Private Tales Dark Reunions

[Mako]

Asherah Ocean - The Crimson Sphinx - Headed North

The world was a dangerous place.

That had been Redic's first lesson. From the moment he'd left the Bayou, the Pirate Captain had been clear about just what sort of life Mako was stepping into. It was an ugly, dark, and brutal existence that they eeked out. A dozen times over his 'Da had tried to warn him, told him that staying with the Crimson Crew would be the death of him eventually.

He'd warned even more when Mako had asked for the Reckoner's Mark.

The world was a dangerous place, and being a Reckoner made it so danger couldn't be avoided. Mako had known that. Mako had known it every step of the way. He'd never shied away from the facts of who he was, what he had become. It would have been a lie to say he'd never regretted it, and yet it was the only life he knew.

That was why, a week ago, when the mark on his shoulder began to burn there had been not a hint of worry within him.

Reckoners died all the time. There weren't many of them left, but the feeling of the Mark's incessant push was hardly unfamiliar. Feeling it again hadn't been surprising, but when the burn had worsened...when the Mark told him of a second death, that was when he'd started to worry.

Then, not a week later, two had turned to three and for the first time Mako began to panic.

Someone was going after them. Someone was hunting them, and that meant someone was hunting her. The realization had sent a chill up Mako's spine, and within the span of a few minutes he'd convinced his Uncle to turn the Crimson Sphinx due north. Sending it on the path towards the Allir Reach, the closest place to where all three Reckoners had died.

He could only hope that none of them had been Emilie.

 

[Emilie]

The past year aboard the Stormchaser with Amara and her crew had been a balm to Emilie's soul. She had embraced the life of a pirate, throwing herself into every task with the determination of a woman trying to outrun her pain. She had learned the thrill of the open sea, how to read the stars, and the art of charting a course through uncharted waters. The salt air helped slowly stitched her shattered heart back together, the crew becoming a family she hadn’t realised she needed. Yet, even amidst the calm, a shadow of longing lingered—a whisper of dark hair, golden eyes, and the weight of all the words left unsaid.

His face was the first to flash in her mind as a searing agony shot through her shoulder, and she crumpled to her knees. The rune burned as if molten iron had been pressed into her flesh. A Reckoner had fallen. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she gripped her shoulder, the pain mingling with a rising dread. Through clenched teeth, she begged Amara to turn the ship, her voice trembling with desperation. The captain, though not terribly fond of the idea, ordered the helm to follow the pull of the mark. Emilie let the pain guide them, but the gnawing question haunted her: What if it had been Mako?

The torment did not end there. Days later, another Reckoner fell, and then another, the fiery pain returning each time with greater intensity. Her world narrowed to the white-hot agony and the dreaded probability that someone was hunting them. Three Reckoners had been slain, and the vow etched into her very skin screamed for vengeance. Fear gripped her, not just for herself, but for him. What if Mako had been among them? The thought clawed at her, sending her heart spiraling into turmoil.

Emilie’s resolve hardened with every wave of pain. The mark burned with a purpose she could no longer ignore.

It was another week of feverish pain before she heard the call for dry land. She had only endured this once before. For her father. How Mako had stood in the same room as she and her father both without opening their throats, she had no idea. If it had been Amara herself who had killed another reckoner, Emilie might just have driven a dagger into the woman's chest right now to end this.

She was half drunk, half delirious when she staggered off the gangplank and onto the docks, finding the nearest empty barrel to vomit into.

"Someone find me a shitting horse."

 

[Mako]

It took two days after the Sphinx reached land for Mako to cut his way into the Allirian Reach and find the town of Eldholm.

The town was larger than most not located on the coast, with over five thousand residents and a few hundred more spotted in the woods around. The Rangers had a waystation here, and some enterprising mayor had even started a Militia a few years ago.

Which was to say, by the time Mako got there the 'murder' was already being 'investigated'.

