#a tall ship sailor! captain even!

[mycological-mariner]

Beautiful thing happened today: the guy doing headshots had these brilliant nautical tattoos and I, a known ship nerd, pointed them out and said I thought they were brilliant. And he launched into how for 12 years he worked on a tall ship at one point as the captain. He got all excited telling me about it and asked if I was working on any ships. I said no, but I’d love to, have wanted to ever since I was a kid; he asks if I know so-and-so, to call him and even just being a passenger will get you credit with skippers. And at this point I’m grinning and laughing and I really want to talk more about sailing and historical stuff with this guy. He goes “Right tilt your head this way, you wanna look warm and approachable yet tough for any skippers!” Probably the best headshots I’ll ever get, those smiles were sincere. Then he recommended me his favourite book - its 700 pages and it’s 300 years of historical fiction called “We, The Drowned” which I’m checking out asap because it sounds brilliant

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

he’s the adult supervision, he’s the voice of reason, he’s a cringefail king, it’s Captain Haddock! Quite a few people asked for a timeline post for Haddock after I posted one of Tintin.

I found the whole idea of the Haddock family curse to be very interesting, and the implications behind it to be pretty dark... cw for alcoholism and childhood abuse. Let me know if you need anything tagged.

To figure out the timeline the evidence for Haddock’s age I found was in an animated adaptation of Explorers on the Moon where Haddock mentions he has around forty years of sailing experience. I doubt he was running around on ships as a newborn so that places his age during the canon comics at around 60ish, give or take a few years, which in my timeline places his childhood during the late Victorian era!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - Archibald Haddock had a pretty rough childhood and family life. The legacy of the “Haddock family curse” weighs heavily on him, and so does the alcoholism that runs generationally. His father is often drunk, taking his anger and frustration out on Archibald. Fully believing the family curse, Archibald’s father drills the idea that he is destined for failure into his head. 

Archibald’s only respite is his grandfather, who tells him stories of Sir Francis Haddock and other tall tales from the sea. His grandfather also would take him out on fishing trips, the lochs and the sea being his refuge. 

Teenager - It’s the 1880s and Archibald is left aimless after his grandfather passes away, passing the time by hiding from his father and drinking during the day. He fully believes he has no real future and lets himself get swept up by whatever will come along next.

Young Adult - Archibald decides to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and becomes a sailor, feeling at home at sea. He cleans up somewhat after befriending George Chester as the two train on the same merchant vessel. Chester drags a reluctant Archibald along into all kinds of crazy antics, with Archibald wanting to stay on the straight and narrow.

Archibald is drafted during the First World War, serving in the Grand Fleet. He is stationed at the Orkney and Shetland Islands with Chester.

Canon - After the war Archibald relapses on his addiction again, but is able to hold onto work in the merchant fleet. He eventually becomes a captain of a merchant vessel where his mental health issues are taken advantage of in the Crab with the Golden Claws. 

Seeing his crew mutiny, kidnap (and attempt to murder) a boy on his ship was a major wake up call - Haddock is now imbued with a sense of responsibility for Tintin (even if Tintin seems to handle things better than Haddock!). He doesn’t understand what Tintin sees in him but he’ll be damned if he proves him wrong. He’s not above calling him an idiot when the time is right though.

Post Canon - After Tintin loses his job Haddock does his best to support him.  He uses his wealth to further causes he believes in, donating money to artist collectives and scientific research that was repressed by fascist governments. Before Belgium even joins the Second World War he and the Marlinspike team proactively go out and foil various Nazi plots. Marlinspike Hall is firebombed by the Nazis in retaliation, but after the war Haddock funds various housing cooperative projects. Coming from a working class background he hasn’t forgotten the hardships a lot of people face.

Elderly - At this point Haddock is secure in his found family. He’s been living with his partner Ramo Nash, and has taken up various arts and crafts as hobbies. Looking back, he never expected to be a father, but is incredibly proud of Tintin. He never officially adopts him as a part of him still fears the family curse (plus they both agree “Haddock” as a name definitely does not suit Tintin)!

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝

It was a punishable act to not follow the Captain’s orders, just as much as it was to cross him when his fuse was already so short. Luckily for you, you had the one thing that would calm the brusque fury into a simmering wave. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✗ Pirate!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✗ 1.7k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✗ Fluff ჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected, angry piv, Dom!Bucky, no prep ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, degradation, dirty talk, sir

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✗ So... I think it would be a bit foolish for me to say that I am innocent at this stage — but, I will say it anyway.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✗ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 6 — "How do you want me?" — Masterlist

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The tension on The Soldat’s deck was thicker than the fog in the early hours of a cold morning. 

All day, your Captain had been snappish in his orders – quick to berate and growl out a reprimand if a crew member dawdled too long or made a mistake. 

It was unnerving. 

Bucky had always remained composed – very little could rattle the seasoned sailor, but the first sighting of an encroaching armada seemed to have set his last nerve ablaze. A couple days’ worth of sailing had taken your ship out of their sights and back into corsair territory, and as a result, Bucky had given the command to port at the closest settlement – a pirate port, one infamous for shady men and even worse devils. 

“First mate,” Bucky snapped from the helm as night began to fall. You strode over from your station, brow raised in question, watching as the black leather coat Bucky wore flapped in the cold evening air. He flicked his head in a gesture for you to step closer, and you did so with no hesitation, right up to his side so his lips could brush against your ear. “Cabin, now. Get on my bed and wait for me. Ass up.”

The shock made you freeze for a split second, and Bucky’s lips curled into an arrogant smirk. “Move it, lass; follow your Captain’s orders, now.”

“Aye, sir,” you said, staring at him through doe eyes. 

If you put a little sway in your hips as you made your way down the stairs for his benefit, it was no one’s business. 

The Captain's cabin remained as warm and inviting as ever, with dark timbers and even deeper accents. A very recent haul had allowed some art to decorate the wooden walls, and they added a flair of colour to the otherwise brooding room. Your shared bed took up a fair amount of space on the far wall, and the sheets and covers tousled from the previous night’s coupling and fitful hours of sleep. 

“Such a slob,” you muttered, moving over to the mess and tidying it up. 

Once tidied, you fiddled with your buckles and belts, pulling off your cutlass and pistol to place them on the armoury table. The garments you donned were easy to remove, cotton and leather peeling away and allowing your flesh to breathe, yet you left your billowing shirt on, unsure how long Bucky would take to make his way and retire to his cabin. 

Waves made the ship pitch and roll as you waited, and the setting sun casted an orange glow through the glass windows. 

As darkness bloomed, you struck a few matches and lit a few candles that were dotted around the cabin – the light flickered and glowed, a beautiful dance of flame that you admired for just a moment.

Muffled voices could be heard through the door, and then heavy bootfalls above your head, trailing down the stairs and coming to a complete stop at the cabin door. The figure behind the glass was tall, broad, and angry. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered, and you scarpered to the mattress, quickly laying down on the soft cottons, and canting your ass up into the air – just as he had ordered.

“If any fool knocks on this damned door,” Bucky yelled at large, his voice muffled by the doors, but no less fierce. “I will give them a third eye.”

The very same door swung open with a crash, and you startled with a muffled squeak. Your head came to rest in the crook of your elbow, and as if on instinct, you held your breath – awaiting Bucky’s next move.

“Well, well, well,” Bucky said, the sound of his leather coat and thick armour hitting the floor louder than cannon fire in the nervous energy of the cabin. “Just how I wanted my Minx–presenting that sweet cunt for me, aren’t you a good girl…”

“What’s wrong, sir?” You asked, voice muffled by your arm, and Bucky hummed. “You have been tense all day–you want to be in control of me? That why I’m prone on your bed waiting for you to fuck me?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky breathed, and you peeked from your arm to behind you. His predatory grin was warped by the candlelight and shadows, though his gaze was entirely focused on your bare ass and weeping entrance. “Don’t tell me you don’t like pleasing your sir, fuckin’ look at you–filthy and already dripping wet for me.”

A low moan started in your throat before you could stop it. Bucky’s attention focused on your face – softening his manic glint only slightly. “Hands behind your back, lass,” he ordered, stepping closer to the bed and kneeling on the edge. “Go on now.”

“Sir,” you whined, shuffling your knees and arching your back further. “Please.”

“Do as you’re told, Minx, be a good girl. Hands behind your back.” The bed dipped behind you from Bucky’s weight, and you hastened to obey – his proximity and authoritative tone making your brain grow fuzzy. “That’s it, good girl.” 

The bed creaked as Bucky removed the last of his clothing, and you looked back to see him stark naked, hard and swollen cock bobbing between his legs as he shuffled closer. “We don’t need this,” he said, and the sound of fabric ripping filled the air and a chill settled over your bare back, shirt long gone. “Much better.”

“Please,” you whispered, and Bucky cooed, his scarred, rough hands rubbing over your ass and hips before one grabbed your crisscrossed wrists. “Please, sir.”

“Is my Minx achin’, hmm? Here?” The sudden brush of a finger against the weeping entrance of your cunt made you gasp, and you jolted forward. “Such a sensitive lass,” he whispered, rubbing his fingers up and down slowly, teasing your entrance. Biting your lip, you nodded. “Can’t have that, can we?”

“No,” you replied. The anticipation of finally being filled made your breath come in heavy pants, and you wiggled your hips to entice him to move, to finally get on with it. “Use me, sir–fuck me, and you’ll feel better, promise-”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled darkly, and he draped himself over your back and kissed your shoulder. “You just need to be a good girl and take it.”

A shout of surprise tore from your throat when Bucky finally thrust forward, his cock forcing its way in to sit to the hilt in one swift movement. The burn and pull of muscle as your body gave way to him made you hiss through your teeth, “Fuck!”

“God,” Bucky groaned, draping his chest over your back. “You feel so good, sweetheart, fuckin’ hell.”

A nonsensical moan fell from your lips as Bucky shallowly thrusted, his hips rocking back and forth so the head of his cock brushed against your walls in all the right places. “Oh my god,” you moaned, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that had gathered on your waterline. 

“Just stay like that, little Minx,” Bucky growled. His body heat left your back as he sat up, and you whimpered. “Easy, ‘m here,” he cooed. You felt the rough calluses of his hands brush over your hands just as he gripped your crisscrossed wrists. His other hand forced your face into the bed – effectively immobilising you. “You’re gonna let your sir fuck his anger out, aren’t you? You’re gonna sit there and take it?”

“Yes, yes–use me! I can take it,” you rushed, grinning against the soft cotton on the mattress, and you were rewarded with a sharp, quick thrust. “Sir!”

“Knew you could, lass.” The grip on your wrists tightened to be bruising, and you huffed, wriggling slightly in his grip to get closer, only to feel the sting of his palm and hear the resounding crack from his palm spanking your ass. “Sit fuckin’ still. How am I meant to fuck you if you keep squirmin’, sweetheart?”

“Sorry! ‘M sorry, sir, I’ll be still,” you gasped, rocking slightly. 

“Good girl,” Bucky praised. 

The first thrust punched the air from your lungs in a keening moan, and Bucky hummed approvingly, bending over your back while still rocking his hips. His hot breath fanned over your ear, and you whimpered, chasing the feeling of skin on skin. “Sound so pretty, Treasure, huh?” he purred. “But I think you can be louder than that. Let it out; let your sir hear you.”

The drag of Bucky’s cock over your walls made you moan loudly, and the sudden change in speed caused a domino effect you were powerless to control. “Feels s’good, sir! Fuck!”

Bucky’s hips slammed into yours, his growls and grunts of efforts adding to the litany of sounds that echoed off the walls of his cabin. His hand gripped your wrists tightly, the pain of his grip only adding to the pleasure that crested in the coil between your legs. 

The hand that held your face to the mattress still pinned you, and with the force of Bucky’s thrusts, your knees started to spread even further apart, forcing your back to arch – the angle sent him far deeper in your cunt than ever before.

You called out wordlessly the faster he thrust, the pace turning brutal as the bed frame below you creaked and groaned, the rocking matching the ferocity of the waves that gently swayed the ship. 

“Fuck, you feel s’good–never gonna leave your tight cunt,” Bucky moaned, his voice raspy with feral need. His words made your walls flutter, and you could just feel the arrogant smirk that quirked his bitten-red lips. “You like that idea, huh, little Minx? Jus’ being a hole for your sir to fuck and fill whenever he wants–’specially when he’s angry?”

“Oh my god,” you cried, “please!”

“Tell me, Treasure. Tell me you want it,” Bucky ordered, each word followed by a harsh thrust. “Go on.”

“I want it! I want it, please,” you begged. It was getting hard to think through the onslaught of pleasure, and If Bucky kept hitting that spot, you wouldn’t last much longer – not to mention if he kept up the train of filth falling from his lips in that tone, the tone of a Captain and sir. 

“Fuckin’ take it then, whore,” Bucky spat, and his hips pistoned into yours, each thrust became a sharp stab of pleasure adding to the inferno burning through every last one of your nerves. “Cum for me, cum on your sir’s cock–lemme feel it.”

Your thighs began to shake, the wave becoming too hard to keep your head above. “Oh, fuck, please! I’m close!”

