Something Familiar

Part Five

Bloodstone was an experience.

Esther had seen the inside of Bowerstone Castle, she felt that would have been the most memorable experience, yet Bloodstone was probably one that would take a while to fade. The young woman followed behind a slightly better dressed man up towards Bloodstone Manor, where Reaver was residing, but her mind was on anything but him at the moment. Esther felt out of place, dressed in her modest clothing, hands clasped tightly in front of her as she walked up the streets of the pirate's town, prostitutes calling from street corners and outside buildings, drunks stumbling around.

The overall atmosphere of the town was dark, Esther taking her gaze away from a skimpily dressed woman before their eyes could meet and make the whole situation even more awkward for her. When she had met Reaver for the first time, she had been expecting that he lived somewhere in Bowerstone, but Bloodstone of all places? It was almost laughable in Esther's mind, and if she wasn't so uncomfortable and homesick, she might have cracked a smile. She brought her attention back to the man in front of her, who was walking towards a large building that was quickly coming into view with quick strides, only checking once or twice throughout the whole walk to make sure she was still following.

Esther glanced up at Bloodstone Manor once they entered the front gates, the girl's eyes moving from the statue out front, to the flowers, then the manor itself. She was a little overwhelmed by everything, her hands shaking and she felt like emptying the contents of her stomach. That was just on Bloodstone alone, if she were to put all her thoughts about Reaver on top of that, she wasn't sure how she would react. What was she going to do about him? Accept him?

No, there was no way. The man was not her father, they may share blood, but that didn't make him a parent. The moment she starts thinking that, Esther would probably have to be pretty far gone. Should she bring up the fact that she knows? Was it even true in the first place?

The door to the manor was open, Esther's guide stopping just inside as the girl took in the interior, all the red. She was never a fan of the colour, way too flashy, though it appeared that Reaver seemed to like it quite a bit. As she looked ahead into the main room on the first floor, the man she came to see was standing with his back to her, dressed sharply as he seemed to be looking into the fire, drink in hand. There was also an easel in the room with a blank canvas, with a set of paints and other drawing utensils. While Esther would be happy to have paints and everything she needed at hand, especially since what she arrived with was bare at best, she didn't seem to like this all that much.

It gave her the impression that she would need to owe him, and that was something she didn't like at all.

Though, at least she wouldn't have to beat around the bush about the portrait thing.

After a few moments, she realized that she would have to approach him herself, she walked towards the room, her footsteps a little hesitant. It was odd, how she had spoken to him when they had first met compared to now, that she would show hesitation, but the situation had changed rather drastically from her end.

"Mister Reaver?" Esther asked after a few more moments of silence, walking into the room where she could feel the heat of the fireplace. It was a welcoming change from the chilliness of the town outside and the damp cold of the cabins in the lower deck of the ship she had arrived on.

Reaver turned around, he hadn't changed a bit since she had last seen him, which didn't do much to soothe her nerves. He still gave her the same smile, the cocky one that made him seem like he was always looking down his nose at her.

"Esther, welcome to my humble abode," Reaver said as he walked towards her a little bit, finishing off whatever he had been drinking and placed the glass down on a nearby table, "I trust your voyage was a pleasurable one?"

He sounded like he couldn't care less. Though, Esther felt that it wouldn't make a difference if she told him about her sea sickness and the lack of interaction throughout the whole thing. "It's was fine, thank you," she settled on, taking a glance around the room.

"So, how did you want this portrait?" she continued, feeling that she wanted nothing more than to get started and leave as soon as possible, though she should have expected that it wouldn't have been that simple.

"Forget the portrait until after you have been settled in and have eaten," Reaver said, placing a gloved hand between her shoulders as he lead her out of the room and back out into the main foyer, Esther allowing him to do so with slight irritation.

If he wanted to be a good host, she wouldn't stand in his way.

He lead her up to one of the bedrooms upstairs, Reaver leaving her alone to settle in. She half expected him to stay, but she was relieved when he left and she guessed that she wouldn't be seeing him until they would be eating. While she really did want to just get the painting finished and to go back to Oakfield, she had to admit that she was very hungry. The food that she had been given on the voyage over was minimal at best, but at least they fed her.