A killing in Eldholm was uncommon to say the least, most of the crime they got was thievery and a fight in the tavern now and again. The towns lumberjacks enjoying bluster, but never the full anger it took to kill someone. Least that was what the tavern wench told Mako when he scribbled on a small blackboard to ask. "You don't worry yourself none, hon. Sure a handsome face like that won't see many fights."

She assured him as she departed his table, the Pirate flickering a winning smile at her as she left.

Fingers drummed against the table, idly reaching up to scratch at the mark still burning against his skin.

He had only arrived a few hours before, but it quickly became apparent that this particular hunt would require more than a few questions. He'd have to talk to the City Watch, maybe even the Rangers, and then...fuck, this was going to be hard. And I still have no idea if it's her.

Mako thought, a pang ringing through his heart.

 

[Emilie]

The dirt road leading into Eldholm was rutted from wagon wheels and heavy rains, and the faint scent of pine hung in the crisp evening air. Emilie walked with purpose, her steps silent despite the weight of her boots. Two of the crew, Jared and Finnick flanked her, their weapons visible enough to ward off casual trouble. The town came into view as the road widened, its wooden buildings standing in neat rows, lanterns flickering to life as dusk deepened.

Her shoulder still throbbed with the persistent ache of the Reckoner’s Mark, though it had dulled slightly thanks to the numbspore she'd been chewing on since their departure from the ship, and her head felt more than a little light.. She’d kept her jaw clenched the entire journey, her fiery determination masking the fear simmering beneath the surface. Each step felt heavier with the uncertainty of what awaited them—what awaited her.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Jared muttered, eyeing the modest town. His hand rested on the hilt of his cutlass, his dark eyes scanning their surroundings.

“Small towns like this rarely do,” Finnick replied, his tone light. “Still, doesn’t mean it’s safe.”

Emilie didn’t respond. She could feel the pull of the Mark thrumming faintly beneath her skin, a constant reminder of why they were here. Three Reckoners were dead. Three marks snuffed out in brutal succession, and her shoulder still burned from the most recent loss. Someone was hunting them, and she wouldn’t wait to be next.

As they reached the center of town, Emilie slowed, her sharp gaze darting between the tavern and the watchtower visible just beyond the main square.

“Split up,” she said curtly. “Go see what you can find out. I’ll—”

“You’ll go where?” Jared interrupted, raising a brow. “Don’t go getting yourself into trouble while we’re gone. The Cap'n will have our a--"

She shot him a withering glare. “I’ll be fine. Just go.”

With a shared look of resignation, the two young men nodded and headed off. Emilie dismounted her horse and tied her reins before her feet carried her down a side street without much thought.

The pull of the Mark was subtle, an instinctive thing rather than a compass, and it guided her now like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She stopped however, when a rough voice called out behind her.

“Well, now, where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?”

She froze, turning to find two men leaning against a wall, their eyes raking over her like she was an item for sale. One of them, taller and broader, pushed off the wall with a lazy grin.

“Awfully dangerous to wander these streets alone,” he said, swaggering closer. “We’d be happy to keep you company.”

Emilie’s jaw tightened. This was precisely the situation that started her on this path in the first place. She turned to leave, ignoring their laughter—until a hand grabbed her arm.

“You deaf, girl? We’re talking to you.”

It happened in an instant. Emilie spun, wrenching her arm free and slamming her elbow into the man’s stomach. He doubled over with a grunt, but she was already moving, her fist colliding with his face. He staggered back, his head cracking against the wall.

The second man lunged at her, but she sidestepped him, driving her knee into his crotch. He crumpled to the ground with a wheeze, and Emilie stood over him, her breath coming in sharp bursts.

“Touch me again, and you’ll lose the hand,” she hissed, her voice low and cold, her hands tightening on her blades in warning.

The taller man staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He glared at her but didn’t make another move. “Crazy bitch,” he muttered, backing away. “You’ll regret that.”

Emilie's eyes rolled and she watched him retreat toward the tavern on the corner.

Inside the tavern, Garrik watched from behind the bar as the two men shoved their way inside in a rage. "What in the hells happened to you two? Get in a fight with a pack of wolves?"

