Please note that this chapter has adult descriptions in it. For the explicit version, please read this on Archive of Our Own. If you wish for a more censored version, please read this on fanfictiondotnet.

Birds of a Feather

The Curse of the Black Pearl

Chapter Forty-Three

Rising Temperatures

As Syrena expected the crew was happily welcomed to Saint Albinus with open arms. They were only too glad to help restock the crew that captured those who terrorized them over the past decade. Even better they fully accepted the offer to take the pirates off of their hands for hanging. As great as the victory of bringing fifty pirates back to Port Royal would have been, Norrington conceded that the time and expense of feeding them and guarding them was just not worth the effort.

Weatherby became Syrena's favorite Swann when she got to shore with the rest of the crew and he revealed that he had proactively bargained to keep Ragetti and Pintel. No one was quite sure what to do with the duo as technically they should be hung, but they also didn't want a pissed off mermaid for an enemy. No doubt Norrington and the Governor would have a long drawn out negotiation over what to do with the pair.

As for Jack Sparrow, there was no way Norrington was releasing him into anyone else's custody. Captain Jack Sparrow would be hung upon Port Royal's gallows and that was the end of it.

For the moment, no one was paying much attention to the impending doom of Jack Sparrow. It was a problem to be solved at another time. For now all of their focus was on unloading the other pirates onto Saint Albinus and restocking the ship with supplies. Syrena and the Swanns in particular were hot commodities as they were the only ones who could translate.

It played right into Will and Syrena's hands.

"Commodore," Syrena approached Norrington with Will on her heels. "We have a problem."

Norrington, who was in the middle of directing the mess around him, really did not have the time for this, "What problem is that, Miss Finson?"

"It's the fish mongers," Will explained. "The prices they're asking are just too high."

"Surely with all the discounts the people of this town have been offering-"

"It's still too much. The area is pretty well fished out, so they mostly raise livestock. I think you can agree that we don't have much room to take on more hens, and the amount of time it would take to break down and preserve the other types of meats available-"

"I see your point," Norrington had to agree. "I suppose we'll just have to go without."

"Or…" Syrena cut in.

Norrington raised an eyebrow, "Or?"

She looked around conspiratorially and then leaned in and whispered, "There is a place Barbossa used to let me sneak off to to fish. It is very hard for a non-mermaid to access, so there's plenty of fish there. I could go there and bring back a nice stock."

He narrowed his eyes, "What's the catch?"

"I'll need help with the nets and hauling everything back. I respectfully request that Mister Turner and Mister Swift accompany me."

Norrington shook his head, "No, I can send a few of my men-"

"Men who won't cause a scene when Syrena turns into a mermaid?" Will shot.

James sighed, "I see your point. I'm not too happy with this idea. It just sounds like an excuse to get more alone time."

There was a pause of silence as Will and Syrena looked at each other. The unspoken well, technically yes ringing in the air.

"Fine," Norrington conceded, "but you will return in one hour."

"Two."

"Deal."

Seeing as that Will would be there to chaperone, it took nothing at all to convince Philip to come along. Of course, seeing the trio heading out with nets and spears, Will didn't even have to blink before he turned to find Elizabeth at his side.

"You all thought you could sneak away without asking me to join," Elizabeth said as she and Will followed behind the already lost in lovers land Philip and Syrena.

"No," Will wrapped an arm around her waist, "I knew I wouldn't even have to ask."

Norrington watched as the couples disappeared into the jungle canopy. He sighed; his mind locked on the memory of the happy couples. His claim to Elizabeth that he felt shame that he had not achieved a marriage to a fine woman was not a false one. He longed for that happiness for himself.

He just wondered if he would ever find it.

"Of course I dare not tell Father that I had spiked the punch," Elizabeth continued her story, "so I couldn't say anything as he made me drink glass after glass as he made the same excuse – to grab a refreshment – with half a dozen suitors. It wasn't until a tripped and did a face plant on the dancefloor while dancing with Alexander Bolton and burst into hysterical laughter that Father realized something was wrong."

The group burst out into laughter as they trekked through the jungle in pairs. Like Will, Philip had managed to muster up the courage to openly walk around with an arm wrapped around Syrena's waist. Though when Elizabeth had called him out on it, he merely claimed it was to help Syrena's legs.

Elizabeth continued, "The worst part is that Philip had three more glasses than me-"

"It was a hot night," Philip threw in his excuse.

"And he barely got tipsy!"

