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sluggyboiyo · 4 hours ago

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A Speck of Sand

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 13k

Synopsis: A ring and an unexpected guest drops in on the captain.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, pirate AU, CW death and violence mention, CW injury, CW food mentions, fluff.

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Beyond the Sea of Night Masterlist

Chapter 8 >>> Chapter 9

You open your eyes to brilliant blue. Nothing but cerulean as far as you could see as your body floats around in the salt water. A school of fish swims around you, their iridescent scales shining from the sun above. Smiling, you seem to be able to breathe under the water, one with the flowing jellyfish and the sea kelps.

Dappled orange and crimson light flickers upon your skin, and as you look up, expecting a sunset drenching the waters, you see fire and blood drifting from above.

Bodies fall near you with a splash, lifeless eyes staring right at you. Limbs missing, shot off by cannonballs and flint locks. One of the bodies has only one arm, another with one less finger on their hand. And a faceless pirate that drifts too close to you is missing an eye as the remaining one blinks at you. You try to help them, swimming frantically, but they seem to get farther and farther away from you before your fingers could graze upon their injuries.

“MJ!”

A scream pierces through the muffled silence of the tides. Familiar and yet strange. It’s a guttural yell from within the soul that sends tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

For a moment, there’s only silence, as if the fighting above has ceased. But now you realize that silence means an oncoming wrath as you a red headed severed head plunge down into the depths right in front of you. Her emerald eyes are wide open in fear, mouth agape, a scream taken right from her throat.

You tilt your head, heart beating at the sound of the cannons above. Her hair and blood floats around her like a grotesque halo, drifting and floating in front of her face for a second before it unfurls and shows her face.

You try to close your eyes from the scene, but she screams in agony before you could.

“Look! You’ll end up like me.”

Her voice ripples through the waters and meets with your chest in a harsh push, thrashing you around the water as you struggle to stay afloat.

You open your eyes to brilliant blue. Waters disturbed, lightning striking above where the sea meets wooden hull. Blades clash and bullets meet flesh, flashes of white and grey, gunpowder sprinkling over the water, carried by the wild waves. A baby cries above, a mere whisper compared to the sounds of war on deck.

Then silence, nothing but silence as lightning freezes mid flash, waves pausing as if Poseidon willed it be.

There’s nothing but silence until wood hits water, a small boat floating from the wreckage, then a baby’s gurgle, a stifled cry for what they left.

You close your eyes and wake up to brilliant blue.

Seafoam washes ashore, white as snow, as soft as the clouds. You look above where the sea meets the sky in the only place possible and see yourself plunging down into the cold depths. Seafoam washing away from your blood soaked dress, a silver dagger digging into a man’s skull. A whisper of your name, a stifled cry above the bell tower, and yet no sound escapes from your mouth that’s stretched into a wide grin as blood floats around you, coating your form in crimson smoke.

You can still feel his hands upon your neck, strength wavering with every push of the blade. A blade meant to hurt, now laid to rest at the bottom of the sea.

A flash of white desperately swims up towards the seafoam, kicking as bubbles rise from your lips. Before your hand breaks the water, your own head turns towards you, eyes no longer your own, hand coated in iron.

“Look.”

Your other self whispers, and you’re plunged into the sea floor.

You wake up to darkened bile and blood. A miasma dripping down on the hay covered floor, splashes of bloodied saliva coating the leather apron you wear. You’re smaller in stature, gloved hands tinier than you’re used to. A plague mask covers your face, rough and scratchy against your skin. Flowers and scented herbs pinches your pointed beak as you see nothing but miles upon miles of death and illness. It seems to go on forever.

“It shouldn’t be like this.” Someone says beside you, a familiar tone, an anchor to life amidst all the death.

“I thought I could cure them.” You reply in a child’s voice.

“No amount of herbs could cure them, my tomato.”

Turning towards the figure next to you, expecting a face you know, and yet, when your eyes land on them, you only see a tall figure, lean and covered in raised scars. The plague mask hides his face, a skull etched on the back of his hand, and a large gun with numerous barrels rests at his waist.

“You’re not her.”

“And you’re not him.” He says, a new world accent prevalent in his tone. “Watch your men, a chip on the anchor might be your undoing. Just look.”

Following his gaze, you land on a mirror, showing you in the same wedding gown, white as snow, drenched in silver and riddled in pearls. Then hundreds of you stand along the reflection, dressed in many things, a few dressed in rags, some coated in blood, one with a golden crown, and one without a head.

The glass starts to crack, shattering, shards flying to your face, cutting every bit of your skin, marring your flesh as if you were tied by your feet and left to drag on the underside of the ship. A sharp edge plunges deep into your eye sockets, embedding in your skull. Yet the pain doesn’t come.

“Now we match.” The same voice whispers in your ears before rubies drip down your eyes, making it hard to see. “May she grant you a quick death, duchess.”

You wake up to a wooden ceiling, bed creaking and rocking softly against the waves. Your chest heaves, eyes adjusting to the light. Limbs waking from deep sleep.

Snores rise above the sounds of the sea, moving your eyes towards the source, you see Hobie sleeping soundly on an armchair. A quilt laid over his body, and his tricorn hat resting upon his lap. The red bandana on his head is lopsided, fallen down to his eye. Mouth agape, letting out snores, drool dripping from the corner of his lips, he’s absolutely out of it.

A relieved sigh escapes you the moment you see his chest rise and fall. You would rise to turn to his direction, but the ache throbbing on the back of your head protests. Stifling a groan, you refuse to close your eyes lest you wake up to the same dream.

Breathing in and out, you try to level your breathing to help lessen the pain. Fists curling around the bedsheets, ribcage aching, a cry held back by your dry clamped lips.

Even with your quiet whimpering, it was enough to wake up the captain from his deep slumber.

“Shit,” he wakes up with a start, jumping in his seat, hat falling down. His eyes land on your form immediately, checking on you before he meets with your opened eyes. “Love, you’re awake!” You wince from his loud tone. “Sorry, sorry.” Whispering, he kneels before you, knuckles brushing along your arm, too afraid to truly hold you. “How do you feel?”

You blink slowly, feeling less pained from his mere touch alone. “Better now that you’re here.” Hobie smiles at that, leaning down to briefly press a kiss right on your bicep. “You woke me up with your snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do when you sleep on a chair.” With a helpful hand, you fix the bandana on his head to see his brilliant grey eyes stare at you with relief and love.

Smiling, it takes for you to grab his hand and hold onto it for him to relax. His shoulders finally slouch, head resting on the mattress beside your arm as his eyes shine in the morning sun whilst he gazes upon you like a sailor finding land after a tumultuous journey at sea.

“Mornin’, scuttlebutt.” He sighs, fighting a broken tone, and kissing the back of your hand.

“Morning, captain.” You say it just as softly as him.

“You gave me a scare, y’know?” Sniffing, he lays his palm atop your own, as if he’s measuring his hand to yours. He rarely does this, and you know the reason why he started doing it to you whenever he does. It’s a nervous tick of his, one that has helped him rise above the tides. “I thought you jus’ got sick from the sudden movement of the ship. But then your eyes rolled back, and the other doc started to panic.”

“I had a concussion?” Your tone is still weak, and when you turned your head to face him better, you finally notice the wet cloth clinging on the back of your neck. “Good thing we got another doctor.”

“Aye, good thing.” His pinky weaves around your own. “He said that if the gun hit you a tad lower… that wanker could’ve crippled you.” Voice straining, he glowers at the wet spot on your pillow. “I swear if I ever see him again…” Jaw tightening, he sneers, grey swirling with an angry hurricane. “I’d fuckin’ rip his legs off.”

“With your bare hands? That doesn’t sound too practical, captain.” With a hand cupping his cheek, he sighs, loosening up and laying his head against your touch. “I know you will, Hobie, I’m fine now, and we’ve got a whole voyage to go through.”