The man with the bloodied nose looked up, scowling. "Might as well've been. Crazy bitch near took my head off!"

"Aye," the other grumbled, hopping onto a stool with a wince. "Came outta nowhere. Red hair, wild eyes, thought she'd gut us like fish."

Garrik raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed as he shoved two tankards toward them. "A woman did this to the two of you? What's the matter, your gentlemanly charms not work on her?"

The bloody-nosed man slammed his hand down onto the bar, his temper flaring. "We didn’t do a damn thing! Just offered her a friendly greeting, and next thing I know, she’s swinging fists like a madman!"

 

[Mako]

Was it her? There wasn't really any logical reasons to think so. There were many redheads in this world with ill-tempers and fiercer rages. But blind hope and a foolish heart wanted more than anything for it to be her.

It was entirely without reason.

She was a Reckoner, as much as he. Emilie would feel the call just as much as he would. The compulsion would drag her across land and sea.

The last he had seen of her had been in Teth though, and the northern oceans were far. There was always a chance she had been near Alliria. They might not have admitted it, but the trade-city accepted even pirates. Long as they made a bit of an effort.

It wasn't without reason, Mako tried to tell himself again, but he knew that it wasn't logical. Even if she was coming, it would probably be weeks before she got here. "Stupid bitch."

The man complained, and Mako tried to tune him out.

"Dressed like a pirate two days from the sea." In an instant he shot to his feet. Reason or logic, not mattering. It was another detail in a bucket that was already overflowing with hopes. The man continued to speak for half a word, but before he could finish Mako slammed his face into the table.

Half in the defense of her name, and half to begin his interrogation.

 

[Emilie]

The man's yelp of surprise was muffled by the solid thunk of his face meeting the wooden table. A string of curses followed as he jerked back, clutching his nose, which was now bleeding freely again.

"THE FUCK?!" he sputtered, glaring up at Mako with watery eyes. His companion, too slow to react, just gaped at the sudden violence.

"Mako?..." Emilie blinked, standing in the doorway, her eyes falling to the bleeding man and her expression instantly souring.

"Her! That's her! Get the fuck off of me. Madmen! Mad women!" he spat.

The corner of Emilie's lips twitched in amusement at the man's well-earned suffering. "Making friends?"

 

[Mako]

The man shouted up at him, but Mako's eyes had already caught sight of the only person he ever really cared about seeing. His heart stopped for a moment, but none of the pressure of his palms let up. Continuing to pin the man to the table.

A grin spread over his cheeks, and finally he pulled himself up.

His fingers released the man who had bath mouthed Emile, letting him drop to the floor of the tavern with a solid thud. He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself looking only at the spiraling birds above his head. Passing out on the floor as Mako stepped over him. Trying my best.

Mako's fingers flickered.

She was one of the few outside Amara and Radic who could read the language they had made for him. Sybille would have been happy about that.

Hard when no one speaks my language. He was casually ignoring the reason why they were both here. The reason both of them had to be here.

 

[Emilie]

The man on the floor groaned, rolling onto his side and clutching his head. “Fucking lunatic!” he spat, voice thick with pain and outrage. “That’s her, right there! The redheaded b—” He pointed a shaking finger at Emilie, his face twisted in a grimace as he thought twice about insulting her again. “You. You both need locking up.” he grumbled as he got to his feet and stumbled away.

Emilie barely spared him a glance. She rolled her shoulder again, irritation flickering across her face at the persistent ache. The healer's tincture had dulled the pain, but it hadn’t erased it. She'd deal with that later.

Right now, her eyes were on Mako.

Alive. Well. Here.

The knot in her chest loosened before she could stop it, and she hated that. She watched his hands as he signed, and despite everything—despite time, distance, him leaving—she understood. She hadn’t forgotten his language. Just like she hadn’t forgotten that face. That grin. The way he could look at her like nothing had ever happened.

You let him get close once, twice before - and look where it left you.