Bucky angled his hips down and fucked you onto the bed, a snarl on his lips and his panting breaths fanned over your ear and cheek. “Give it to me, sweetheart–fuckin’ cum, now.”

The command made your eyes roll and your body seized as the waves consumed you. A scream tore from your throat as you fell off the cliff into the waves, and Bucky moaned loudly, grinding his hips and digging his cock further into your heat. “That’s it, lass, fuckin’ good girl–such a good girl, milkin’ my fuckin’ cock, shit.”

Bucky’s breath hitched on a moan while you pulsed around him – his hips faltering before a whimper fell from his lips as warmth spread in your cunt, his spend leaking from your entrance and onto the cotton sheets covering the bed. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself over your back, still thrusting shallowly. “Good god, my love–y’know just how to snap me out of it.”

“Sure do,” you giggled, sighing contentedly. “Love having my sir fuck me.”

A soft kiss landed on your shoulder, and Bucky exhaled heavily. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No–no, you didn’t, love,” you replied quietly, smiling. “I hurt just as I should, just as I wanted.”

Bucky chuckled and shifted to sit up, his softening cock leaving your cunt and making you feel empty. “We made a mess,” he observed, his hand running up and down the back of your thigh. “Should fuck you like that more often.”

Just to fuck with him a little more, you tensed once, twice, and a groan echoed behind you. “Good god, you fuckin’ whore–teasin’ me like that. You have no idea what that does to me, Minx.”

“Oh, but I do,” you replied, winking. 

Bucky stared at you, his lips in a firm line and eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m not done with you. Stay there while I get something to clean you up with.”

Following orders, while second nature, had never been so rewarding.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[teecupangel]

Okay what if Edward stated haunting the jackdaw after his death and some pieces of the jackdaw after its destruction was repurposed into the aquila

Yeah, that could work. All we know from the Jackdaw’s ‘death’ is that it sank in the West Indies (as seen in Freedom Cry where Adéwalé can get the figurehead) so it’s possible that Adéwalé could have told them where to find it. Although using parts from an already sunken and drenched ship would be dangerous so I would suggest that there’s something in Aquila that was once part of the Jackdaw. I would have suggested the helm but that’s already in Kenway mansion before it sunk and having the figurehead instead is kinda iffy (and absolutely not because I like the figurehead of the Aquila XD).

So how about the chest in the captain’s cabin instead?

Edward would start haunting the Jackdaw under the sea since the Jackdaw was sunk before his death and maybe he manages to whisper to the one diving to take the chest because he realized that’s what he was ‘connected’ to.

Why?

He has no idea.

His first guess would be because the Jackdaw’s pirate flag had been stored in the chest after they sailed for Bristol.

Maybe the lingering attachment Edward had for the pirate’s life is what is keeping him tethered to the ship.

Once Aquila is constructed, he begins to haunt it.

The crew of the Aquila believes he is a dead sailor or maybe even one of the men that Achilles had killed before.

Achilles never saw him though.

To be more exact, Edward couldn’t appear before him.

No matter what he does.

He always return in the cabin whenever he is about to enter Achilles’ line of sight.

No.

When he’s about to enter the line of sight of any Assassins.

He can’t even contact anyone else. The moment he tries to come near them, he’s back in the captain’s cabin once more.

If someone was in the captain’s cabin, it was like he was completely invisible.

And he could not do anything.

Can’t even try and leave a message for Adéwalé any time he boards the Aquila.

He can’t even throw anything to defuse his rage after hearing that Haytham, his own son, had become a Templar.

All he could do was watch the sea as his rage slowly subsided.

And what’s left is pain and love.

The pain of knowing his son chose a path he could not approve and the indestructible love he felt for him even as he walked a path Edward would never approve.

Maybe there was a reason.

Maybe Edward simply want there to be a reason…

He didn’t want to believe his son would willingly join the organization that killed him without a reason.

What about Jenny?

Was Jenny alright?

Was she… still alive?

.

.

.

How many years have passed?

Since that fateful day…

He finally saw Haytham once more.

And he heard of Adéwalé’s death.

And now, all he can do is watch as Haytham destroys the Brotherhood in the colonies, leaving Achilles in pain and limping as he ordered the Aquila to return home.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

He haunts a rotting ship.

He haunts a dying ship.

He doesn’t know what has happened to Haytham.

He does not know what happened to Jenny.

Was this his punishment for not being a good husband to Caroline?

He tried to be a good husband to Tessa but he knew that would never remove the stain of his failure as Caroline’s husband.

Was this his punishment for not listening to Jenny? For trying to selfishly keep her safe by marrying her off to someone who could provide her with everything she would ever need?

Was this his punishment for teaching Haytham before he could even understand what it means to be part of the Brotherhood?

Was this his punishment for believing Birch?

Was this…

His own personal hell?

His punishment for living when his friends, his fellow pirates, all died…

Was he meant to haunt this dying ship until it finally sinks deep into the waters below?

Alone in this cold prison…

“Hello?”

Edward turned at the sound of a young man’s voice.

He was tall with clothes that reminded Edward of the few natives that would sometimes board the Aquila when Achilles still held fire in his eyes.

“Are you one of Mr. Faulkner’s men?” The boy asked curiously.

Edward looked around, wondering who the boy was talking to.

Until he remembered.

It was just him.

His head turned back to the boy quickly as he asked, “Can you… can you see me?”

The boy frowned as he replied in a questioning tone, confused by the question itself, “Yes?”

Edward’s eyes widened.

Someone could see him.

But why?

“What’s your name, lad?”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton.” The boy replied before pausing for a moment. His brows furrowed as he added, “You may call me Connor.”

“Connor.” Edward repeated. He knew the name.

It was the name of Achilles’ late son.

He wasn’t that boy.

Who was he?

Why could he see him?

“Hello, Connor. My name is Edward Kenway.”

The boy frowned as he asked, “Are you related to Haytham Kenway?”

“Yes.” Edward couldn’t stop the resignation in his tone as he admitted, “I’m… his father.”

The boy’s frown deepened as he said, “But you don’t look old enough to be his father.”

“I stopped aging when I died.” Edward explained, waving a hand on himself as he said, “I’m a ghost haunting that chest over there.”

“Oh.” The boy blinked and seemed to mull it over before he nodded as he said, “It’s nice to meet you then, grandfather.”

“Nice to me- wait what?”

[thisisallthehattersfault]

It's really hard to find good Usopp-centric fics and even harder to find fics where Usopp is allowed to be genuinely skilled and capable (Take The World By Storm has spoiled me) and none of that is mentioning my love of the Strawhats being a little less morally good and a little more willing to really lean in on the whole Terrifying Yonko Pirate Crew thing when the situation calls for it

But I remembered today that I can be the change I want to see in the world so now my whole brain is consumed by an idea for a fic where Syrup village gets raided by slavers, the little Usopp pirates get taken, and Usopp goes fucking ballistic.

Like, think about it: The East Blue, widely considered the weakest of the seas, would be easy pickings for slave traders looking to make a quick top-up before auction day. Especially since it seems most islands are fairly autonomous, with little local governmental presence. Places like the Gecko islands would be prime targets -- we don't know how many other towns or cities might be nearby, but we know Syrup, at least, is a small and mostly isolated hamlet. It's practically a free market.

So I'm imagining like, the Strawhats have circled back to the East Blue for whatever reason -- maybe it's a post-Raftel victory lap, or maybe they had some other reason to swing back. Either way, they're all taking the opportunity to visit old friends and family, and introduce the crew they met later to all the people they grew up with, and then they reach Syrup and the whole village is in an uproar; just a couple days ago a bunch of kids from the village went missing, Usopp's little pirate crew among them. Nobody knows for sure what happened. An unmarked ship did dock for a few days for repairs, but the sailors on-board were polite and didn't cause any trouble that anyone could see. However, the day the kids vanished, the ship was also gone.

I figure the boys probably were suspicious of the sailors for whatever reason, and they likely did some investigating and left a message or even just their evidence behind when they got grabbed by the slavers, because if we know anything about these kids it's that they are very brave and very bad at knowing when to go ask an adult for help. So the boys manage to (mostly accidentally) leave a trail of breadcrumbs for the Strawhats to follow.

They catch the slave ship just before it can cross the reverse mountain and Usopp proceeds to unleash absolute hell on the men who tried to take his boys (and other kids he likely also helped babysit or at least knew and watched grow up)

And that's their first real look at their Captain in years: Usopp appearing out of practically nowhere, bloody and blazing and standing tall over the crumpled bodies of his enemies, reaching down to lift Ninjin, Piiman and Tamenegi into his arms after the scariest few weeks the boys have ever lived through. He has all three tuck their faces into his chest so they don't see the carnage, but they've already seen enough, and everything was so loud but now it's so quiet and the air smells like iron. He carries them off the ship and onto the Sunny to take them home.

(In and among all of this I imagine the Klahadore thing comes out as well, because there's no point in keeping it a secret anymore if Syrup village isn't safe after all.)

Syrup Village flies the Strawhat flag, after that. It won't win them any favors with the Navy if it's found out, but it'll keep them safer than the military ever has.

[istumpysk]

to bad lady stoneheart will crown arya in robb’s crown leading her to be queen of the north at least sansa can enjoy her life with her two timing husband in the vale 😌

Top 10 Funniest Ship Girl Foreshadowing

10. Gendry's very important question.

He looked dubious. "Did you ever sail a boat?" "You put up the sail," she said, "and the wind pushes it." "What if the wind is blowing the wrong way?" "Then there's oars to row." - Arya II, ASOS

9. Excellent names!

I mean to use your second son as well. He will take Lady Marya across the narrow sea, to Braavos and the other Free Cities, to deliver other letters to the men who rule there. - Davos I, ACOK

x

"Just so. Your father was oarmaster on a galley. When your mother died, he took you off to sea with him. Then he died as well, and his captain had no use for you, so he put you off the ship in Braavos. And what was the name of the ship?" "Nymeria," she said at once. - Arya II, AFFC

8. Hey, what's with this Stark they keep telling us about.

That's a Brandon, the tall one with the dreamy face, he was Brandon the Shipwright, because he loved the sea. His tomb is empty. He tried to sail west across the Sunset Sea and was never seen again. - Bran VII, AGOT

x

It was Bran's turn to tell a story, so he told them about another Brandon Stark, the one called Brandon the Shipwright, who had sailed off beyond the Sunset Sea. - Bran III, ASOS

7. Arya spells it out.

Only Braavosi were permitted use of the Purple Harbor, from the Drowned Town and the Sealord's Palace; ships from her sister cities and the rest of the wide world had to use the Ragman's Harbor, a poorer, rougher, dirtier port than the Purple. It was noisier as well, as sailors and traders from half a hundred lands crowded its wharves and alleys, mingling with those who served and preyed on them. Cat liked it best of any place in Braavos. She liked the noise and the strange smells, and seeing what ships had come in on the evening tide and what ships had departed. She liked the sailors too; the boisterous Tyroshi with their booming voices and dyed whiskers; the fair-haired Lyseni, always trying to niggle down her prices; the squat, hairy sailors from the Port of Ibben, growling curses in low, raspy voices. Her favorites were the Summer Islanders, with their skins as smooth and dark as teak. They wore feathered cloaks of red and green and yellow, and the tall masts and white sails of their swan ships were magnificent. - Cat of the Canals, AFFC

6. Arya spells it out again.

Arya bit her lip. She had crossed the narrow sea to get here, but if the captain had asked she would have told him she wanted to stay aboard the Titan’s Daughter. Salty was too small to man an oar, she knew that now, but she could learn to splice ropes and reef the sails and steer a course across the great salt seas. Denyo had taken her up to the crow’s nest once, and she hadn’t been afraid at all, though the deck had seemed a tiny thing below her. I can do sums too, and keep a cabin neat. - Arya I, AFFC

5. Arya spells it out one more time. (Plus one more, because she's so generous!)

It made her think of the sea. Maybe that was the way out. Old Nan used to tell stories of boys who stowed away on trading galleys and sailed off into all kinds of adventures. Maybe Arya could do that too. - Arya V, AGOT

x

"It won’t be so bad, Sansa," Arya said. "We're going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure - Sansa III, AGOT

4. Ned Stark makes a bizarre prediction about the future of one of his children.

"No," Ned said. He saw no use in lying to her. "Yet someday he may be the lord of a great holdfast and sit on the king's council. He might raise castles like Brandon the Builder, or sail a ship across the Sunset Sea, or enter your mother’s Faith and become the High Septon." - Eddard II, AGOT

3. An entire fandom forgets what made Nymeria famous.

He sang of Jonquil and Florian, of Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and his love for his brother's queen, of Nymeria's ten thousand ships. - Sansa VI, ACOK

x

He had not noticed that before, no more than he had noticed the picture on the tapestry, a scene of Nymeria and her ten thousand ships. - The Soiled Knight, AFFC

x

That is Nymeria's star, burning bright, and that milky band behind her, those are ten thousand ships. - The Queenmaker, AFFC

2. They could be like Nymeria, and sail beyond the Sunset Sea.

Lord Gylbert began to speak. He told of a wondrous land beyond the Sunset Sea, a land without winter or want, where death had no dominion. "Make me your king, and I shall lead you there," he cried. "We will build ten thousand ships as Nymeria once did and take sail with all our people to the land beyond the sunset. There every man shall be a king and every wife a queen." - The Drowned Man, AFFC

A marriage is arranged between Arya and Elmar. El mar. The sea.