"What can I say?" Philip shrugged. "Swifts hold their liquor. It's actually a requirement in my family that you can't marry into the Swift family unless you can handle a glass of great great grandfather's secret recipe."

"Recipe?" Syrena asked. "Recipe of what?"

"Whiskey," Philip said proudly.

"Personally I would call it wood varnish," Will shuddered remembering the visit to Black Hill Cove and when he stupidly took up Philip's Aunt Ada's offer to try the stuff. "I'm still not sure I have my complete sense of taste returned."

"I'll have you know that the Swift family has proudly been making the finest whiskey for nine generations," Philip sounded affronted but half hearted.

"They have been making fine whiskey," Elizabeth said. "Just not when they use Randall Swift's recipe."

"Fine, I'll give you that."

"What's all this about whiskey?" Syrena asked.

"What? You haven't heard of Swift Whiskey?" Elizabeth sounded shocked. "It's one of the most popular drinks in England. Everyone who is anyone has at least one nice twenty-year-old bottle sitting in a cellar-"

"And the rest of us have a few bottles of the current year's stuff just sitting at home for the days you need a good stiff drink," Will laughed.

"You know," Elizabeth looked suspiciously at Will, "I'm starting to think the reason you hang around with Philip and I is for tea and whiskey."

"Would you blame me if I did?"

Elizabeth laughed, "I suppose not. We keep you around for the swords and the looks after all."

"Ugh," Philip pulled a face, "speak for yourself."

"Says the man who is allowed to carry around one of Will's swords."

"Like you're not going to get one soon enough. I know the conditions Uncle put down for your marriage."

Elizabeth looked hopefully at Will who shrugged as if he hadn't already begun mentally designing her sword and was eager to start production when they got home.

Then, Will saw it: sitting in the middle of the jungle was a large rock that vaguely looked like a tern. The jungle path they were on strode right past it, but before you came to the rock, there was a bend, and it forked off with another path that led into the dense canopy.

Will's eyes flicked over to Syrena, and she gave the faintest of nod.

"Tell me more of this Swift Whiskey," Syrena said a might too loud. "I think I have heard of it before."

"Well, it's how the Swift family makes its money," Philip began. "We've been making whiskey for generations and built quite the reputation. It's brought a lot of business to Black Cove Hill and especially the ABB Inn – which is owed by the family of my father's best friend – who always gets the first shipment of each batch. My grandfather originally meant to hand the whiskey business down to my father, but Dad was called by God, and as was his sister, Isobel who is now a Nun. So these days Aunt Ada and Uncle Tristan run the operation when they're not playing goods under the table. Not that you could ever pin anything on them of course."

On Philip went extoling the grand history of the Swifts to a mesmerized Syrena. Elizabeth had of course heard it all before so turned her attention to their surroundings and noticed a rock vaguely in the shape of a tern.

Suddenly a hand was on her mouth. She jolted but then saw Will putting a finger to his own lips and jerked his head towards to path that disappeared into the jungle. Elizabeth grinned and moving like a pair of ghosts, Will and Elizabeth snuck off.

Exactly how Syrena and Will had planned it.

"But just wait until you meet my grandmother," Philip continued oblivious to the conspiracy around him. "Not only is she a hard licking taken, deeply Christian, battle axe, but her mother was Irish too. We're all surprised that Aunt Lucy's husband wasn't torn to shreds by her. Oh, that reminds me, I should give you a head's up about him. Hey Elizabeth, do you think you want to-"

He turned around and found Will and Elizabeth gone.

"Syrena," he turned slowly back to her. "Where are Will and Elizabeth?"

She casually walked over to the tern stone and took a seat to rub her aching feet, "There's a nice little beach not far from here that I thought Will might want to take Elizabeth. They could use some alone time."

"Oh no, I do not trust Elizabeth alone with Will. She will not behave herself properly."

"Must be a family trait."

Philip shot a look at her but she just grinned.

"Alright," Philip turned back to survey the paths around them, "when exactly did they sneak off? If we're lucky we may be able to-"

"Philip."

He turned; there was something seductive and innocent in that plea. There Syrena sat, eyes large and starry, a small pout on her lips, and one leg crossed over the other, skirt draped back to reveal a pale leg and her fingers kneading at her ankles.

Philip was mesmerized by those slender fingers rubbing that pale exposed skin. It was skin he had touched many times in his carrying her, but there was still an intimacy he yearned for.