Emilie cleared her throat, straightening. Nodding. Business. That was what mattered. She exhaled sharply, shifting her weight as though she could shake off the moment. "Well. I suppose we're here for the same reason.” She tilted her head, expression unreadable. “Find anything of use?"

 

[Mako]

Mako could feel a buzzing in his chest. A growing desire to run over there and throw Emilie into his arms.

It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep himself rooted to the ground.

No look was offered to the stumbling man, nor towards anyone else in the room. A few still glanced at the two Pirate's more than a little wearily, but most at least seemed content to leave the scene alone. Probably not wanting to be the next ones to be tackled. Not yet.
Mako admitted.

I only got here today. Just long enough to find this tavern and listen to a few rumors.

I'm not even sure who it was. There weren't many Reckoners left now, perhaps two dozen or so. Emilie had been the only new one in almost five years. But it's more than one.

Mako remarked with a frown as he closed the distance between the two of them. Looking as though he was about to sign something else, and then thought better of it. I was afraid it was you.

He thought to himself instead.

 

[Emilie]

Emilie held her ground as Mako stepped closer, her face giving nothing away, but inside, her thoughts raged. She hadn’t been ready for this. Not really.

The moment she’d seen him, something inside her had lurched, a feeling she’d spent the last year trying to drown rising like a tide she couldn’t control. She could still feel him—his warmth, the roughness of his hands, the way he had fit against her like the sea met the shore, inevitable and unrelenting.

And gods, that fucking face.

The way he looked at her, like he hadn’t left, like he hadn’t ruined her, made her want to scream. Or punch him. Or—worse—pull him closer just to feel something other than this ache.

Instead, she rolled her shoulder, the motion forcing her back to reality, to the pain that burned there. "Then you’re just as useless as I am," she said coolly, masking the storm raging inside her.

Before she could say anything else, the tavern doors swung open with a thud. Jared’s voice cut through the thick air between them, easy and familiar.

"Em! There she is!" he called, grinning as he strode inside, Fenn close behind. "Might have known we’d find you in the local tavern."

Emilie let out a slow breath, grateful for the distraction, even as her mind continued to spin. She hadn’t forgotten him. Not even a little. And she hated that.

"Jared, Fenn. This is Mako. Friend of mine, older friend of the Captain's." she explained and looked back to Mako. "Couple of lads Amara picked up a few months back. Hopeless the pair of them." she mused, and the pair looked offended.

Emilie rolled her shoulder, her brow knitting. "Alright. Either I need to get blind drunk or we need to find who we are looking for now before I murder someone."

The boys stepped back.

 

[Mako]

A range of emotions whirled through him, and in truth Mako had no idea what to do with any of them.

Radic had never been all that good when it came to the feelings department. Neither had any of the other Pirates he'd grown up with. The lot of them had been jaded, miserable bastards. He jittered ever so slightly standing in front of him, his hands raising to speak again when suddenly Jared and Fenn came crashing into the tavern.

He blinked for a brief moment, then offered a subtle nod to his fellow pirates. Morgue.

The best, at least in his mind, first step was figuring out which Reckoner it was that had died.

They knew the list extended to three, but getting the information for at least one would let them get a start on what they were actually dealing with. Whether or not this was someone hunting them, or simply cleaning up a job that the three might have done together at one point.

Not all the Reckoner's hated one another.

The body will be there, I was going to break in. Mako wasn't worried about anyone 'overhearing' him. The language of signs he spoke was unlike any other thanks to Radic. Wanna help?

He asked, letting his grin slip back onto his face as Jared and Fenn stared at him in confusion.

 

[Emilie]

Emilie watched Mako carefully as he signed, her mind still catching up with the reality of him standing in front of her again. A year was a long time, but not long enough, it seemed, to dull the effect he had on her.

She exhaled, considering for a moment. A morgue break-in wasn’t exactly how she’d planned to spend the night, but she supposed it was better than sitting around waiting for answers to fall into her lap. Mako had always been the reckless sort, but she had to admit, this was probably the best lead they had.

