Secrets
By Lindsay R. Honosky
Chapter Ten: Tales of Yesteryear
Well, this is the chapter that's either going to hang me or allow me to continue, lol. There are some steamy bits in the chapter, so don't say I didn't warn you. And this chapter is loooong; extremely long, I might say, and I am so sorry for that -_-. I wanted to make this a ten chapter story, but I guess that's not going to happen, lol.
Anyway, thank you all for reading my story, and please send me a review, so I know whether to continue or not, lol. And to WolfCrystal...HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY :D
There was an annoying stiffness to her leg that morning, but the potion had done its job (not to mention a good night's sleep). Alchemy had always fascinated Sparrow, but not enough to actually divulge into its minute details. As she passed her time in Brightwood Tower, she had stumbled across a few tomes on the matter, yet she gave most only a passing glance. She was much more interested in Garth's magical journals; detailed schematics on recreating cullis gates, how Demon Doors came to be, how to create cross-dimensional spaces. Most were things Sparrow could only have imagined in dreams, but then what was Will but an extension of one's imagination? As she quietly paced the laboratory, Sparrow wondered how much power one would need to accomplish such feats.
The sun was just barely coming over the mountains when she finished packing her things. Not surprisingly, Reaver had barely made a sound, up in the highest room in the tower. Sparrow wondered if it were truly safe for him to sleep in that bed, what with its strange little adventure cursed into it. She supposed, since he hadn't complained, that "Chesty" was well and gone, only leaving that little trophy behind. Sparrow almost regretting getting rid of the creature; that would have made a wonderful prank to play on the Hero of Skill. She sighed, buttoning her Highwayman's coat to her neck, her sore arm welcoming its warmth. There wasn't a sound to be heard from the room above, and Sparrow knew if she didn't wake him they would be walking to Bowerstone in darkness. She noticed the hatch to the upper room had been left open. Shaking her head, Sparrow began climbing the wooden ladder that lead to the attic, seriously considering just leaving him behind.
The sun crossed the room in golden brilliance, the dust floating in the air causing the space to sparkle in its radiance. The leaves of trees outside cast pleasant shadows across the stone walls, giving the impression that they were painted there in masterful detail. A gentle breeze stirred the air, caressing her cheek. It was going to be a wonderful day, perhaps one of the last before winter fully set in. In the shadows of the balcony's doorway rested a small water bison with a mirror, the ensorcelled bed not far from it, and laying upon it was a sleeping Reaver. Even from this distance she could make out the distressed lines that cornered at his eyes, his mouth drawn and lips white. Unsure if she should wake him, Sparrow continued to watch him, about to climb down the ladder when a scream tore from his lips. It startled her to the point of almost screaming herself, however she quickly gathered herself and went to his bedside, hoping he wouldn't slam her against his bed once more.
Eyes darted behind closed lids, and she could faintly make out a glittering trail where tears had fallen. She frowned, brushing aside a stray lock of hair from between his eyes. Sparrow sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his hair gently, "You are some piece of work, you know that?" He stayed silent, watching a horror she could only imagine, "Here I am, absolutely furious at you for being, well, you," her eyes softened, and she leaned down closer to his face, "and then you start showing signs of humanity that start me asking so many questions about you." Frightened mumbles continued to flow from him, completely unaware of his conversation with Sparrow. She sighed, "I'll get you back for this." She gently kissed his forehead, feeling how feverish his skin was. Reaver moved slightly beneath her, and for a moment she was scared he would wake. Then he said a familiar name, Lyanna or some sort, and continued to mumble, lost in his nightmare. Sparrow rubbed her eyes and stood, walking quietly to the ladder.
"How long have you been standing there?" The hoarseness of his voice worried her, but then she remembered the soul wrenching scream he had just produced moments ago.
Sparrow shrugged, "Not long; I came to wake you."
"I see," he eyed her suspiciously, kicking away the blankets that had previously covered his person. Sparrow had to shy away when she found him dressed in little to nothing but undergarments. He gave her a wicked smile, "Embarrassment is such an adorable look for you, if I do say so." She said nothing as he walked sluggishly towards the sink, eyes not fully focused.
She was about to go down to the lower level when she heard him snicker. She turned, raising an eyebrow, "What is it?"