"My calves hurt," Syrena fluttered her eyes at him. Her seduction skills weren't sharpened, but Philip as a repressed hardcore Christian apparently didn't need a lot to set him off. "Could you help me?"

"H-help?" he swallowed. "How?"

She stuck her leg towards him, "You're so much stronger than me. Your fingers could really get deep into the muscle. Will you help me make them feel better?"

"You… you want me to put my hands on you?"

There was a dark smile that slid across her face, "No. I'm telling you to put your hands on me."

Something in her words struck him dumb. He dropped to one knee in an instant and looked up at her and her outstretched bare leg. Philip was surprised that her leg had no hair upon it, but he supposed mermaids did not require hair the same way humans did. Their head hair and eyebrows were for beauty, not warmth, so Syrena had no hair under her arms or on her legs or likely on her-

Dear Lord.

"Massage," Syrena said gently but firmly. She added with a smile, "Please."

His hands obeyed before his head could talk him out of it. Syrena wasn't lying, the muscles in her calves were tight and he loved the way he could make her moan as he massaged them.

Syrena was sitting with her head flung back and eyes closed, just enjoying the sensations, "The foot too, please. They're not used to bearing my weight and-"

"Shh. It's okay. Just enjoy. I'll make you feel good."

"It feels very good."

As requested he moved down to her foot, removing first shoe and then stockings. His throat felt dry as he rubbed with just enough pressure to go deep but not enough to hurt her. He was touching a woman's bare leg. Philip Swift was stroking a woman's bare leg.

Steady on, Man, Philip told himself. He knew if he thought about it a little too hard, his own stupid mind would bring everything to a crashing halt. And he didn't want to stop.

Stroking along, he rubbed her insole and moved to each individual toe. Her groans filled the jungle and Philip wanted to figure out how to make her moan best. He was amazed at how soft and uncalloused her feet were. In the back of his mind, he expected it, but still to feel her soft skin under his touch-

His mind flashed with an image of a candlelit room, the two of them sitting on a bed, bare with a blanket pooled at their feet. Philip sat behind Syrena, rubbing her shoulders as she moaned with pleasure. His mouth pressed kisses along her neck, down her collarbone, and down to-

Philip came to his senses.

He dropped Syrena's foot rather suddenly, "We shouldn't be doing this. I'm sorry."

Bloody hell and damn you, part of his own mind scolded.

Syrena pouted but didn't press her luck as he stood back up and hefted their fishing nets over his shoulder. Instead, she just reached out her arms to him in expectation.

He hesitated, "I'm not sure it's the best idea."

"Come now," Syrena said, "it's been such a long walk and I miss being in your arms."

Philip smiled, "Alright, I suppose there's no one around to scold me this time. It better not be a long walk though."

Syrena squealed as Philip scooped her up bridal style in that way she had so missed. For a moment he just held her, staring in disbelief that this moment really existed. That he had the woman he loved in his arms after all these years of rejection and heartache and expecting to settle for less.

He knew by the look in her eyes that she could read it all and that made his heart grew more. It was impossible to tell who leaned in first, but ultimately it didn't matter. The next thing they knew, their lips were locked in a sweet tender kiss. Not the hungry ones that had been exchanging as of late, but the soft, honest kind like when he had told her she was safe to mourn in front of him.

"I love you," Philip whispered when they finally broke apart.

She nuzzled him, "And I love you in return."

"I don't ever want to stop being together like this."

"Good, because I don't intend on leaving any time soon."

"Good."

"Now, let's get moving," Syrena said as he lowered her down long enough to grab her shoes and stockings. "I wasn't lying about the fish, and Norrington will have our heads if we don't return with them."

"You know I won't be able to carry you and a net full of fish back at the same time, right?"

"That sounds like a problem for Future Philip and Future Syrena to solve."

Philip just shook his head and said, "Tell me the way."

It looked nothing special when they got there, just a regular clearing onto mid sized pond up against some barefaced rocks. One might expect there to be a waterfall, but not a drop came down the rockface, and the pond was fed by the skinniest creek Philip had ever seen.

Philip crouched down by the water to inspect it, "There doesn't seem to be a lot of fish here."

"Of course there isn't," Syrena set down her shoes in front of one of the large palm trees that circled the water. "The townsfolk fished it all out."

"But then where-"

"There is a large trench underwater that leads into the rocks and comes out the other side into a nice little cave. That is where all the fish are."

Frowning, Philip stood and turned around, "How are we going to- Good Lord, warn a man!"

