not some child you need to coddle and condescend. I do not need all this 'protection' and I'm tired of it!"

"And I am tired of you constantly disrespecting me like I am some jailer who's made you a prisoner." Timaeus spun on him and shot forward like a swooping shadow. His retort was sharp and damning. His voice low and dangerous. The last of his patience had snapped. "Everything you asked of me, I have done. You asked me for space and I gave it to you. You asked me to step back and not interfere with your affairs, and I did so. And I have made offer after offer of your forgiveness, yet you shun me aside like I am some sort of deviant—and if I may speak freely, my consort, I am growing rather tired of constantly trying to meet your expectations, when you have done nothing to earn them."

His eyes blazed cold and piercing, daring him to protest, but Yugi was not yet vanquished.

"Nothing…" Yugi wrung his fingers like he meant to tear something. "Well… in that regard, I'd sooner be struck by lightning."

A low rumble answered him. Half a heartbeat later, the world darkened. Anger drained from both men, their faces fell to twin masks of shock and they spun to the rail. Light flashed above them, turning day to night. Clouds bubbled at the far end of the sky like an overcooked pot, but they were thick and black and announced their arrival with rolls of warning growls and cracks of light splintering like spider webs across their surface.

"Hurricane a'comin'!" They heard Otogi shout from the mast, and the ship jerked.

Timaeus rose over the ride, eyes narrowing when the shallow waves suddenly grew twice as high and twice as bold.

The sky went black and darkness descended with a thunderclap. Wind announced its arrival with a fierce howl that pulled at the sails and sent the sleeves and tail of Yugi's clothes flying in parallel lines.

"Stand fast!" Otogi called, hand held to his mouth in an echo. "Secure the riggers!"

The men wasted no time, and scattered about the ship like a swarm of spiders up the ropes. Ropes were tied tightly about their waists and they pulled them hard, securing them tightly to the mast. Another gale of wind crashed into the ship and the sails whipped wildly, causing the ship to jerk violently. Yugi felt his footing slip, and clung to Timaeus' arm for support. The Trierarch caught him in one arm and clung to the railing with the other.

"Otogi!'" he shouted, the echo of his voice loud but lost in the howl of the wind. "Secure those sails!"

"Secure all sails!" Otogi echoed, and the men set to work swinging from the high beams, the riggings pulled tight. The wind fought them fiercely, but the men were strong and so was the ship, and her sails retracted like folded wings.

Another wave crashed into the side of the ship, hard enough to send it to its side and so high, water spilled over the side. Yugi felt his feet go out from under him, but Timaeus pressed him against the wall with his body. Out of the corner of his face, he saw Ryou struggling with the wheel.

"I suppose now we know where the wind had been?" he japed over his shoulder, and both men glared at him.

"Look out!" Yugi shrieked. Ryou spun just in time for another large wave to strike from the left, sending a flood of water over the side and knocking the ship hard enough to shift it left. Thunder came and the whole night shook. The force threw Ryou back and the wheel spun wild.

Torn between protecting his charge and taking control, Timaeus pulled Yugi to him with a single order. "Take my arm!"

Yugi obeyed, and the two battled the wind. Yugi clung to the spinning wheel without fear and tried to stop it, but the sudden force knocked him forward. Timaeus grabbed it, and with a grunt of purposeful strength, made it turn. Once secured, he turned to Ryou. "Are you alright?"

Ryou tried to get up, but grabbed his head and groaned in sudden pain. "I'll be fine." His voice was weak.

Timaeus glared at him. "Don't be brash!" he snapped. "Get below now! Tell Rhebekka what's happened!"

This time, Ryou did not argue. Clinging desperately to the rail, he pulled himself to the stern's steps and forced himself down.

Yugi was about to call to him, when a light pressure squeezed his arm. Timaeus met his confused gaze with stern eyes and a grave frown. "Go with him. Stay below."

His eyes flashed. "I want to help!" Yugi protested immediately.

"I don't want your help!" Timaeus cut him off, sharp and fierce, just as another combination of wind and waves crashed into the ship, and his grip on the wheel nearly stumbled. He recovered quickly and spun to Yugi, his face red and absolute, but his eyes were pleading. "I want you safe!"