"Also, if your sister Arya is returned to us safely, it is agreed that she will marry Lord Walder's youngest son, Elmar, when the two of them come of age." - Catelyn IX, AGOT

[sweetpuumpkin]

DRIVED IN SEALIFE - Aegon Targaryen x OC - INTRODUCTION

INTRODUCTION - Lead me the way from misery

Summary: Aegon tries to escape his royal duty. One night, his path led him down River Row, in the Drunken Sailor Inn. He catches the eyes of a stranger - yet she feels so familiar.

Note: English is not my first language. First attempt to finally right a all fic. Wish me luck.

Words: 1 323

Warning: Children ring fight. Drinking.

The room was filled with the smell of blood and flesh. Aegon Targaryen was standing in a corner watching people screaming at the children fighting in the ring. He took another sip of the cheap wine. That cup was at most full of watered down vinegar. Somehow it got him drunk enough – which was all he asked for at this point.

People around him grew more excited as the fight was almost over. Aegon didn’t even look at the children. He was bored of it. Bored of fights. Bored of whores. A few hours earlier, he went to his favourite brothel to ease his mind. His sweet Melicent could not satisfy him, and he got frustrated, so frustrated. He screamed at her, sending her out of the room crying. He thought that the fighting pit would do, that he could think about something else just for an hour or two. But it didn’t. Fights and whores. Maybe all he had left was the drink.

The family dinner was dreadful that night. Aegon was focusing on his cup to avoid eyes and talks until his mother addressed him. She was unhappy with the way he treated his children. He almost laughed, couldn’t help the smirk on his face which enraged the Queen. She then proceeded to scream, talking nonsense about fatherhood and family duty. As he emptied his cup, he could feel the despised look on her face. Nothing he was not used to after 22 years. The least he could do was to spare the poor children – what kind of father could he be anyway? His was unseen by his own.

A high pitch screamed was heard which teared away Aegon from his own mind, the crowd was cheering loudly filling the room with too much noise. Aegon left his wine on a dirty table as he got away from the people. He adjusted his cloak and opened the door to the street.

He tried so hard to fulfil his mother’s wish. He married his sister Helaena. Got drunk enough on several nights to bed her. He gave her healthy sons. He did everything out of royal duty and yet it was not enough. It would never be.

It had rain outside, and the air smelled of wet stones. He stood alone in the quiet street. He sighed in relief as the fresh air hit his face. Perhaps all he needed was to be alone. Though the idea of it always scared him. He felt uneasy about the fact of being left to his own mind.

He could probably find a quiet inn down River Row to drink. Sea captains and crews were often found there, telling stories about their adventures. With a little luck, he could listen to those, get drunk and pass out on the table.

He made is way towards the Drunken Sailor. It would be a few minutes’ walk if he remembered the path correctly. The smell of rain slowly faded away as the salted wind took over. Sailors made their ways back to their ships from River Row to the docks. Even if lights could still be seen in most inns, River Row was rather silent. Most of the workers there would be awake in a few hours to go fishing or get ready for the market.

As Aegon was standing outside the inn, he could hear chatters and laughs. It was not as peaceful as he wished for, but he already came so far and wanted to avoid the journey back to the Red Keep.

He pushed the heavy door. The room was warm and crowded, filled with many sailors gathered around the tables and the counter. The inn’s owner, a tall and broad lady was talking loudly over the men’s voices to get different orders. Aegon remembered her being quite the lady. One day she kicked out two sailors, claiming that no one would ever spill dirty blood on her floor while she was still alive and taking care of her inn.

“The Drunken Sailor is no place to fight” she shouted, “At least not when I’m ‘round here” and she closed the door on them.

Aegon walked past the wooden tables and waited for the lady to get his order. She filled two cups of beer for the man waiting in front of her. She then turned around and caught him sitting on the last empty stool, near the wall. Despite the dark hood covering his face, she knew who her customer was. She walked towards him, leaning on the counter.

“Well, isn’t our favourite little dragon?” she asked “Long time no see, I’ve almost missed you know”. She pouted.

“That’s only because I’m your best customer Rosie” Aegon smirked.

“Indeed, you are” she laughed loudly, “I surely hope it didn’t change” she told him with sly eyes.

Aegon took coins out of his pouch and laid them on the counter.

“It didn’t change for sure.”

“Well, I just got one of the best wines from Lys, I’ll put you a bottle” she looked to the front door, “Should I put a cup for your dear knight in shining amor?”

Aegon hummed an approval. She came back with a bottle of rich red wine and two cups.

“Let me know if you need anything else little dragon” she said. She escaped again to take care of other customers.

Aegon poured himself a cup. The wine smelled of fruit and spices, it was heavy on his tongue. The taste lingered, he enjoyed his drink and slowly lost himself in is cup. Suddenly people started to hit their cups onto tables, cheering loudly.

“C’mon Laeny, we want a song!”, they declared, voices filling the room.

“You’re all to drunk to hear me sing”, a young women responded. Aegon figured out that she was clearly drunk herself even though he couldn’t see her. It made him chuckle for the first time that night.

A man got up on one of the tables, a chair falling in the process, a loud bang echoed through the room.

Aegon heard Rosie behind the counter complaining.

“This night will never end” she sighed in despair.

Back on the table the man raised his cup high above his head.

“We fucking made to King’s Landing, we deserve a song!”

“All right, all right, but if you want to hear me sing you shut your mouth ‘kay?”

The crowd got quiet, some people sat back down on the benches. Aegon heard a chair being dragged on the floor, the lady cleared her throat and her voice filled the room.

“Under the deepest seas

I heard his longing plea

His cries carried above the chanting waves

Standing alone on the forsaken shores of Oros

He prayed to get away from his nation’s eyes

The Daughter of the Sea responded to his sin

She led him beneath the tides

Reaping him away from his kin […]”

Even with the best bards at the royal feats, Aegon never heard a voice so pure and beautiful. He turned around on his seat, laying his eyes on the women. From his stool, he could only see her back. She was dresses in brown man’s paints and a wide shirt secured by belt where a dagger and a compass were hanging. His glance lingered for a while on her body before it drifted towards her silver white hair braided in several braids. She was probably from Lys, one of the Free Cities in Essos. The women then turned around still singing for her crew mates and Aegon met her eyes. They were a deep shade of purple. She started to dance around the tables, her face a light shade of red from the drink. She smiled brightly when others started to join her.

And with that, Aegon thought that she was the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. He drowned into her eyes for the rest of the night.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

This is legitimately one of the most insane things I've read on this site.

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher's boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers. (Sansa I, AGoT)

She recognises that there are class differences and loves and respects people regardless. Are we actually supposed to see this as...a crime of some sort? She recognises the class lines, starting with the way even Jon was treated, and befriends people no matter what walk of life they're from. That's why she made friends with Gendry, Hot Pie, Lommy and took care of (as best as she could) Weasel/the crying girl. That's why she enjoys people like these:

Only Braavosi were permitted use of the Purple Harbor, from the Drowned Town and the Sealord's Palace; ships from her sister cities and the rest of the wide world had to use the Ragman's Harbor, a poorer, rougher, dirtier port than the Purple. It was noisier as well, as sailors and traders from half a hundred lands crowded its wharves and alleys, mingling with those who served and preyed on them. Cat liked it best of any place in Braavos. She liked the noise and the strange smells, and seeing what ships had come in on the evening tide and what ships had departed. She liked the sailors too; the boisterous Tyroshi with their booming voices and dyed whiskers; the fair-haired Lyseni, always trying to niggle down her prices; the squat, hairy sailors from the Port of Ibben, growling curses in low, raspy voices. Her favorites were the Summer Islanders, with their skins as smooth and dark as teak. They wore feathered cloaks of red and green and yellow, and the tall masts and white sails of their swan ships were magnificent. (Cat of the Canals, AFfC)

Because of the way Mycah was treated—which is not her getting off with a warning, her punishment was HER FRIEND DYING BY THE HOUND'S SWORD, you know, for standing up to the Crown prince.

The hurt and pain she feels is directed to the people she used to love speaking to in Winterfell:

Arya hated it. She hated the sounds of their voices now, the way they laughed, the stories they told. They'd been her friends, she'd felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie. They'd let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah. Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he'd cut him up in so many pieces that they'd given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they'd slaughtered. And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father.

"He was my friend," Arya whispered into her plate, so low that no one could hear. Her ribs sat there untouched, grown cold now, a thin film of grease congealing beneath them on the plate. Arya looked at them and felt ill. She pushed away from the table. (Arya II, AGoT)

She still thinks of Mycah a while after the fact.

But why exactly is Arya's care for people constantly being weaponised against her? How even is this immaturity? Is this person forgetting that Arya was starving on the road with smallfolk of all kinds? That she was forced to eat bugs and worms or drank water to keep her stomach from hurting? Is this really immaturity?

[mmkin]

The Siren's Shark ch 3 (so he's never letting go of his siren)

Next chapter of the story is now up, whee. Link to AO3 here but also under the cut. Also threw in a few Arlong GIFs for us Arlong fans to swoon over. Mmm, Arlong.

Trigger/content warnings - 18+, dubcon.

III

o0o0o0o

Yolande looked up at him as he started getting dressed, and let out a soft whimper. Hadn’t he said that he would fuck her so hard she couldn’t walk? It seemed to be the case right now.

“Do you need rest?” he asked gruffly.

“Please.”

“I fucked you good, didn’t I?” he asked with a prideful leer.

A soft chuckle escaped her throat.

“You can leave when you’re ready.” With that, he was dressed and gone, and she closed her eyes, basking in the afterglow of her pleasure and registering what he had done to her. The bites he’d given her were light, but his teeth were still sharp. On her upper arm was a shallow cut from his nose.

She looked down at her arm, running her finger along the cut. It was an accident caused by some nuzzling, but she’d liked when Arlong kissed it when he took notice of it. Such a nose! It was an experience she would never forget, not for the rest of her days.

She lay there for what she presumed was fifteen or twenty minutes before she felt strong enough to walk. It was getting dark and she knew if she didn't go back home, Lena would be worried about her. Her stepdaughter had already expressed reservations about her accepting a dinner invitation aboard a visiting ship of sailors, let alone fishmen.

She found the water closet and cleaned herself up, thinking about Arlong and all his unique anatomical features. That nose was insanely long and sharp, but it suited him. There was an appeal about his dorsal fin, jutting proudly through his thick black hair. And of course, the fact that he had two cocks. Two. It boggled her mind. She’d heard of extra fingers, but not this.

My siren. My mate. Fishmen certainly had some funny bedroom talk. But hey, she had fun. She firmly reminded herself of that as she emerged from the recesses of the ship, her hair looking a bit disheveled despite her effort to tame the thick waves. She did not miss the way a few fishmen had smirks on their faces and tried to not blush over that. Doubtless, they'd heard her – and Arlong – but she wondered if the sharkman had chosen to add any commentary to that. She hoped not, but now that she thought about it, he seemed like the kind of guy who would brag.

Well… considering his performance in bed, he’d earned his bragging rights. She held back a shiver as she thought about his hungry gaze and smile, the way his teeth, nose, and lips felt against her flesh, the solidness and raw strength of his tall, powerful form, the way his cocks felt when he was pressing them into or against her.

Hatchan approached her, and she smiled as she saw him. "Your pastries are a hit. I like the peach-filled ones. Would you make more in the future?"

She chuckled happily at that, relieved he wasn’t asking questions about more intimate matters. “Absolutely.” She paused as she thought about the fact that the ship was going to be leaving the island soon. She’d miss Hatchan. And Arlong. And hell, Shioyaki and Chew and some others too. The octopus man’s face lit up with delight.

"I'm so glad you're here! You've been so good to the crew! Even if…" he trailed off, and she shrugged. Kuroobi had made his disapproval of her clear through his silence and glare. And he was not the only fishman who felt that way. She knew that Kuroobi or others only held their tongues because she was here with their captain's permission.

And now she’d just fucked Arlong. She wondered what the ray fishman thought of that – not that he could do anything about it. Nor did she intend to rub it in his face. She waved her hand dismissively. Kuroobi and the others who thought like him would be glad to be rid of her once they left the island. “It’s fine. I’m happy to have met you and become your friend.”

She turned away from him and veered in the direction of the gangplank. She'd been on the ship long enough. To her surprise, the ray fishman in question slid in front of the gap, crossing his arms.

She looked up at him with a quizzical expression, wondering if he’d found some passive-aggressive way to fuck around with her. Quickly, she moved to the right, and he matched her step.

“I need to go home. Would you be kind enough to step aside?” she asked.

“You are not to leave the ship, per captain’s orders,” Kuroobi replied, giving her a steady stare. She slid to the left, and like before, he matched her. Her heart started to pound.

Around human men, she was relatively confident. She was considered on the tall side for a woman, just over 210 cm (about 7’) so many men who were used to intimidating women with their size found that tactic ineffective on her. Kuroobi on the other hand, had to be at least 250 cm, and he was not the only fishman taller than eight feet on this ship. Far from it.

