Once More With Feeling (Nate)

[Will Blacktide]

“See? I told you it was her!” Will said, sounding both a little hurt to have been doubted and much more smug to be proven correct. “You’ll get your second chance – just like I said you would.” Nate seemed to want to look pouty due to Will proving himself right, but he was far too busy craning his neck, trying to see through the milling crowd on the dock. Will smacked him on the back encouragingly. “Go on. I promise – this time I’ll steer clear of her. She’s all yours!” He laughed, happy to let his cousin have an unobstructed crack at the black haired wench that had so foxed them those months ago. It had been an odd and troubling night for Will. But in the end, all had come round right again, back to his compass point of normal in their relationship. He was reassured no woman could come between them, unless of course all three parties were agreeable. Still, he had sometimes caught Nate looking at him a bit funny – or sometimes not looking at him but staring in his moody way, off at the horizon. That wasn’t so untypical for Nate, but in the past months, since that night, Will had wondered . . . But here, now, where they had stopped to trade and barter and gossip and perhaps steal what they could, Will had unexpectedly run into the same girl from the beach, after the N’yalo. Well, not exactly run into her to talk to her or anything. He didn’t even think that she had seen him. But there was no mistaking her – that long, thick black hair, those red, full lips. A shelf you could eat your dinner off of. No, it was her alright. And, very unselfishly, he had thought, he had gone straight back to the casinor to fetch Nate to come see. Nate, being Nate, had groused and balked but finally grudgingly agreed to come along. And now here they were – and there she was! Will gave Nate a rough shove, for he didn’t seem to be moving in the right direction at all. “Go on! What are you waiting for? She fancied you. Go talk to her.” He almost rolled his eyes, exasperated at his cousin’s contrariness. That night Nate almost beat the tar out of him for trying to come on to the girl himself. And now here he was making a gift of her, practically. What in the hell was Nate playing at. “If you don’t, some other bloke will, you know that.” He coaxed, trying to propel his cousin forward.

[Nathaniel Blacktide]

"As long as it isn't you, this time," Nate bit back, though a wry smile followed his words. He shrugged off the hand that had curled around his shoulder, and acquiesced. He wasn't hesitant, really. After all, her dark eyes and wicked smile had haunted him for months. He just had the underlying sensation, one he couldn't place, that everything was about to change somehow.

Shaking the odd feeling of destiny off, as if Lhex were plucking the strings of his life, Nate submerged himself in the more simple, then. The hormonal driving of his loins, for one. He wanted her, and the wanting had only compounded and made it worse over time, so that now he coveted her so fiercely he could hardly stand the idea of being denied again. The docks were crowded, but the bob of her dark head never escaped his attentive gaze as he pushed through the throng of people in pursuit. They had nearly reached the end by the time he was within arm's reach of her, and he hesitated.

Never the same. Things would never be the same.

But that was ridiculous, and she was right there, so Nate shook his head as if to clear it, and reached out to touch her.

His hand curled easily enough about the circumference of her bicep, and his tug unintentionally wrenched her around with more force than he had intended. Her faltering step became a stumble as she turned and those breasts, as full as he remembered, crashed into his chest. His other arm dropped quickly, and naturally, to the curve of her waist. Without another thought, Nate dropped his head and claimed those damnable lips that had tormented his thoughts for weeks.

She was all feminine surprise against him, but the feeling of her body, trapped in his arms at last, made it worthwhile. He tasted of her lower lip, coaxed her pretty lips open, and just when his hand curled to have its fill of her bottom and the sweet flavor of her tongue filled his mouth, she was skittering away. Again.

Nate grit his teeth, jaw clenching as he looked up at her retreating form. She was all smiles again, that cruel enchantress.

"You don't think we'd do it here, do you? In the middle of the dock at noon? Tsk, tsk. Silly boy."

With a saucy wink, she crooked one finger at him then turned to walk away. This scene was becoming all too familiar, and it was really only the steadying presence of Will who appeared over his own shoulder just then.