“After that then.” He finally meets with your eyes, the twin hurricanes in his eyes calm down from your smile. “’m glad you still have your memories. Yuri said that she knew a bloke who lost his memories after a hit on the head. I didn’t want to go through all the courtin’ again, even though I would've done better this time ‘round.” You snort at that, heart fluttering. “D’you want me to call the doctor for you?”

“Sounds like you’re giving him glowing reviews. And don’t believe everything Yuri tells you.” Grinning, you gently brush your knuckles all over the scruff on his jaw. “Is he going to be your doc from now on?”

“Nah, you’ll always be my doc.” Craning his neck to kiss your hand, his eyes never left your own with every peck. “Can I lie down with you? My back is killin’ me.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

With a chortle, you scooch to give him space on the bed. Hobie stretches his legs before sitting beside you and then laying down, each movement is precise and careful, as if you’d break apart like porcelain if he moves too abruptly or if his knee hits your leg.

You remind him that you’re not easy to break when you raise your head to remove the damp towel and toss it over his handsome face. Laughing as you lay back down, you watch as he lifts the cloth away from his face, brow raised and a smirk playing on his lips.

“If only you weren’t bed ridden for two days I would’ve thrown this right back at you.” Flicking the towel haphazardly on the floor with a plop, he turns to his side and magnetizes to you, hugging and nuzzling the crook of your neck.

“I was unconscious for two days?” Your smile falters. “Shit, no wonder why I’m starving.”

“Good, because we’ll have a feast when you’re better.” Mumbling against your skin, he refuses to unlatch from you like wet sand on flesh. “We’ll burn your dress too, jus’ like what we originally planned before that fucker hit you.”

“All that for me?” Kissing his forehead, the fearsome captain sighs longingly as his lips brush along the curve of your jaw whilst you hold his arms around you. The two of you remind you of the octopus James found clinging on the anchor.

“Love, I’ll burn down the whole ship for you if you told me that you’re freezin’” Lifting up his head away from your neck, he looks at you seriously.

“Sweet, but a bit extreme.”

“You cold? D’you want me to do it?” He jokes, but you know that he’d do something that ridiculous if you said a word akin to a ‘yes.’

“Maybe later.” Patting his hand, you turn your cheek towards him. “What happened to the box?”

“The box that definitely doesn’t have a ring in it?” You nod, trying to stifle your giggle. “It fell in the water, sorry, love.”

“No, you’re fucking with me.” Your panicked look sends lightning up your nape, wincing, Hobie sits up by his elbow, looking worriedly at you. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I was jus’ fuckin’ with you, shit, I shouldn’t have teased you like that.” His hands cup your nape carefully whilst you wait for the pain to subside. “It’s under the bed, love, I kept it safe from the scallywags. Are you sure you’re alright? Should I call Aarav?”

You suck in your teeth, inhaling deeply before opening your eyes. “I’m good, I’m good.” You placate him with a pat upon his cheek. With an exhale, you hold his hand that’s shielding your nape. “No, let’s just stay like this for a bit.” Smacking your dry lips, Hobie gently moves away and you curiously watch him pour the pitcher of water into a cup from his table before quickly walking back to the bed and offering it to you. “Sometimes I think you could hear my thoughts.”

“Nah, ’m jus’ good at readin’ you.” Helping you drink and sit up, Hobie’s brows have a somewhat permanent knot on his forehead that you want to rub away. “Finish it for me, you’ll feel better.” His tone grows increasingly softer with every gaze at the dark circles under your eyes.

Gulping down the last drop, his thumb gently wipes away droplets dripping down your chin. “Thank you, doc.” You smile at him, a hand running up and down his arm.

“No problem, that’ll be a hundred pence.”

“Oh, too expensive,” your chuckle rises above the waves outside as he gently lays you back down on the pillow. “healthcare is too expensive these days.”

“That’s ’cause someone’s controllin’ the strings, love.” His nose nudges against your own affectionately before leaning away. His grey eyes briefly flicker with guilt and sorrow. “I’ll call the doctor before he gets a whiff that you’re awake. He didn’t want to leave your side at first, so I had to tell him to sod off and eat.”

“Really? That’s nice of him,” The captain raises a playful brow at that. “Don't be jealous.” You placate him with a gentle peck. “Please stay for a minute. Or two, or three.” Your shaky hand pats his knee that’s perched on the bed beside your hip.

“Alright.” Nodding, he lays back down beside you.

For a moment, the two of you lay there in silence. Letting the sounds of the sea envelope both of you in its blanket of calmness. Seagulls squawk outside, their wings fluttering amidst the sound of the sails. The clear blue sky moves along the ship just outside the cabin’s windows.

His chin rests beside your cheek, nose brushing along your skin, silver piercings grazing faintly atop your flesh. His limbs wrap around you like the rigging tied around the mast, tight and snug. A leg tucked above yours, arms fully embracing you as if you’d be taken by the wind if a breeze passes by. Hobie fits beside you like a sword to its sheath, and you now realize what he meant when he said those words to you before setting sail. Perfectly matched, made together, protecting the other and yet the blade doesn’t cut its sheath.

As your hands glide along his sun kissed arm, raised battle scars dancing along your palm, you let out a content exhale. Neck craning to look at him, he meets with your eyes, smiling before kissing the point of your shoulder.

“What is it, lovie? You hurtin’ anywhere?” His whispers send goosebumps to rise upon your arms that he quickly rubs away with his calloused palm.

For a while you think that this isn’t the time nor the place for the ring. That every time he’d look down at his hand, he’d remember the day you woke up sickly or when you were fighting for your life while there was nothing else he could do but wait. But after what happened, the quickness of how disaster struck, that any minute fate could snatch you away from him— that they could take him away from you in a blink of an eye makes you think that this is the correct time— the only time for you to give it to him. If you waited to give it to him and something did happen, you wouldn’t be able to be at peace.

It’s not just a simple ring, it’s a sign of your love for the man before you, a symbol of your unwavering loyalty to your captain. And the very thing that would remind him of you if your dreams were not just mere dreams driven by pain, but an augur, a warning sign of your fate. A painting of you would soon fade, your voice in his head would soon turn into a quiet echo until he couldn’t recall it anymore. But that ring, the one that took you weeks to design would remain with him forever.

“About the ring.” You utter, voice as soft as the morning breeze, chest as heavy as a boulder.

“I didn’t take a look, I’ll wait for you to give it to me.” He says with a kiss upon your shoulder.

“Not even a peek?”

“Nope, ’m honorable, y’know.” Sitting up slightly, he beams down on you, and the only thing you could see is him. Vision filled with the man you love and revere. You wouldn’t have it any other way, those grey whirlpools are better than any sunrise or sunset.

“An honourable pirate, now I’ve seen everything.” Chuckling, you cup his face and he sighs in content. “Can I give it to you now?”

“Right now? You’re not plannin’ some big gesture of love for your favourite captain?” Taking your hand, he kisses the shining ring on your finger.

“Like what?” Giggling, you wrap your leg atop the small of his back, heel kneading into his tired muscle.

“I haven’t got a faintest idea,” his grin grows wider as your eyes brightens. “a big choreographed dance with the whole crew? Or maybe you need to ask Clayton’s permission for my hand, hm?”

“I don’t think anyone up there knows how to move their limbs in an elegant way, Hobie.” Your eyes crinkle in the corners, trepidation fading in and out with every second that passes. “Maybe except Gwen.” He nods in agreement, turning slightly to press a kiss to your palm. “And here I thought that I didn’t have to ask for someone’s permission, just yours. So what shall it be, captain, can I give you the ring?”

His head thumps on top of your chest, groaning in a rare flustered way that you can practically feel his cheeks heat up from your words. With a chortle, your hands dance along his head, fingers twirling around his growing curls. You’re suddenly reminded that you haven’t helped him put on the oil that has been your nightly routine that feels like you’ve been doing it for years.

“Captain, I still haven’t heard a no.”

You’re suddenly facing him once again, there’s a lopsided smile playing on his lips, eyes so soft that you thought that you’re staring at the clouds outside.