She shook her head slowly as she tried to keep herself calm, Kuroobi staring at her coldly before he gave her a final, curt nod. She tried another step to the left, where she might squeeze between him and the railing if she was fast enough.

“Nyu?” Hachi let out a small sound of confusion as Kuroobi blocked her again. She took several steps back, feeling light-headed as she felt the stares of several fishmen upon her, Kuroobi maintaining his cool glare before he glanced at his crewmate for a moment.

"It's what Arlong said," Kuroobi said calmly as she took a few more steps back, barely hearing his words because of the ringing in his ears. She barely registered Hachi's anxious face and the way his hands reached for her. Later, when she was calmer, she would realize the octopus man had simply been trying to reassure her, but at the moment, all she registered were hands coming for her after she had been told she was effectively a prisoner. A sharp whine burst from her throat before she spun around, darting across the deck.

A surprised shout came from one of the fishmen as she slid out of her jacket and quickly jumped over the railing and dove into the water, trying to not let the shock of the cold water hit her too deeply.

Most people would have made their way to the nearest shore after jumping off a ship. Fortunately, she had other options. Instead of going to the pier or the rocks, she simply maintained her downward angle, slicing through the murky water.

There was little light in the sky now, let alone in the water, and she shivered as she felt the cold water filter through her gills as she propelled herself through the water. She did not dare look behind her as she aimed for the ocean floor, and for several moments, she thought that her ploy had succeeded.

It had in the past, hadn’t it? When people thought she was nothing more than an ordinary human, it made them underestimate her, which was something she never hesitated to use to her advantage.

The strong hand that wrapped around her ankle made her realize that advantage was useless against a full-blooded fishman. Instinctively, she twisted around, opening her mouth. The water was already dark enough, but the ink that clouded Kuroobi's face caused him to recoil in surprise, and as soon as he let go, she kicked forward.

She knew that the battle was already lost, but instincts – and memory – propelled her forward nonetheless. She savored her last moments of freedom before Kuroobi was on her again.

She saw people in need of help, and she’d helped them. Granted, she hadn’t helped Kuroobi directly, but he’d seen the care she had given his ill crewmates. And she’d been more than a willing bedmate for Arlong. Why was she being treated like this?

Despite her struggles, Kuroobi handled her, dragging her back to the surface and dropping her on the deck like she was the day's catch. She shivered and saw that he was as well. He'd removed his jacket before going in the water like she had, and she shuddered as she dared to glance upward. His face had a dark tint to it because of the ink, which did nothing to improve his scowl as he stared down at her, running a hand along his face to wipe it.

Hatchan approached them, his arms waving frantically.

o0o0o0o

Fuck. There wasn't a time Kuroobi missed the mild weather of the Conomi Islands more than when he had to dive into these damned cold waters of the south South Blue. The fins on his arms were especially vulnerable to the cold, and he swore to himself as he rubbed his arms, glaring at his captain's new…

Fuck. It was difficult enough to swallow his pride and disdain as he'd watched her work in the infirmary. But she'd helped Chew and the others, and Hachi gushed over how she'd been instrumental in getting them good deals, offloading the stolen items that the fishmen had no use for in exchange for provisions that were much welcome after their wanderings. So Kuroobi left her alone. They would leave the island soon enough and he wouldn't have to be bothered with any human for a good while, hopefully.

For a few moments, he thought Hachi was joking when he recounted the encounter between Arlong and Yolande earlier that day. Sirens were just a myth. He’d heard the stories, of course, but figured they were just tales for entertainment and fantasies, a universal desire of men the world over, regardless of race.

The noises that came from Arlong’s cabin told him otherwise. He dreaded the thought of having a human live here on the ship with them. It never worked out in the past, did it? First Koala, then Nami...

But neither of them spat out ink. And he’d never seen a human dive that deeply – or quickly. Not even from that damn blonde man he had underestimated. He reached down, grabbing her by her collar and hearing her give out a short shriek, clawing at his arm as he did so. Suddenly, several hands were pulling at him, and he whipped his head to glare at Hatchan.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Kuroobi said with an impatient snarl. Whether or not he believed in sirens, Arlong would be pissed off if his new pet was harmed. “But she spat ink at me.”

Hatchan blinked and stared at him. Yolande tried to kick free of him, and he snapped into action, grabbing her arm with his free hand. He’d dealt with plenty enough humans before, and this one showed more strength than even a strong, healthy human male, catching him off guard for a moment. In frustration, he yanked at her collar again, hearing the tearing of fabric.

“Well, that explains it,” he observed dryly as he saw the telltale openings at her neck and shoulder, similar to his own and so many other fishmen. She glared at him, and he smirked back.

“The hell is going on?” he heard the familiar snarl of his captain’s voice. The fishmen parted before Arlong. Kuroobi stood calmly, his grip inexorable as Yolande went limp.

“She attempted to leave, and dove off the other side of the ship,” he explained.

“Please…” she whined.

“Let her down,” Arlong instructed. Kuroobi did as he asked, exercising just enough care to not simply drop her before he took a step back. The sharkman glanced at him. “Go inside and warm up.”

The ray fishman slid away, only too glad to disappear within the ship.

o0o0o0o

Yolande shivered from cold and fear as she looked up at her lover – and captor.

“You can’t- you can’t do this to me.” She tried to square her shoulders and puff out her chest, but her shirt clung to her as she shivered. One of the fishmen chuckled.

"You were mine the moment I laid eyes upon you," Arlong said with a low snarl. She lifted her chin and stared at him, seeing the glint of his eyes in the last of the sun's rays.

“Intercourse does not confer ownership,” she replied icily. He stared at her before lowering his head, his eyes disappearing under the brim of his hat as he chuckled lowly, and there were a few laughs accompanying him.

She quickly looked up, seeing the ropes and mast. Going down was not an option anymore, so where else was left to go but up? In the next instant, she recognized the futility of her action. Arlong or his men would just come after her and drag her down even if she managed to make it to the crow’s nest or a yardarm.

The laughter cut into her like knives, and she found herself unable to breathe, not simply because of the cold, or her soaked clothing. She felt the tears welling up. She’d had such a marvelous time with Arlong not so long ago, and now he was treating her like this? Laughing at her distress?

A sob broke from her throat despite her efforts to hold it down, and she looked around frantically for a place of safety. “You asshole,” she hissed, and she saw the corners of his lips twitch.

“Please let me take her inside and give her some dry clothes,” she heard Hatchan say as the octopus man moved between her and Arlong. Miraculously, Arlong permitted this, and she was taken within the ship to the laundry room. Along one side of the room were lockers and chests, and several lines of rope stretched between the walls that made a corner. A few empty tubs and washboards were stacked in another corner.

“You can put your clothes on these lines. I’ll make sure nothing happens to them, and I also have your jacket here. Let’s see, where’s the spare clothing…” Hachi muttered to himself as he looked through several lockers before pulling out a pair of navy blue pants and a long-sleeved shirt. She blinked as she recognized the components of a Marine uniform, but said nothing, accepting the clothing. Hachi was quick to give her privacy, but she knew there were fishmen outside the door should she try to make a run for it. So she peeled everything off and wrung them out before hanging everything on one of the ropes, behind several shirts and pants.

A change of clothing did feel good after her ordeal, and she took a deep breath. These fishmen dwarfed her in strength and numbers, so she would have to find another way to fight them. She gritted her teeth as she thought about how smug some of the islanders would be, how they’d just point to this as a fine example of why fishmen deserved the prejudice that was directed at them.

… Would she ever set foot on the island again?

There was a soft knock on the door, and Hatchan entered the room, seeing her sitting on the wooden bench.

“Are you all right?” he asked, the concern evident in his expression and voice. He was twiddling his fingers together anxiously.

“Am I?” she shot back.

He let out a slow breath, thinking about what to say.

“You’re just going to stand here and let Arlong take me prisoner? Really? I thought you were my friend?”

The octopus man let out a distressed ‘nyu’ before he shook his head firmly. Then he nodded as she said ‘friend’.

“I am!” he took a deep breath. “You really don’t know about sirens, do you? In regards to fishmen, I mean. I know humans have different stories…”

She shook her head slowly.

“Can I sit down?” he asked. “And I will help you. But let me explain things, please?”

“Yeah.” She scooted over to give him some room.

"A siren is a fishman or merman’s soulmate and more than that. But they're very rare. It is said that when one meets his siren, the bond is instantly felt between them."

She said nothing to that, and he continued, "Our sirens don't always sing, but they do have other gifts and talents that can benefit the fishman greatly, and they provide for and protect their sirens."

“I provide for myself,” she grumbled. “So are you going to help me get away?”

At that, Hatchan looked away. “Only a fool would get between a fishman and their siren. I could help you escape but the consequences would not be pleasant for me, or you.”

She let out a defeated groan.

“I’ll help you where I can.” He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I really am! I never imagined this would happen when I came to you asking for help. I will always be grateful for your willingness to help, and I know other fishmen are grateful, too. Please believe me.”

She did. The octopus man could not be blamed for this bizarre twist of fate. But now what the fuck was she supposed to do on a ship full of…

“Is Arlong a pirate? Is this ship stolen?” she asked. He looked down before nodding slowly. “I wasn’t involved in that, but yes, Arlong stole the ship before I joined him.” Great, now she had to deal with the potential consequences of being targeted just for being Arlong’s companion. Before either of them could speak, there was a sharp rap at the door. She closed her eyes before she felt a large but friendly hand on her shoulder.

“Just remember I am your friend. I’ll show you around when you’re ready. Come talk to me anytime,” he reassured her before he pulled her off the bench.

Arlong seemed to fill the doorway as he looked down at her. Despite her anger at the situation, there was no denying the pull between them, and she swallowed thickly. This morning, she’d been a widow living with her stepdaughter on a quiet island in the South Blue, and now she was claimed by a sharkman pirate captain.

“There was no need for you to run away, siren,” Arlong tutted as he looked down at her. She felt self-conscious under his gaze despite the modesty of her borrowed clothing.

“No one, especially a woman, wants to be informed they’re a prisoner,” she retorted. He stared at her with these cool blue eyes before a sharklike grin spread across his face. “You did say I could leave after I rested,” she pointed out.

He stared for a moment as he recalled their earlier conversation. "I only meant that you could leave the cabin. Did you think that after claiming my siren, I was going to let her wander off so easily? Sweet one, I very nearly dragged you away the moment I laid eyes upon you!" He let out a hearty chortle, and damn if that deep laugh didn't send a pleasant shiver fluttering through her belly even as she took a step back, bumping into Hatchan.

"Wait!' she gasped, remembering something and spinning around to face Hatchan. "Lena, she's going to wonder where I am. If I'm not home soon..." Hatchan had met Lena and her baby at the marketplace when Yolande was helping him shop. Lena had been polite, but wary. The infant on the other hand was too young to harbor prejudice or racism and had laughed and reached for Hatchan.

Out of the mouths of babes and all that…

o0o0o0o

Arlong frowned. Lena? Who the hell was Lena and why should he care… A memory of a conversation with Hachi came up. He'd been telling the captain about the very nice woman who'd continued to help him even after the medical crisis had passed. A widow who lived with her stepdaughter. A pharmacist's assistant on top of her nursing skills. Something about meeting the stepdaughter and the baby in the marketplace and some nonsense about how cute the baby had been.

Now Hachi was concerned about this random woman and some stupid baby. But he saw the distress in Yolande’s face, and the caution he’d practiced since the demise of Arlong Park prevailed. They weren’t here to cause trouble – tempting as it was. Almost unconsciously, he ran his index and middle finger along his nose, feeling the slight thickness of healed-over bone and cartilage where that damn rubber kid had broken his nose twice.

“Write a note and tell her you have patients here to attend to, and you can leave the ship in the morning to pack your belongings and say your goodbyes,” he said, the concession wrapped in a command.

She stared at him for a few moments. He lifted a hand, touching her chin as he stroked her jaw with his thumb, feeling the faint tremble that passed through her before she gave a curt nod.

“Good girl.” At that, he felt her stiffen, and she frowned before pulling away from his hand.

“Don’t call me that. If you insist on having a pet name for me, we’ll figure something out, but it won’t be that.”

He raised an eyebrow. She glared at him. “You’re spicy. Should I call you that?”

She took a slow breath, glaring at him as he smirked at her.

“Hachi, get her a pen and some paper…”

After the note was written, looked over by him, and dispatched with Hachi, he led her to his cabin. Though this ship was smaller than the Marine one they’d captured, the Sorrowfree Wanderer was considerably less conspicuous. The cabin was bisected by sliding wood panels to separate the captain’s bedroom from his workspace. On the desk were several instruments for navigation including a compass and several Log Poses, fitted into slots carved into the desk for ease of use.

He closed the door and locked it before he looked down at her. “I need some spice,” he said, leaning down and growling into her ear as he wrapped an arm around her. She tried to squirm away, but he held firm as he crossed the room. “And it seems you need a reminder of who you belong to...”