"I'm going to kill her," Nate groused with a frustrated sigh, even as he made to follow her again. He didn't mean it, of course. Nate wouldn't really kill anyone...

[Will Blacktide]

Will’s only response was to shove Nate in between the shoulders, propelling him forward. “Go on!” He hissed, his own body pushing against Nate’s. At the crease that appeared in his cousin’s brow as he looked back over his shoulder at Will – easily read as the preface to yet another heated discussion – Will said, “Don’t worry. She’s all yours. I just mean for her to be that – yours and not some other lad’s. I’ll have your back.” Nate, torn between further argument and losing sight of the girl, opted to hustle forward, keeping a very short distance between himself and his quarry. The girl seemed in no hurry, her hips rolling so enticingly, a beacon for the two boys’ lusty imaginations. She sauntered on, swaying through the crowds, heading towards a short pier that jutted out into the harbor. Here she turned and made her way so casually down its length, to the very end. By this point, there was no surrounding crowd to hide in – not that either Will or Nate felt anything but desire to see the outcome of this little game. Whether they were seen or not could not have been farther from their minds. At the very end of this pier, they saw a small casinor tied up, one pretty much identical to the two boats now belonging to Will and Nate. Deftly she hopped aboard, and with one last wicked grin at them, she disappeared into the forward cabin below deck. With the biggest shit eating grin on his face, Will thumped Nate in the chest. “There you go – could not be any sweeter than this, Nate.” “Keep an eye out then,” Nate said, craning his head about to see who else might be approaching. But there was no-one. “Give a whistle if any huge gorilla shows up.” “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” Will smirked. “Just get you ass on that boat.” But Nate was already hopping over the gunwale, needing no extra urging. Finding a convenient crate, Will perched on its edge, happy to make sure no-one disturbed his little cousin and the girl who had so gotten under his skin.

[Nathaniel Blacktide]

Finding her wasn't so difficult. As evasive as she seemed to enjoy being, there was only so much space on the small craft, and so the games ended only a moment after he left his beloved cousin to keep watch. She was amazing in his arms, soft and warm. There were no need for words. Their lips worked best when pressed to one another, and the taste of her had him intoxicated in a moment. One hand dropped from where it had initially splayed against her lower back, curling about the curve of her bottom, fingers clenching to inch up the fabric that kept the body he'd only dreamed of hidden.

At last the intense reunion was broken when she giggled into his mouth, and then stumbled back out of the circle of his arms. She fell onto a soft bed, with big eyes dancing as she looked up at him with a beckoning smile. Nate wasn't a fool. He obeyed that wordless command, crawling between thighs that parted for him, covering her body with his, seeking her lips again like a starving man.

For many long, glorious minutes she permitted him this. The worship of her body with hands and lips that were too eager to be quelled. Likewise, with skilled hands, she coaxed him out of his shirt and explored the flesh of his upper body, igniting his skin beneath her fingertips. Nate coaxed her out of a layer or two, until her beautiful breasts were his to adore. The way she sighed and moaned and arched beneath him left Nate aching to possess her, and so at last his skilled fingers skirted the length of her inner thigh. Just as the sweet heat he sought brushed against his fingertips, however, her hand caught his wrist.

Panting, she shook her head slightly.

"Wait. Stop."

"What?" Nate bit out, in abject disbelief. "You're petching kidding, right? You're not really pulling that here, are you?"

"I'm sorry," she muttered, scrabbling to pull her discarded clothing across her chest. Nate sat up to stare at her, his handsome face twisted in an agony that was comprised of anger, confusion, and a bit more anger. He dropped his head and ran his fingers through his hair, spitting obscenities at the bed. When she reached out to touch his back, to stroke his skin and soothe him, he lifted a glower towards her.

"I don't enjoy these games."

"They aren't games, Nathaniel," she protested, her big bright eyes suddenly filled with unshed tears. Her lower lip even trembled, and his brow furrowed. Dear god. Was she going to cry?

"I just... I can't."

