The Breaking
Chapter 14

As promised, Alex returned to the mansion that evening together with the other two men. The twins had just taken their dinner and were in their room for bedtime. Sparrow had warned them to bolt their door that night. Despite their curiosity, they obeyed him, clutching to their toy weapons close to their bodies as they slept. Sparrow knew that the girl would wake later to sleep in her brother's bed, grasping tightly to her toy sword as she intended to protect the both of them and Daddy if she could. Reaver had fallen asleep in his arms a few hours ago, mere moments after he awoke from death. Why he had reacted like that was disturbing. Not only had Reaver never been this delicate but when Lady Grey awoke, she had conversed with strong conviction, her physique robust and full of life even though she had been broken into parts.

Alex followed Sparrow up to the bedroom to peek in on Reaver deep in slumber. He had wrapped the covers tightly around himself, breathing softly. Underneath the covers, he was still wearing the clothes he had died in. Sparrow placed a palm on the pirate's forehead; he was still cold. Alex turned to Sparrow. There was something conflicted in the butler's aura, like he was relieved yet troubled at the same time.

"Will he wake tonight?" Alex asked him. Sparrow shrugged. They watched the pirate sleep undisturbed for a while longer before Alex and the men decided to return to the inn. Sparrow offered them to stay in the mansion but they refused. Bowerstone Market was the lesser evil one of the men said. They left, taking a bit of Sparrow's sanity with them as he wondered what he was to do with Reaver should he wake. Sparrow laced his fingers through Reaver's locks, gently massaging his scalp. Reaver sighed in his sleep, as he shifted closer to the touch. Feeling fatigue take over him, Sparrow slipped under the covers next to the pirate who immediately grappled onto him. The cold took over Sparrow's own flesh as the other latched onto every single bit of warmth he had. Sparrow eventually fell asleep as well, feeling the chill on his skin but a burning within his chest.

When he awoke, it was with shock as cold lips were pressed onto the band of skin that was usually hidden under the leather strap around his neck. The leather strap was on the pillow next to him, threaded around long, elegant fingers. Once again, Sparrow tried to understand the pirate's habits but failed. Weighing down on his body was a nude Reaver. Dark hair tickled his skin as Reaver draped himself over him. For some reason, Reaver had stripped himself and thrown every article of clothing onto the floor even though his body felt icy to the touch. Sparrow's eyes darted to the mirror which stood by the window to see deathly white skin in contrast to his own. Reaver was still asleep, but no longer shivering. As he pulled the covers up around them, Sparrow listened to the sounds of the mansion. He rarely had to do this because the dead were quiet neighbours and the children slept like the dead. It was an old mansion hence; there were the occasional creaks and groans but it was usually silent. Now, Reaver was mumbling things into his skin, muttering half-formed sentences that Sparrow could not decipher. Sparrow did not sleep the rest of the night. When morning arrived, Sparrow watched the light spill slowly into the room and wash them both with a glow before untangling their limbs to go about his daily routines.

He told the twins to be quiet as they downed their breakfast. Do we have a guest, Daddy? Is he an old friend? Is he a hero? Is he strong like you, Daddy? Is he a bad man? He told them that Reaver loved the sound of his own voice. And that they should be polite and not mention his complexion. Or his tousled hair. They were eating their breakfast quietly when they heard soft footfalls padding down the staircase. Sparrow only hoped that Reaver did put on the clothes he had spread out before leaving the bedroom.

"My, my. This is interesting," he drawled when he entered the dining room, looking as pristine as ever as he commanded attention with his presence. Even the smirk was back in place as he eyed the scene before him. The twins stood up to greet the guest. Sparrow whispered to them that this was the Hero of Skill. Their eyes widened in recognition. They remembered the stories he told them, or rather, the schoolteacher had told them.

"My name is Rose, Mister Reaver. Daddy named me after his sister," Rose greeted as she curtsied, a big open smile pasted on her face. She was the more outspoken one of the two. Just like his sister had been. Sparrow ruffled her hair before he turned to the counter to cut up some bread. He heard Reaver snort and he flashed the pirate a glare to 'behave'. Children and the pirate was probably not such a good combination.