"Arlong. Please." She squirmed again, and he felt himself responding to the feel of her body against his own. His free hand slid to her shoulder, grasping her arm as he turned her to face him, looking down at her. For whatever reason, fate, the gods, luck, whatever the fuck it was, had given him a siren. Even if she was only half-fishman, she was still pretty cute. He liked the color of her gray-green eyes and the fullness of her lips. Some might have thought her nose was too long but he thought it suited her.

“What is it? Do you object to this?” he asked in half-seriousness. She parted her lips, but no sound came out. He grinned before tugging at her clothing, running his hands along the parts of her body that became exposed. Even though she was looking away, he could tell she was enjoying this. When his hand slid between her legs, he found heat.

“Do you object to this?” he demanded lowly, growling into her ear as he kneaded her with his fingers, feeling her thighs clench around his hand.

“I…” She arched, moaning softly as he grabbed her chin with his other hand.

“Look at me,” he commanded. Her eyelids fluttered open as his prodding became more insistent, delving deeper into her. She ground against his hand as a soft, breathy growl emanated from her throat.

“See. You know who you belong to, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Her hands fluttered to his wrist, cradling the large hand holding her chin and jaw. He could feel the breath and pulse under his palm. His hand moved from her chin to pin her hands above her head as he leaned over her. “But I am all too happy to remind you,” he said with a grin.

o0o0o0o

All she could do was surrender to not only his passion but her own. Even now knowing the full implications of him calling her siren, it still thrilled her when he called her that.

Actually, it thrilled her more. To humans, a siren was either a temptress of the sea, a particularly alluring woman, or a talented singer. Here, a siren was something much more – even if she was ignorant of much of fishman culture, she understood that from the way Arlong and Hachi spoke of sirens.

A shriek of surprise and outrage burst from her throat when he bit her again, only this time it was deeper than the nips he’d bestowed upon her. He licked the blood from her even as he continued thrusting into her, pain mixing with pleasure in one confusing morass as the sharkman ravaged her, thoroughly claiming her and ensuring that she knew who she belonged to.

-Mate. Bond-

When he was done, she lay there, curled up and shivering, all too aware of the throbbing pain in her shoulder before Arlong slid out of bed to pour her another drink. She gulped it down and held out her cup for more. He smirked and obligingly poured her some more before taking a long swig from the bottle. She reclined back, gingerly touching her shoulder. The bleeding had stopped, and there were only a few drops on the sheets because he’d licked up most of it. She knew she should be freaked out and disgusted, as she knew most women would. Her neighbors would most certainly clutch their pearls over this. Over the whole thing, really.

His hand brushed the hair from her shoulder, and she looked at him quietly as he examined his handiwork. Or in this case, bite-work. What was running through his mind as he looked at her?

-Desire. Confusion. Possessiveness. Curiosity. Affection. Satisfaction- All this poured into her for a brief, glimmering moment as she looked into his eyes. He finished the bottle and set it aside before pulling her into his lap, and at that moment, all she wanted to do was curl up against him. His strong arms wrapped around her, and she let out a short hum of pleasure. At that, his embrace tightened.

She looked up at him as she rested her head on his shoulder. Arlong might act fierce and possessive, but there was something nagging in the back of her mind. It refused to become clear, and she set it aside, telling herself that it would come to her sooner or later.

There are strange things in this world, and that’s not counting Devil Fruit. Much progress has been made with science but there are still many things beyond the understanding of men. Like this infernal bond that pulled her and Arlong toward one another. She placed her hand on his chest, savoring the feel of the sharkskin under her hands. It was mostly smooth like a river pebble along his chest and thighs, but along his shoulders and back, it was a little bit rougher, almost like extra fine sandpaper.

She reached up to his face, and he watched her quietly as her fingers trailed from his chin up to his ear, and along his hairline before coming down to his nose. Some would have thought it was ridiculously long, but it suited Arlong the Saw just fine. She looked into his eyes, gauging his reaction as her finger slid past the bridge of his nose. His breath hitched for a moment, but he did nothing to discourage her. She made her way down the top side of his nose.

"Arlong the Saw. It suits you. It is a fine nose."

“You think so?”

“I can’t imagine you without it. Like I can’t imagine Hachi without his extra arms. It’s just… you.”

The smile that spread across his face was one of genuine warmth, and she was surprised at the effect it had on his face. She already thought he was fucking hot, but seeing that flash of warmth on his face, the contentment he gained from her kind words, sent a flutter through her heart.

“I don’t want to fight you, Arlong. But I do ask one thing of you,” she said. He gave her a brief nod, his gaze becoming calculating as he wondered what she might ask of him.

"Don't lie to me, even if you think it's for my good."

“That’s not something I expected you to ask. Does my siren seek to pry secrets from me?”

She regarded him with a sad smile. “If there’s something you don’t want to talk about, just say so. I would rather hear that than be lied to.”

“Hmm. And can I expect the same in return?” She nodded, and his hand trailed up her arm, ghosting his fingers over the bite mark before sliding her off his lap. “Get dressed.”

She complied before he scooped her up in one arm and walked outside with her like he was showing off a trophy. "Let the festivities continue!" he said with a wave of his hand. The fishmen cheered and went back to drinking, playing games, or gambling under the light of the quarter moon and several lamps set across the deck. On occasion, a fishman would glance toward her and Arlong. She buried her face against his neck after several minutes, breathing in his scent as she took comfort in the solidness of his bulk.

“There’s no need to be shy. You’re part of the crew now.”

She thought of Kuroobi, and she glanced around, and… there the ray fishman was, staring at her like he was still pissed at her. He stood to the back like a sentinel, his arms crossed as he observed his fellow fishmen enjoy themselves.

Arlong lowered himself into a chair near the barbecue, close enough that he could enjoy a bit of the heat. She settled in his lap, adjusting herself and letting her gaze drift across the deck at the various fishmen. A couple of fishmen operated the grill and cooked the meat, and it felt surreal to be here now, drafted onto this crew because of… what? The whim of gods or fate? It sure as hell wasn't hormones. Or at least not just hormones. She still tingled down below from his attentions and almost without thinking, she clenched, closing down on nothing and feeling the soreness of her muscles.

The couple was offered food and drink. Arlong had several more drinks, and several meat-loaded kebabs, and even though she might have expected a large appetite, she was still impressed, and could not help but stare in fascination as the meat disappeared down his maw, shredded by his teeth. She was more tired than hungry, but she ate and drank a bit as she pondered her future. It wouldn’t be the first time she was uprooted in her life. She sighed to herself.

“Is something the matter?”

She looked up at him before speaking quietly. "Before, when I was trying to leave the ship… I wasn't trying to run. I wanted to enjoy more of your company, but I have obligations. Surely as a captain, you understand obligations. Besides, there's no way I wasn't going to come back, not after the best sex I've ever had." She didn't mention that she'd also wanted some time to herself to clear her head after nearly having her brains fucked out of her head. Why the hell did Arlong have to be so damn sexy?

He burst into laughter, and several fishmen glanced at them with curiosity.

“You know that you belong to me,” Arlong whispered in a velvety rumble. It sent a pleasing shiver down her spine and through her core. “Sweet little siren, say it. I want to hear it from you.”

She looked up into his eyes, feeling the desire and need. His hand slid up her body before gently hooking around her neck and shoulder as his lips stretched into a slow smile, teeth glistening under the flickering light. “You asked me for honesty. So I will tell you what will happen if you try to run away from me. If I need to lock you up or chain you…”

An alarmed whine burst from her throat she went stiff. He tutted and continued speaking, “I will do you no harm, dear one. After all, as your mate, it is my duty to take care of you and protect you. But do not think I will tolerate escape attempts or games.”

“So, you are asking me to agree to an invisible chain, or be forced into a literal one?”

He grinned remorselessly, offering no denial. She looked down before he lifted her chin back up. “Be glad you have a choice.”

The smug bastard. She sighed softly. “I am yours, Arlong.”

“Mmm. Don’t look so sad about it, my little siren. After all, it means more of that sex you enjoy so much, yes?”

That smug, lecherous, possessive but oh so sexy bastard. She was in for one hell of a time, wasn’t she? After a bit more time, he nudged her out of his lap, giving her permission to explore. Glad for the opportunity to stretch out her legs, she made her way along the side of the ship, staring out at the water. She turned to see Kuroobi staring at her, his exposed skin looking white under the moonlight.

“Making sure I don’t jump overboard again, eh?” she asked. He gave her his steady gaze, the corners of his lips deepening into a scowl. “Don’t worry. I’ll spare us both the trouble, okay? Trust me, I don’t want to go into that icy water any more than you do.”

She wondered what made him so prickly towards humans, but she knew she was not in a position to ask him such a personal question. He let out a small snort at her comment. “I suppose you expect me to be grateful for that.”

"No. but Arlong has made his choice. I hope it's not too much to expect that we are civil to one another."

“For my nakama’s sake, that is something I will agree to.”

After a few more minutes, she disappeared into the ship, getting a feel of the layout. Kitchen, dormitories, showers, pantry, cargo space, and so on. It was a decent mid-size ship, and she wondered at the story behind it. What had spurred Arlong and his fishmen to capture this ship, and what had happened to the former crew of the Sorrowfree Wanderer?

She turned, seeing Kuroobi several paces behind her. Did he think she was going to try to sabotage something? But she had no mischief in mind, so it wasn't as if his presence was altering anything, was it?

“So… how did your crew come to possess this ship?” she asked him casually.

“We captured it from unworthy humans who attacked us.”

“I suppose if someone’s attacking you, stealing their ship is justified.”

He smirked at that, and she continued walking while he trailed behind. She was certain there was more to the story, but all things in due time. “And you’re one of the crew’s higher-ranked members?”

“I am one of Arlong’s leaders, yes. Along with Chew and Hachi.”

She blinked in surprise at the mention of Hatchan's name. She had the impression he was the ship's cook, but then she remembered how the octopus man was willing to stand between her and Arlong – and how Arlong had allowed it.

“How long have you been with Arlong?”

“Why so many questions?” Kuroobi asked as he glared down at her.

She sighed. “I’m not trying to be nosy. But if I’m going to be stuck on this ship, I’d like to learn a bit about the people I’m going to be living with.”

“I have known him since childhood. Does that satisfy your question?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She decided to stop asking him questions for a while, and after being satisfied by her initial exploration of her new home, she came back onto the deck, seeing Arlong drinking and laughing with several other fishmen, including Chew and Hachi.

“Are you all right?” Hachi asked when they had an opportunity to speak. She looked up at him and nodded, recalling what Kuroobi said.

“Yes. And thank you for your help.” She had plenty of questions and wondered where to even start. The speed with which Arlong claimed her and determined her future after meeting her put the term ‘whirlwind romance’ to shame. It would have been nice to get to know Arlong and the rest of the crew a little better, but what was done was done. “Speaking of. This is not my ship, but do you think some room could be spared for my plants? Some of them are quite dear to me.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. You’d have to ask Arlong but having some plants on the ship would be great! Are you talking about flowers?”

“A couple, but most are for food or medicine.”

“I’ll make sure they have a good place!” The octopus man looked at her with enthusiasm. He certainly was a ray of sunshine compared to Kuroobi.

“What are you two doing over here?” she heard Arlong’s rumble, and she and her companion turned to see Arlong in front of them.

“She has plants she wants to bring on the ship. I told her you’d need to be asked first, but-”

“So you do gardening?” Arlong asked.

"I wouldn't call myself a gardener, but I do have some basic knowledge and some plants I grow for food and medicine."

“Hmm. It would appear that my siren has many talents.”

“No, no! You know the saying, jack of all trades, master of none? Well, I’m a jack of… some trades. I’ve worked a variety of jobs and picked up some things along the way. But please, don’t think I’m a master of anything!” she added with a sheepish laugh. He raised his eyebrow at her, staring at her musingly.

“I’m curious to see what else you’re capable of,” Arlong finally said. Of that, she had no doubt. He grinned at her, and she felt weak-kneed, like some silly schoolgirl.

“Well,” she said, quickly composing herself. “It’s just a bit here and there. I certainly hope you don’t expect any grand feats from me, Captain,” she said half-jokingly. He leaned in, purring into her ear.

“You are grand in bed,” came the lecherous whisper.

"I could say the same about you," she replied almost automatically. His pleased chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. He raised his head, looking down at her and Hatchan.

“We’ll find room for the plants. I trust the two of you can make the arrangements,” Arlong said as he looked at his siren and his nakama before wandering off for some more grilled beef.

“You all right?” Hatchan asked, seeing her furrowed brow.

“I’ve lived here for the last seven years. My husband wanted to move here after he retired, so I went with him.” She stared across the railing at the lights that twinkled in town. “I had a lot more time to prepare for that than I do with this.” She regarded him with a wry chuckle. The last move had not been a surprise.

She'd known when Yoshi proposed that he wanted to find a place to settle, and she was happy enough at that time to start a new life. And it had not been a bad life, not with a mild-mannered man like Yoshi. His son, Hiro, chose to follow his father's footsteps and enlist in the Marines, and Lena was a sweet girl. Even after Yoshi died, it was still a peaceful life, if more quiet than before. Her skills ensured that she didn't need to be dependent on anyone, so she earned herself the reputation of an independent and eccentric widow, which was something she was quite satisfied with.