He wanted to yell. To ask her what the hell the point of any of it had been, then. And she was a damned Svefra. Why couldn't she? Before he could do any of those things, her fingers were curled in the hair at the nape of his neck. It sent gooseflesh across his skin. She sat up, nuzzling a damp cheek against his bare shoulder.

"I'm a virgin, Nathaniel, and I have to stay that way."

Big blue eyes turned quickly to evaluate the dark head ducked low against his arm, so that he couldn't see her face. It was nearly impossible to believe; a girl like her, with her body and her mannerisms, pure? He wanted her all the more, for selfish and greedy reasons.

"Why?"

It seemed to be what she had been after, this question, and she turned into a frightened kitten instead of the vixen she had thus far been, as she began to tell her story. It was a long one, filled with details of a fathers debt and his promise. She was the price, and she was unwillingly betrothed to an older man who would soon claim her. He was hateful and mean, to hear her tell it, and the mere mention of him filled those beautiful eyes with tears. Nate wasn't exactly sure what he thought about all of it, but as she weaved her tale, she proved to be as manipulative with words as she was with anything else. All of the anger he'd felt at her rejection was swiftly transferred to an unnamed man, the source of all of her anguish. Nate, who could be hotheaded and illogical, found himself wanting to track this man down, to drown him in the sea, if that's what it took to free her. To have her.

She finished, and sniffled against him in the silence. Her nails stroked his upper arm, almost tickling his sensitive flesh. He knew he couldn't stay there, so close to her, and not take what he ached for so badly. And so he tipped her chin up, kissed her breath away, and then slid from the bed.

"I'll see you soon," he promised, and he turned so quickly that he didn't see the glimmer of satisfaction that flickered across her face. He carried the ball of anger she'd first created and then morphed inside of him out, so that his brooding scowl would be the first thing Will would see when Nate passed him on the dock, demanding he follow along.

Will, of course, had questions. Nate simply waved him off until they were away from the more crowded areas, where they wouldn't be overheard. When he did respond, it was terse, and his beloved cousin would know very well the mood he was in by body language alone. Frustrated didn't begin to touch it.

"She's betrothed, Will. To some old prick who tricked her father into this huge debt. It's ridiculous," he groused, pacing. "She's scared, and upset, and he makes her miserable. I wouldn't doubt if he beats her, judging by the look on her face when she talks about him. It's... unthinkable."
[/frame]

[Will Blacktide]