With a shrug, she nodded. “Fine.” Her gaze flicked to Jared and Fenn, both of whom were still looking at Mako like he was some sort of puzzle they were trying to solve. “You two stay here.”

Jared let out a long, dramatic sigh of relief and threw himself into the nearest chair. “Stay here?.. In a tavern?... Well thank fuck for that..”

Emilie rolled her eyes, already turning back toward Mako. “Try not to get into trouble while we’re gone,” she muttered.

Fenn clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. “I dunno, I was kinda looking forward to getting arrested in a strange town.”

Jared smirked, raising his mug in a mock toast. “No promises.”

She ignored him, instead meeting Mako’s gaze again. The grin had already returned to his lips, that infuriating one that made her both want to punch him and do something else entirely. She pushed the thought aside and nodded toward the door.

“Lead the way.”

 

[Mako]

Mako didn't wait to give her enough time to change her mind, heading towards the door and into the chilly night air.

Though the Reach was temperate most times of the year, winter was quickly approaching. Flakes of snow had been seen last week, though none had managed to stick around for more than a day. It would not surprise anyone if those gray clouds in the mountains would bring more.

Shrugging his shoulders, the pirate fitted his coat a bit tighter. The leather lined with fleece. Radic often took them along the southern pole, the thick arctic ice offering unique islands that were tucked away deep in the fjords. A good place to hide when you were being chased.

Mako glanced back towards Emilie, making sure she had something warm before heading towards the morgue. How's Amara doing?

How are you doing? Is what he meant to ask.

What he wanted to ask.

The town wasn't large enough for the tavern to be too far from their destination, the morgue really just being attached to the barracks for the Watch. Sneaking in wouldn't be too difficult, there wouldn't be any Guards, but they had to be quiet.

 

[Emilie]

Emilie tugged her coat tighter around herself as they stepped outside, the worn leather doing little against the creeping cold, but she wasn’t about to complain.

She caught the flicker of his hands as he signed, his question careful, indirect. How’s Amara doing?

“She’s the same as ever.” she said with a shrug. Her voice was casual, but she didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on her, waiting for more.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “And I’m fine too, thanks,” she added after a beat, though it came out a little sharper than she intended. Fine. What a useless, empty word. She wasn’t fine. She hadn’t been fine in a long time. But she wasn’t about to unravel in front of him.

Instead, she pushed ahead, her boots scuffing against the dirt road as they neared the barracks. “You gonna ask me how the weather’s been next, or are we breaking into this place before someone sees us?”

Back to business.

She could do business. Business didn’t make her want to punch him and kiss him in the same breath.

 

[Mako]

Ah.

Mako couldn't help the knot that formed in his stomach at her response, the slight color that flickered into his cheeks. It happened before he could grab a hold of himself. Small as it was, the sting of her cut landed harder than anyone else's words could have.

His fingers folding into fists as he had to stop himself from throwing out a thousand different words at a thousand different times.

An apology. A declaration of love. A cry of frustration. A shout that he was a fool and deserved nothing less than a strike to the face.

But he couldn't do it.

Did she even want it? Him?

As they walked, Mako found himself in a completely unfamiliar feeling; anxiety. The press of it rushing through his mind as he held himself to a thousand thoughts and more. Fingers twitching, wanting to speak, but never knowing exactly what they should say. The usual confidence he projected still there, but his inside nothing less than a roiling mess of emotion.

Contemplating, thinking, saying nothing at all until it was too late. The street around them narrowing, and the large blocky government building ahead falling into view. Mako frowned as they approached, the snowflakes now thick. Gently he nudged Emilie's side, and then motioned towards a small back alleyway.

There they wove away from the main street, moving alongside the large building until they found several windows...all of them higher than either of them could reach.

A frown pulled at the Pirate's lips, and then he finally 'broke' his silence. I'll give you a boost?

He asked with what he thought was an innocent smile.

 

[Emilie]

Nothing. He said nothing.