"I don't need you to protect me!" Yugi struggled desperately, his hands still clutching the wheel.

"Enough!" He cut Yugi off with such finality that for a brief second, even the wind itself stopped. So suddenly, Yugi didn't have time to gasp, Timaeus snatched his wrist like a tree root ensnaring dirt. His mismatched eyes blazed—one with anger, the other with desperation. "When I married you, I promised to keep you safe and keep you happy. I may have failed in the second, but I shall not fail the first. And quite frankly, love, I don't care whether you want my protection or not. You have it! You are mine to protect, understand? Hate me all you want for it, I'm past caring, but I do care for you and I will see you safe! Now you can go on your own or I can carry you. Whichever will please you best?"

Caught off-guard by the bold passion of the declaration, Yugi could not speak. The words rang in his ears, loud and clear despite the roaring cacophony outside, and for an instance, he felt ashamed.

A huge bolt of lightning crackled across the sky and struck the sea. For half a heartbeat, the world was noonday bright and the claps that followed were so loud and sudden that Yugi gasped and jumped back. Timaeus' arms quickly caught him and kept him close, his armored body a shield from the vicious light. Another crash followed—this one directly overhead—and for another half of a heartbeat, the sky above Yugi's head was cracked and bleeding white. When the two faced each other again, all argument was gone from their faces, and replaced by a desperate, shelter-seeking fear.

"Go," Timaeus urged. "Now."

This time, Yugi needed no further encouragement.

When he reached the doors to the sterncastle, Ryou was already inside, a fresh bandage wrapped around his pale head like an invisible headband. "Ho, friend! This is no night to be out!"

"What can I do? I want to help," Yugi confided.

"There's not much help you can give, I'm afraid," Ryou assured him. "Torrents at sea are not like desert storms, though I imagine they are just as fierce. The sea is wild, the winds are monstrous, and there is nothing solid to keep us steady. The ship is our only shelter and even she can turn on us if we are not careful. If you want to help, go below, stay safe, and help the Quartermaster. I know Timaeus will fare much better knowing at least that you are safe."

"What about you?" Yugi asked, concerned.

Ryou gave him a weak smile. "I will be fine. It will take more than a whack to keep me down, but for now, I must keep the lifelines secure. I'm afraid I won't be much use otherwise, with the winds throwing us about."

Yugi hesitated, but nodded all the same and went below.

He did not go quietly. "Damn him!" He entered the galley in a rage. "Damn him to the depths and back so I can kill him again! How does he expect me to sit here and do nothing!?" He found Rhebekka behind the counter, her face contorted with displeasure.

"What the bloody abyss is going on up there? Please do not tell me you got into another brawl with those daft wits?"

Yugi flushed, but did not stop his rage. "There's a wicked storm out there," he explained. "And my husband thinks it's best to keep me sheltered down here while he and the crew do all the work…" He wrung his fingers, secretly glad to be away from the storm but angry at the dismissal all the same. "I'm not a damn child! I don't need to be sheltered!"

"Oh, enough out of you!" Rhebekka slammed the pot down so loud, it echoed. Yugi jumped, caught off-guard by the outburst.

Rhebekka spun to him, glaring—her emerald eyes blazing with shattered patience. "Aren't you tired of playing the martyr yet?" she retorted, roaring as loud as the thunder outside. "I will hear no more of it! If you're so frightened of your husband's feelings, tell him that instead of hiding behind this lie of protection and duty, admit that you like him already and be done with it! Then maybe he'll confess to you instead of playing the pacifist to please you and actually get somewhere," she paused to wheeze, her voice haggard and raw, but she did not stop. "I swear, the two of you are the daftest, most stubborn—" Her words exploded in a fit of hacking coughs so violent, she clenched the table for support.

"Rhebekka, are you alright?" Yugi jumped up to catch her, but she shoved his hands away.

"I'm fine!" she insisted hoarsely. "It's all this stress I'm dealing with!" She wobbled and Yugi caught her, her forehead flopping onto his arm.

"Rhebekka, you're burning up!" Yugi shrieked and guided her towards the adjacent door connecting the galley and the infirmary.

"Don't be daft, I can't be!" she protested fiercely, but her arms were weak and folded under her when she tried to push him away. "I've got meals to cook and potatoes to peel and fish to boil!" she screeched, shoving him away and dashed about.