Then a sharkman pirate sailed into her life and turned it upside-down.

“I’m sorry…” there wasn’t much else Hatchan could offer. She sighed and shook her head.

“It is what it is. I’ll survive. I always do.”

The octopus man regarded her with a quizzical expression, but she offered no elaboration as she stared off at the stars.

o0o0o0o

There are plenty enough fishmen on Arlong's crew, but surprisingly few are named besides the Big Three. So for the sake of this story, I have named a couple of fishmen that appear in the anime several times.

Mido – He’s the pale pink-skinned fat fishman in a shirt and shorts that are a cool shade of green, with neon green fins on the top and side of his head.

Ishidai – He has blue and yellow spiky hair and grayish skin with lines along his face and arms. He appeared in the OPLA as “Hachi” and was named Ishidai in Oda’s notes if not the anime itself.

Reviews and feedback are always welcome and always deeply appreciated.

[qierxing]

Under the Sea

Yan! Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Halloween AU

CW/TW: Reader is noted with both she and they pronouns interchangeably due to their fluid state of being but is still considered G/N overall

“If you choose to lock your heart away, you’ll lose it for certain.”

–

Dead men tell no tales, they said.

Sailing would be easy, they said. 

Did they think about the repercussions of unforetold supernatural problems?

The rancid smell of seaweed and brine makes your nose scrunch as you’re hauled up and thrown roughly onto your knees, shredding even more of your nice clothing. You doubt the cold hands cared though. After all, what is one puny mortal against a whole ship full of undead pirates?

“This one ‘ere’s seems to be the ca’pn, sir.” A guttural growl echoes above you, and murmurs of more crewmates surround you. 

It was a good run, you thought to yourself. You fought till the end, until your daggers and saber were knocked out of your hands, your skin slashed and bruised, and till they had to pin you down from causing more trouble. It was more than what you could say for your own crewmates, the traitorous, cowardly scum, leaving you immediately and trying to flee with their own lives. Didn’t matter though, because they were all immediately slaughtered without mercy. You’d have more pity for them dying in their own pools of blood if they didn’t abandon you first.

A barnacle covered boot tips your chin up, and you’re face to face with a smug man, piercing green eyes, dark hair like coal tied in dreads and braids, tall and lithe figure to boot. The captain of this crew, no doubt.

“You. Herbivore. What’s yer name?”

People back home called you many names. The looney merchant. A superstitious fanatic. Raving madman on the better days. Today, you can now safely say they’re all fitting.

“...[First]. [First] [Last].” You cough up, after the boot digs into the crook of your chin and head, causing an unbearable pressure on your throat. The pressure removes itself and you’re left choking for air while the man hums in thought.

“Well, ca’pn Leona?” The voice behind you asks. A scrawny, weasley sounding voice. Must be the one who binded you. “Dunno why you kept this one alive.”

You could practically hear the grin in the next words. 

“‘Cuz they got some worth to ‘em right now.”

–

“Have ye heard about the myth of Calypso?”

The name sets you on edge immediately. A pirate asking after the revered primordial sea goddess? That can only mean…

“Who hasn’t?” You shrug your shoulders flippantly. “Every child in a coastal town has heard about how she controls the seas and watches over sailors.”

An annoyed growl is your response. It seems your hunch was correct. “Not that, idiot. I meant about her curse.”

Aha.

“Curse?”

The captain gnashes his canines impatiently. “The one where she curses her lover for leaving her.”

“Ah, that. Yes, I’m acquainted.” You decide to stop teasing him and see where this leads. 

“I need ta find her ring.” Silence reigns. You furrow your brows and cross your arms.

“You mean, the one that so happens to be dropped into the ocean, never to be seen again? The one where Calypso, herself, has been rumored to destroy? That ring?”

“Yes, that damn ring!” The ghost snarls, banging his fist on the desk, causing documents and books to fall off. “I need to find that ring so I can finally–!”

“That ring has been gone for more than a millenia. Scratch that, it’s not even proven to ever have existed.” You interrupt, uncrossing your arms, leaning brazenly on the rickety oak desk. “And yet, you’re wanting to stake your undead life on this trinket?”

A knife is driven a finger’s width away from your hand. You don’t blink as the captain’s face becomes inches away from your own. “What does a mortal know about being undead?! What do ye know of–” He cuts himself off, a pained look clouding his eyes. You only observe as he breathes in deeply.

“Alright. I’ll help you find it.” His head whips up in surprise. “On several conditions.”

He smirks. “Negotiatin’? You’ve got guts. Name ‘em.”

“One, that you promise not to kill or harm me at any point, especially after our deal is over. Second, once this is all over, you’ll return me back to land. Third and finally, you return my belongings back from your loot.”

The captain mulls over your words, deep in thought. Beads of sweat run down your back. It was a daring bluff, but if you were kept alive this long, it had to be for something!

He runs his hand down his face, groaning. “You drive a steep price. Fine. It’s a deal.”

A crack of an incoming thunderstorm echoes as you both shake hands.

–

You were many things. You were once a privateer. A bartender. Even a librarian at some point, shelving books for hours till the daylight blended to blue darkness.

But never, in your entire life, have you been made to scrub deck floorboards.

The sun beating down upon your aching figure feels like salt on top of many wounds. The biting smell of lye only makes your head spin and fingers burn. 

Worth? Was your worth really amounting to just being a ship’s hands?!

Unbelievable. You end up slipping and nearly falling on your face into the bubbly mess. Left alive, but only to be doing dirty work for ghost pirates. If only the people back home could see you now…

“Shihehehe! Nice work, newbie. Cap’n Leona wants ta see you now, by the way.” The weasley voice! You look up to see squinty gray eyes and sharp teeth, all in a narrow face. There’s something unnerving about the way the ghost leans over you with his smirk, as if he’s a beast ready to devour its prey.

Shaking away the bubbles and your shame, you silently march right past him and into a sturdy chest.

“Oi, watch where ya goin’!” An angry rumble shakes you back to view the familiar face with silver hair and golden eyes that pushed you down back then. You stand your ground as the both of you stare each other down.

“My bad.” The man grunts as you push past him. “What’s their problem?” is the last thing you hear before you’re out of earshot.

You’re in a foul mood by the time you see Leona’s mug, and it seems he is too.

“What’s the hold up on finding the ring?!” He growls. His clothes are a mess more than usual, hair rumpled, and even his desk is near inhabitable. 

You huff. “If I wasn’t bogged down on ship chores perhaps I can work more on that map to get you there, Captain.”

“We’re short on manpower, if ye can’t tell. Also I can’t have ye havin’ enough time to go schemin’ behind me back.” You roll your eyes, walking up to his desk and yanking out a long parchment, causing a rather cute yelp from Leona.

“Hey–!” You unravel the aged parchment, scanning over the red lines and dots that circle the map.

“Wow, you’ve made no progress at all. Do you really wanna find this ring?” The parchment is snatched out of your hands as Leona angrily snarls. 

“Shut yer trap! I’m workin’ on it.” You heave a long sigh, walking over to his desk and starting to arrange the scattered papers and books. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” 

“What does it look like? I’m helping organize your space. Since you’re ‘working’ on it, nothing wrong with making your environment better, no?”

He only grumbles in response, but a strangely comfortable silence falls as you both do your tasks, seemingly in tandem. The sound of the quill scribbling is rather nice on the ears as you put back books and sort papers into neat piles. It’s only when you’ve finally refilled his inkwell that you lean over his shoulder and take a look and whistle.

“Nice work, Captain! Now we’re getting somewhere!” You clapped him cheerily on the back without much thought, making him scoff.

“This much is nothin’, herbivore.” If you looked closer, you would’ve seen how he leant into your palm, eyes softening as his voice resembled one of looking at a lover.

–

The night sky has always been beautiful.

And as the stars twinkle above, you can hear the pirates singing their drinking songs, raucous and loud, but with whatever soul they have left in their rattling ribs. 

Your drinks were pretty popular, once they found out you could make the most killer mixes out of whatever they had in stock. Ruggie, the silver eyed weasley pirate, became your instant friend as he handed out your brews to other eager crewmates.

“Shihehehe! Think of all the profit we could make outta this! Yo, Jack, come get some of this!” The younger man staggers under the weight of his drunk senior throwing himself onto him, grunting as he looks panicked.

When you break away for some peace, you find that your intended spot was already taken.

“Come ‘ere.” You blink, half turned in resignation at finding another stargazing spot. 

“Are ya deaf? Come ‘ere.” Well, it’s not like you can turn down a command. You settle yourself down next to the lazing captain, looking up wistfully.

It’s a perfect clear sky. You wish you had your telescope with you. From here, you can see a bit of the Crux and then bits of the Centauri–

“We’re close to the ring, aren’t we?” You turn your head to observe a still Leona.

“Yes.”

A long pause.

“Why did ye agree to help me? I didn’ even hafta threaten ye all that much.”

You hum, eyes still fixated on the stars. “I could ask ya the same question of why you spared me, Captain.”

Another agonizing beat.

“I thought ya were a fool.” He shifts, shoulders popping and cracking. “All yer crewmates had the sense to run but ye just stood ya ground like ye weren’t up against the famous dread pirate Davy Jones.

I guess I can admire that kind of stupidity, ya know?” 

You remain silent, throat closing in on itself. Silence returns, but you can no longer admire the stars before.

–

The shrine is ruined, as you expected. All that remains is a half buried altar in sand and broken shells and rocks around it. 

“What the hell is this?”

“It is what you’re searching for.”

For someone to have been searching for this ring so desperately, he looks furious, enraged even. He clenches his hand around the silver tightly, hands trembling. Perhaps you should’ve been more sensitive than just plopping the trinket into his hands.

“How do I know yer not just trickin’ me with a fake?!” He roars, the cave around you echoing. Water drips from stalactites, plopping down into puddles surrounding your area. 

You gesture towards the shrine carelessly. “Give it a try. It’s what you’ve been wanting all this time right?”

Leona’s eyes widened. “What do you–” “You wanted to be free, didn’t you?” You tilt your head, annoyed. “Well, this is it. Once you do the ritual with that ring and return it to Calypso, you’ll be free of your curse. Your love.”

“No.”

Your mouth purses at the ghost’s retort.

“I want to return to her.” 

Something in you snaps.

“You left me.” It is not you speaking, but the sea. It wails and groans as the wind howls. “You do not get to choose to come back to me, not now.”

Water rises with your temper as Leona begins to comprehend what is going on. The stalactites tremble, ready to collapse under the pressure the water pounds upon the rocks. You slowly reach out your hand.

“Give me back my ring.” Your eyes glow, your mortal veil falling away like sand. This is your domain, where he left you to rot and cry out for him for many nights, until you could only pick your trembling bones up and out into the world. Stripped of your emotions, left to rage and scream at the sky, as you walked along the seafloor. For many moons, you wondered if you could ever live without him. As year by year passed, you wandered dry land to forget the aching pain in your heart.

You will make him regret ever wronging you.

“No.” Leona steps forward against the sloshing tides, now up to his knees. He bares his fangs.

“I won’t.”

“What are you doing–!? Give me–” You howl in rage as your outstretched arm is snatched and you’re wrenched into his arms, writhing in anger.

“I won’t let you go, ever again.” He whispers in your ear, and the last thing you register is the feeling of metal on your ring finger.

—

“It seems like the ship was ransacked by pirates.” The old man sighs, leaning back in his rocking chair. 

“Really?” The child at his feet frowns. “But that nice sailor told me all sorts of cool stories…”

The old man shakes his head in disapproval. “Loads of tosh. That superstitious lunatic would only fill your head with stuff of fairytales. Forget it.”

The child looks out their window into the horizon, the sunset leaving shadows on the waves crashing onto the shore. He blinks, and for a moment, he swears he sees the silhouette of a large ship in the distance.

He rubs his eyes, and when he opens them again, it’s gone.

“How strange…”

He could've sworn the flag was a skull crossbones.

[barbedbetty]

You and I

Halbrand x Reader

Warnings: no smut, some fluff, memory loss, memory flashes

PART ONE

The first thing I felt when I drifted back to consciousness was the lack of water lapping at my skin. There was no blistering heat burning me. No rough wooden planks on my makeshift raft to irritate my body.

I slowly opened my eyes and found myself in a ships hold.

My body was beyond exhaustion, even my eyes ached as they scanned the new surroundings. I didn’t care if i was laying atop a crate or a cloud, i closed my eyes and wanted to slip back into a dreamless rest.

I heard a door open, and every part that dreaded movement before snapped into action without warning.

The next thing I knew, I was standing up and braced in a fighting stance.

A man walked in, wearing some kind of sailors uniform. An ivory vest with golden details stitched across it delicately over a ocean blue tunic. He was tanned and scarred, his dark brown hair fell in soft wave-like curves around his gentle face. He was tall and could have been menacing but his demeanor was gentle.

He walked toward me slowly, he raised his right hand in surrender and in his left was a small tray with a bowl of food and a canteen.

“We pulled you from the sea last night.” He explained. “You’re safe here, no one else has been in here since you passed out.”

“Am I a prisoner?” I didn’t ease one screaming muscle in my body.

“No, you are a guest.” He set the tray on a small barrel and bowed towards me.