He was getting well bored just hanging about, waiting on Nate to . . . do whatever it was that he was able to do, down below. Will couldn’t help but still feel a small twinge of wistfulness – it would have been nice to share whatever was on offer. But he was content to let Nate have his way – if the girl was. So he passed the time idly playing with a coin, moving it between his fingers, palming it, making it disappear. He was prepared to settle in and thought that, on the whole, it was good thing for Nate to be getting some, off on his own – maybe it would settle him down a bit. His cousin had seemed even more moody than usual of late. So, he was taken off guard as Nate came abruptly back on deck and as quickly jumped to the dock and was already half way past Will before it even registered – that he was alone, and had a look like black thunder on his face. Will jumped up from his perch and followed, needing no urging, wanting to find out what had put that look on Nate’s pretty face. He tried to play inquisitor as they walked rapidly, Will having no idea where Nate was heading. But his cousin just waved away each and every question impatiently, to the point that Will was about ready to grab him and make him spill, if he had to shake it out of him. But just at that point, Nate came to a halt and turned and let fly, dropping the scuttle like heavy stones, his voice barely under control from the intensity of his feelings. Will’s jaw dropped as well. “Betrothed! But – how – what . . . “ Will could hardly put the girl’s teasing behavior together with the fact that she intended to marry – a practice not altogether common amongst the Svefra. He put a hand out to stop Nate in his irritable pacing. “Slow down there, Nate. Take a breath and tell me what happened. What in the gods' names did she tell you?” Nate clearly was so agitated that standing still was not an option. But at least his pacing became a bit less furious as he let it all out. The lead up, the almost realized objective, the dousing of his randy hopes with a shock like cold water, her tears, her soft words, her sorrow and fear and helplessness. By the time he had finished, Will for once not interrupting him, he was sat beside his cousin on a crate, their shoulders touching, as ever finding at least some comfort in the one he typically turned to for such. “What are we going to do, Will?” he asked, his voice somber yet also fervent, his beautiful blue eyes asking for help from those that were the exact same shade of the ocean. “We can’t let this happen! It’s not fair. We – we need to help her – somehow.” The fact that his cousin invoked the term ‘we’, and not ‘I’ , never even registered with Will, so eternally accustomed was he to operating with Nate as a unit. The dynamic duo. The terrible twosome. That petching pair. Even their families and friends saw them more as one than as two separate individuals. Will put a more gentle hand on Nate’s shoulder, and squeezed it soothingly. Internally, he didn’t know quite what to make of this confounding story – but it sounded like a right mess. What Will seemed to be focused on was, not so much the wrong being done the girl, but the wrong being done his cousin. Nate wanted this girl – and if it wasn’t for this prick merchant, whoever he was, Nate would be happily nestled between the girl’s thighs even as they spoke. That just wasn’t right. He agreed, something should be done. “Yeh, it’s fucked up alright. A girl like that shouldn’t have to get married – not to some pecker she don’t fancy. Not just to save her dad’s arse.” Will gave another reassuring squeeze. His arm slipped around Nate’s shoulders and he gave him a bit of a hug. “But I don’t know, Nate. What can we do?” Will shook his head a bit, thoughtfully. “It’s not like we have enough coin to bail her dad out. We don’t have anything we could sell – unless we picked up some stuff here in Sunberth.” By picked up, of course, he meant stole, though that word and concept was foreign to them. Still, the competition for such activity was fierce in Sunberth. The Svefra were lucky to be able to hang on to their own things while in that lawless port. Will gazed meditatively at the ground. “If we can’t buy her freedom, then the only other way would be to talk this wanker round to letting her go. Convince him somehow that he can’t marry her.” Nate perked up a bit at that. “Like – say she’s pregnant already? Something like that? He wouldn’t want her already knocked up, would he? We could even . . .” “No,” Will cut in. “That wouldn’t work. He’d still have her dad’s head off then, if he thought she’d gone and given herself to some other bloke.” The two fell silent again, for a rather long while, thinking. Finally, Will said slowly, “It will only work if he’s put out of the picture. So he can’t force her to go through with it. It’s him – he’s the problem, yeh? So . . . he must be the solution, too, right?” Will was giving Nate a pointed look. “How much do you like this girl, mate?” he asked, in a voice that was untypically quite serious.

[Nathaniel Blacktide]

Emotion began to overlap and the hot headed Svefra could no longer disentangle one from the other. He was angry and frustrated, a tension borne of weeks of denial. When that melded with the soft sniffles and hot tears the wench had shed against his bare shoulder, concern and a desire to protect came to the fore. Somehow the myriad of thoughts and feelings coalesced until he felt a righteous sort of fury and, with that dark notion implanted in his mind by the person he trusted most, it became something darker still. "Will," he breathed in response to the question. There was only a moment of hesitation, and then the eyes of the sea lifted with a bright earnestness to the somber face of his best friend. "We have to help her." It sounded so much better like that, didn't it? Much better than admitting that to rid himself of inevitable competition would mean, at least in his mind, that he'd finally get what he wanted. In his mind's eye there was the beautiful, dark-haired girl, and the only thing standing between himself and her beautiful body was this faceless beast. It only made sense to get rid of the monster, right? Especially when she was so pitiful, so convincing. Nevermind that she was a manipulative, coquettish, wench of a woman before all the tears. Nevermind the fact that she quite likely was manipulating him even now. It didn't even occur to Nate that she might be lying. Nate glanced past Will, at nothing, and then with a hardened resolve back towards the cousin who had been his playmate and confidant and co-conspirator for as long as he could remember. "How do we do this?"