Syrena had stripped off her dress and was standing in front of him wearing only a long rather transparent chemise.

"Sorry," she shrugged. "Ragetti and Pintel couldn't find bloomers."

Philip swallowed, "That's not what I'm worked up about."

Syrena lifted a brow at his choice of words.

Philip flushed, "You know what I meant."

Wanting to distract himself, Philip slowly walked over and carefully gathered up the dress at her feet. The warmth of her body beckoned to him, daring him to forget all the vows he had made and throw her down on that grass to touch, taste, and feel until he was moaning the way he had made her.

It took great effort, but he was able to resist temptation for the moment, and gently folded up the dress and placed it next to her shoes.

"It's still warm," Barbossa's words echoed in his mind. Having Syrena's father talk about Philip's cousin unfortunately didn't cut the sexual tension as he had hoped. Rather, it just made things slightly weird.

Syrena smiled and crossed over to Philip, who had his back still firmly to her. As she came close, Syrena realized the poor man was trembling. She liked that power, to know she could bring such a strong, good man to crumble under her touch. But it don't feel like lust, raw and impersonal, but rather it was bound by love, intimate and true.

Slowly, she took him by the arm and turned him around to face her. His breathing was heavy and hitched, scared not of what could happen but by how much he wanted it.

"Will you swim with me?" she said in a low and gentle voice. Her voice read desire but caution. There was something in the tone that told Philip that he could trust her and that if he said no, that would be okay.

But he didn't want to say no.

"Yes," he breathed.

She nodded. Carefully she reached out and rested her hands on his shoulders. She eased down his tan long coat and then her hands went to the scarf around his neck. Syrena unknotted the grey scarf and then brushed a thumb across his Adam's apple, which bobbed hard in response.

Her hands drifted down his body, feeling every muscle in his chest as the tips of her fingers pathed out the map to his vest. The buttons were finely detailed and it was only that knowledge of how much they cost that stopped Syrena from just ripping them open.

Philip wished she would. He liked seeing her strong and passionate, but this slow seduction was killing him. He wanted her. He wanted her in ways he didn't even know how to express physically. Part of him wished he had spent more time listening to the hushed whispers of the boys of Port Royal so he knew how to make Syrena ache for him the way she made him ache for her.

Tender fingers slipped button after button from fabric until a vest joined the discarded pile of clothing at their feet. Philip couldn't help it, he grabbed her face and kissed her, passionately, deeply. Step by step, he forced his lover backward until Syrena's shoulders hit a tree. Philip pinned her there, kissing her and hands wandering to her hips. He held her tight against him, indulging in the warmth beneath thin fabric. Syrena's hands moved to his tunic. She repeated her ritual with the buttons and shoved the shirt down so he was bare chested.

He pushed forward and hugged her reveling in the feeling of just holding her. Her arms went around his neck in that same way that was so familiar to him by now, yet in that moment it meant something so much more.

"I need to take off my underclothes," Syrena whispered, her breath tickling his lips.

Philip was at a loss of what to do. She read it in his eyes and knew the request to have him remove her clothes was maybe a step too far, but she didn't want to break the (metaphorical) spell she had over him.

She touched the side of his face, "Trust me."

He nodded. Syrena gently reached out and slid his eyelids shut. Philip felt the loss of her warm body in his arms and almost opened his eyes to try to catch her back.

Trust me.

He would.

Philip waited. He heard the rustling of fabric, the soft padding of feet, and a soft splash. Slowly he turned to the water and opened his eyes.

She was exquisite. Black hair fanned around her, hazel eyes burning with desire as she slowly bobbed in the water. She looked free, not afraid of attack at any minute. Syrena knew with said name that she was loved and the world was before her an open mystery she could explore to her heart's content.

That they would explore together.

"Syrena," Philip breathed.

She reached out a hand, "Come. Join me."

Philip hesitated. He glanced at their discarded clothes and tried to tamp down the conflicted feelings in his heart. Was this too far? Swimming with Syrena was such an intimate act for man and mermaid. It was more than bare skin, it felt like a sacred act to perform something so central to what her kind was.

Syrena frowned, "Philip?"

He swallowed.

"Are you sure you're not just tricking me into getting eaten?" Philip weakly joked.

Syrena barked a laugh and swam forward.