"M'name is Robin. Daddy never named me after anything," his son said, scowling.

"You got named after a bird. Like Daddy," Rose argued. Sparrow gritted his teeth as he turned, carefully avoiding Reaver's gaze. He expected the pirate to have a smirk on his face either of disgust or distaste. Rose clutched at his pants to tell him she wanted to leave and he hurried to give them their packed lunches. They ran to the door after yelling loud goodbyes to the men. Behind him, Reaver was silent.

"I used to know a Robin," he said. Sparrow grunted noncommittally. "Is he someone special, Hero?" Sparrow did not miss the mocking tone this time.

"Shut yer mouth, Reava," he demanded, earning a shocked laugh from the pirate. Reaver sat at the table watching him quietly and looking pleasantly content. How unreal. He handed Reaver a mug of warm water which he accepted, their fingers brushing. Sparrow watched him tip the mug on his lips; saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. When he finished the drink, Sparrow took the empty mug to wash.

"How domestic of you, Sparrow," Reaver commented, not without the smirk on his face. The sunlight shone on his face then and he truly seemed ethereal, the white of his skin making him look divine. He reached for Sparrow again, his thumb tracing the band of skin on his neck where the leather strap used to be. It almost felt like 'claiming' yet without the usual Reaver possessiveness. This was gentle and tender. In fact, Reaver was behaving unlike himself.

That day, Reaver decided to accompany him to the graves, sitting on headstones as he observed Sparrow working. He offhandedly made comments about the scenery, the quiet, and the parting messages on the tombstones. Never once did he mention his death or how it happened but Sparrow refused to ask. The sight of a dead Reaver had stained the back of his eyes and he was not willing to have to face it again so soon. All that mattered now was that the Hero of Skill was awake again, though changed somewhat. Sparrow watched Reaver twirl the leather collar between his fingers.

Alex returned to the mansion in the afternoon just after the twins returned home from school. It was most likely a blessing as with the children demanding Sparrow's attention, Reaver had been watching him with something heated. The twins asked Daddy where his 'necklace' was. Sparrow just shrugged and ordered they eat their greens. In the hallway, Alex conversed with Reaver about his health, physique and plans. Sparrow overheard that Reaver decided he wanted to stay for a while. 'I'm sure the Hero of Bowerstone wouldn't mind me staying.' He was right.

Reaver watched him spend time with his children, his gaze calculated. It was evident that he preferred to watch than be involved but Rose and Robin persuaded him to tell them stories. When Sparrow had remarked that the pirate loved the sound of his own voice, the children took it to mean that Reaver loved to tell tales. Surprisingly, Reaver relented as he told them about his travels and the people he met. He told them about weird habits and cultures. He told them about Garth and Hammer. Sparrow knew the children did not understand all that was said but they devoured every story with wide-eyed wonder, the words fuelling their imagination. It was a strange, yet not unpleasant scene before him: of Reaver entertaining children. When bedtime rolled around, Sparrow kissed the twins goodnight; they were already exhausted.

Reaver wound his hands around Sparrow that night. Sparrow had expected him to claim but he did not. He was gentle as he draped himself over Sparrow and fell asleep, his skin icy but the breaths on Sparrow's neck warm. Needless to say, Sparrow found it difficult to fall asleep again that night. He remembered thinking that this was almost how he pictured a perfect home should be when sleep finally beckoned him. He woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Panic flared in his chest until he saw that Reaver was watching the sky from the window. The moonlight caused a shimmer in his skin whenever he breathed, the fine hairs reflecting the light. Reaver ran his fingers through his hair smoothly, flawlessly. He was indeed a breathtaking sight.

"I met a couple in Samarkhand," Reaver started. Evidently, he knew Sparrow was awake. "They spoke of you. I recognised the wife as Lady Grey. Of course, she has another name, now." He tilted his head to gaze at Sparrow, the light catching his features in just the right way. The expression on his face suggested that he knew Sparrow understood who he was referring to. "I saw her in pieces, you know. Hacked up and scattered by the witchspotters. Hmph. Savages." Reaver faced the sky. "But to see her alive again and married…" he continued. "Well…I had to do something." Reaver looked over his shoulder at Sparrow. "I shot her."