He was fingering the very spot her lips had graced mere moments before, "And here I thought you would try to kill me in my sleep. How pleased I am to find it to be quite the opposite."
Sparrow felt fire alight in her face, "I don't have the foggiest idea as to what you're talking about, Reaver."
"You're blush would suggest quite a different tale, my dear." He put his hands behind his back, eying her luridly.
She stepped closer to the opening in the floor, "You're eyes must be going bad," she bent down to reach for the first rung, "you are a senior citizen, after all...!"
A shot rang out, and the hatch shut under its force, nearly smacking her hand. Sparrow turned, about to shout, when instead she was surprised to meet deep forest green eyes so close she could feel the heat from his body. He drew closer still, forcing her back against the wall, "I believe this is close enough for your inspection, is it not?"
Sparrow smirked, clearly seeing the lip marks from her pink lipstick, "Perhaps someone snuck in whilst we were sleeping and accosted you?"
"Trust me, little Sparrow," The look he gave her made her stomach do flips, "if it were anything more than a small kiss, I'd have known."
The way they were standing was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, at least for Sparrow, as Reaver was still extremely under-dressed. She put gloved hands between herself and his chest, her laugh sounding weaker than she would have liked, "Reaver, you're very much naked."
He laughed, taking her hands in one of his, "And you are very much not." As quick as lightening her arms were above her head, his face mere inches from her's, "I find that troublesome." Panic threatened to take hold of her as his face inched closer and closer...
Her knee rose to meet his stomach before she even knew what she was doing. Her arms free, Sparrow flung open the hatch, jumping down into the lower level. She could hear Reaver laughing above her between gasps of breath, "Good...good show, little Sparrow! Such an...interesting game...you play...!"
She rolled her eyes, the blush yet to recede from her face, "You'd better catch your breath before you put your clothes on. Wouldn't want you passing out, now!" Jack could be heard barking outside, and Sparrow rushed to greet him, thankful for a task to take her mind off the well carved body she had just immobilized.
She sat upon the top step leading into the tower's larder, examining the moss covered statue that rested before her. The gates that surrounded this place were on their last legs, however she knew not if she should hire someone to repair them of leave them be. It would be to dangerous to have someone come fix them, what with the bandits and Hobbes that seemed to constantly infest this land. Not to mention the random Spire cast-offs that appeared every now and then. Chills would go up her spine every time she had to look upon the Commandant's cool, malicious face, remembering the pain he had so enjoyed inflicting upon her. She pulled her knees into her chest, griping them tightly as she rested her chin upon her arms, I wonder how much longer I would have lasted...?
Jack barked happily beside her, taking her dark thoughts away. She followed his gaze to find Reaver had finally emerged, fully clothed and packed. He gave the dog an annoyed glance as Jack sat down, begging to be petted. Reaver sighed, patting the dog lightly on the head, "There now, leave me alone for the rest of the day." Jack barked, then went to Sparrow's side, resuming his happy tail wagging.
Sparrow turned her back to him and began to walk down the hill, "We need to hurry. Thanks to you we probably won't make it to Bowerstone before the gates close."
"Gates?" He had caught up to her quickly; damn his long legs.
Sparrow shrugged, "The bandit problem had become just to much to handle at night, along with other unsavory visitors. I couldn't tell you how many times I've had to kill Hobbes in some fool's larder."
"Why Sparrow! That sounds much like a task a line to community service." There was a playful tone to his voice that made her cringe.
She frowned, refusing to look at the man who was now at her side, "I may have accidentally blown out a window or two when my magic was still...unstable."
Reaver stepped back, "It is not still in an unstable state, is it?"
She raised a hand, fire engulfing it, "Would you like to find out?"
He laughed, continuing his carefree pace, "No, thank you. I trust in your confidence."
The flame went out, and Sparrow shoved her hands into her pockets, "Shame. I would have loved to show you."
"Are you so violent to all your little crushes? It was cute before, Sparrow dear, but now I believe your little love taps might actually hurt me."
Despite herself, she giggled, "I never thought you'd compare whatever it is we have to a child's teasing game."
"Ah, so you admit there is something!"