“Is it as good as the one I designed for you?” A tease no doubt, you know that if you handed him a simple band or even a ring made of grass he’d still love it.

“You’re asking if it’s pretty?” He rolls his eyes but nods along. “It’s very beautiful, stunning even. Worthy of your equally…” you take his hand, kissing his ring finger, all the while never letting your eyes off him. “...pretty hands.”

“You know what makes my hands more pretty?” Head tilting, his hand falls on your stomach, fingers twitching atop the hem of your trousers. “When it’s—”

You interrupt him with a brief kiss, his eyes widening in surprise before softening. “Hobie, grab the ring please.”

“Aye, aye, doc.” He slides off of you dramatically before falling down on the floor with a thump just to hear you laugh. There’s shuffling beneath the bed, coins clinking as he huffs. A second later, a small wooden box appears on the edge of the bed. “Found it!” Hobie peeks over the bed with a boyish giddy smile that has you falling in love with him even more.

“Get back up here then.” You pat the space beside you, a giggle stifled with a bite of your lip.

The bed dips down as he sits crossed leg next to you. The feared red spider is so excited that his hand trembles when he hands you the box. You wish you had something to capture his expression so that you could keep it forever. For now, as you open the box, you memorize his face the moment you present him with the ring that you’ve painstakingly designed under a dim lamp light as he slept so you don’t arouse any suspicion from the man himself.

“You like it? Please tell me you like it because we can’t return it anymore.” Waiting for a response, Hobie just stares at the silver ring with glimmering grey eyes. “Hobie—” he’s immediately stripping off all his rings, discarded metal clinking against the other as it falls on the bed. “You only need to keep one finger bare!”

Blinking, he looks at the pile of mismatched rings. “Right… well I wanted a clean slate jus’ for it.”

“Always dramatic, now give me your pretty hand, captain.”

“I thought you’d give it to me under the sunset with violins playin’” And yet he still reaches for you, waiting for you to slip the ring on his finger.

“Do you want me to give it to you at sunset instead? I'm sure someone on the crew knows how to play the fiddle.” Teasing, you pull the box back over to you. Hobie scrunches his face at that.

“No,” he snatches your wrist as your laugh echoes around the chamber. “Do it.”

“So demanding.” With mirrored smiles, you take the dainty ring that was made from one of the ship’s spoons. The remnants of it can still be seen through the flowery filigree around the design. Holding his hand, and with the other you slip the ring on his finger. It fits perfectly on him. You swear that he held his breath the whole time.

“It’s a dagger.”

“I figured that I keep losing the daggers you give me, so instead I’ll give you one that’s impossible to lose.”

Hobie swallows thickly at the sight of the curled dagger around his finger. His grey eyes swirl, turning foggy as he smiles at it. Inside the blade has different etches of meaningful things during your time with him, pomegranates floating beside blocks of chocolate. Carved waves along the sides, a bird lifting up a spider on its wings, and a turtle sitting beside an intricate sailing ship. And of course, a tiny pearl that’s placed right on its hilt, simple and white that shimmers into a brilliant grey in the light.

“We couldn’t find a black pearl anywhere so we substituted it with one that reminds me of your eyes.” You say with a hushed tone as he admires it. With every second that passes, Hobie sees new details on it, including his and your own initials right beside the pearl. “There’s an inscription inside too.” His expression is hard to read, a rare occurrence nowadays for you. “Hobie? Did I fuck up? You look like you hate it.”

Your doubts are silenced with an embrace. His face digs into the curve of your neck, holding onto you tightly but with the gentleness of seafoam. As you hug back, you feel his body tremble. His lips place kisses on your skin, and you feel tears clinging onto his lashes, not yet let out as he deeply inhales with a shuddering breath.

He stays like that for a minute and you’d let him stay clinging onto you forever if he asked.

“What does the inscription say?” Hobie’s muffled words reverberate through you.

“‘An honour to be known by you.’”

He leans away from your neck, eyes shining as you cup his nape with the same gentleness he granted you. “You said that before Miguel got us.”

“You remembered. I said that because I didn’t have the strength to say the proper words to you just yet.”

“Aye,” with a warm palm atop your cheek, he smiles, the ring glimmering as you hold his hand. The two rings are different from the other, but nonetheless it’s as if they’re mirrored images, made for each other, one cannot exist without the other. A sheathe to a blade. “I knew, but I didn’t— couldn’t say anythin’. I wasn’t brave enough to admit it to myself. That someone could love me back again— That I could love again.”

“And now you’ve given me the honour to say it to you everyday, forever if you want me to.” Leaning closer, he closes the gap and rests his forehead atop your own.

“I love you.” His eyes closes, savouring your warmth, hearing your heartbeat sync along with his heart. “You can keep sayin’ it forever.”

Smiling, lips brushing atop his, you let a tear escape. “I love you, captain, forever.”

If Hobie could stop the tides itself, drain the oceans just to keep staying like this with you forever, he would. He hopes that this time, just this once, that the fates would grant him a life that doesn’t end in losing his beloved.

—

You never thought that Aarav was a strict doctor. He never let you out of bed until he deemed you better. And he has been adamant about it despite his usually shy demeanor. Once he starts working, his shyness is thrown outside the porthole and replaced with a very strict ship surgeon, who brandishes his very sharp tools to keep you in bed. You expected Hobie to be on your side and let you help around the ship, but alas, he agrees with the scary surgeon. Their mirrored firm glares thrown your way only leaves you to sulk in bed.

At least you had time to read and be pampered by the captain and occasionally the crew you’ve come to love.

It has been a week since the Hydra’s fury left the Merman’s head, and the ship has never felt busier than ever. New crew mill around the deck and below, all one hundred and sixty three of them. With all these new people walking around, it finally feels like you’re on board a living and breathing ship— a true pirate ship.

The minute Aarav finished his tests on you, you looked at him with a hopeful smile. He then gave you the nod that you’re good to walk around again without feeling woozy. An act that he might’ve regretted once you hopped out of bed immediately to climb up the deck. He’s right behind you though, always on the lookout in case your vision decides to fail on you and you come tumbling down the steps. The good doctor has either grown fond of you, or he’s that scared of facing the captain’s wrath in the event of you getting hurt on his watch.

“Hold on! You need to slow down—!” The poor surgeon huffs behind you, seemingly out of breath already when you’re the one who was bed ridden.

“I haven’t seen the deck in a week, doctor!” You yell over your shoulder, chuckling as you finally feel invigorated and like yourself again.

“The deck won’t go anywhere anytime soon! You will still be able to see it without running like a madwoman!” Heaving, Aarav catches his breath, hands braced on his knees as you pause in the middle of the hallway for his benefit.

“What’d you call me, doctor?” Hands on your hips, you raise a peeved brow as you tilt your head accusingly at the man.

His brown eyes widen, looking like he’s about to plunge down from the plank. “Uh, I–I didn’t mean to offend—”

“Relax.” Your growing smile has his entire body sighing, head falling down his clavicle. “I’ve been called worse, don’t worry.” Chuckling, you pat his shoulder. “C’mon, I need to feel the sea breeze on my face again or I’ll truly become a madwoman.”

“Please ease up.”

“Fine, try to keep up.” With a helping hand, you help him straighten up and lead him through the hallway. “Seriously though, you don’t have to be so careful around me. We’re supposed to be peers, we’re in this together.”

The man nods, sunlight flooding from the porthole on your left. It’s a welcoming sight, the open sea is as blue and beautiful as ever. The sky is clear, and there’s no sign of dark clouds. Even though you miss the Mermaid’s head and everything you left on land, the freedom of sailing gives you will never compare to anything on land. The company on board is a plus. The sounds of footsteps above you get louder and louder, a sound you’ve grown fond of throughout the journey.

The sights and sounds of home.

“You’re right,” sighing, Aarav gets enough courage to look into your eyes. A feat he was only able to overcome before when he’s the one holding the medical instruments. “I just can’t help to b–be nervous after all the stories I’ve heard.”

