It's been a long time since he'd been to Amphyor, the pirate city hidden on an island behind the Deathly Cliffs. In the past years, they'd mainly busied themselves on the other side of the ocean. With a bitter taste in his mouth, Rory thought back to the last time they'd gone ashore. Not long after, they'd been poisoned and Mouse had been gone. They planned to do the opposite this time: they hoped to find a clue here that would lead them to his friend.

Rory wasn't expected to do anything except for enjoying himself. They knew it was North's brother who kidnapped the boy and Rogier would ask around for the activities of the Scarlet Siren, the ship owned by North's brother. Rory had complete faith in him. It might not be realistic, but in his eyes, Rogier was capable of anything. He was a legend — he surely knew how to get someone to talk.

Together with Lee and Kidd, Rory wandered through the streets that day, buying new boots and a new linen tunic. He never cared much about his appearance but now he was trained as a steersman, he wanted to look respectable. Or maybe it was because of Rogier; he neither looked like a street rat. Lee even persuaded him to try some hats, even though Rory found them way too flashy with their large plumes and thick, golden edges. Quickly he hung them back before someone else would see them.

"Ye better put on somethin' nice if ye wanna impress the cap," Lee winked.

Kidd chuckled. "Might help to take something off too, tho."

Rory elbowed the man's side as the heat ascended to his cheeks. Nevertheless, the butterflies raced through his stomach at the thought of Rogier. In the past weeks, nothing had really changed. The captain still didn't seem to know what to do with Rory's feelings, but Rory remembered every unnecessary touch; his hand on the small of his back while they were standing behind the wheel; his elbow slightly touching his while they were leaning against the railing; and while practicing his reading, the man had pulled him on his lap now and then, sometimes toying with his hair while being deep in thoughts. Things he hadn't seen him do with other guys. He however had no idea if it also meant that his grief about his lost love was wearing off and if he wanted to give love a second chance. Rory never insisted, he gave him space and he was grateful for every little smile or touch.

The three of them went on through the streets, surrounded by the screams of market traders. They stood still in front of a stall with freshly baked meat. His stomach growled and he took a few coins from his pocket to pay for chicken wings. Even though Baldur was a fantastic cook, he liked food the most when it came directly from the fire. Under a facade of a closed stonecutter shop, they enjoyed their meals. Fat dripped down his chin and before he knew it, his new tunic was covered in smudges. 

"Time for a beer," Kidd decided.

The two boys followed him to the Golden Skull, where a large part of their crew had gathered around a few tables. Markus was there too. Since his whipping, he hadn't said a single word to Rory, but his hateful glance scorched his skin every day. Rory tried to pay no attention to him, but sometimes his face expressed so much madness that he clenched his fingers around the hilts of Plague and Omen.

It kept Rory alert. He didn't drink as fast as he usually would. Getting drunk was a stupid idea, knowing there was someone who couldn't wait to stab a knife between his ribs. He listened to the conversations around him and took part in them whenever he took an interest in the subject. The mixture of tobacco, beer, and candle wax smelled familiar and contented he leaned back in his chair. Now and then, he looked around the room, looking for the blond man who made his heart beat faster.

It took two more hours before Rogier showed up. Some of the men were already drunk and others had been taken to dim rooms by the women. Lee was on Mack's lap and the sight of it caused a pang of longing in his chest when he moved his glance to Rogier. Of course, the man didn't sit down on the empty chair beside him, but he seated himself next to North. Quietly, he spoke with the other captain. The hesitating way North's lips curled up, showed Rory that he received positive news about Finn. Immediately, he felt much lighter. He was about to ask all sorts of questions, but he didn't. Not in a place like this, where so many people could listen in.

Instead, he took a sip of his rum and focused on the conversations around him. Not much later, a hand caressed his shoulder and a girl sat down on his lip. She was young — 15 or so. With large brown eyes, she looked at him.

"I heard you're a good storyteller." She ran her fingers through his hair. "Will you tell me a story?" She leaned into him, her lips touching his auricle as she whispered: "If it's a good one, you can have me for free tonight ."

Rory stared at her in disbelief. How did she know about his stories? Did Lee tell her? His eyes shot to the side, but his friend was making out with his partner in such a passionate way he couldn't imagine he had time to speak to the girl. His eyes met Rogier's, who grinned at him. There was a dark-haired girl on his lap, kissing his neck.

A wave of jealousy rushed over him. With burning cheeks of shame, he looked away. After Markus' ridiculous behavior, jealousy was the last thing he wanted to feel. He turned towards the girl; he never minded telling a story.

"A real storyteller expects no compensation," Rory answered, giving her a wink. He gave himself a moment to think. A few days ago, Rogier told him about a three-headed sea dragon that they'd lured to sharp reefs at low tide. Taking aspects from the real events, he molded it into a new story and added some funny twists, a heroic rescue by Rogier and a stupid action by Markus because of which he almost drowned himself. Before he knew it, everyone at the table was listening.

The men laughed and hollered. Feeling a bit guilty, Rory looked at the place where Markus had been sitting. He'd left without Rory being aware of it. Hopefully, it was before his role in the story became clear; Rory had gotten carried away a little too much. His eyes flashed to Rogier, afraid he believed it was a low blow. He however leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed. The spark in his eyes stirred something inside Rory's stomach. When the man winked at him, he felt so hot he tried to fight the heat with a swig of rum.

They asked for another tale. And another.

After the third story, Rory thought it was enough; he started to feel tired. The other men were getting bored too, letting the scantily dressed woman drag them away. The girl on his lap toyed with his fingers.

"You want to look for a room?" she asked in a sweet voice.

Awkwardly, he rubbed his neck. He knew there were ways in which she could please him, but he had no interest in her. He instead craved some fresh air.

"You look beautiful," he said hesitating. Even though he knew she did this for the money, he found it hard to turn her down. "But... I'm rather alone tonight." He gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

She chuckled. "You're cute." She kissed his cheek. Then, she got up and went to talk to another guy, trying to find company for the night.

Rory looked around the table; only a few men were left. Rogier was one of them, but his hand was between the breasts of the woman on his lap and it didn't take long before he allowed her to kiss him.

It felt like Rory fell into an ice-cold lake. Quietly, he shoved back his chair and left the tavern. Once outside, he kicked at a pebble. He had been an idiot. Had he really believed his captain would fall for him? He was too young, too desperate... and he was a guy.

Although the temperature could impossibly be low, he felt cold. He shouldn't walk away all alone, not when he had no idea where Markus was. But he felt a dull ache in his chest—shattered hope.

He had it come to this again. First with Eric, who'd suddenly taken an interest in Beckett. And now with Rogier — with his stupid excuses about not knowing whether he was over his former lover. At the very least, it didn't stop him from kissing that whore.