"I make no promises." She reached the edge of the pond – surprised by how much of a drop off there was instead of the ground gradually giving way – and rested her arms on the shore. It was the same way she would look at him from her tank, arms flat along the edge and slowly bobbing up and down. In a soft genuine voice she asked, "Is this too much?"

"No! Er, well, yes. Maybe. I- I don't know. It's just so," he eyed her body, very aware of the modest scale arrangement her chest had transformed into. He wanted so much to reach out and brush his fingers across her chest to feel what the texture of her scales felt like. "It's incredibly intimate."

She cocked her head to the side, "And you're…afraid?"

"Terrified."

Syrena nodded; she understood. It would be a lie to say that all of this desire didn't unnerve her. What if he found her lacking? Or worse, what if her mermaid form disgusted him? There was a large red tail now flapping about in the water, something he absolutely never expected to have in a mate. What if that was a line too far?

"Of me?" Syrena dared to ask.

Immediately, something changed in his eyes. Syrena was about to ask what it was when she was hit by a splash.

The sound of joyous laughter filled the air as Philip surfaced. He saw the beautiful smile on her face and joined in with his own laughter, swimming over to her. Philip caught her up in his arms and her hands came to a rest on his shoulders.

Philip bowed his head against hers and whispered, "Even if this is some long con and you've actually lured me here to eat me, I will never be afraid of you."

Dusky hazel stared into sharp clear green, "Promise?"

His lips captured hers.

Her left hand came up behind his head and threaded through his dripping brown locks. Syrena loved the taste of his lips and the how he tried his hardest to kiss her best. She was starting to notice an improvement, more guided and direct movements, and remembering and repeating the moves that drew approving sounds from her.

Syrena also loved the feeling of his muscles. His strength reminded her of warmth and safety. Not only could he use that body to protect her, he had actively done so through carrying her and even laying his body completely atop her.

How she wished he would do that again.

Treading water and kissing was not the easiest thing to do, Philip Swift found. His legs desperately kicked as Syrena leaned more of her body against him with each kiss. Slowly, he started focusing less on his kissing and more of his swimming when suddenly something shot him right out of his reverie.

Syrena curled her tail around his leg.

Philip broke off rather abruptly. It was a little more dramatic than he meant, and he could instantly see the hurt on her face.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean-"

He was silenced by Syrena's fingers on his lips. Philip frowned; there was something in her eyes, a nervousness but a decision being made. Before he could ask what she was thinking about, she took his hand. Slowly she dipped it under water and brought it to her tail.

Philip instinctively tried to pull away, but Syrena held firm. Their eyes met; his hand held just over her tail as a silent conversation took place. Her gaze quested his and after a moment of thought, Philip gently nodded his head. He took a breath, and she brought his hand to her tail.

"This is me," Syrena said. "The real me."

Philip swallowed and concentrated on the touch beneath his palm. It was both exactly what he expected and yet nothing like. Her scales were smooth to touch, and yet he could feel the curve of each edge as he ran his hand across the red expanse. She wasn't hard or rough, but more of a textured satin but not coarse. Looking up close at it, Philip was surprised to find her tail was a lighter red than he expected. It was a little more like an orange scarlet than a crimson or cardinal shade. Down and down his hand went, Syrena falling back to bend her tail to better his reach.

He came thin to the fins, large and powerful but seemingly impossible as it felt like the barest wisps of cotton. To tell the truth, he really liked the feeling of her fins. He wanted to run his fingers across it over and over.

A smile slid onto Syrena's face as his fingers drifted over her tail. He was entranced and maybe even approving, she hoped.

"You're beautiful." He looked up from the tail that had transfixed him, "All of you."

Syrena almost cried.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He swam forward and grabbed her around the waist, "There's nothing to thank. God made you in his perfect image and it is my pleasure to worship all of God's glory."

The image of kissing down her neck and chest flashed in his mind.

Philip swallowed, "My… pleasure."

Syrena's head lulled sideways and she got that mischievous smile he had so come to love, "Have you heard the tale of the mermaid's kiss?"

He raised an eyebrow, "It's something I've been able to experience first hand."

She chuckled, "Yes, and it is something you will experience many more times if I have my way."

"Who am I to dictate another path? I shall gladly follow your way."

Syrena wrapped her arms around his neck, "A mermaid's kiss is something more powerful than you might expect. Do you know the magic of it?"

"…No. Magic? What kind of magic?"

She remembered their previous conversation about the evils of magic, "It is not something that your God would disapprove of. It is a helpful magic, one to protect you."