Well, fine. She could play that game, too. Silence wasn’t new to her. It sat between them like a wall of ice, thick and impenetrable, and she had no interest in chipping away at it first. If Mako wanted to keep whatever storm was raging inside that thick skull of his locked up, that was his problem. She had her own thoughts to wrestle with, and she wasn’t about to let them spill out all over him.

So they walked. Neither of them speaking, the only sound the crunch of their boots against the cold dirt road.

By the time he nudged her and motioned toward the alleyway, she was half-expecting him to say something actually worth hearing. Instead, he just gestured to the high windows, flashing that fucking smile of his.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Of course. Why go in through the front door like a normal person when we can do this the hard way?" But she stepped forward anyway, placing her hands on his shoulders as he crouched slightly.

Mako was solid, she’d give him that. He lifted her with ease, his hands firm around her legs as she scrambled for the window ledge. She caught it, hoisted herself up, and swung her legs through with practiced ease. A moment later, she was inside, crouched in the dim morgue, her breath misting in the cold air.

She turned back, leaning over the sill and holding out her hand. “Come on,” she whispered.

 

[Mako]

Even the biggest simpleton could have sensed the tension between the two of them as he walked. Something that got even worse when he moved to give her a lift. When she accused him of taking the hard way though, he couldn't help but smile.I like a challenge.

He told her, but the moment that she stepped forward his smile faltered. Not because he didn't expect it of course, but because he had to stop himself from taking her into his arms again. His shoulders freezing for a brief moment before he shifted and got onto the ground.

Gods I'm such a moron. Mako thought to himself as he turned and watched Emilie lithely crawl through the window and disappear for a few seconds.

Just fucking talking to her you idiot. He contended to himself as he waited for her to land and turn around. His eyes closing for a moment as he took a breath. But what am I even supposed to say?

Just before Emilie popped back out, he cut a swear in his head. Kress sake! You're a bloody pirate.

He reminded himself just as Emilie appeared in the window. His chest rising as he reached up and grabbed her hand with no hesitation. Looking left and right before quickly scrambling up the wall and slipping into the morgue proper behind her.

His boots thudding on the ground of the cold stone. Eyes flickering again, and then motioning towards a large stairwell leading down into the earth. Quickly the two of them moved, finding no guards in the small town as they ventured into what was essentially a root cellar. The heavy wooden door giving way to reveal a cold cavern like room carved from stone. Three thick slabs sitting in the middle of it.

Only one had a body upon it, though covered in a sheet.

 

[Emilie]

Emilie felt the familiar tension rise as Mako’s hand gripped hers and helped pull her through the window. The warmth of his touch was fleeting, but the sensation lingered far longer than it should’ve, buzzing beneath her skin. She pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

As they descended into the morgue, Emilie’s stomach tightened. The air felt wrong here, stale and heavy with a coldness that reached deep into her bones. She could smell something faintly metallic, mingling with the scent of old stone and dampness. She found herself pulling her jacket tighter as they approached a large wooden door. Mako pushed it open with little more than a grunt, revealing the cavern-like room inside.

Her gaze fell upon the slabs, a shudder rolling through her as the deaths of her father and brother came sweeping back into her mind. With a huff she wandered toward the body, not hesitating as she reached for the sheet despite how terribly wrong it felt. The cold air in the room seemed to have grown even colder in the few seconds that passed.

With a swift pull, the sheet was yanked down, revealing a body that wasn’t quite fresh. The man’s skin was ghostly pale, the wound that ran from one side of his throat to the other, long since bled dry, but what caught Emilie’s attention first was the mark on his shoulder.

The skin had been carved out. The mark that was supposed to be there was gone, now a wound gouged deep into the muscle and bone, leaving an ugly scar of jagged lines.

Her breath hitched.

“Well…It's definitely personal..” Emilie muttered under her breath, her fingers hovering over the jagged edges of the mark.

Her mind raced, and the knot of anxiety twisted deeper in her chest as she looked to Mako, wondering if he'd recognise the man.