It was pure torture. Absolutely completely pure unadulterated torture. Arkhos stood on the edge of the dry dock, staring at the half completed hull of a magnificent new barque style ship he’d had commissioned, it was everything he had to not scream at the tired workman to stop their lollygagging and their ridiculous notion of needing sleep to finish work on her and get him out to sea. It had been almost two months since he’d been marooned on the worst island he could think of...Eversong. Sure it wasn’t a conventional island, but it felt like one when he could go nowhere without having to walk or ride one of those bony horse monstrosities the Forsaken had risen to serve.  

He’d almost signed up to start working on fishing vessels, but rumors had swirled that he attracted firestarters, and Arkhos hadn’t wanted to bring any more stress to himself or what remained of his crew...the crew. 

Keythan was there of course, his rock and guiding light. The reason he’d managed to survive this long was the blond and his many distractions, making him grudgingly fall back in love with the land he’d sworn off for many years. Cook had left, after...well when one loses their husband and father of their unborn child, suddenly working on a ship lost it’s appeal. Arkhos had managed to smuggle her down to an Alliance friendly town and he hoped she’d made it back home to Teladrassil by now. Keythan had managed to rescue six of his twelve man crew all together, not including Natha and himself of course. Only four had perished in the flames, one at their own hand but...none it seemed wanted to return, they were frightened, and Arkhos honestly couldn’t blame them, but now what was he? A Captain of nothing...of a broken ship and a busted hull, a Captain all on his own. 

“Captain! She’s coming along wonderfully!” Came a voice that broke him from his melancholic thoughts, and Arkhos turned to smile at the foreman. 

“Aye, tha’ she is. Looks like she might be done by the end of next month yeah?” He replied, deep voice friendly and cheerful. 

The red haired elf that had come up to him nodded, standing beside him. “Yes sir, she’ll be exactly to your specifications, I’ve got the enchanters on stand-by for when we finish up the hull, your ship is gonna be protected from everything except cannons.” The foreman chuckled. “Apologies, we’ve no protective runes for that.”

Arkhos chuckled, it sounded dry and unused but it felt genuine. “Good, I suppose for that I only need t’keep a weather eye on what’s ‘round us. Good as any protective rune against cannons.” 

“I hear you’re one of the best at doing that, so I have no fear.” The foreman smiled at him. “Still, how are you enjoying your time here? Reconnecting with old friends?”

What are you doing? Stop this! It’s wrong! You know it is!

Don’t worry, you only need one to see where you’re going. 

Arkhos smirked then, realizing what he needed to do while he was still marooned. “Aye, actually I’m havin’ dinner with an old compatriot of mine. Used t’run with him when I was but a young welp, I can’t wait t’see what stories he has for me.” 

“Well have fun! Don’t drink too much, you won’t be able to find your way back to the tavern.” The foreman teased, heading back to get the rest of his straggling workers off the dry dock before the sun went down. 

The scent of smoke was not a new one for the pirate captain. His room often smelled of it because the cooking stove was below the hardened floorboards by his own heating stove, the pipes interconnected and coming out through the wall to let the exhaust free while together they helped keep his quarters warm and comfortable. It was usually followed by the scent of whatever Cook was making that day, because they were in harbor it usually was actually pretty good. She hunted in the mornings and caught them lynx, and deer, sometimes even dragonhawk, though the dark haired elf put a stop to that. Their ship sigil was still one of the magnificent beasts and he wasn't about to eat one, that was just bad luck. 

Rolling over, the captain groaned, burying his face into the neck of his bedmate. The soft blond hairs that hung loosely around muscular shoulders tickled his cheek, and for a moment Arkhos could forget the scent of smoke and fire to smell the scent of sweat and musk that was his paladin. He had almost decided to wake the other up with a sweet morning smack to the rump and a mounting, when the scent made him twitch...usually the odor would change, it was never this acrid, never this off. It smelled of pine pitch and varnish and shellac, that was not a cooking fire. 

"Keythan." The big elf said quickly, sitting up and looking around the barely lightened room. The sun wouldn't fully be up for another hour or so, but there was an odd glow coming from somewhere outside his window...somewhere very close to his Drakonbane. "Keythan!" he shouted as he leapt out of the bed, eyepatch grabbed and slid over his left ruined eye by sheer muscle memory as the spiky haired elf got dressed, grabbing up his sword. and pushing the window open. A slew of things that might be happening went through his mind, boarders? Sudden pirates attacking another ship? He hoped not, he hated killing other pirates. But no, as he looked out in confusion all he could see were flames...his ship was burning at the water line. 

"Fire...SHIP FIRE!" He couldn't even make sentences, the fire had clenched his heart, had frozen his veins. Arkhos stared, leaning forward so far he almost fell from the window but a sudden powerful hand grabbing him had him turning and striking wildly. 

"Hey! Woah! Captain!" Keythan soothed, worry-filled eyes reaching up to catch his arms. He was already dressed, hair pulled back tight in a pony tail, weapon latched to his side. "Arkhos...shh. Fire? Come on let's go put it out." he said quickly, knowing it was imperative the dark haired elf focus on the task at hand. "Let's go save Drakonbane."

