He'd wanted to be sure that it was Rory who he wanted — that he wasn't just in the mood to kiss someone. But he wasn't; quickly, he felt resentment and once he shoved the broad away, Rory was gone. Had the girl taken him to her room? His glance wandered across the room, but he found her on someone else's lap. He had probably gone outside.

Rogier did the same. Had he left the building because he felt rejected? Or had it nothing to do with him? He wasn't even sure Rory had seen it.

Not far ahead of him, a lonely figure strolled across the street, its limited length telling him it was the young pirate. Rogier quickened his pace until he was walking next to him. The boy looked startled when he saw him.

"What are you doin' here?" His voice sounded hoarse. "I'm sure you can have more fun inside the tavern."

"I'm not looking for fun."

"Then what are you looking for?" Rory huffed. "Someone to kiss?"

"Already found that." Rogier shoved his hands in his pockets. "But I'm more in need of a walk. With you."

The look in Rory's eyes was insecure. He said nothing.

"I spoke a former crew member of the Scarlet Siren. He told me they carried out missions for a guy called Scias. He lives on the Southern Islands; his family makes money by building towering walls and prisons. The man I spoke with left the ship three years ago, but he thinks there's a good chance his former commissioner has something to do with it. Next few days, I'll see if I can find out more about this guy."

A grateful smile appeared on Rory's moon-litten face. His impetuous eyes were churning like the sea. Something warm glided through his veins as he looked at the young man. He wasn't sure when it had started, but it was getting harder and harder to get him out of his head. He knew he should do something about his feelings — their lives were too unpredictable and they were surrounded by too much danger to ignore his longings. Maybe only a short time was given to them, just as happened to him and Aida. Yet, he found it hard to translate his feelings to words and kissing him in the middle of the streets didn't sound like a great idea. Not after kissing a random woman to make sure his feelings for Rory were real instead of some trivial longing.

"So we'll be sailing towards the Southern Islands soon?" Rory asked, hopefully.

"After gathering more information," he promised.

They left behind the streets and continued their walk on the beach. It was quiet here. There was a clear sky and the small breeze toyed with their hair. For a while, they walked in silence.

"You never told me how you ended up on North's ship," Rogier said eventually.

Rory stared into the distance. It took a while before he answered. "I was looking for protection."

"And they just gave it to you?"

"I'm a good fighter. I had something to offer."

"How old were you?"

"13."

They sat down on a washed-up tree trunk. Rory took his daggers from their sheaths and rubbed his thumbs across the ivory.

"I never knew my parents. My little sister and I were taken in by a crime lord who turned us into mercenaries. As children, we weren't suspicious, and finding access to forbidden places was easier. I was 8 when I killed my first man." He stared at his boots. They looked new. "Fal was three years younger than me. Almost always, we carried out our missions together. One night, I suffered from food poisoning and I could barely walk. It was bloody painful. We asked for a respite, but our guardian believed it to be unnecessary. Fal could finish the job alone. She had to face a mountain of a man all alone — I didn't think she could. So I went with her, but I only slowed her down. In the end, she wanted to finish the job alone." His voice softened. "When I found her, she was dead. Her neck snapped like a reed." Rory swallowed; his breathing sounded labored. "I dragged her back home. Oleg showed no sympathy; he told me to finish the job as quickly as I could." His fists clenched. "And so I did, three days later. I cut my sister's murderer into pieces — and later that night, I did the same to Oleg. I wasn't careful at all; many people in the mansion saw me leave with my hands covered in their master's blood. I fled the island as a stowaway, knowing the family would seek revenge. After wandering around for a year, I met Lee, who introduced me to his captain. I told 'em my story. They called me Ripper and I was welcomed to their crew."

The story made quite an impact on Rogier. He knew his pain like no other.