“Y’know, I’ve always heard that sentence, but I’ve never asked what kind of stories you’ve heard.” You glance back at him in the corner of your eyes, lips pursed together. “What have you heard?”

“I can speak freely?”

“This ship is probably the only pirate ship you can speak as freely as you can. Go ahead, we won’t keelhaul you over some words.” Shrugging, you decide to tease your new acquaintance. “Depends on what you say though.”

“I—” he blinks and you chuckle. Shaking his head, Aarav casually or tries to be casual by elegantly placing his hands behind him. “I heard that you b–beheaded Mathias, he was the king’s flame. And that the captain lured him in for you.”

“I’m aware of him. Honestly, that would’ve been a fitting end for him.” You make a face before snorting. “I didn’t do that, I stabbed him in the eye with a knife. And Hobie weakened him before I ended it.”

“You don’t behead nobles?” He sounds truly convinced that you do.

“No, what do you take me for?” With a roll of your eyes, you chortle. “The stories about me sound so evil. How would I even go about doing that to someone?”

“With a knife? Or perhaps a bone saw?”

“That was a rhetorical question, Aarav.” You say, hand clasped on his shoulder. “A bone saw would do quite well actually.” The words are mostly said to yourself.

“What about the story where the captain bit an admiral’s jugular? Is it just a rumour too?”

You let him go once the door up to the deck is in sight. “Oh that part is true.”

“Oh,” swallowing thickly, he winces, hand flying to his neck. “I guess he has some strong teeth for that.”

“Huh, I’ve never thought about it that way. I guess he does.” Smiling as you shrug, you open the door, only to be greeted by a burst of yelling from the deck. “Nothing has changed I see.”

“I told you that the spoons go over here!” A tiny woman with dangling golden earrings and fiery eyes screams at the large blond man before her.

“It won’t make a difference, they’re all the fucking same!” The parrot perched on his shoulder squawks in agreement. “You pick up the spoon and you eat with it!”

“It does! You don’t see it because you’ve never been to a fancy fucking dinner, you pauper!” She points harshly at his chest.

“Should I go over there and stop them?” You ask your companion.

“Is that another rhetorical question?”

Before you could step closer, someone drops right in front of you effortlessly. “You must be her,” without a split second, he grabs your hand and kisses the back of it. “My name’s Jimmy, the new musician on board. We finally meet—”

Jimmy gets pushed aside, body slamming so hard on the floorboards that you’re sure it rattled something in him. Perhaps he can find his charisma on the floor beside him.

“Don’t mind, Jimmy, he’s a flirt and it has gotten him almost keelhauled. And he’s named ’no money Jimmy’ for a reason.” The tall and slender crew member stretches his hand for you to take. “My name’s Lou, people call me ‘Lou gold tooth’ on the account of my gold tooth.” He smiles, the said golden tooth nowhere to be found.

Aarav is the first to ask. “What gold tooth?”

“It was stolen before we sailed.” Lou sighs longingly. “Anyway, I’m saving up for it. Or better yet, we might rob someone with it. Either way, I get a gold tooth.”

“Right—”

“Can I ask, how did it even get stolen when it was in your mouth?” Aarav asks, and you nod along, curious at his question.

“Uh,” The man scratches the back of his head.

“You don’t want to know, doc one and two.” Jimmy replies for him, still on the floor but this time he’s posing like he was meant to fall there.

“Which one of us is one and two?” You playfully ask Aarav with a nudge. The man stammers an answer before shrugging bashfully.

“You’re number one in my heart, duchess.” Jimmy sends you a wink, cheek resting on his palm “Say, you want to sit with me during dinner?”

You shake your head within a half second of him asking. “I’d rather shit in my hands and clap.”

“Hah! Finally someone said it!” An older woman saunters by from below deck, carrying a large pot. Her messy hair is tied in a bun, apron stained in various colors but her smile prevails. “Oh right, we’ve never met yet. The name’s Shelley, assholes call me the slug.”

“The new cook.” You beam at her, finding her eyes warm, like a grandmother, who carries a blunderbuss on her hip and a butcher’s knife on the other side. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” You try to reach to shake her hand, but you find that they’re both occupied. “Sorry, let me help you with that.”

Lou beats you to it. “No, let me. The captain said you’re still recovering.” Smiling, the pair heads towards the long table that reminds you of the early days of sailing with the blood sail pirates, back when everyone was still together. For a moment, you see their faces around it.

“You could help me up, duchess—” Poor Jimmy reaches up at you with hope.

And yet you just walk away from him without another word to the man’s dismay. Aarav then leaves your side to help set up the table with the others.

As you walk through the crowd, you see all the new faces milling around. Some you’re more familiar with when they’ve helped with fixing the Hydra’s fury before, and some you didn’t get a chance to know the names of. But you’re only focused on one person, the captain, who’s currently up at the helm with Pavitr.

Hobie spots you, face lighting up when he meets with your equally excited eyes. Pav scrunches his face at his captain’s expression, before following his line of sight only to lead to you.

“Y/N!” The young helmsman waves enthusiastically as if he hasn’t seen you even when he visits the captain’s quarters every afternoon to hand you a cup of tea and sit with you for a bit. “You’re out of bed!”

“I am! Hi, Pav!” You wave back just as when Hobie nudges the younger pirate, glancing at something or someone behind you.

Pavitr straightens up, clearing his throat before pretending to check the map in his hands. “Oh look at that, more water.”

You look over your shoulder, spotting Gayatri leaning casually on the railing as she sharpens a piece of wood with her knife. “Hi, Gayatri, how do you like being here so far?”

She flicks her dark eyes over to you, sunshine illuminating the side of her face. “How do I say this?” She clicks her tongue, head tilted. “It’s like I’m being slowly digested in a sea serpent’s stomach.”

“Great.” You sarcastically say, sucking in your teeth. “I’ll make sure to write that in the log.”

She scoffs, “you do that.” Leaving the side of the ship, she effortlessly climbs up the rigging and onto the sails.

“Teenagers.” A new voice says. You raise a brow at him. He’s wrapping up coils of rope around his large tattooed arm. “Oh, Ravi, I repair the sails, hi.”

“Hi, Ravi.” There’s an awkward air around the dry conversation. “I’m going to go up the helm.”

“Right, h–have fun!” He calls back as you chuckle with a shake of your head.

“Look at you walkin’ ’round like you didn’t get sick all over our sheets.” Hobie greets you with open arms, literally, his arms immediately wrapping around your torso with a lingering kiss on your temple. “Feel any better?”

“The same as yesterday.” You smile, eyes soft as you hold onto his elbows. “Good, should’ve been released days ago, Hobie.”

“You sound like you were a prisoner, scuttlebutt, when you were actually coddled like a little princess.”

“You and Aarav wouldn’t let me out of the room.” You answer with a lilt. “And what happened to not showing weakness in front of the new crew?”

“Lovin’ you ain’t a weakness.” You raise a brow, but the way your lips curl into a gentle smile says otherwise. Even when the words are said in his usual and casual cadence never fails to make his words sound effortlessly sweeter. “They know.”

“Hobie was crying when he carried you to the cabin.” Pav adds, hugging your side all the while pushing Hobie away with his foot. “Hard to hide that from the others.”

“I wasn’t.” Hobie makes a scrunched look.

“Oh, my captain. You were that worried?” You coo, a hand cupping his face. Now that the new crew members know of your relationship with the captain, you’re free to show your affections for him. But you still want to make sure that he doesn’t look weak in their eyes so you pull away as he does his dramatic roll of eyes.

“Not that much.” Hobie loudly sniffs, hiding the flustered look on his face with a well timed arm atop his nose. You and Pav make a face at him, glancing at each other briefly. Hobie smiles at the two of you before he yanks his helmsman away by the scruff of his neck. “Alright, that’s enough, you don’t want Gayatri gettin’ jealous now.”

“What?” Pav quickly unlatches himself from you like you burned him.