"Fish?" Yugi gasped, stunned.

"Easier to dry and more nutritious than most meats," she explained. Sweat dampened her brow, her face flushed hot and red, and her eyes blazed mad and wild with fever. "Why else would your commoners eat it? 'Cause there's so many in the river? There's plenty of cattails, too, but they don't eat those, do they? Now leave me be, I'm fine. If anything, it's you two and your constant yapping making me…"

She stopped suddenly and gingerly pressed a gloved hand to her forehead. "Dizzy…" She finally collapsed.

Yugi squawked and dove to catch her. She crumbled into his arms like a collapsed tower—and just as heavy. He wasted no time in carrying her to the infirmary. She passed out long before he arrived and carefully, he laid her on one of the swinging boxes that serves as a cot. Her breathing was heavy and ragged but otherwise, she slept peacefully. He fiddled around the cabinet and fished though bottles for a cloth and tonic—anything to bring down her fever. He pressed a cold cloth to her forehead and bundled her tight.

Tea, he thought. Onion tea was good for colds, though the hem-netjer forbade it in the temples. And soup, he thought, rushing back upstairs. The pot still burned over the small fire and Yugi found the remains of several fishes boiling in the water. Once stripped down to their marrow, he carefully pulled them out with a spoon.

While tossing aside the useless bones, he thought of Timaeus outside and the men battling the elements. He imagined their weariness when they returned, battered and hungry and chilled from the icy rains. Then he remembered Rhebekka's words and set about making himself busy.

He found onions and tossed them into the broth, along with the basket of potatoes and carrots he'd peeled the day before. Donning the gloves, he cut them up into thick chunks and added it to the pot, with handfuls of barley and dried legumes. Those were nutritious, after all? And onions to prevent colds—though again, the hem-netjer forbade them in the temple. He stirred the water, adding more as he went, and blanched when he realized he'd cooked the onions with their skins.

He fished them out with a spoon, but they plopped into a mash in the bowl. A quick sample and he found himself enjoying the mushy paste and set about slicing bread for the spread. He piled up plates and let the stew simmer until then. When the broth began to bubble, the homely smell was a damning reminder of his sick friend downstairs and his husband battling the chaos outside—and here he was, bustling about the kitchen to keep himself busy.

When the soup boiled, he removed it from the fire and poured a bowl for Rhebekka, then started filling more as he went. The broth was thick with vegetables and chunks of fish. He sampled a bowl and found the onions a clever choice. The ship's rocking had reduced to steady swaying, though was still too rough for Yugi's liking. Once he was confident the pot was secured and the dishes wouldn't fall, he carried Rhebekka's meal. She slept peacefully, and he set the bowl on the table, not having the heart to wake her.

He waited upstairs for what felt like hours—his only companion the rhythm of the storm outside. The wind sang in a gentle, wooing lull, rain prickled like the pattering of thousands of marching feet, and thunder concluded each symphony with a brassy crash that shook him awake.

Then he heard the heavy clamber of boots and rose attentively. Riggers and oarsmen bustled into the galley, stripping off boots and wet mail. Their worn faces gasped at the scene. Without wasting time, Yugi grabbed one of Rhebekka's smocks and started pouring bowls. They looked at him stupidly and he fixed them with a glare.

"Are you going to stand there all day like a pack of geese or are you going to eat? I made plenty."

At the jape, several men overcame their shock and charged for the food like starving men, but others held back. One even snapped, "You made this?"

"Yes, I made it," Yugi snapped back and leaned on the counter, shoving bowls into their clumsy hands. "And what does it matter if I did? You're all hungry, I assume? Either shut up and be grateful or give it back and leave. I'm sure there are plenty of others who would be happy with it."

He didn't even humor them by waiting for a response. With a final grunt to save their pride, the rest sat down and mumbled thanks under their breath. Others forfeited it completely and asked for seconds.

Ryou was one of the last to arrive. Malik and Otogi were behind him, and Raphael was taking up the rear. At the sight of food and the one who prepared it, his face brightened and he offered his appraisal immediately. His comrades looked less impressed.