Arkhos let out a short breath, managing to suck in another, forcing his lungs to work and his heart to beat again. "Right..you're right." quickly running through the things they needed to do the captain pulled on his boots. "Let's go do this." he said confidently, and then walked right into the door. 

Stumbling back, Arkhos stared in confusion as he reached down and wiggled the handle. Then he slammed his shoulder into the door hard. "Keythan it's blocked." he snarled, slamming in again. 

"I got this." Keythan said, motioning for the captain to step back, gripping his sword tight. From his hands golden light flowed, and with a snarl of determination the blond leapt forward, slamming into the door with the blade, slashing downward. The wood exploded from the impact of the concussive holy magic, sending bits flying down below onto the burning deck of the ship. The charred remnants of a large bolt lock lay at the blond's feet. "Someone locked us in, Captain." he said softly, dread building in his own chest. 

"Who...who would do this?" Arkhos growled, but his focus was on his crew. He didn't see anyone on the tantalizing gangplank, which still rested unburned on the dock far below. 

Screams below deck made him look away, the door to below was locked just like his own room had been. Grabbing up his rapier the spiky haired elf moved to get it open much like Keythan had. Only the paladin's warning had him duck in time as a massive great axe swung, nearly colliding with his head. 

Turning the warrior saw his first mate, eyes blazing with insanity as he wrenched his ax from the wall, swinging to meet Keythan's sword, a grunt and snarl all the tauren made as he raised a hoof to kick the paladin back, sending the blond slamming into a pile of crates. 

"Nat what are you doing?!" Arkhos cried, the betrayal burning as he dodged another attack, rapier coming up to strike at the other's arm, sliding away once more, shirt being torn from how close the sharpened great ax blade came to his chest. 

"I will light a fire that the shadows can come into, a burning beacon of suffering for all the world to see!" The deranged tauren shouted, swinging again, barely parried by the warrior he was attacking. He had two feet and at least a hundred fifty pounds on Arkhos, he would take down his captain and complete his sacrifice. 

"Natha, your wife is down there...she's...she's dieing we have to save her!" Arkhos pleaded, gritting his teeth as every muscle in his body fought to keep the parry going. 

"Great sacrifice must be made, Captain...you will know soon enough that any price must be paid for the glory that shall come." The tauren crooned, before suddenly digging his hooves into the heating wood, slamming Arkhos back into the wall. "Good bye Captain, your soul will writhe in the torment and be free!" 

Arkhos tried to raise the sword to block the ax that was swung, closing his good eye in expectation of feeling his rib cage crushed, when a whooshing down roared over his head, and the scent of charred meat assaulted his nostrils. Opening his eye again, blinking up at the tauren that had fallen harmlessly backwards into a pile of singed fur and charged flesh, he saw Keythan standing there, hand out stretched, a wild look of rage on his face. 

"Key?" he asked numbly, voice so small that the paladin had no choice but to focus through the sudden panic that his lover had been about to be killed and rush to him. 

"It's okay Ark...you're okay." Keythan promised softly, moving to help him stand. The deck was breaking apart, the screams were softer now. "Go to the dock Captain, let me get them." he encouraged, pushing the dark haired elf towards the gangplank, watching him with fear but Arkhos complied with his request, stumbling down and landing heavily on the wood below. 

Racing to the door, blasting the lock open, Keythan raced downstairs into the blackened smoke that choked his lungs and blinded him, the inferno roaring around him as he sought desperately for survivors. There were no more screams now, the flames burned his ears and made him deaf, but he searched...he had to find something, someone had to survive this. 

Arkhos sat up, still numb from shock but he stared at his ship..his beautiful Drakonbane, she glowed like a funeral pyre...a funeral pyre that included the one person he'd given his heart to. "Keythan." he whispered, before suddenly standing. "KEYTHAN!" he screamed into the blazing night, by now rescuers and others were joining him on the dock, and strong arms grabbed him before he was allowed to go forward back onto the raging inferno that was the top deck. 

Water was starting to be pumped onto the ship, the fires being fought as well as they could but there was nothing they could do, the ship was burning freely with everyone he cared for inside. Arkhos dropped to his knees as all strength left him, staring blankly at the ground, unable to hear anything around him as his world fell apart. Vaguely he remembered being helped to his feet, and carried to a wagon. There was cold and wet around him, soft words spoken to him but he couldn't hear them. Gently he was covered by something coarse but warm, and a hand touched his face, soothing him to unconsciousness. 

Great sacrifice Captain...everything comes with a price. 

we-the-faceless

Flynn sighed, staring at the piece of paper in front of him. Chewing absent-mindedly on his gold tipped pen, he decided to write the first, and easiest of letters that there was in this. 

Dear Valmarian,

Dakk and I would like to meet up with you again, if you'd like. For old times sake. Maybe in the city or the forest outside of it? Due to some unforeseen circumstances we can't really go much further, but we'd enjoy seeing you again. 