There’s a slight red tint on his cheeks as he locks eyes with Thorpe’s raven that’s casually sitting atop the rigging, overlooking everyone. She looks bored until she spots Pav, then the flat expression turns into a playful smirk at his clear bashfulness.

You and the captain share a knowing look just as the rest of the original crew climb up to the helm. They look well, happy even when they look in your direction.

“Hey, there she is! Back from the dead!” Yuri is the first one to greet you with a smile.

Hobie smacks her over the head. “Don’t bloody say that on board.”

“Ow! Since when were you so superstitious?” She gasps out while dramatically patting her head.

With a hand on his chest, you placate Hobie, a gentle caress atop his heart. And yet the two pirates still glare daggers at each other.

“It’s good to see you too, Yuri. Thanks to Aarav I’m back on my feet.”

“I thought you were just taking your sweet time in bed.” Gwen says whilst casually leaning against the bannister, long blond hair flying wildly around in the breeze.

“That too.” Chuckling, you bump your shoulder with Hobie’s. “The captain held me captive below deck.”

“Captive? Hardly, scuttlebutt.” Hobie scoffs out, but his pinky wrapped around your own says otherwise.

“You’ll get her one day, Pav.” Lyla appears beside Yuri, patting his shoulder with a look of pity. The navigator shrugs her off before returning to his post at the helm with annoyance. “Rude.” You don’t miss the way Gayatri follows him with her gaze though. Lyla then turns to you with a relieved grin. “Miguel would be jumping for joy that his goddaughter survived another assassination.”

“Please, he didn’t stand a chance with everyone ready to pounce.” You shake your head with a smile at her words. “Besides, that was nothing.”

“Right, it was light work for our scuttlebutt.” Hobie squeezes you once, glancing at you with a smile.

“Right on time too, we were waiting for you to have the feast.” Miles says, almost immediately magnetized beside Gwen. He even puts down his sketchbook to brush his hand atop hers. “We thought James would burst a vein every time you don’t go out on the deck.”

“A feast? All for little old me?”

“You’re fit, love, but it’s not for you.” Hobie chuckles, an arm slung over your shoulder casually but not letting his weight pull you down. “That’s what I told ‘em anyway.” He whispers, making you subtly grin at him.

James’ sudden thunderous footfalls takes everyone’s attention as he climbs up the steps, holding onto a familiar sight that has your stomach churning.

“Where do I put this, cap’n?” In his hand is the crimson stained wedding dress you abhor. The hems are still in tatters, but the rest are intact as the expensive lace and fabric sways in the sea breeze.

Hobie opens his mouth to say something to you, eyes already conveying his unsaid words. but you beat him to it.

“Tie it up on the highest mast, James!” You exclaim with a smile to the relief of the captain beside you.

“Aye, aye, doc!” The blond salutes you with a grin, feet already perched on the rigging.

“Oi, don’t forget the firestarter.” Hobie whistles, tossing the flint and steel at him before James catches it and starts his climb up.

“I’m betting that he’ll fall while hanging onto that dress.” Yuri smirks, palm blocking the sun as she stares up at James.

“He’s the best climber,” Gwen scoffs, believing in James’ abilities until he almost loses his grip but corrects it a half second later. Yuri seems to take it as a challenge just from her gaze. “You’re on, Yuri.”

Miles chuckles with a roll of his eyes, grasping at Gwen’s shoulders. “You two can bet down at the deck, we need to eat so I can get started on the crew painting.”

The first mate smiles, looking at him over her shoulder whilst holding his hands. “Fine, just make Yuri ugly in it.”

“Hey!” Yuri follows right behind the couple, hand clasped around Lyla’s as she lets herself get dragged around with a lopsided smile.

Pavitr sighs, turning the wheel solemnly.

“You’ll find someone, Pav, don’t worry.” You give the helmsman a reassuring smile.

“Can it be now?”

“Aye, she might be closer than you think.” Winking, Hobie smirks as Pav’s eyes shine with hope.

“Does this mean we’ll get your blessing— when— if it happens.” Chuckling nervously, Pav smiles all wobbly like.

The captain makes a face, glancing at you, and you know that he’s about to tease the poor boy again. “Nah.” He says before leading you towards the stairs.

“Hobie, come on!” With a stomp, Pavitr groans atop the wheel, hiding his face on the wood.

You and Hobie chuckle, hand in hand as the two of you go down the steps. The sun is about to set, an unblemished sky painted in pink and orange hues. It blends into the glimmering water, like watercolours staining all across thin parchment. The sea breeze kisses your cheek, sending goosebumps to rise on your arms. With Hobie’s warmth, it thaws the cold seeping through your cotton clothes. You wish the entire journey would be like this, calm and unbothered. Laughter and warmth echoing all around the ship, not unlike screams of agony and cries of pain. The savoury smell of stew and wine is preferred than the scent of guts and iron spreading through the floorboards.

You’d rather have days like this, it’s noisy with the clatter of utensils and chatter, but it’s better than the sound of cannons going off and gunpowder wafting through your nose. And yet you know that you won’t survive the rest of the journey if you continue thinking like this, like life will always be as smooth sailing as this. You chose this over and over again. And you’d face the good and the bad.

His arm wrapped around your waist brings you back to the present. And you’re met with his smile, face strikingly handsome against the sunset and the shimmering lights of the sea. He belongs here, and now you do too.

“A crew painting?” You turn to face the captain just halfway on the stairs, stopping by a small balcony where the swivel gun sits idly.

“Miles wanted to sketch all of us on the deck.” His hand gravitates to your side, thumb running circles around the dip of your hips. “For the records.”

“That’s nice, having a record of all of us.” You nod, glancing briefly at Miles, who’s directing everyone where to sit on the table like a strict captain. The words are on the tip of your tongue, a record to remind everyone of if the journey ends in failure and death. A mere memory etched in ink to look back at. “We can add it to Riri’s collection when we get back.”

His tender smile lets you know that you’ve said the right words to him. Being negative, especially to the very same man who’s just trying to get you all out of this in one piece wouldn’t help him. So you decide to be more optimistic from now on, you can be dark and broody when you’re alone. But when you’re with Hobie, you need to be his beacon of light, not a shadow casting over his sails.

“You sure about the frock?” Hobie blurts out, worry etched on his knitted brows. “It’s not too late to tell James to climb down.”

“I’m just happy that you remembered my request.” Your knuckles dance along the length of his bandolier. “Besides, it was time to get rid of it. There’s not an ounce of sentimentality around the fucking thing. And I should’ve done it a long time ago.”

“It’s a ridiculous request, but you know that you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.” His hand captures your wandering one, bringing it to his lips to press a brief yet gentle kiss. “It’s a good thing too, I hate the bloody thing. Every time I go to your wardrobe to borrow your belt it jumps right at me.”

“You use my belt?”

“Nevermind that, lovie.” Waving it off with a chuckle, he leans casually against the bannister. “’m proud of you for doing this. Gettin’ rid of it means that we get to leave it in the past.”

“And it’ll stay there, everything that’s associated with it will stay there.” Your hand rests atop his heart as he watches the sunset sink into the horizon behind you. “Yuri feels bad for the lace though.”

“She’ll get over it.”

A round of applause and cheering takes your attention away. You follow Hobie’s gaze up, seeing the white dress go ablaze above the ship. The hem turns darker by the second, grey smoke filling the sky, and warm embers drifting down on the deck. It flutters in the wind, every stitch and bloody remnants of it are lost to the breeze. Slowly, the fire eats away at the past, and the pain that comes along with it. The scars you and Hobie have are enough of a reminder of what happened.

“Aye, I know this, it’s one of those eastern fireworks, eh?” Davey Mullins says above the hurrah, grinning bigger than the ocean as he clasps a bowl in his arm. He has never looked happier now that he’s back at sea.

“It’s the doc’s wedding dress, Davey.” Gwen explains, clasping his shoulder with a smile.