"I...!" He walked ahead of her, laughing. Sparrow fought to keep up, "Let's get this straight, right here and now, Reaver. There is nothing between us. Nothing!" He laughed again, and Sparrow growled. Jack just followed along, blissfully unaware of his mistress's most awkward predicament.
The forest of Brightwood was lovely during the day. The sun shown brightly in a pristine sky, light raining down between the now rich reds and yellows of the trees. The white path that lay out before them practically glittered like diamond dust, looking to be a magical road that guided them to their destination. Ruins from people long ago appeared here and there, adding to the groves already mystical feel. A smile came to her face as Sparrow remembered playing in these woods with the gypsy children, on those rare occasions Thereasa would allow it. They reached a tiny fork in the road; to heir left would lead to Bowerstone, to the right Giles Farm. Jack whimpered, sniffing the air hopefully. Sparrow patted his head, "You know where we're going, boy." He barked mournfully; Jack did love chasing Giles's chickens.
She looked back to see how tired Reaver seemed, his eyes squinted even in the shade. Sparrow stopped, "Are you feeling well?"
Reaver seemed to jump slightly, pulled from the world of his thoughts, "Oh? Oh, yes, I'm fine." He raised an eyebrow, "Why do you ask?"
She shrugged, "You just look tired, that's all."
She regretted the words as soon as the flew from her mouth, "Perhaps it's from that late night ravishing you so cruelly did in my sleep?" His smile only grew wider as she stormed off ahead of him.
Sparrow was well ahead of them when she decided to stop and wait, not knowing how long it had been since Reaver's last visit through these woods. Leaning against what looked to be an old stone railing, Sparrow crossed her arms and closed her eyes, listening to the sweet songs of the birds just out of view.
Then she heard a twig snap, and her pistol was drawn before her eyes were even open. Not more than six feet away was one of those cocky Highway Men, his face covered behind a red cloth. She didn't notice any others; troubling, as they usually traveled in groups of three. The hammer of her gun clicked back, and she barked, "Were are your partners?"
"That hurts, love. Aren't I enough?" She gave him a warning shot, right next to his left foot. He held his ground, admirable for scum, "Quick to anger, aren't you?"
She smiled sweetly, her thumb returning to the hammer, "I'll not ask you again."
The man's arm twitched, a desperate attempt to reach for a gun. However before he could even unclasp the holster his head flew into a million pieces, the body falling to the ground with a great thump. She heard Reaver call to her, and she rolled forward just in time to avoid being scissored by two striking katanas. Sparrow cursed, drawing her own blade to parry another Highway Man's follow up strike, hoping Reaver would take care of the other. The startled yelp she heard from behind her opponent confirmed that, and as the dead man's companion turned to see the new incomer, Sparrow flicked his sword away and drove hers through his stomach, the metal sawing through his backbone. He fell to the ground as she wrenched her weapon from him, blood splattering along the road, defiling its pristine brilliance. The man couldn't move, but she was surprised to hear him beg for mercy. As quickly as she could, Sparrow drove her blade into the man's heart, his death rattle eerily silent amidst the trees.
Sunlight hit the gold highlights of Reaver's gun as he holstered it with a flourish. A grim grin adorned his features, and he looked down at the men with distaste, "Amazing that such idiots still exist who would attack two such famous killers as we."
Sparrow flicked her blade, cleaning it of most of the blood in a small rain of crimson. She sighed, feeling tired, "Indeed. However combat is a lucky man's game."
"Lucky for us those lads weren't quite so lucky!" His smile widened, apparently proud of himself.
Sparrow rolled her eyes, saying sarcastically, "What wit you've obtained over the years." She ignored his retort, instead scouting the area. There didn't seem to be any signs of more attackers, however in these woods one could rarely tell. Sometimes the creatons would hide atop the trees, jumping down on the unsuspecting traveler or merchant; most of them unlucky enough not to be around her at that time. Sparrow had lost count of the amount of dead bodies she would find along these roads. Thankfully some of that had calmed down, what with Lucien gone and the need for captured slaves drastically declining, however there were still thieves, like those Highway Men, so she had to keep on her toes. Satisfied there would be no more attackers, Sparrow sheathed her sword and continued on, trying to avoid the bloody puddle beneath her (though her coat was very much covered in the red stuff).