“Where are we headed?” I demanded as he stood upright again, clasping his hands in front of him.

“To our home port of Númenor.”

“Númenor?” The name felt familiar to her.

“Yes, I’m Captain Elendil of the Sea Guard.” He tilted his head and scanned my face. “What’s your name?”

“…Y/n.” I answered curtly.

“Where do you come from?”

I paused.

“Not Númenor.” I said and stood up straight, this man wasn’t a threat.

“I understand.” He nodded. “You will have to give a proper answer to our Queen. We don’t allow strangers on our island.”

He turned and left without another word.

I went for the tray and picked up the canteen and took a small drink, even though I wanted to drain the whole thing.

I sat down and looked at the bowl of food and then at my own hands, willing them to bring me an answer.

Where did I come from?

After meeting with Queen Regent Miríel and explaining that I had no solid memory of my life apart from my name, I was sent to a room to rest. The Captain had confirmed I had hit my head before they rescued me, there was a massive bruise and knot on the back of my head. Memory loss from being exposed to the sea for who knows how long was to be expected.

For the next couple weeks, I recovered and kept to myself. The Queen was weary of me, but left me to my own devices and I had no problem being confined to the Palace Grounds.

I tried to remember something from my life, maybe a husband or sister or maybe even a neighbor I hated. Even trying to remember my favorite color was a trial that took me a week to win. I must admit Elendil helped me crack that one, he pointed to my ring made of red metal and said I must love that color if I managed to keep the ring through everything I’ve been through.

I can’t believe I didn’t even realize I was wearing this ring to be honest. It felt like part of my body, and when I took it off I felt cold and alone, but back on I felt fearless and powerful. It must mean something to me, I feel it deep in my soul.

I wandered through the library and spent my time reading books and studying maps hoping something would give me a clue. Eventually, I was given a task of helping the lore masters find a certain scroll that the King had taken years before and before I knew it, they gave me a necklace with a mark of the scholars and I was part of their guild.

I began to build a life on the island, more out of necessity than choice but it was so peasant nonetheless.

Until they were brought ashore.

The same Captain that found me adrift brought back two more souls with him one day a couple weeks later. When I heard, I raced to the throne room where they were being taken.

I got to the room amidst a crowd of other nobleman and gentry. I was caught in the back before they were brought in, people were chattering left and right giving me snippets of gossip while I attempted to make my way closer to the front.

“An Elf, I tell ya! An elf as tall as a horse!”

“Seawater! I heard the Elf is no bigger than you, it’s a man they brought that’s taller than most on the island.”

“A she-elf, they oughta toss her back into the sea and be done with it all.”

“Both of them should be sent on their way.”

“What if they bring others back? More men? Or worse, more elves!”

The great doors opened and after the first two guards stood a woman more beautiful than any I’ve ever seen, well at least that I could remember.

Her hair was the color of the sun, her skin paler than milk, and her eyes were fierce and wandering. When I looked to the Queen, she was unmoved in body but in spirit I knew she was becoming uneasy.

Then I turned and felt more than curiosity at the strange man.

He walked pensively, scanning the room but not the people, he stood beside the Elf as they awaited judgement from the Queen.

Even though their backs were to me, I felt there was something about the man. Something…familiar. I stepped forward, forcing my way through the crowd in a daze. People were whispering things to me but I heard nothing except my heart beat.

That dark hair, those strong shoulders, that tall stature.

Something in my bones knew this man.

“What do they call you?” The Queen asked the man.

“Halbrand.” He answered simply, in a tone that sang like a bell to my ears.

A memory flashed through my mind, so powerful and unyielding that I gasped and fell to my knees. Head pounding I cried out as a flash of a darkened room took over my vision with a window revealing a moonless night and green eyes begging me for something.

“Are you okay?”

I blinked and was back at the throne room, I tried to sit up but my head reeled like I had too much mead.

“Someone get the healer!” A woman shouted as she cradled my head off the marble floor.

I turned my head and saw the man, he turned and we made eye contact.

And in that flash of a moment before someone knelt in front of me with a potion that made me sleep, I felt it as sure as I knew the sun rises: that man knew me too.

I woke up sometime in the night, my head throbbing but I was energized nonetheless. I remembered a room, a bed room to be exact, with a wide window the had a balcony and snow falling against a black night sky. And Halbrand as he called himself begging me to run away.

I jumped out of bed, grabbed a blue shawl, and bolted out the door.

I wasn’t sure where I was going but my feet were swift as I ran across the courtyard. My room was near the library now but when I first arrived I was given a room that overlooked the harbor. That had to be where he was. As I looked around the great hallway and into the throne room, I heard footsteps.

I hid behind a pillar and hoped whoever was walking was quick.

I peeked around and saw an empty, quiet room. I leaned back against the pillar to give it another moment but when I turned to my left, I saw Halbrand.

I opened my mouth to scream in surprise but he covered my mouth and pushed me against the marble.

“You don’t want to wake the guards, do you?” He whispered.

I shook my head and stared up in his eyes.

“Are you going to scream when I take my hand away?” He asked.

I shook my head.

“Okay, then follow me.” He took his hand off my mouth and grabbed my hand, he looked both ways and together we snuck off into the darkness.

“Where are we going?” I hissed as we ran along the outer walls of the castle.

“You’ll see.” He answered as we stopped at a dark corner and he peeked around to look for the guards.

An urge to giggle bubbles in my chest but I held it in.

He took me to a small garden in the courtyard and held my hand as we walked through green foliage until we hit an orange tree. We sat underneath it and leaned against the trunk side by side. An act that felt as familiar as breathing, I barely registered that he still had his finger intimately entwined with mine.

“Why are we here?” I asked him.

“Because I thought we could talk.” He smirked at me.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked him.

He tsk’ed and leaned in close to me.

“I know you have questions about you, about me,” he paused and looked up and down my body and winked at me. “About us.”

He was smiling so knowingly at me, and my body, it made me blush.

“So we do know each other.” I whispered.

He reached over and cradled my cheek in his hand.

“Yes.” He whispered and stroked my cheekbone with his thumb. “Yes, we do.”

“What are you to me?” I asked quietly, I took his hand away from my face and held it between my hands looking at all the scars and lines it had.

“Your humble servant.” He bowed his head for a moment while smiling.

“You’re awfully familiar with me to be a servant.” I let out a giggle and he beamed.

“We found each other while in service to another.” He explained and let me continue mapping his palm. “But to me, you are a Queen.”

“Me? A Queen?” I scoffed and traced my finger down the center of his palm. I thought I saw him shiver out of the corner of my eye.

He reached back up and held my chin to tilt my head up to look at him.

“Queen.” He whispered as he leaned in. “Goddess. Woman. All words fall short in presence of your beauty.”

The silence that fell between us felt intoxicating. Like swimming in sweet wine.

I wanted to lean just a little closer, feel his lips against mine, feel his strong hands grip and pet parts of my body like an instrument. I wanted to get so lost in each other in this beautiful quiet moment.

“Halbrand.” I looked into his green eyes and sighed.

“Y/n.” He whispered back, his eyes looked over my face like he was trying to memorize it.

I felt a knot of anticipation in my stomach.

Looking into his green eyes felt like coming home. I couldn’t explain why, but I knew deep in my bones that he was mine and I was his.

Without a moment to second guess myself, I leaned forward and simply pressed my lips against his.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins as he gently moved his lips against mine and held my face in his hands.

Everything felt so right, it felt so natural, it was too much and not enough at the same time. He rose to his knees leaning over me as we kissed, gently pushing his tongue against mine and moaning when I threaded my fingers through his hair to encourage him.

He pulled his lips away and began kissing down my neck, his hands roamed down my body like he already knew it.

“ Miquelis” he murmured against my skin.

I gasped and for a moment, memories came flooding back in fragments. Red hot metal that was cool to the touch, blood and broken bones, screams of elves, clashes of swords, deep resonating voices that rang so loud my skull felt like it was going to split open.

Before I knew what I was doing, I pushed at Halbrand shoulders shoving him backwards.

He landed with a thud in the grass and I scrambled backwards panting with my back against the tree.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He said sincerely as he knelt in front of me searching my face. “I shouldn’t have assumed-“

“You-“ I cut him off.

There was a pause.

“You.” I whispered.

He was still as a statue, I could see his shoulder slowly rise and fall with his breathing but he was waiting for me to say something.

I took a moment to think back on what I remembered.

“You and I were a part of something.” I whispered. “Something dark.”

He swallowed slowly and nodded.

“What did you call me?” I asked.

“ Miquelis.” He repeated. “It means-“

“‘Sweet Kiss’.” I finished.

He nodded and kept watching me.

My head suddenly felt so fuzzy, with a pressure behind my eyes that was quickly becoming uncomfortable.

“I have to go.” I rose quickly and turned away from him.

I heard him chase after me an his hand gently took my elbow.

“Let me walk you back to your room.” He asked.

“No.” I tugged my arm away and looked up at him. “I need time alone.”

He nodded and took a step back.

I turned and hurried back to my room. Once I was behind a locked door, I pushed my back against the wall and sank to my knees. I tried to control my breathing but another memory was itching it’s way in and I wasn’t sure I wanted it. My heading was pounding and it felt like the room was spinning. I wanted to cry and scream and beg for it to stop but I knew it wouldn’t help.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and let the memory flood my senses.

I saw Halbrand trying to talk to me in a forge, it was dark and snow covered every surface. The cold was bone deep but I felt nothing.

He was speaking but I couldn’t hear him. He took my face in his hands and had such a look of sorrow in his eyes that it broke my heart.

Suddenly a dark shadow figure emerged and dragged us apart.

“There will only be one ruler of Middle Earth.” A deep voice roared from somewhere in the darkness.

“There will be a king and his servants.”

The voice chilled me to my core, I was fighting with everything I had but whatever invisible force held me back was strong. Halbrand was on the opposite side of the room and shouting for me.

“To make sure you both obey, I will erase Y/no’s memory.”

Halbrand screamed, veins bulging across his neck and face as he fought and shouted. His pupils turned to skits like a snakes as he roared and fought to get back to me.

“If she can’t remember you, she can’t love you.”

Orcs burst into the room and grabbed me and dragged me out, I punched and scratched to no avail.

“And if you can’t find her, you’ll do as I say.”

Then darkness took me.

————————

Part 2: “Us”

————————

Tags: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @beatrice-san @arana-alpha @jooooosie @aarinisreading

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC Intro Istek

Hello everyone! Here is Istek "The Priestly Pirate" he was the winner of the last Character intro poll, I will be posting the next round shortly after this!

Name: Istek

Istek is not actually this person's birthname, rather it is a nickname which they have fully accepted. Only Istek is aware of the name he carried before he became a priest and later a sailor. The name Istek is not a common one, or indeed a name at all, rather it comes from the Makoric dialect of Kishic, stemming from the word Istekiwi which means "Sea Gull"

Intro continues below the cut!

Family

Father: Jatur, farmer, Commoner (Dead)

Mother: Turia, farmer, Commoner (Dead)

No siblings

Son: Lat (Living)

Partners: Dati (Living) and Sihunu (Living)

Homeland/Place of Origin

The small Kishic colony of Ulyasapek on the eastern coast of Makora

Ethnicity

Makoran Kishic and Tumulini

History

Istek was born approximately 48 years before the events of The Testaments of the Green Sea. He was the first and only son of the Makoric-Kishic Farmer, Jatur and the Tumulini, Turia. The Tumulini are one of several clans which live alongside Kishic settlers within Makora. Istek's birth name is a Tumulini one, or so he has said. Unfortunately, Turia would die shortly after Istek's first birthday, after catching a sickness which culminated in a deadly bout of pneumonia. Both Jatur and Istek would be similarly afflicted, with the function of Jatur's lungs being greatly weakened for the rest of his life. Oddly enough, it was the infant Istek, who was least affected, though he does wonder whether the sickness stunted him in some way, as he is in fact significantly shorter than both of his parents. Istek worked on his father's farm, harvesting barley, tending to pigs, and otherwise laboring. His father's weak lungs limited the work that he could do, thus he relied heavily on Istek from the time that the boy could walk and swing a scythe.

Istek was a quiet boy, reserved, shy even. His first crush was on a much older boy, much to the displeasure of Jatur.

"That sort of thing is for city people, not for us. We need more hands to work the field, you hear? Kids, ___! Now tell me, how is he supposed to give you that?" -Jatur

The two would venture into the town of Ulyasapek on rare occasions. Typically these trips were little more than supply runs, or else Jatur's ill-fated attempts to find a girl to marry his short, shy, and soft-voiced son. Often, however, they were not the only visitors, as a coastal town and a stopping port for many different ships, Ulyasapek was host to priests from many diverse cults and sects. Jatur was largely dismissive of these groups, or at times actively hostile. Priests in the farmer's eyes were ultimately a waste of time, unhelpful at best, and actively dangerous at worst. He never explained this attitude to Istek, though the boy assumed it had something to do with his mother. As is often the case, taboo proved to be temptation, and Istek, now a young teenager, began to sneak from his home to listen to these preachers and poets. Around this same time Jatur began to experience a number of symptoms, initially waved off as aches and strains from work, these initially included back pain, tingling in his limbs, lapses in memory, and stiffness (Multiple Sclerosis). As such, work increasingly fell only on Istek's shoulders.

