My Pirate Treasure

As they walked deeper into the cavern, Bowen answered his question about how she'd been doing in as diplomatic a way he could imagine. She'd been getting by. Artorias' lips pulled down in a small frown which he turned away to hide from Bowen under the guise of inspecting some crystals. "I know," he murmured softly, though whether it was a response to her or just him speaking his inner thoughts aloud was unclear. He knew Bowen had been struggling now more than ever. More than once he'd gone to find her to see if she needed him or wanted to spend time together, only to hear her cries of passion from within her room and know she was mating with Haiku. He didn't speak his feelings aloud, especially not the envy it roused within him whenever he heard the two wolves. He knew the deal they'd made to allow their relationship to culminate into what it was. Many a night Artorias had laid awake staring at the ceiling of his room, thinking about Bowen, trying not to think about Haiku. He told himself to be grateful for what he had, but just as Bowen was a jealous sibling, so too it seemed that envy ran in Artorias.

Try as he might, Artorias felt painfully guilty for not being able to give Bowen all the attention she deserved and needed. He didn't know the extent to which her condition had worsened, or the lecherous thoughts she'd had of all the wolves she passed in the Hallows. He would never know and that bothered him the most. That he couldn't understand what Bowen was feeling so he couldn't ever know how to help her or cure her—if there even was a cure. Artorias would have done anything for Bowen. If she'd told him the cure was to make love to her and never stop, he would have had her until they drew their last breaths. As it was, he felt useless, chasing after temporary reliefs for symptoms he only seemed to find too late. He hated it, hated feeling like he couldn't help the wolf he loved, that he had to be forced to watch while she suffered and find her relief beneath the body of another—or others.

Bowen interrupted his thoughts when she insisted they keep going, pulling ahead of him and leaving him with one of his personal favorite sights of her shapely hips swaying with each step she took. Artorias swallowed hard, biting his lip while he resisted the urge to pounce on her and have his way with her there and then. The scent of her heat was damned near impossible to ignore on its own right in the confines of the cavern, but the visual element of Bowen nearly had him groaning with need. He forced himself to resist, at least long enough for the two lovers to get to their destination first. Then they could set to ravaging each other as many times as they desired. Forcing his fiery eyes back up, Artorias noticed the crystals had now become the majority of the cavern's walls and ceiling. There were so many of them all over the place, all reflecting the light from the cavern entrance to illuminate the way the deeper they went.

Then, as they rounded a corner, Artorias saw what they had been looking for. Nestled in the back of the cavern up against a wall of solid crystal sat an old pirate ship in near perfect condition. Intricate and orange detailing had been carved into the woodwork on the sides of the ship, its hull almost perfect save for spots where crystals had grown up its sides and penetrated through the wood. The tattered sails hung limp and lifeless, and from the top of the mast, a decaying Jolly Roger flapped weakly without any breeze to bring it to life. "De către zei..." muttered the dire brute as he gazed up at the massive ship in awe. "Is this like what you sailed on? It's huge!" He turned his fire opal eyes back to Bowen in curiosity, only looking away again to spot a gangplank that had been propped up on some crystals to allow them to climb up to the deck of the ship and board it. "I think we can get up over here," he said to Bowen, nudging her gently with a hip before leading the way over to the plank and making his way cautiously up first to make sure it was safe.

"Artorias" | "Carpathian"