"I lost my little brother," he admitted softly. "Emiel. Dad left us when I was 5 years old and ma was sick. To support ourselves and ma, we robbed people on the market. That way, we kept ourselves alive for years. One day, Emiel was caught and sent to what they called the Rasp House. It was a prison for young male criminals who were made to shave wood and to rasp it into powder. I had to choose: take care of my mother or of my little brother." He dropped his eyes. "I chose my brother. We were always together, y'know? And Ma... She barely spoke — she didn't live. Not really. So I let them take me to the Rasp House." A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the miserable conditions. He'd been used to poverty, but he'd expected different from a government institution for minors. "Like many of the children, he couldn't cope with the heavy labor and he got sick. Nevertheless, he was forced to work — to work until his legs could no longer carry him. Eventually, he died when he was 8."

He glanced to the side when Rory covered his hand with his own. By reflex, he wanted to pull away; he wasn't used to comforting gestures like this. The sweet expression on his face however kept him from doing so. For someone with such delicate-looking fingers, they felt surprisingly rough.

For a while they were just sitting there in silence, listening to the breaking of the waves in the distance. Even though he'd just brought out one of the darkest periods in his life, he felt calm. It had been years since he'd spoken about Emiel. He had only told Aida about him. Even Markus did not know — around other men; he'd always wanted to look strong.

Things were different with Rory. The boy didn't mind sharing personal things and yet, he was still a brave little fellow.

"We lived near the beach." The words came out of nowhere while Rogier's glance wandered across the sand. Deeply buried memories came back to the surface. "It was the only place where we could be kids. Emiel loved it. He could build sandcastles for hours." He lifted the corner of his mouth; his lips formed a sad smile. "In another life, he would have been a great architect."

Rory's hand glided to his wrist and he stood up. Despite his small frame, he managed to pull Rogier onto his feet. "Let's build a sandcastle."

"What?" Rogier blurted out.

"Just come with me," Rory chuckled with sparkling eyes. "Let's build a castle. For Emiel. For Fal."

Rory pulled him towards the shore, where the sand was firmer. There, he dropped down on his knees.

Rogier looked around, but there was no one else on the beach. He glanced at the blond boy who already started to dig in the sand and his lips curled into a dazed grin.

He couldn't think of many crew members who would have done this too. It felt like an invitation to take off his captain's yuk for a few hours. To be the man — or the boy — he used to be before he was buried beneath responsibilities and needed to live up to countless expectations to be a fearless leader.

Next to Rory, he sat down on his knees, giving him a doubtful look.

"I promise I won't tell the others," the boy winked. "You really think they believe me when I tell them I built sandcastles with the captain?"

Rogier chuckled. He pushed his fingers through the sand to gather it. Because of the silence, the familiar rustling of the waves and the boy next to him, he forgot who he was, just for a moment. Memories of the past mixed up with the unreal present while their sandcastle became higher and higher and their arms were covered in sand up to their elbows.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Rory; his grey eyes were shining and his smile was more beautiful than the most expensive jewel he possessed. Suddenly, his heart was hammering in his chest. A burning desire coursed through his veins, scorching all his trepidation. The boy had caught him staring and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Nobody ever did this for me.

He doubted Rory understood how much this meant to him, to lift the blockade to dear memories that both tormented and endeared him.

And maybe he did understand — for Rory had lost someone dear too. He'd felt his recognition when his hand glided across his and therefore, it felt like the boy knew him better than anyone else.

He leaned towards the boy, grabbed his jaw with a sandy hand, and forced his face up. Grains scoured their skin; the boy gasped. His eyes grew wide for one moment before he closed them.

Their lips found each other, carefully exploring the softness. Rory's fingers ran up across his neck and his touch made him shiver; it was so tender compared to the vain touches of the women who'd been on his lap.

The tip of his lover's tongue glided across his bottom lip, making the boy chuckle.

"Sand..."

Rogier grinned. "You want more sand?"

He pushed the boy down until his back touched the sand. His smile was brighter than the sun. Rogier bent over him, placing a hand in the sand while kissing him again. Rory's fingers glided through his hair, determined, pushing his face closer. His kisses started playfully, but soon the heat flared up and they kissed each other with a fierceness that had already been shimmering in Rory's eyes at the very first moment they locked eyes.