[Will Blacktide]

Could they really do this? Will saw that look in Nate’s eyes, and he wondered what his cousin was seeing in his own blue orbs. His thoughts were in a swirling maelstrom of agitation, considering what he knew both of them were thinking. This merchant, the girl’s unwanted betrothed, was the problem. Get rid of the problem, and Nate could have what he wanted. But it wasn’t just that, was it? What right did this bastard have, to force this girl – any girl – to marriage? Sexual, emotional, intimate relationships amongst the Svefra just didn’t incorporate such an idea of non-consensual pairing up. Men and women got together because they both wished it – or else it didn’t happen. Rape was a foreign concept to them, because sex was about pleasure, and not power. If a woman didn’t welcome the advances of a man, she simply let him know that, and he would look elsewhere. If a member of a couple tired of their lover, that was it – it was over. Just as the Svefra had really no concept of ownership of things, so too did they eschew any ideas of entitlement to possess another person. So this knowledge that some bloody wanker was going to force himself on this pitiful girl was even more repellant to Will. If she wanted Nate, and Nate wanted her, what right did this tosser have to insert himself between them? What right? None. Will’s eyes were locked on Nate’s. “Shouldn’t be too hard – find his ship – pick a night to get on board – wait in his cabin – and . . . “ Will’s fingers went to the dagger at his hip. “Shouldn’t be hard at all. One quick slice . . . “ He paused, his face hard. “What do you say, Nate? You want me to take care of this for you? You want her that bad? No girl deserves to be forced into such misery.”

[Nathaniel Blacktide]

Will made it sound so simple. For all the shenanigans they'd gotten into during their lives, murder had never been one of them. But his logic was airtight. No girl, no Svefra girl should ever have to be forced into a situation like this. And if the guy would accept the price of a daughter for a father's debt, he couldn't be much of much worth anyway, could he? Perhaps the world would be better off with that type of person disposed of anyway. By the time Will posed his question, Nate had settled into a resolved affirmation. "No. I mean, yes. But I'll come with you. We'll do it together." And, with all the ignorant passion of their youth, that was that. Nate allowed himself to be led away to find food and to vent the frustrations of his young body against and inside his beloved, beautiful cousin. When they were both spent and panting, Nate tucked his head into the curve of Will's shoulder and slept. It wasn't difficult with the sea lulling him, and the comfort of his best friend so close. By the time late evening fell he was awoken from his nap by the sound of Will dressing, and he groggily arose to do the same without any question. The two were so in tune with one another that often the simplest conversations were unnecessary. He knew where they were going, what they were off to do. He touched Will's face before they left the ship behind, smiled a little. And then they were off. It wasn't difficult, really. Some casual inquiries to the inebriated, a few hours skulking about, and the man who was destined to wed the beautiful Svefra wench eventually surfaced. They spent most of the evening carousing, or at least appearing to, and watching the man at the seaside pub. It made Nate sick to listen to his laugh, to watch his dark face break into that self assured smile so freely. He had created a hatred in his own imagination that would only be fed, not diffused, and so by the end of the evening it was only Will's common sense that had kept him from acting publicly and dangerously out of turn. Dawn saw them burning passion and drink in their own familiar limbs yet again, and they slept by the time morning had come. When, at last, Nate woke again, he knew this would be the night. "Will," he murmured against the bicep that had been slung across his face sometime during their rest. "Get the petch off o' me," he groused, though there was no real venom in his words. In fact, he merely squirmed so that the familiar weight of Will's arm was draped across his chest instead, and he idly began to stroke the line of it. Everything would change today, he could feel it. If Nate had more sense, he might have understood the premonition as a bad one and called the whole thing off. As it were, he chalked it up to a nervousness he could never admit to, as he waited for Will to stir beside him.