It took them a few more hours to reach a place Sparrow had forgotten; the statue of her, placed in the middle of the next cross-roads. She heard Reaver whistle, and though she tried to sprint by it he caught her by the arm, and amused look glinting in his eye. He nodded towards the marble figure, "Well, well. What a simply spectacular work of art!"
"Let me go, Reaver...!" His hand slid down the length of her arm, grasped her hand, and he twirled her into his chest, wrapping his other arm around her waist. She struggled like a cat trying to be let down, "I'm serious, we're going to be late-!"
"I do hope you pose like that for all your statues, my dear," he interrupted, "though I must say I'd rather see it in person."
"That...that was a long time ago!" Her shout echoed down into the valley, catching the attention of a few passersby. An old couple that went by whispered "What a cute couple", which both infuriated and embarrassed a very caught Sparrow.
Reaver's eyes went up to the statue, then down to her own, then back to the statue, "I don't think it was very long ago. Perhaps ten or so years?"
"I was twenty and stupid, now," she tried to stomp on his foot but missed, cursing.
"I must say I rather approve of your choice in clothing. A simple corset with those lovely little shorts you wear, but what happened to that jacket?" He raised an eyebrow, the shape matching that of his lips, "And I must say that the finger to the lip is an extremely well thought of touch!"
She was becoming breathless, and people were beginning to gather around them to watch, "Reaver, if you don't let me go in the next ten seconds, I'll-!"
"You'll what? Make a more interesting show for our audience?" He leaned closer to her ear and purred, "I wonder what rumors they'll spread, seeing their great Hero in the arms of the King of Pirates?"
Sparrow eyed him with icy daggers, whispering, "I'll scream rape."
Reaver's head flew back, the man practically shaking with laughter. He released her then, resting his previously occupied hand on the dias of the statue. The look on Sparrow's face must have frightened the watchers off, and it probably should have Reaver, but he was no ordinary man. Instead he regained his breath, leaning against the cool stone behind him, "I wonder why it is so hard for you to show me this Sparrow." He emphasized "this", jabbing his thumb towards her likeness.
"Because people grow up, Reaver." She didn't even give him a second glance, merely continued up the hill. She heard his feet crunching in the dirt beneath him, and she imagined it was her ribs she were smashing into the ground. She had asked that stupid artist a million times to change that idiotic statue; that she would pay her twice the amount it had cost to make if she would only get rid of it. Apparently her words went unheeded, and there she stood in all her flirtatious glory; no wonder people around here called her "Dumpling".
Sparrow had barely noticed the sky turning a bright orange, then a deep red, until finally they were clear of the woods entirely. She groaned, the sound seeming to pull the last bit of strength from her body as she hunched over, defeated. Reaver came up beside her, crossing his arms, "Well now, I believe we're going to be quite late to Bowerstone."
She wheeled on him, pointing a finger to his face, "If you hadn't decided to be such a bloody arse back there, maybe we would have been inside the city by now!"
He lowered her finger with his own, "Now now, Sparrow, if one doesn't stop to enjoy the simple things in life, well, what's the point in living?"
She glared at him, "I hope you're ready to go without a meal tonight, since we're quite out of food."
Reaver looked to his left, then to his right, in such a dramatic motion that Sparrow almost punched him, "I do believe this is near Hero Hill, is it not? Do you're little gypsy friends lock up their home at night as well?"
"I'm not taking you anywhere near that place, Reaver!" She crossed her arms, blue eyes like cold flames.
He clicked his tongue at her, turning down the path towards the tiny outpost, "Trust me, Sparrow dear, the last thing I wish to do is pillage some worthless hut to find nothing but dirty socks and a few coppers." She shouted after him but he ignored her, keeping a faster pace on purpose, so she had no chance to stop him.
Despite her current company, it made Sparrow's heart warm to see the place again. Nothing had changed, not the little huts, not the strings of washed clothes that hung through the camp, not the wild little children running around barefoot, and not the lovely people who had so openly welcomed her to their home. Sparrow sat on her "porch", the old cart she had grown up in remaining the ever decrepit mess she'd left it. Of all the places she had bought and rented, this remained solely her's; and she was thankful for the chief to leave it to her even after her ten year absence. The place was tiny, clearly fit for one person, but it had room enough for two if you really tried, and Jack had always preferred the outdoors anyway. Her tiny white rug that tried to hide years of heel marks was now covered in stains from food and who knew what else, the bed nothing but simple straws with ragged blankets. Sparrow leaned back, taking in the familiar smells of burning tobacco and cooking food. She was home, she thought, a warm smile spreading across her face.