“Why she burning it then? Aren’t weddings supposed to be jolly?”

“It’s a long story, old man.” Miles adds beside Gwen.

“Everything I hear about the duchess makes me more confused.” Davey blinks and makes a face before slurping down his soup.

“I know right? God, I love a mysterious woman.” Jimmy sighs longingly.

“Put a cork in it, no money.” Lyla slaps the back of his head without hesitation. His hat flying out and floating around the air as he races for it.

Hobie uses the moment while the rest of the crew are distracted by the sight, tugging you closer, he presses a well meaning kiss on your lips. It’s soft and affectionate, like seafoam on the shore that drifts across your legs. Like a kiss shared upon the altar. Hand in hand, you kiss to the beat of your shared heart.

You open your blissful eyes to meet with his tender grey eyes that gaze at you with pride and love.

“What was that for?” You ask, fingers brushing along his chest, as you resist the urge to drag him below deck and continue the sweetened kiss.

“Jus’ felt like it.” Shrugging, Hobie has a lopsided smile. “Why? Can’t I jus’ kiss my lovie whenever I want to?”

“You can,” giggling, you gaze at him through your lashes. “But what about your reputation?”

He scoffs. “If me snoggin’ my bird leaves a bitter taste in their mouth then they’re free to jump ship and sail the open seas with a plank of wood and a loaf of bread.”

“With a loaf of bread? That’s actually very kind of you, captain.” That earns a hearty laugh from Hobie as the embers drift slowly around the air.

“Hey! Come down here before you two start ripping each other’s clothes off!” Yuri exclaims, hands cupped around her mouth.

If it weren’t obvious to the crew about your relationship with the captain, it’s clear to everyone now.

You and Hobie share one soft look before continuing down the stairs. Mostly everyone has taken their seats around the long table. All except for a pair of twins that are nowhere to be found.

“Where are Collette and John?” You ask whilst Hobie helps you with your chair.

“Dunno, maybe they’re still in their room?” Pavitr shrugs in his seat.

Hobie sits at the head of the table, a sight that reminds you of the very first night you had on the people’s revenge. “D’you want me to go and find ’em?”

You shake your head, patting his hand before moving to get up from your seat. “I’ll find them—”

Just as you say it, the twins emerge from below deck, clutching a basket of dinner rolls, and an armful of wine. They meet with your eyes before quickly avoiding it in favour of looking at the table.

“Sorry, the waves are rougher down there.” Jonathan explains as he gently puts all the bottles on the table to be distributed.

You watch as they sit as far away from you as possible. Hobie senses your sadness whilst filling your bowl with supper. His eyes follow your line of sight, understanding what’s going on inside your head immediately.

“Love, eat, the longer you stare at them the more guilty they’ll feel.” He whispers gently above the rambunctious conversations of the crew.

“They’re… guilty?”

Hobie scooches his chair closer to yours, wood scraping against wood, just to hold the back of your hand. “Sometimes you could be bloody oblivious.”

“Hey.” You poke his side. “They shouldn’t be guilty, it’s not their fault.”

“In their heads they are.” He squeezes your hand under the table, pecking the tip of your shoulder before leaning away. “You didn’t see the panic in their eyes when your eyes rolled back. When it wasn’t me, Aarav, or the old crew watchin’ over you in the cabin, it was ’em. Give ’em some time, but don’t forget about it.”

“Impossible,” his lips tug into a smile. “I get it though, if I was in their shoes, I’d blame myself too. We’re clearly related to each other.” You copy his previous action, kissing his shoulder that sends him shivering. “I just thought that the apple would fall far from the tree.”

“Any more closer and they’ll be your children.” Chuckling, Hobie picks up his glass to take a sip.

“Just mine?”

He chokes on the wine as liquid splashes around, coughing out while you laugh and pat his back. It’s clear that the double meaning of your comment didn’t fly over his head. The sound garners some attention from the table, heads turning towards you. “Fuckin’ h–hell, scuttlebutt!”

You wave them away casually. “He’s fine, chugged it too fast.” They turn away with a shrug or a chuckle, returning to their supper. “You alright?” Giggling, you rub his back.

Hobie inhales deeply, wiping away the tears in his eyes before facing you and pointing at the twins with his thumb. “They don’t look like me, love, d’you have somethin’ to tell me?”

“I have to hand it to you, Hobie, you recover fast.” He chortles, that turns into a small cough as you pour him some more wine to compensate for the one that he spilled all over his tunic and plate. “Eat before you choke to death on cheap wine.”

“You become a duchess once and you suddenly turn into a wine connoisseur.”

You shake your head with a smile as you take a bite of bread. Utensils clatter around as conversations waft around the deck. It seems that the whole crew are having supper together, a few prefer to be with a smaller group on the steps to the helm. A handful would rather be by themselves as they sit on random corners or on top of barrels and crates. And yet, everyone is here on the top deck. There might not be enough seats for everyone on the table, but they’ve all come together to keep each other company. To listen, to talk, and to just co-exist with people who walk the same path as them.

“How does it taste, duchess? Is it to your liking?” The new cook asks, smiling at you from a few chairs away.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new crew member beats you to it.

“Tastes better than starving!” Jimmy retorts with a guffaw.

Shelley throws a fork right at him with pinpoint accuracy. “Fuck off will ya!”

You beam as the poor Jimmy runs away when the older woman brandishes a butcher’s knife out of nowhere.

“Should you stop them?” Turning towards Hobie, he slurps his stew nonchalantly whilst the couple chases each other around up and down the ship. Everyone seems to like the free entertainment at least.

“Nah, Shelley will get tired eventually.” As he says it, the cook aims and tosses the knife. Jimmy dodges in time, looking terrified when he came so close to losing his head as the blade embeds in the wood. Hobie whistles lowly at the accuracy. “Or we’ll have more meat for supper tomorrow.”

You look back at him with a scrunched questionable look.

“They said that Shelley’s stew has some… mystery meat in it. That’s why it tastes good.” He’s joking, but the way he said it casually while sipping his stew loudly makes you think that he wasn’t. So you slowly push your bowl away in favour of munching on a dinner roll.

—

The tables are all pushed to the side of the ship in favour of the whole crew to stand in its place. All the plates and utensils click against each other as the waves smash against the ship’s hull. The leftovers are dangerously close to the edge, but no one is fighting as hard as Miles as he instructs each crew member with dedication and increasing frustration.

“No, not there, Jimmy!” The poor navigator’s voice is turning hoarser by the minute. “Stand back! You’re too tall to be next to the doc!”

“Why is it always me?!” The man scowls before slumping over to the back while cradling the new cut on his jaw.

Every single one of the crew are still on deck. With you, the captain, the older crew and a few scattered new ones stand at the helm. The lineup continues on to the stairs then down to the balconies and lower deck. Each person poses, some grumbles with annoyance at what they have to put up with. As if they have a choice when it’s the captain himself that asked for their participation with a smile that is up to their interpretation. And to your surprise more pirates seem to like posing for the portrait, happy enough to have their likeness drawn and recorded for years to come.

Miles stands in front, facing everyone with an easel propped up by crates and barrels to keep it from rolling around the deck. The winds have grown wilder now that it has gone dark save for the scattered lamp lights swinging around the ship.

With supper done, and the dress fully turned to ash, Miles isn’t slowing down even when the waves splash against the sides of the ship.

“Miles, it’s already dark, we should do this in the morning.” Gwen says with softness that she only reserves for him.

Miles shakes his head, fixated on sketching it out as his scribbling pencil scratches against the parchment. “I just need to sketch the positions out.” A few groans echo out.

“And here I thought you were making sure you got my handsome face right.” James sighs tiredly, and a handful chuckle at his comment.

You shake your head, and James notices, tugging at your hair from the back. When you look back to tug at him back as revenge, he’s acting innocent, whistling casually, eyes gazing at the sky. You roll your eyes but before turning away, you flick at his nose then copy his feigned innocence. Hobie snorts at the two of you, while Yuri hides her amused face behind Lyla’s shoulder.