[Will Blacktide]

Will had slept, but it hadn’t come easily. Even as Nate had finally drifted off, Will shifted about so that his cousin was less on top of him and more beside him. He turned onto his side, and spent the next few hours just thinking, planning in his head, watching Nate sleep and occasionally brushing a messy, tangled lock from off his peaceful face. At rest, Nate was never the troubled soul he seemed to be so much more often these days. Perhaps this is what he needed – a woman, to calm him down – to give him more of a sense of grounding. Nate’s restlessness – his . . . chronic, low grade dissatisfaction – was something his cousin did not share, but it bothered Will all the same. Perhaps with a girl, maybe children, Nate would settle. That thought made Will a little sad. It wasn’t that he imagined Nate would leave him – that was never going to happen. And it wasn’t even that he was reluctant to share Nate – they had always shared, almost everything, and there was always ample room for more. No – it was more a sense of . . . having lost something, somewhere along the way. Somehow, Nate had changed course, when he wasn’t looking. Nate had subtly shifted and set his own heading, and Will wanted very desperately to bring him back around. In a way, what they were about to do was as much about that as it was about freeing up this girl. If by the removal of a man that he didn’t know and who obviously was so flawed that he really had no right to live, Will could make Nate happy, it seemed a small price to pay. For in Nate’s happiness, truly, he found his own. In the end sleep overtook him as well. The morning sun had come and gone for many hours before Will’s eyelids fluttered open, to find Nate staring up at the underside of the deck a few feet above them. It seemed the time had passed for any more of the physical reassurances their bodies were so prone to giving and receiving from one another. Will merely leaned to kiss Nate’s jaw, saying, “Come on. Let’s do this.” By the time they had made their preparations, the sun was sinking over the indigo waters of the harbor. Vile as it was, they neither of them hesitated to slide into its greasy depths, a good bit away from the ship that was their target, further down the piers. Swimming effortlessly, despite the shocking cold of the winter temperatures, they came close enough to dive under the surface, silently and invisibly approaching one of the anchor lines. As agile as the rats that were the ever present and unwelcome animal companions of a sailor, they climbed up the thick ropes, and cautiously swung over the side, landing on soundless feet. It was no time at all before they had slipped into the aft cabin – always the best, and the home away from home for any ship’s captain. Moving in almost complete shadow, they spoke in voices no louder than the softest whisper, finding and taking up hidden positions, ready to lie in wait, until the man they intended to kill should make his appearance. The plan was simple. Wait until he fell asleep. Slit his throat silently, and leave the way they had come, with no-one the wiser. Quick. Easy. Fool proof. There had been some heated discussion earlier about the crucial question, but Will had been insistent. His would be the hand that wielded the knife. The blood would be on his own hand, not Nate’s. If there was any desire to leave Nate in his debt for this, it was subconscious on Will’s part. To his mind, it was fitting. He had always looked out for his younger cousin. This was just part of the unwritten, unspoken pact. They had each other’s backs. This had been Will’s idea. He would see it to completion.

[Nathaniel Blacktide]

The hiding was the easy part. The waiting was not. Nate reconsidered and might have left, had not the very man they waited for bounded into the cabin just as the Svefra moved to do just that. And he wasn't alone. What followed next was almost a blur and, by the time it was all over, Will had killed the merchant. Instead of freeing the poor wench from her bondage, though, they'd found her to be a liar. She was the giggling mass that had come so willingly into the merchants bed. In fury and hurt and a million other emotions, Nate had unintentionally taken her life as well. Krysus had chosen to intervene, marking Nate for his mindless wickedness. He didn't yet comprehend what that meant, as the only thing that mattered at present was escape. The cold waters, usually able to calm Nate and soothe him no matter the trouble, felt piercing when he dived into them. He swam as hard and fast as he could manage, until his muscles ached and his lungs screamed. He would have went further still, perhaps until the darkness and the guilt and Laviku swallowed him up. He reached the casinor before that, though, and with limbs that felt numb he clambered aboard. Will would be behind him, he knew, but that couldn't thwart his need to run. If anything, it spurred him on, because he couldn't stand to face even him. How had it all come to this? How had he... done that? Nate couldn't breathe, was choking around his guilt. "Gods, gods," he murmured, the fingers on his hand curling and unfurling against a sensation and a thought that nagged the back of his mind, yet he could not yet face. With bare feet upon the deck of the casinor, he realized something terrible. He couldn't run from this. Where could he go? Into the cabin, at least, where it was dark and he could hide his horror in the darkness it afforded.