Challenge
It was a nice day for this part of the North Blue. While it was damn cold and the sky was cloudy, at least it didn't snow. The island itself was small and being the rathole that it was - full of pirates, whores and that kind of scum - he wouldn't have graced it with his presence for a second hadn't it been for a wedding taking place on a nearby island.
The king there, a weak piece of shit ruling over a small, weak country was an old friend of his father's and had invited said father and him to his daughter's wedding. Of course he wasn't very interested in attending. But his father had insisted, saying he had to socialize, that he should find some nice girl of high birth so he would finally marry, and the whole speech he'd heard over a thousand times. He knew the king's daughters, and none of them could reach his standards in the slightest. If his old man hadn't been one of the five elders and as such his boss, who ordered him to attend in his place, he had probably told him to fuck off.
He sighed in frustration. Of course his father was right. One day he would take his father's place as one of the rules of this world, and he needed a wife for his image and an hair. But no matter how beautiful, no woman he'd been introduced to was beautiful enough. They also weren't strong enough, interesting enough, not enough like her. How she had spoiled women for him. He'd never be able to love a woman, to want a woman ever again, Alba Sonal made sure of that. No woman had the same raven hair, the same full lips, bright eyes, the same broad hips or the same long legs like her. No breasts like hers, no silky skin or mild scent. No flowing movements, no fire.
When he saw a woman, he only saw what she missed, and what they all missed was being Alba Sonal.
Still, he would be attending this wedding, and he would endure it. He had taken the bastard with him, so he could train him, but now he wasn't so sure. It had been two years now, and the bastard had improved greatly. He had finally learned to speak a language that was worth being called one, and his teacher claimed he'd excelled not just in both reading and writing, but maths, too.
The techniques that had taken him five years under Alba Sonal's training seemed to be in her child's blood, as he never took longer than a month to not only understand a technique, but surpass him in its use. Without that much reason to punish the boy lately (except his existance of course), he had time to study the child, again.
And he didn't like it. There's always been a person inside him that was so evil that it had scared him, even in his early childhood. While he'd come to terms with that persona since THAT day he couldn't accept it. That he saw her raven hair and that the boy was becoming more and more like his mother. That his lips were full and soft, and his eyes big and beautiful. That whenever he looked at the boy, Alba Sonal was looking back. And that this evil inside him wanted to come out, that it wanted to grap that boy like it wanted to grap Alba Sonal, and that it wanted to rip the child apart, slowly this time, so he'd last longer than the hour it had taken to tear...
He needed to stop thinking. The bastard would stay here for the time he was at the wedding, it was about time he got some practical training, anyway. It didn't take long for the boy to come after he had sent for him. And while the small figure stood before him, he tried not to look at him.
"This island", he slowly began and turned to it's snowcovered coast. "is used for pirates from all around the North Blue as some sort of base. On the other side of the island there's a big city, full of that scum. I expect hundred noses belonging to pirates you killed when I return in a week."
He turned once more, now facing the child. He didn't realize that his hand had moved forward and when he had, it was too late. The hair was soft, like that of a young kitten. Feeling it made him angry, angry with himself, with Alba Sonal and especially angry with the boy, so damn angry that he graped a handfull of the black locks and roughly pulled the six-year-old near. "Rob Lucci", he nearly spit into the kid's ear, fighting the other him that was so close from taking over "don't..."
He pushed the boy toward's the ramp leading to the island. "Don't dare to die."
The way to his booth had never taken that long.