Not to her surprise there was some commotion near the main fire pit, and she watched in annoyance as Reaver chatted up some of the girls she grew up with. They were all staring at him as if he were some sort of God, gracing them with his presence, serenading them with his golden voice. She laughed, wondering how well he would be received if only they knew him as she did. A braver girl (Becky, if her memory served her right) walked up and started dancing before him. She saw Reaver laugh, then take the girl by the hand and twirl her into a waltz; Sparrow could only imagine how hard it was for the poor girl to stay standing.
"I remember you dancing like that, though it was on my toes, and you were much smaller then." A familiar old voice chimed beside her, and Sparrow smiled.
"Duncan! I thought you'd be around here somewhere."
"You can't get rid of ol' Duncan, can ya love?" He smiled behind white whiskers, deep brown eyes sparkling with either joy, inebriation, or both.
Sparrow shook her head, "I'd never dare to try." She moved over slightly, giving the old man room to sit, "How have you been, old man?"
"Same as ever; poor and drunk. But happy, what with the way things are now." He handed her a blue bottle, "I never did get to thank you for saving the world, did I poppet?"
Sparrow held the bottle to her face, eying it curiously, "Green Fairy? That's a rather expensive poison, don't you think?"
"Aye, and worth every penny!" They shared a laugh, a sound Sparrow did not know her heart was missing. The old man calmed, however, and eyed the supposedly young man dancing with another girl by the fire, "I take it you two aren't together, then?"
She shot back the bottle, taking a generous drink before answering, "No, not at all."
"Probably for the best, what with the way he seems to flirt with, well, anything." The old man looked at her more closely, "Is that a spark of jealously I see?"
"Duncan," she sighed, taking another healthy gulp, "I'm not drunk enough for this conversation."
"You will be soon, if you keep putting that stuff away like that." He patted her on the back, "Look at those silly girls, dancing around in those belly shirts; someone should show them how it's done."
Sparrow lifted her bottle, "By all means-!" She hiccuped, the world seeming to swirl around her.
"As grand as that might be, no," he laughed, "I meant you, love. I remember you were the envy of all them fillies back in the day."
Sparrow giggled, "Back in the day, I also didn't have a lecherous pirate watching me."
"I think you'd want him to, darlin'."
The bottle she was holding had somehow become empty, and she eyed it with disappointment, "You know what?" Sparrow's words began to slur, and as she stood the world tilted, "I think I will!"
Duncan laughed, flashing a mouth with maybe one or two good teeth, "That's my girl! Don't forget your outfit, now; I'm sure Sadie left it on you're nightstand." He watched her go into the hut, then laughed louder as the door slammed shut in front of him.
Sparrow had forgotten how sweet the chimes of her skirt were, the tiny silver bells singing with each of her steps. The cool night air felt pleasant on her exposed mid-section, the soft silk sleeves billowing in the winter breeze. Her feet were bare, save a single gold anklet she had bought when she was sixteen; the first thing she had every bought herself. She blushed a little as the men (and some women) watched her walking towards the fire pit with lack-jaw expressions. Was she really so pretty? Who knew, she didn't care; she was to drunk to care. Her eyes fell upon Lionel, who was standing next to Duncan with an all knowing smile. She tilted her head; he knew what song to play. As the lute began a much slower, calming song, Sparrow took her stance.
It took the camp mere moments to quiet down and find her, standing in the shadows of the firelight. She wondered if Reaver knew it was her yet, what with her back arched and her arm curled gracefully over her head. Sparrow had loved to dance; Thereasa had encouraged it, probably to help with her stamina and reflexes. Whatever the reason, Sparrow's heart sang as the drums began to bang, and the lute began to pick up pace. As the flute began to play, Sparrow moved closer to the fire, twirling in a sea of gold and red silks.