Yugi matched their glares and poured them each a bowl. They stared down at the food with arched brows like it was meant to be some obvious joke. Ryou glared at them. "Oh, for heaven's sake, can't you blokes just be grateful?!" He grabbed his own food and shoved past his two subordinates.

"What are you even doing back there?" It was Raphael who snapped. Timaeus was not among them, Yugi noticed, and that made the man bolder. "Last I checked, you couldn't even slice a carrot without cutting yourself, and now suddenly, you made a meal for a whole ship?" he retorted mockingly. Disbelief rolled off his tongue in humorous quirks. His chuckle attracted several onlookers who paused in their meals, then looked at it questionably. Yugi did not flinch in his gaze.

"Where's the Quartermaster?" Raphael snapped. "I doubt she let you off your leash."

Yugi slammed the bowl down in front of him so hard, hot soup splashed over the side and burned Raphael's hand. He pulled it back with a gasp and moved to bite, but this time, Yugi was ready.

"Your Quartermaster is ill and your Trierarch is battling the wind and you're here, yet have the gall to complain! I know none of you like me, but I'm past caring. Like it or not, I am the Trierarch's consort and I will hold that title to the best of my ability and with the Quartermaster sick, you have two choices: you can shut up and eat your hot food and be damn grateful I took the time to serve it to you instead of hoarding something for myself and my husband, or you can stop your bellyaching, roll up your gloves, go behind here and fix yourself something. Make your choice now, I haven't got all night!"

The room fell silent. All eyes were on him now, but this time, Yugi felt no shame, no embarrassment, and no failure. No, he felt powerful. Strong. Light as air, and bright as danger. And to drive the lesson home, he let his lips curl and his brows knit. Then, low and dangerous, and in a perfect mimic of their Trierarch, he said, "And let me make one thing abundantly clear to all of you: I am not your comrade. I am not your serving wench or your bedside healer or gambling buddy. I am the husband of your Trierarch. I don't care if you dislike me. I don't care if you think me a spoiled child. Your opinions of me mean nothing—because you will respect my rank and you will respect me."

The silence that followed was an echo of the wind, save for the click of heavy metal boots. The room spun and Yugi saw Timaeus in the door. For half a heartbeat, he looked surprised, then his face morphed into a smile.

"And here I thought I'd have to make myself clear once more…" He entered the room with long, deliberate steps. "Perhaps even teach some of my slower men a lesson." His eyes casted a glance to the still-silent Watch Keeper, but it was unclear if it was directed at him or the Boatswain and Shipwright who had yet to move.

When he stopped in front of Yugi, his face was all smiles. "But now I see there is no need. Fool that I am for forgetting how fierce you are." Without caring where they were or who was watching, he pressed an affectionate kiss between Yugi's brows, then whispered triumphantly, "The Eye is yours."

When he pulled back, Yugi was blushing. Rhebekka's words came back to him and his chest hammered and suddenly, he had no appetite. Hesitantly, he handed Timaeus the bowl he'd saved.

He took it with a smile. "Now, what's all this about our Quartermaster being indisposed?"

"Daftling," Rhebekka rasped behind them. She stood in the doorway, her hair frazzled, her dress wrinkled, and her voice haggard from sleep, but her face had lost all the flush of fever. "I'm ill, not dead." She held the wooden bowl securely in one hand and sipped the soup greedily. She licked her lips, tasting the broth, then laughed. "Hmm, not bad, Yugi. I'd best be careful or you'll be doing my job better than me soon." Her laugh was rough and scratchy from illness, but all Yugi heard was the mirth.

Hope you all enjoyed the extra long chapter! Hopefully that will, tide you all over for the month, i know it seems like a long time, but it'll be worth it if I can get back on a weekly update schedule. Lots of stuff to think about ;)

As I mentioned above, i will be taking November off from posting for NaNoWriMo. The goal is to Finish Timaeus Part 2 or at least the rough draft of the chapters. Wish me luck!

Next Update: November 30th!

Next Time: The storm has passed but another one is just brewing in the Trierarch's chambers. Things are said. Feelings come out. Truths are shared and at long last, Timaeus and Yugi finally talk!

As always, read, reply, comment, critique, make notes, ask questions, post theories and go nuts! i can't wait to see the comments for this one!