The fog was overlying the water, so dense it seemed to muffle the roar of the sea. Rory was on the prow, staring into the mysterious nothing while a coldness surrounded him. He thought of the old days. How many times had he climbed the rocks with Fal to stare at the sea? They'd been sitting close to the abandoned lighthouse, a blanket wrapped around them while Rory told her ghost stories about monsters rising from the mist. Although she'd been three years younger than him, he'd never been able to really scare her. On the contrary; she used to laugh when he told her how their giant teeth tore open flesh, and how they hooked their claws into bodies. 

"But I would be able to handle them, right Rore?" she'd said. "I'm faster than wind."

Yeah — she had been fast. 

But not fast enough. 

His chest cramped up as he pictured her face. How many years has it been since he'd brushed the hair from her pale face? Since he'd pulled her into his chest, screaming? Six years? Seven years? The pain was dull, but it never left. The same went for the guilt. 

Behind him, he heard footsteps. Night had fallen, and the work for today was done. Markus however never cared about his opinion; he could come up with new tasks all day long. 

He was on this ship for three weeks now. There still was no sign of Finn — although Rory heard they were on their way to a pirate island where they might find information. Not much had changed. He still did all the shitty work and Rogier hadn't returned his daggers. 

He'd neither spoken to the captain since that day — and he really didn't know how to stand around him when the man suddenly stood next to him, leaning with his forearms on the railing. Without speaking a word, he stared forward, at the fog. 

Rory swallowed. The surrounding mist made it feel like they were completely alone. Why would the captain seek his company? Or was this the place where he used to find some peace of mind? Should he — Rory — leave? 

"Were you two close?" Rogier asked all of a sudden. 

Goosebumps spread from Rory's neck to his shoulders when he heard his captain's voice. Deep, raw. Sexy. 

"You mean Finn and me?" he asked hesitantly. 

Rogier didn't answer and kept staring forward. Rory peeked at him from the corner of his eyes. He glanced at his strong jaw, the determination on his face, his squared shoulders. A few strands that had slipped from his tie, were dancing in the wind. 

Silence hung heavily between them. Instinctively Rory knew that he was the one who was supposed to break it. 

"We knew each other for only a few months. But yeah — I felt comfortable around him since day one."

Towards Finn, he had never felt the urge to prove himself; he always had the feeling he could be himself around the boy. He however wouldn't say that out loud. 

"If the wind is favorable, we will reach Shark Reef in ten days."

Rory glanced aside. He didn't understand why the man was telling him this. To reassure him? Did he believe that Rory had secluded himself from the others because he was worried about Finn's fate? Well, admitted — he was worried about Finn. He however also knew staring into the distance wouldn't help his friend. If anything, he'd preferred to be alone because the fog reminded him of his youth, and because he realized she wasn't as often on his mind as she should be. It felt like she was slipping away — this time for good.

Something he could never allow. 

"Markus wants me to leave you there," Rogier continued. "He believes you're a worthless piece of shit."

Rory's eyes widened. "What? I did every damn thing he told me to!"

Rogier turned towards him, his lips curling into an amused grin. "You think we're doomed without someone who's washing our clothes? Who's scraping shit barrels?"

Wronged, Rory crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I wanted to do more useful things! I can do more useful things!"

Slowly, Rogier's glance moved from the top of Rory's head to his feet and back up. "What exactly are your skills, kid? Navigate? Helm? Plot a course? Can you read at all?"

Shame made Rory's shoulders slump down. "No," he muttered. "But I can man the cro—"

"There ain't a lack of lookouts."

"I can assist Baldur," he said quietly. 

"He told me you'd rather not."

Rory flinched. Now it sounded like he was too arrogant to work in the galley, which wasn't true. "I just love the open air," he said in a half-hearted defense. "And I'm eager to learn."

The captain turned away from him and stared into the mist. The silence that followed his words was so deep it felt like the air around them was vibrating. "What do you wanna learn?"

Rory's fingers curled around the damp wood of the railing, which felt rough because of the salt sticking to it. "Whatever you need a man for. As long as I'm not dumped like garbage in some port."

The captain huffed, turning towards Rory. Suddenly he stood so close their boots were touching and Rory had to bend his head back to see the man's face. Rogier stared him right in the eye with his inhuman blue eyes. 

"I ain't keepin' you on board because I feel sorry for you. If I keep you here, it's because of the passion in your heart. I ask you to speak freely to me now, Rory."

Rory. 

His name had never sounded more beautiful. Something squirmed inside his stomach, making his cheeks glow. 

"Tell me what it is you want."

Rory's lips felt dry as he stared at those of his captain. His head felt like jelly, he couldn't think, he couldn't think what in the world he would want for the future.

"You."

His voice sounded hoarse.

Only when the eyes of his captain narrowed, Rory realized that had not been a thought. His legs started to feel weak and he tightened his grasp around the railing. 

Rory gasped like someone had held his head underwater. Yet, Rogier's blue eyes kept him where he was. Meek as a lamb, Rory stared back at the man. 

"You want to become a captain?"

Rory nodded slowly, relieved by the way out. Actually, he had never fantasized about having his own ship — but why not? 

Well — because he was small. And young. And uneducated. And because he couldn't navigate. There were a hundred things in the way of ambition like that. 

"A boy's dream," Rogier answered coldly. 

Rory expected him to sum up all the reasons why Rory would never be a captain, but instead, Rogier's lips curled into something that looked like a genuine smile. 

Rory's heart fluttered in his chest. 

"A nice dream, I always told myself." He turned away from Rory, putting his hands back on the railing. The mist was clearing, revealing the starry sky. "I can make a helmsman of you."