Soon enough the camp was clapping in rhythm, her hips causing her skirt to chime in unison. On the tips of her toes she danced and swayed around the fire, feeling as if her body were an extension of the flames. She was in her world now, unable to see the eyes that were so transfixed on her. She kicked up her leg and winked at a man who was taking a drink of beer, the result was him spewing it from his mouth. The crowd roared with laughter as she continued to dance around them, grabbing anyone who wished to join her. She remembered similar nights, nights that seemed forever ago, when she would do this with bells tied in her hair, joining in the revels of her people. The air was cool no longer, and it seems as though she were flying.
The song was ending, and she was nearing the crowd of young women who hid someone from her view. She smirked mischievously, moving her body in time with the music closer and closer until she was before them, twirling on one foot. Then on the last beat of the drum she brought herself down to the ground, he legs split and her head bowed, chest heaving as the crowd cheered and whistled. The girls gave her such hateful looks; Sparrow only smiled at them. As they departed, Sparrow stood before their guarded treasure. Reaver stood, eyes wide in wonder, rendered utterly speechless. Sparrow laughed, flicking a strand of his hair from his nose, "You asked to see a different side of me, did you not?"
He stammered, then cleared his throat, "That...was rather good."
The camp continued their festivities, playing a song that was normally ment for wedding feasts. Sparrow laughed, then gave Reaver a little curtsy, "Well, shall we?"
"Shall we what-?" She grabbed his hands from his side, pulling him into the fray of the other dancing couples. She laughed again, watching his bewildered face as she guided him through the steps of the dance, the beat of the music. It wasn't long before she saw a genuine smile cross his face, and he too joined in her laughter. They twisted and twirled, passing each other off to the next partner, until they were reunited once more. Reaver held out her hand, Sparrow spining out to the full length of her arm. Right as she returned to his embrace the music stopped, and they stared deeply at one another.
Sparrow giggled, burying her head in his chest, "I...I believe I may be drunk."
"Of course you are," he sighed, looking around. He spotted Jack resting beside a small cart; as good a sign as any that that was her 'home'. Reaver leaned her gently out of his embrace, "Shall I walk you home, then?"
She seemed unsure, as if she might wish to dance a bit more. Then she shrugged, grabbing his hand in her's, "Come on then. I'll give you the grand tour." Laughing, she lead him through the crowd, receiving even more heated looks from her previously scorned neighbors.
Once there, Sparrow fell to her familiar seat with an 'oomph!', her legs thanking her for the rest. She sighed, rubbing the gently, "I suppose I am getting a bit old for that."
"I thought you were magnificent," Reaver sat next to her, his eyes distant.
Sparrow leaned against him, closing her eyes, "Thank you."
"No," there was a deep longing in his voice, "thank you, Sparrow."
She leaned up, watching his face. There was something...wrong, a sadness so deep it crushed her, "Reaver...?"
"I had a wife, once. A very long time ago." He looked at her, smiling, "You remind me of her, though I dare say she killed a lot less."
Sparrow shrugged, "What can I say? You do what you're good at."
"Of course," he laughed, looking up into the sky.
She leaned down on his shoulder once more, enjoying his warmth, "Tell me about her."
"I did promise I would, didn't I? It's a rather sobering story, my dear, and you are so pleasantly drunk."
"I doubt I'll remember much of it anyway," she slurred, closing her eyes.
"Hmph," he laughed, "as you wish. Her name was Lyanna; a pure angel among mortals. We grew up together on a farm in Oakvale, and I had idolized her since her first glance at me. She and I were closer than anyone I had ever known, and the day she agreed to be my wife was..." He trailed off, looking at his hands, "was the greatest day of my life. We were married for a few years; during that time we found that I had heroic abilities. She was so proud, even though she too had hero's blood in her."
"Oh?"
"Yes," he smiled sweetly, "she was a healer. Lyanna could not use lethal magicks, but she once pulled a man from the very fire, even after everyone else had given up on him. And she would bloody well help everyone too!" There was an angry annoyance in his voice, and Sparrow looked up with arched brows. He laughed sadly, "She had found a bandit on the road, on the brink of death, or so I'd heard, and dragged him back to our home. She was eight months pregnant, and she brought a damn bandit back from the road with her!"
"You...you had a child?"