See you soon,

Flynn

Signing and sealing it, Flynn put it to the side, frowning at the next note he needed to write. He'd conversed with Keythan, and had been pained at how much the elf didn't know about his brother. Protective anger had welled up inside him at the mention of the creature that had nearly killed Dakkian in the long run, the Duchess. She had poisoned him in the first place, to keep him going when she needed him, and Flynn was fully behind the plot he and Keythan had hatched.

It had been a good conversation, and he'd come home in a wonderful mood, right up until he hit the door and realized he'd revealed a lot to Dakkian's brother, things Dakk might not have wanted him to. Asking the half-elf to speak with him had been difficult, Dakk had nearly had an anxiety attack at one point, but Flynn had soothed him as much as possible, even to the point where Dakk had agreed to have Keythan over for dinner, which was important now more than ever. That lead to his next letter. 

Keythan,

Within the weekend we'd like to have you for dinner. Please let me know which evening would be the most convenient for you.

Flynn

The last letter irked him deeply, but he knew, from a noble stand point, that Dakkian being listed as dead, even in Dalaran, could cause problems down the road for them if someone were to try and make a claim against them with it as a reason. Flynn put the letter he wanted to write to Dakkian's father to the side, instead addressing the Dalaran Magistry itself. 

To whom it may concern,

I write on behalf of myself and my husband, residents in standing with the nobility of Silvermoon City. It has been erroneously noted that my husband, Dakkian Connell, is deceased. Please find enclosed his record of marriage, registry with the Hall of Records, and his claims to nobility and all rights and lands owned jointly between us. Also, please find enclosed work orders and customers he has performed duties and jobs for in the last two years. If you have any questions please contact me or him at your earliest convenience. 

Sincerely,

Lord Flynn Ryder

Flynn frowned at the letter, making a small face. He'd never been good at making official statements, but he hoped this was enough to at least reverse some of what Dakkian's father had done. If anything it might have a neutral party come out and see that Dakk wasn't dead, and that he could be re-listed as alive and owning property and land, in case Dalaran became less crazy over time. 

Now the last letter..and this one Flynn needed help with. Picking up the paper, and his pen, he headed for Dakkian's workshop, slipping inside and propping himself up a box while he worked on something. 

Flynn studied the letter in his hand, fingers curled under his chin as he read the words again for the fifth time. 

Lord Ryder,

I apologize for not writing sooner. You might understand that I am not clear on whether or not my brother Kian wants me in his life again. His past isn’t such a pleasant reminder for him. in any case, I hope you are both doing well and wonder if it might be acceptable to bring you a very late wedding gift as I missed your ceremony. I hope this peace offering is acceptable.

Regards,

Keythan Dawnfire.

They had talked, him and Dakkian, when Keythan had first arrived at their doorstep and had promptly had a gun drawn on him. Flynn personally loved that his husband's first instinct was to shoot anyone that remotely bothered him, it meant his half-elf was the best fighter, and he hoped he never lost that spirit. However...

Flynn sighed, he knew Dakkian would be okay with him writing back, but he had to tread carefully. As much as every fiber in him burned for a family, or at least to add to the one he currently had, he knew reuniting Dakk with Keythan was going to take time, and probably a lot of alcohol. And no guns. Mostly no guns. 

Picking up his ink pen, Flynn studied the empty paper in front of him, before beginning to write neatly in his flowing script. 

Dear Keythan,

How have you been? Both Dakkian and I are well, thank you for asking. I have finally finished all the paperwork to actualize my nobility, and your brother's if he ever wanted to claim it...who knew all it took to reclaim your blood line was a sprained wrist and a veritable gold mine of ink? I realize it will be a long road ahead of us, but I feel as if, taken slowly, your brother could adjust to you being around...you must prove yourself though. I think a peace offering would be wonderful, perhaps over lunch or dinner? If you wished we could meet in a neutral place in the city, though I wouldn't mind having you here! Let me know at your earliest convenience. 

Warm reguards,

Flynn Ryder

He scrubbed the floors, he dusted the shelves and upholstery, he polished the silverware to a lovely shine. And last, but not least, he made sure his tea cups, saucers, and special blend of mageroyal blossoms were all ready for later.

After turning to admire his handy-work a moment, a look of worry crossed his face and a gasp sounded in his throat. He had forgotten to buy the desserts! That wouldn't do, that wouldn't do at all!

Keythan, was it?  He seemed nice enough, and the evening tea they had shared was certainly pleasant.  He wouldn't mind chatting with him again.  He was at least soothed by the fact the map had gone with someone kind. Par sighed, smoothed some of his loose hair back from his face, and began shuffling and organizing some of the stray papers and letters.  The flicker of the candle light on brilliant gleaming petals caught his eye.  A golden lotus bloom, tucked between the books and papers on his desk, with a glass potion bottle as a stand-in vase.

He wasn't one to keep flowers for looks.  What use did he have of beauty?  He supposed he could consider it a gift, though he found it odd to receive a flower as a gift, especially one someone had already bought from his own two hands only to return to him. What a curious woman, he thought.  She had rejected his routine flattery, but he had to admit she did have good taste by the flowers she chose.  He wondered what she did with them, especially ones as flashy as this.  Potions?  Home decor?  Or maybe she wore them in her hair as women in this city so often did?