Esther took a glance around the room she would be staying in, a bed sat by the fireplace that looked much more comfortable than the one she had been sleeping in at home, certainly more comfortable than the one on the ship, if that even counted as one. It was, just like most of the house, overly red. She stood in the middle of the room, not too sure what to do with herself.

After a few more moments, she decided to sit down on the edge of the bed and look at the fire.

Dinner was awkward at best, Esther keeping most of her attention on what was sitting in front of her on the plate. There were a number of things she wanted to say, many of which she almost said, but bit back. She was tired, and a little more than frustrated. Not with Reaver himself, though he was certainly not helping, but mostly with herself. She needed to say something, to tell him that she knew. Though, she couldn't help but feel that admitting it would mean that she was accepting it, and she honestly wasn't sure if she even wanted to.

He was nothing to her, another customer that wanted a painting from her. Though, she was curious. Always so curious, though never as curious as she was at the moment. What was she even doing here? Why did she jump at the chance to go to Bloodstone to make him a portrait? It was partly the money, they needed any they could get, but there was also an appeal for just Esther, herself, though. Her mother couldn't care less about Reaver, but Esther felt like she wanted to know.

"I know what you were trying to tell me when we met in Bowerstone," Esther blurted out after she had picked at her last piece of food, looking up at him finally. Reaver had finished his food and was leaning back in his chair, looking at her curiously.

"Oh, do you?" he asked, eyebrow quirked slightly as Esther looked away from him for a few moments, leaning back in her own chair a little bit as she clasped her hands together in thought.

"How did you figure it out?" Esther asked, looking back at him, "Did my mother tell you?"

"No, I honestly don't remember your mother," Reaver replied, reaching into his coat to grab something, Esther tensing up slightly. She had seen the pistol that hung at his side, not to mention that she had come down to witness him pointing it at one of his house staff, though she was thankful that he chose not to shoot the man. Her eyebrows furrowed when he tossed a folded paper towards her.

"I managed to piece it together when I came across that," he continued, Esther making no move to pick up what he had placed down on the table, "Though, I have to admit that I was rather surprised that you walked back into my life. I was under the impression that I wouldn't ever have to meet you."

Esther gingerly picked up the paper then, her gaze meeting his for a few moments before she opened it up, looking down at the photo. It was the very same that she had wondered about for a month or so after it was taken, her eyebrows furrowing. It was a little unsettling that Reaver was able to pick up that she must have been related to him by just looking at a photo, she must have looked a lot like him.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, looking up from the photo, "You honestly don't want a portrait from me, judging from the ones you choose to keep. So, what else is there that you want from me?"

Reaver chuckled, his facial expression not changing. It bothered her that he wasn't as bothered about all of this as she was. "I'm pleased that you are so observant," he said after a few moments, "then I feel that I should give you some respect and tell you what I really called you here for. I want your cooperation."

"My cooperation?" Esther asked wearily, her eyebrows furrowed, "My cooperation in what?"

"In being my daughter," Reaver said, waving his hand slightly, "In public, at least. I honestly don't care how you view me while in my home."

"Why?" Esther asked, "What do you need me to pretend to be your daughter for?"

"Technically, you won't be pretending, as you actually are my daughter, but I wish to get into the good graces of Queen Sparrow. It may not work with her, exactly, as we do have some history, but her heirs may be inclined to keep me around. That, or I feel that I should at least be part of her noble circle."

"You believe that I will be able to do that for you?" Esther asked, "That having me hanging off your arm and telling everyone how wonderful my father is will change her view on you? I had met her before, I'm sure she will see something is up."

"Well, I only ask that you leave that to me," Reaver said, looking at her directly, "I am willing to pay you."

"You'll pay me to be your daughter?" she asked with a laugh, her eyebrows raised, "You aren't serious."

"Oh, I am very," Reaver said, "I'll pay you more than I offered to get you out of here. You could live here with me and send that money back home to your poor mother. I believe that is a rather generous offer, as I could just keep you here at gunpoint."

The look that crossed Esther's face was anger, but he could see the wheels turning in her head. He knew that he had gotten her, even as she excused herself from the table and didn't say anything else, he knew that he had won.

He'd let her tumble that around in her head for a while, then see if she is more willing to agree the following day.