"The key word there is had, my dear." He brooded over this for a moment, and Sparrow thought he wouldn't continue. However he did, and with a voice that poorly hid the torture behind the words, "The man attacked us in our sleep. He was the reason why...why I wished to become immortal. I just wanted to means to protect them, for as long as the days continued."
"Reaver, what happened?" She sat up, fully awake, staring deeply into his eyes. His lip quivered for a moment, and he had to turn his gaze from her. She frowned, reaching out a hand to touch his face, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."
"No, I-," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Sparrow, I haven't told this to anyone. Ever. In the entirety of my centuries of life; not a soul." The look on his face brought tears to her eyes, "Not a night has gone by that I haven't relived what I'd done. I race alongside my younger self, just as panicked, just as worried, and just as terrified as I hear her cry from above the hill. I get there just in time to witness the death of my daughter, followed soon by the death of my wife. I fought them, Sparrow, I did...I tried, so hard...but I...I...!"
Placing both hands gently on his cheeks, Sparrow leaned in and kissed him lightly, tears falling from her eyes. The pain she could feel coming from him was heartbreaking; it amazed her that the man was able to stand, let alone speak. His hand met her's, and he returned her kiss, more deeply, a searing need behind his lips. She stood, bringing him up with her as they shared another passionate kiss, her body afire with his presence. She gasped as he lifted her off her feet, carrying her inside the tiny cart. The door closed with a bang as his boot kicked it shut, a small whimper coming from Jack outside.
Reaver sat her gently on the bed, kissing her as his body loomed above her's. Their tongues intertwined for a few wonderful moments, until he pulled away, leaving her breathless. As he worked on undoing his shirt, Sparrow began to unlace the dancer's top that looped around her neck, watching as it crumpled to the ground. She gasped as Reaver returned to her, the hotness of his skin setting her own ablaze, their lips reuniting once more. She bit playfully at his bottom lip, receiving a delightful groan form her effort, and he attacked her with full force. Sparrow fell atop the bed, his tongue diving ever deeper into her mouth, tasting every bit of her. He pulled away once more, looking down into her sparkling blue eyes, and smiled. She returned the expression, grabbing his hair and pulling him back down to her, this time taking control of their tiny bout.
It did not last long, for he began to trace the outline of her jaw with kisses, his tongue gracefully following the fragile bone structure until he came to her breasts. Her breath hitched as he took a swollen bud into his mouth, flicking it every so skillfully with the tip of his tongue. She dug her hands farther into his hair, shuddering as cool fingers found her other nipple, and he teased her between gasps and giggles. His mouth soon switched to the other, though his hand traveled along her navel, then to her thigh, then the hotness inbetween that made her cry out. Her hips arched, causing the skirt to jingle, as his finger stroked her wetness teasingly. She could barely make out the wolfish grin he flashed her in the dark, but she was to weak to care. Instead another moan escaped her as a finger entered her, then another. He was breathing heavily as he stroked her slowly, his need clearly showing through tightening pants. Sparrow felt herself on the edge; she moaned once more, but was cut off by his lips, and they once again entangled each other in a passionate kiss.
She wrapped both arms and legs around him, pulling him closer; she could feel him against her through his pants. She smiled wickedly, finding the clasp to his belt and quickly discarding the troublesome garment. It was his turn to gasp as she undid the ties to his pants, pulling him from their tightness. For a moment she hesitated, wondering if this were the right thing to do. Then that little voice would disappear, and with courage that only alcohol could give she guided him into her, digging the hand which had remained around his shoulder deep into his skin.
She cried out as he drove into her, gently at first but then slowly gaining pace. Pleasure wracked her body, leaving her breathless as she mewled helplessly beneath him, her eyes shut tightly. She could her him moaning just as she, the noises sending her on the brink of insanity, until he leaned down once more a planted kisses along her neck. He nipped her lightly beneath the ear, whispering her name. Crazy. She was going insane. Then she shattered, all rational thought drowned in a sudden storm of ecstacy. She felt something hot spilling into her, his own cry joining her's until she kissed him deeply, her head floating between the clouds. Reaver soon rested atop her, his head between her breasts, both panting and sweaty. His calm, peaceful face was the last thing she saw before sweet sleep took her.