Miles replies without looking away from his masterpiece. “I’ll be quick! Trust me it’s just the silhouettes and poses that I need, I can draw your ugly faces whenever—”

“Ship ahoy!” Suddenly, Gayatri screams from above the mast.

James immediately bolts over to her with panic, pushing you and everyone out of the way to get to the rigging and see what’s coming for himself.

At first you thought that she was joking and crying wolf as a way to rebel. But when you look in the direction she was pointing at, sure enough, you see an oil lamp swinging amidst the dark. James’ yelled out confirmation says it all as he rings the alarm bells.

“Fuck.” Hobie immediately takes charge, yelling instructions to the whole crew, hands flying towards the bannister as everyone scatters to man their positions. “Man the cannons, starboard side!” He’s frantically rolling the wheel so that the guns could aim right at it. “Keep the bloody sails folded until they get close!”

You’re harshly pulled to the side of the ship, losing your balance from the sheer momentum. Plates and utensils clatter to the floor, smashing clay and metal around. Before you could brace yourself, a hand grips onto you, saving you from hitting the wood harshly.

“You in one piece, duchess?” Davey asks as he straightens you back to your feet.

“Davey, saved me again.” You breathlessly say as your eyes meet with his worried ones. “I’m alright, thank you.” He seems different, more lucid the second the bells rang.

“All in a day’s work, your grace.” He bows before leaving your side to run down the stairs and help the others.

“Love, the twins.” Hobie leaves the wheel for Pavitr to operate it for him. He checks on you briefly before pointing at the befuddled twins standing right in the middle of the chaos.

“I’ve got them.” Reassuring him with a brief squeeze to his hand, you bolt away and down the steps even when your ankle starts to ache and your head pounds from the adrenaline.

You dodge fellow pirates, arms and heavy ropes swinging around, all dangerously close to accidentally hitting your newly healed head. The ship is thrown into disarray, people fumble, tripping around each other and slipping on the fallen leftovers. For experienced pirates, this should’ve been normal, a routine protocol. But with the rug pulled under them, and the strange ship sailing too close for comfort when no one saw them coming has turned their wine filled heads upside down.

The second your hands take a hold of the twins, you’re quickly leading them below deck. Collette catches up quicker than her brother, leaving John stumbling on his own two feet.

With the doors in sight, you kick it open and continue down the stairs.

“Cousin!” Collette digs in her heels, stopping you mid-step. “We can fight!”

You pant, letting their hands go when you realize that you’ve reached the hallway. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Then why—”

“Because we have no idea who those people are.” John’s face contorts into fear at your strained words. “You might’ve not seen them, but they carry no flag.” Gathering your breath, you clasp each of their shoulders. “Tell you what, stay down here, you’ll be our last defence if they get below deck.”

“We’re not children, cousin.” Johnathan finally speaks with some apprehension. “My sister’s right, we can help.”

“Yes, but not now. You two still have a lot to learn. Can you shoot?” You don’t have to wait for their answer when they just look at each other. “You’ll get your time, I promise. For now, stay here. For your cousin’s sanity, yeah?”

The ringing bells get louder and more frantic from above, whilst rushed footsteps echoes like thunder from where you stand. The twins gaze at each other briefly before nodding.

“Good, thank you. Keep your blades close.” Taking a step up the stairs, the commotion on the deck suddenly turns silent.

A chill runs down your spine.

“That’s not a good sign.” John says the obvious.

“It’s not.” Your hand pauses on the doorknob before twisting the cold metal. The scene gives you déjà vu, a warm push on your chest then Hobie leaving to fight without you. “Go to your cabin.”

“But—”

You don’t look back as you shut the door behind.

The Hydra’s fury is at a standstill. The loud bells stop abruptly and yet your ears can still hear it ringing.

People man their stations with fire in their eyes, hands tight around their weapons that are all pointed at one man aboard the opposite ship. It bears no mark, no decoration or even a figurehead at the front. But for some reason, it’s as bone chilling as seeing the Black Hellion come back to life right in front of you.

The scene paints a memory, not a fond one where your body shakes with laughter. But a fog covered memory, drenched in cold rain and a man emerging from the mist with a crooked smile. This time, you won’t cower behind Hobie, this time, you have your own weapons to aim at whoever dared to face the wrath of the bloodsail pirates.

Your quiet footsteps are like drums in your ears amidst the silence. Gwen stands on his left, ready to pounce at his will. The light atmosphere on the ship previously completely dissipates into heavy tension. And the moment you get to the captain’s side, your blunderbuss is nailed in your palm, pointing right at the man emerging from the dark.

The oil lamp swinging from the stern barely gives any visibility. Only a muscular silhouette as the stranger walks into the light.

“Ahoy there!”

Seeing his friendly wide grin is like dropping ice onto a steaming cup of water.

Your eyes flick at the man next to you, seeing the same confused knit of his brows. The familiar violet handle of your father’s gun stays in his hand, not even wavering from the friendly greeting.

“Damn, you English aren’t fooling around, huh?” He scratches his head, raven locks cascading down his shoulders whilst he roams his green eyes around the deck. You swear his eyes lingered at your neck.

You notice one other detail though, he doesn’t have a single weapon on him. Not even the men behind him carry a blade or a gun on them. That you can see anyway, you never know with strangers floating around the sea in the cover of night.

“You’re not from ’round ’ere, hm?” Hobie speaks on behalf of the whole ship.

“Ain’t it obvious?” The man chuckles, a smile reaching his eyes. “I saw the smoke signal and I thought that we could trade? We’re running out of supplies you see. And we still have a long way to go to reach home.”

The burning dress attracted them. Even as a pile of ashes it gives you grief.

“You’re already out of supplies?” Your captain asks in a mocking amused tone.

“Yeah, we’re not too lucky I think. We ran into some pirates, you see.” The raven haired shrugs bashfully, gesturing at his bandaged hand. “Wait— I believe I’m being rude, my name’s Captain Clovis Edison. We’re a merchant ship from the new world.”

“We have nothing to trade.” Gwen says through clenched teeth.

“Nonsense! You just came from the mermaid’s head, did you not?”

You wait for Hobie’s response.

Waves splash against the hull, rocking the ship back and forth.

He does the unthinkable— holstering his gun.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Hobie brandishes a smile that has you worried if he’s the one that hit his head days ago and not you.

“That’s the spirit!” Clovis slaps his thigh with a chortle. “Finally someone who doesn’t want to shoot at us! We got too much of that already back home.”

The bloodsail pirates follow after their captain with a few reluctantly holstering their weapons. But your hand doesn’t let up on yours, ready to take it once again if he even moves a finger suspiciously.

“What do you have to trade?”

“Oh, we’ve got silver if that’s any value to you.”

“Well, that’s very valuable, mate.” Hobie's eyes shine at the mention of the precious metal. “We have some produce and ship’s biscuit that we’re willing to part with for that silver.”

You're still left standing there scratching your head, wondering what Hobie's planning. But you trust him wholeheartedly, whatever he sees in the merchant, you know that he has a strategy in mind. You trust his judgement.

Grey eyes glance at you briefly, a gentle reassurance that eases your nerves.

A rope is tossed from the deck of the other ship, and Clovis is already holding onto it like he’s about to rappel down to your ship. With the abrupt movement from the stranger, you and the crew happily whip out your weapons.

Instead of following the other’s lead, Hobie gently pushes your blunderbuss down to your. “Nah, sorry, mate, we don’t allow other people on deck. You look like a nice bloke but rules are rules.”

Clovis dangles halfway from the rope, whilst the ribbon behind his locks flutters in the wind. “And here I thought you’re a rule breaker, Mr?”

“Captain actually, Captain Applebees.” With just a single look around his crew, Hobie instructs them to put their weapons down. One by one, metal clicks and slides into leather.

“You English and your wild names! I love it!” You expected for the American to be much stubborn, but he climbs back up to his ship without a single protest from his mouth. “And I absolutely understand. I’ll bring down the silver while your men hoist the supplies up here.”