Rory stared at the shadow of his face. He? A helmsman's apprentice? "Why?" he blurted out. 

"Why not?"

These words made him glow on the inside. As long as he could remember, people were questioning his abilities, his height a reason why many doubted him. But this captain... he didn't seem too eager to decide what Rory could or couldn't do. He rather gave him the chance to prove himself. 

Excitedly, Rory looked up at him. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I won't disappoint you."

"You will," the man answered simply. "And I will teach you not to feel ashamed of it. Without disappointment, there is no pride... Those two go hand-in-hand."

Rory beamed, and the prospect to spend more time with his captain made his skin tingle. He looked up to the stars, imagining the silver eyes of his little sister who was looking down on him. 

You hear that, Fal? I'm going to be the helmsman's apprentice! Maybe I will be a real helmsman one day! Or even a captain!

If he closed his eyes, he could hear her laughter. Yeah — she would tease him. But she would believe in him nonetheless. 

As he opened his eyes again, Rogier was gone. For a moment he wondered if it had all been a fantasy — then he saw the two daggers sticking from the railing. His hands shot to them instantly and he pulled them out of the wood. Lovingly, his fingers brushed the hilt and the blade. 

He was no longer a prisoner. 

He was the captain's apprentice. 

Markus closed the door of the captain's quarter behind him and entered the dim room. Two lanterns were attached to the walls, one hung down above the writing desk. 

Rogier had summoned him. Something that didn't happen often. Especially since they had welcomed the other crew on board, Markus had the feeling he was more and more neglected. Rogier spoke more to the other captain than to him — while he was supposed to be his right hand. He didn't really know how to get back in the spotlight. Nevertheless, he felt relieved that Rogier had told him to come. Maybe he missed their friendship too. Just spending the night talking, sharing rum, and playing some mindless card game. When was the last time they'd done that? Too long ago to remember. 

Markus nodded to Rogier and sat down on the other side of the table. "Capt'n," he greeted. 

With his fingers, Rogier drummed on a thick book. Contrary to most pirates, Rogier didn't wear a lot of jewelry. Right now, only a signet ring adorned his thumb, although Markus knew he had plenty of other rings. 

"I want you to teach the boy how to read, startin' tomorrow."

Markus stared at his friend. He hadn't known what to expect of this conversation, but not for a moment it had occurred to him that Rory might be the subject. "Read?" he repeated, confused. Why the hell should that brat learn how to read? 

"Yeah, you taught me how to read and write too."

Markus lifted his chin. The ability to read and write was a gift. Markus was one of the few sailors who was educated; his father had been a priest and he had wanted Markus to succeed him. "Why would he need to read?"

Rogier stared him in the eye. Markus wondered if he'd gone too far. Who was he to question his captain's decisions? But Rogier was more than his captain alone. He was also his best friend. Weren't they supposed to speak freely? Back in the day, they'd always been honest with each other. 

"He will be my apprentice."

Markus tensed. "He will be what?  That little brat will be your apprentice? Why?!"

"Because he has potential."

Rogier's eyes were flickering. Markus knew he should lay low, but at the same time, he knew his friend wouldn't hurt him. 

"I can't believe this! For years, I'm standing by your side and now you want to train him to become a helmsman?" 

Rogier furrowed his brow. "I gave you plenty of time to develop your skills, Markus. You've never been interested in being an apprentice."

Markus gritted his teeth. No — because he wanted to be Rogier's equal! He didn't need any training; he had also fought for their future and Rogier made it look like he had done everything on his own!

Petulantly, Markus kept staring at his captain. He just couldn't stand it. Of all people, it was Rory who got this chance. Every time the boy was around, he tensed up; his fingers itching to bash his skull. He'd never seen such an arrogant prick before. He hadn't achieved anything and still, he acted like he was above Markus. 

Rogier studied his face as if he was trying to find a way to find access to his thoughts. 

"You still want me to stop looking for the boy?"

YES. Markus was close to screaming the word. He just wanted things to be like they were before. He wished all those new guys would just... vanish. Why would they care about some other's captain's plaything? 

"I just don't see why we're helping them," he grumbled. "We don't even know what reward we will get."

"The crew of Imo Gen isn't our enemy."

"Well they're neither our friends!" he objected. "But they act like they are! They eat our food, take our hammocks, they even take away our future on this ship! You're appointing a little boy as your successor!"

"I'll train him to become a helmsman. That's all."

"He is seventeen!"

Rogier held his glance. "I was fifteen."

Sighing, Markus leaned back in his chair. It wasn't the same. Rogier was a legend. A great man. Of course he had done remarkable things when he was young. But Rory... Rory was just a smartass acrobat with his flying daggers! He had a big mouth, that was his only talent!

"I just don't see why we're doing this," he muttered. "Nothing's the same anymore."

"Life goes on, Markus. People evolve. But you don't. You're standing still. We've known each other for years but you never show initiative, or the will to learn. Don't blame me for searching for men who do show these qualities."

"Men," Markus sneered. "It's a boy! A child! I get it, you miss Emiel, but that little blond devil ain't..."

Rogier's glance became dark, his jaw clenched. "You've said enough, Markus. Starting tomorrow, you will teach the boy how to read. End of  discussion." He waved his hand. "Now, leave."

Leave. 

Markus almost exploded in anger. He was dismissed like he was a servant instead of his best friend! Angrily he shoved back the chair and stomped out of the room. The relationship with Rogier had been strained for a while now, but that blonde devil ripped the last fragile pieces apart. 

But Rogier was wrong. 

He had evolved, in the past years. He had learned. He had lost so much — he would make sure he was never going to lose anything else. 

And sure as hell not because of that little devil.