"Oh? And what protection is my beautiful mermaid to offer?" he asked coyly.

"A mermaid's kiss," her lips ghosted over his, "gives one the power to breath underwater. At least until the sun sets the day she kisses them."

Philip said nothing, but he could not deny the surprise in his eyes.

"But there's more," Syrena continued to whisper, "if a mermaid kisses one she loves…"

She pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips, but pulled back before he could hungrily grab her into a deep embrace.

"Then the one the mermaid loves will be able to always breath underwater," Syrena finished. "So long as she loves him."

"And does this mermaid love me?" Philip already knew the answer but his mind was so entrapped in the romance of the moment that he didn't give any thought to any implications of what she was actually telling him.

Syrena swam back from him, "Follow me and find out."

With that, she dove beneath the water and disappeared.

Philip frowned, "Syrena? Syrena where are you?"

"Follow me," her voice came under the water.

He looked around, not entirely sure what he was looking for. Syrena to surface? Someone to spy on them? God sitting on a rock giving a thumb up or down like the Roman Emperors?

Philip shook his head and refocused on the task at hand. Could what Syrena said really be true? Could he breathe underwater? Not just for a day but for as long as she loved him?

She loved him. He could have tangible proof that she truly loved him. Philip wasn't even sure if he had truly believed it. No one before had loved him for exactly who he was. Lily Skylark couldn't accept the Godly part of him. Hannah Woodberry only wanted him for that Godly part. Rachel Brown didn't even care at all.

But Syrena Barbossa, could she truly love him so much that she could give him the power to breathe underwater? Could he really have that much faith in the seemingly impossible?

He remembered that in situations as these, his father would turn to 2 Corinthians 5:7. For we walk by faith, not by sight.

There was only one way Philip could truly find out.

Now Philip Swift was not a fool; he wasn't about to dive to the bottom of the pond to try and see if Syrena loved him so much as she claimed. Instead, he dipped his face just barely in the water, ready and pull his head out of it in case it didn't work.

Here goes nothing, he thought.

He took a breath…

…she loved him.

Syrena Barbossa truly loved him.

Philip's head shot out the water in surprise, but he was not coughing and sputtering as one might expect. Curious, he tried again. He dipped his head in the water and took a breath.

It was hard to describe what exactly it felt like. When he inhaled, it didn't feeling like water the way one would feel when they took a drink of it. Somehow the water felt like heavier air in his lungs. It moved from nose and mouth into his lungs and back out again like it was nothing at all.

Wondering, Philip then dared to open his eyes. He found that his eyes were more durable now too. It was like a film had been placed over his eyes, not stinging or resisting the water any more than his lungs were. Philip was almost expecting then to find his legs had morphed into a tail, but thankfully those had remained human.

Then he spotted her. She was some feet away from him, floating by a large open trench into the rockface. There was a smile on her lips and she beckoned him over.

"So," she asked as he swam to her. Her voice sounded as clear as it did on land, "Do I love you as much as I claim?"

Philip chuckled and was surprised that he too could speak that clearly, "This is strange but I can imagine it will be useful."

"Then it's a good thing a mermaid fell in love with you."

"I just wish I could prove to you that I have the same amount of love for you in my heart."

"But you already have," she stroked a hand down his chest. "You named me."

And Philip smiled.

"Now come," Syrena grabbed his arm. "Let us go and get those fish before your uncle sends a search party."

Thinking of his improper state of dress and Elizabeth's excursion with Will, Philip says, "I just know right now he has a headache and doesn't know why."

On the other side of the island, Weatherby Swann had a blinding headache, but he knew exactly why.

"Are you positive that no one has seen my children?" the Governor asked Groves, who usually knew what Philip and Elizabeth were up to.

"Sorry, Governor," Groves answered honestly. "I haven't seen them since we came ashore. I'm sure they're around here somewhere."

Murtogg and Mullroy of course had to be passing by at that exact minute.

"Didn't they go with Mister Turner and Miss Finson to gather fish or something?" Murtogg asked.

The Governor glared at Groves.

Groves held up his hands in surrender, "Don't look at me. I didn't approve it."

Weatherby sighed, "I'm starting to understand why my mother drank."

A/N: Fun fact, Philip was originally supposed to do this leg stuff in the previous chapter instead of the picking up Syrena thing. However, I felt like it was a bit too much for Philip to do in front of his uncle, so I changed it.

And no, I'm not intentionally giving Philip a foot fetich but for some reason he's leaning that way.