“Good, lad.” Hobie turns towards the crew and in turn, shows his back against the merchant. An act of trust, or naiveté. Either way, you notice some of the crew questioning his decision with a subtle scowl thrown his way. It's especially evident from a certain ravenette gunner.

“We got this, Hobie, we can blow their ship out of the water without a problem.” Yuri whispers to him as he tells a handful of his men to grab the supplies to trade.

“And get shot at before we even get close to our destination?” Hobie’s tone is hard, jaw clenched at his gunner. “Aye, we can do that, or we trade somethin’ that we have in abundance and sail away without gettin’ a bloody hole right in our hull.”

“He’s a merchant, they have an abundance. I don't believe for a second that he's out of supplies.” Her dark eyes glances at the ship then over to you briefly. “And merchant ships tend to have a lot of firepower, but not as much as us.”

“You really think that bloke is a merchant, Yuri?” Brow raised, you preemptively reach out for Hobie’s steady arm, which Lyla takes as a signal to stand beside Yuri.

“Then pray tell, captain, what is he?”

“A fuckin’ privateer.”

The word has you looking at Gwen, only to find that she’s already staring back at you then over to the captain. The air runs thick with tension, your knees throbbing and aching. It’s going to rain. The simple thought has your mind going back to the last time it rained on deck while a man taunts the whole ship with his laughter.

“How would you know?” Yuri scoffs, but doesn’t back away. “You know a lot of privateers?”

“Durin’ the whole time we were out at sea, did you see any Americans at the helm, captaining their own ship? Especially a merchant ship when they’re goin’ through a war?” He doesn't wait for an answer. “Nah, I haven't either, because no one has that kind of coin to sail this far. ‘m bettin’ that either the queen or one of her spawns hired him to deliver their supplies for ‘em. Or better yet, he’s their very own navy.” His eyes spark with embers. “I know that wanker carries the letter of mark.”

His strained words lay heavy above the group. The sound of the crate scraping against wood signals for the trading to continue.

“We can get ‘em ‘m sure, but this isn’t the time for it when we’re not even halfway into the journey.” To placate his gunner, Hobie clasps her tense shoulder briefly. “If it wasn’t so dark, Yuri, I would’ve been the first to shoot. We’ll get another one next time.”

“We better.” Yuri walks away, hands clenched into a fist, hankering for the scent of gunpowder flying in the air. “Move.” She pushes people out of the way, grabbing the crate by herself to carry it closer to the ropes that the Americans dropped down.

Turning away, Hobie brushes his hand atop your own for a split second before addressing the privateer. Your worry for him grows when you notice the lingering glares on his back, like blades aimed right at him.

“Jus’ like we talked ‘bout!” Gesturing around the crate, he shows the rhubarbs, lemons, carrots and bundles of ship’s biscuit inside. “Now for your end of the bargain.”

“Thank you, good captain Applebees!” Clovis tosses a bag of coins into the deck, Pavitr catches it, metal clinking as he almost staggers back from the weight. “Sorry about that, boy!” He chuckles, brushing away strands of hair away from his chiseled face. The crate is closed and hauled up to their ship without a hitch. “We’ll be off then! How do you say it…ah! Cheerio!”

“Careful of the sea hydras, mate!” The sea spider even makes a show of things by grinning and waving the ship off as it starts to sail opposite the Hydra’s fury.

Once out of ear shot, and the ship now far away from causing significant harm, the waves are rougher than the tension lingering in the air, Hobie finally drops his façade.

“What did they give us, Pav?” His tone is something you haven’t heard of in a while

Metal jingles as Pavitr takes measure of the bag’s contents. “They’re silver alright. Enough for a sack of grain and a couple bottles of rum— wait.”

“What is it?” Your heart rate quickens, as if your body knows that nothing good is inside the bag.

“What’s a bangle doing here?” In his hand is a piece of jewelry that you’re awfully familiar with. Laden in silver, a flying dove curved around itself, one that has bear witness to the bloody stabbing you did at Hazelside before your ‘wedding.’

“Is that my bangle?” Collette appears behind the door, eyes zeroing in on the jewelry, asking the same question floating around in your head. She jogs towards Pavitr, and gingerly takes it from him, rotating the silver like it’s a puzzling mystery. “What on earth is it doing out here?”

“And how did it get to that man?” Her brother finishes for her.

You’re stood frozen on the deck, limbs numb, throat dry and heaving as if bile is about to retch out from within your guts. Hobie notices your stiffness, face etched in deep concern, frantic grey eyes searching for life in yours.

“Love.” He purposely blocks the sight, hand inching its way to your closed fist. “You alright?”

“I wore that when I stabbed Mathias in the dining room.” Despite your whispered words, it garners the crew’s attention. “Collette’s mother gave me that on the eve of my wedding.” All eyes lie upon your cannon shocked state. “Said it was my grandmother’s, that it was time it went to its rightful owner.”

“Maybe it just looks similar?” Miles tries to put you at ease.

“I do remember you wearing it.” Collette mumbles out, her words increasing your panic.

“Well maybe they made a lot of copies.” Jonathan swallows thickly as he sees your expression.

Your abrupt movement scares the pair as you snatch the jewelry from Collette’s hand. “I scratched the wings with my nail a thousand times while they were dressing me…” you feel for the indents, rolling it frantically in your hands. “If it’s here—” the breath in your lungs disappears when you feel the awful familiarity of the scratches.

You don’t have to say the words for Hobie and the crew to know that it’s there. That the so-called merchant isn’t what he seems.

Gwen is the first to speak, voice steady. “What’s your next move, captain?”

The moon bears witness to Hobie’s conundrum, grey whirlpools glancing back and forth from you and the sailing ship ahead of him. A new flag is unfurled atop its mast, just like he thought, it has the royal seal on it. Waving in the sea breeze without a care. Drifting across the sea of night.

Taunting him to follow and start a war.

A year ago, he would’ve followed with ice in his veins and fire in his eyes.

“I thought I lost it.” Your small tone anchors him to the present, thumb running across the bird’s wing as if it would tell you the future.

With a deep inhale, unfurling his fists, he takes his eyes off the ship and gazes at you instead. “Miles, where did you say Karl and his men are?”

“They took a different route. They’re probably in Italy by now, why?”

“Let’s head there first. Meet up with the sons of the sea earlier than we planned.” Hobie gently slides his arm around your shoulders, a hand enveloping the bracelet and hiding the sight from you.

“It’s faster if we go through.” Olafson’s gruff voice echoes through the night.

“We’ll be wasting daylight and precious resources, captain.” Lou remarks.

“This wasn’t part of the plan.” Yuri adds.

“Well, now it is.” The captain raises his head high despite the words of disagreement around him.

“Right, set course for Italy, Pav—” Gwen starts to say, only to be interrupted by Yuri’s scoff.

“Why? We can take them out and continue our original route.”

Hobie looks at her with a flat look, shoulders straight, looking as sure as ever. “I have a bad feelin’ about it.”

Yuri’s jaw tightens. “Whatever you say, captain.” She turns her back on him, addressing the rest of the crew. “You heard what the first mate said, set course for Italy!”

Everyone scrambles to get to their post, but before Lyla could help with the sails, Hobie grabs her arm, whispering in her ear.

“Go to the crow’s nest,” he hands her his personal telescope. “Follow where the ship goes as far as you can see with this. Then report back to me. And ask James to keep watch through the night.”

Lyla smirks despite the leaden unease permeating in the air from the previous encounter with her partner and her captain. “Why do I need to when I already have a feeling you already know what I’ll see?”

“To prove that ‘m right.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n.”

As she walks away, her eyes lingering to you for a moment, Hobie’s hand gently guides you below deck, half hugging you, ducking to meet with your downturned eyes. “How ‘bout some hot chocolate, hm, love?”

“She knows where we are.”

“She does, but now we know that she’s comin’ for us.”

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