One day, at approximately the age of 18, Istek snuck down to the village for a drink of wine and to listen to the preachers. It was then that he met Kutetu, or more accurately was reintroduced to him. Kutetu had been a fisherman who had lived in the village for some time. He had suffered from back and nerve issues very similar to those that affected Jatur. When he had last seen Kutetu, two years before, the man had been nearly immobile, hardly able to row captain his small boat. When Kutetu had vanished, it was simply believed that he had capsized or died at sea. Yet here he was, not only alive, but standing tall and healthy. Kutetu told Istek about the order of the Golden Poplar, a cult located on a tiny island north of the lands of Korithia. He told Istek of the spectacular abilities of that order's head, of his ability to heal disease, to make crops grow with the flick of a hand, and to control the very storms that blew across the sea, all he asked in response was faith and subservience to the "Golden Poplar" the supposed avatar of the sun god, Re.

Istek, naive and young, was immediately convinced and ran to his father to relay the information to him. He asked Jatur to accompany him to the island. Jatur refused, rather violently, and the two even came to blows. Jatur accused his son of falling for sagecraft nonsense. Istek denied this and pledged to go to the island and pray for his father. Istek sold all of his possessions and worked for some time as a carpenter's assistant in order to hire a farm-hand to work in his place while he was gone.

After successfully hiring a hand, Istek sailed to the island. There he seeked the audience of the head of the order, The Master. The Master, according to his claims, was a 200 year-old sage whose powers originated from the Poplar which grew at the center of the island without draining him of his vitality as was usually the case for sages. Istek slept on the roots of the Poplar for three whole nights while he waited to speak to the sage. When at last he did speak with The Master, the sage was impressed and intrigued by the young man's determination to meet him. He complimented the boy on his bravery in leaving his homeland and otherwise showered the boy with compliments. Istek soon became enamored with the leader, particularly after the Master assured him that he could indeed treat his father's maladies by praying to the poplar, though it may take time, he emphasized. Istek enthusiastically allowed himself to be folded into the cult, he prayed and served in the temple or at the roots of the tree everyday with a fanatic intensity. Only a year after his arrival he was made a priest. By taking his honor, Istek was forbidden from sex, the consumption of meat, alcohol, gambling, dairy of any kind, among various other things. Despite these stipulations Istek served loyally,

The tree that sits at the center of the cult certainly does have an odd effect on its loyal followers, and it is indeed magical, though the exact nature of that magic is not so clear. Istek even slept at the roots some nights. All that time he continued sending messages back to his father, along with his meager earnings as a priest, which was just barely enough to care for his father.

Much to the young priest's concern, his father's condition, according to their correspondences, communicated by a messenger, did not seem to be improving. Istek blamed this on his own impiety, and further increased his fanaticism, going as far as having dozens of symbols tattooed onto his body in supplication to the Tree and the Master. Yet his father's condition continued to decline. Istek became increasingly distressed as he saw those on the island, those that he deemed as less loyal than himself, seemingly having their prayers and wishes honored by the Poplar. When he expressed these concerns to his fellow priests he was met with either sympathy or else hostility that he was in any way questioning the auspices of the cult.

Jatur died half-way through Istek's sixth year of priesthood, likely from a secondary ailment worsened by his disease. Istek fell into a deep depression and for the first time in his years of service, neglected his duties, and failed to show up for an evening sacrifice. When the Master confronted the heartbroken Istek, his kindness and bravado were gone, in its place was cruelty and heartlessness. Istek expressed that he had prayed for his father’s health, that he had served faithfully, and that it was all that he ever prayed for, never for himself, as such he could not understand why the Poplar had chosen to ignore his prayers. The Master explained that as a non-believer, Jatur was never due any help from the Poplar, which was directly in opposition to what he had told Istek when he had first arrived years before.

This confrontation caused Istek to mentally spiral. One day he ran to the beach, shed his priest robes, stripped down to his bareskin and rowed from the island in a stolen boat. He had no destination, no goal. He was near death, starved and severely dehydrated when he was discovered by a passing pirate ship, the Dolphin.

They took him aboard, initially with the intention of enslaving the strange man. However, fortunately, the captain of the ship, a Kishic man by the name of Busu, soon took a liking to the young man. Istek during his time as a priest had developed an impressive talent for speaking and would often tell the crew of pirates stories and poems that he had learned during his time on the island. The free and rough environment of the ship allowed Istek to grow in ways that he had never been afforded. Over the course of a short few years he garnered a reputation among his fellow pirates as brash, clever, brave, and rather loud. His nickname, Istek, was given as a reference to his "squawking." Istek shot through the ranks of the crew, eventually becoming the first mate, leading daring raids on merchant ships and even on one occasion the port of the Korithian city of Agrikolis, resulting in amongst the biggest pirating hauls in recent memory. As such there was little question that Istek should inherit the role of captain.

Istek renamed the ship, the Westwind and chose to sail south, intent on stalking the shipping routes of the southern Korithian islands. It was there that, while capturing a trading vessel, that he met the forestfolk slave, Dati.

The two almost immediately fell for one another, and soon became partners, Istek the Captain, and Dati the First Mate. And this went on for several years until Istek would fall in love again, this time on the island of Ninetu. While the Westwind was docked for repairs Istek became acquainted with the daughter of a carpenter by the name of Sihunu. Her sharp wit and wild temperament had scarred off all suitors that her father had brought before her. Yet it was these very qualities that caused first Istek and then Dati, to fall deeply in love with her. As such, both men would propose to her roughly four months after landing in Ninetu, though Istek would successfully do so slightly before Dati (a fact which he uses to tease Dati quite often.) The three would be secretly married, by an Ikopeshi priest (paid in wine) and would sneak away on the Westwind that same night, though not before raiding several of the other docked ships.

Their reign of adventure and thievery would go on for several years, as they now stalked up and down the coast, capturing ships, raiding villages, and even fighting the occasional sea monster.

This came to an end when Sihunu became pregnant. The three agreed that the life of a pirate was no life for a child, and so somewhat hesistantly, they put down their swords and spears. They came under the employ of the merchant Wadikir, a highly powerful and wealthy figure in the hierarchy of the Kishic city of Chibal.

Shortly after arriving in Chibal, Sihunu gave birth to their child, Lat.

The four of them now live in the dock district of Chibal. Sihunu has elected to remain on land with Lat until such a time as the boy is old enough to join the crew. Istek and Dati meanwhile take semi-regular jobs for Wadikir and other merchants.

It is during one such job that the pair first meet the giant, Narul.

Appearance

Istek is a short though broad-shouldered and muscular man nearing his fifties. His copper colored skin is wrinkled from the beating sun, and punctuated with geometric tattoos, a reminder of his time as a priest. The captain’s graying hair is tied up in the traditional Kishic sailor's knot and his chin is accentuated by a giant bushy beard.

Personality

Istek is loud, excitable, courageous, passionate, prideful, and more than a little flirtatious, especially in the presence of those that are taller than him (note that both Dati and Sihunu are nearly a foot taller than he is). Despite his loud and excitable personality, he can be quite clever and philosophical when that sort of thing is called for.

Gender/Pronouns

Cis-man He/Him

Sexual Orientation

Pansexual and Polyamorous

Relationships

Istek is happily partnered with both Dati and Sihunu

Favorite Color

Blue

Favorite Food

Oysters with salt and pepper.

Biggest Fear

Being unable to sail/ being useless

Sage?

No

Literate?

In numerical symbols, and some Kishic, enough to read receipts and cargo records.

An Excerpt

Narul nodded thoughtfully. Istek chuckled, and gave his arm another experimental squeeze. “Gods, these are massive! Your hands too and just imagine~”  From across the deck one of the sailors called out. “Oi, Istek, get your hands off of that man, you old deviant. I swear someone should beat some sense into you.” Istek shot to his feet, bristling. “Don’t talk to your captain like that!” “What if I do?” Narul watched as the two rough old sailors approached each other. Istek was at least a head shorter than the other man but broader at the shoulder. Narul, Suru, and Penetinos all froze, unsure of what to do. The rest of the crew seemed oddly apathetic to all of this.  Istek and the sailor who had dared to speak against him, glared at each other for a moment and Narul was concerned that he may have to step in, but then as he rose apprehensively to his feet, Istek stood up on his toes and pressed his lips to the sailor’s. The two stood like that for a moment, the sailor cupping the shorter man’s bearded cheek. When at last the two separated, Istek turned and laughed at Narul’s confused but relieved expression. “Narul, I would like you to meet my first mate, Dati.”

@patternwelded-quill @flaneurarbiter @skyderman @blackblooms @roach-pizza @illarian-rambling @dezerex @theocticscribe @axl-ul, @persnickety-peahen, @surroundedbypearls

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Love Beyond the Black - CH 1

Fandom: Ateez Rating: Mature Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Choi San, with a little bit of Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa sprinkled in AO3 Masterlist

Summary: Wooyoung is the son of a merchant sailor for the King, one of his best. He is coming of age to prepare to take his fathers place as the captain, and so his father takes him on his first sail. After nearly facing death in a raging storm at sea, Wooyoung and his father make port at their destination. Not long after their arrival Wooyoung finds a boy washed up on sea, still alive, and the most gorgeous thing he has ever laid his eyes on. He is instantly entranced by him, taken by this boy with no memory of where he came from or why he had been washed up on shore. Wooyoung couldn't have cared any less about the unanswered questions, but how will he feel when he finds out the boy he has so very quickly fallen in love with turns out to be one of the most revered pirates to have ever sailed the seas?

A/N and Warnings: I added them to the bottom of the post, just because it's a bit long, so if you'd like to see the warnings just head to the bottom :)

*** MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. THOUGH REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER LOVED AND APPRECIATED! THANKS FAM!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One

     Wooyoung's favourite thing was the sea. Not being on it, no, that wasn't quite the life for him, but just being near it was enough. He loved the smell of the salt on the air, and the feel of the misty ocean breeze hitting his face as a wave crested upon the rocks below the cliff. He loved the sound, the ebb and flow of the waves as they washed upon the shore and retreated again. Wooyoung could fall asleep to it, completely at peace with his eyes closed laying in the tall grass, his arms outstretched and his fingers weaving through the blades. 

     But the ocean was more than that. It was also full of new beginnings, of hope and purity and strength. With each day the sun rose upon the horizon and brought with it a fresh start, no matter the storms and turmoil of the day before or how dark the night had been, the sun always rose without fault and cleansed the world of the past. For a moment each day, as Wooyoung sat upon the cliff by his home on the edge of town, he could feel those few seconds of tranquillity as the new day began untouched and untainted, completely pure. The sky would be painted in beautiful hues of pink and orange, his skin tinted with it like the sky's own canvas, reflected upon the calm surface of the water. It was the only thing Wooyoung could think of when he pondered upon perfection, even now as he sat on the same cliff looking out.

     “Wooyoung, darling!” He turned to find his mother walking toward him from the house. She had the skirt of her dress gathered gently in her gloved hands, her hair done in an intricate updo with not one single hair out of place, even with the breeze. One of the housemaids followed closely behind her with an arm outstretched, a paisley coloured lace parasol held above his mothers head. She was as beautiful as she always was, the very definition of class and elegance. Every time he laid his eyes upon her, he could see why she was envied by the women in town, and desired by the men. 

     “Yes, Mother?” He smiled at her as he answered.

     “Come,” she waved a hand at him, “your Father’s ship is returning to port today, I've been told they've been spotted on the horizon and should be here shortly. Shall we greet him?”

     He nodded and stood, then turned to walk back to meet her, and held his arm out for her to take as they walked back to the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The port was a flurry of activity by the time their carriage made it through the busy town streets and pulled up at the docks. It was full, each ship docked was a part of his Majesty's royal merchant navy, and all delivering goods to be brought to the King himself. 

     Since his father was head of his Majesty's merchant navy, Wooyoung had been to the palace many times. He had attended lavish parties, elegant dinners, summer gatherings in the gardens. The King's palace wasn't too far from where his own home rested just outside of town, but Wooyoung much preferred his solitude as opposed to the large crowds that a king’s parties would amass. And now that his father had returned from yet another successful voyage, there would surely be another invitation from the King arriving soon. 

     "Wooyoung, my son!" His father called to him from down the dock where he had just stepped off the ship's ladder. "How were things while I was gone?"

     "Perfect," he answered as he hugged his father, then turned and let him sling an arm over his shoulders as they walked back to his mother.

     "I'm glad to hear," he smiled, then when they reached his mother, he said to both of them, "tonight we will have a special dinner prepared. I have some news I would like to share and I feel it requires more than a simple meal."

     "I'll have the chefs informed as soon as we return home then." His mother returned his smile and lifted up for a quick kiss, before she turned and got back in the carriage.

     The two of them followed her, with Wooyoung sitting across from them inside, his leg bouncing with anticipation as the carriage left the docks. "What's the news, Father?"

     His father chuckled, always impatient his son was. "I will tell you at dinner, so you'll just have to wait until then. Though I know that will be difficult for you, patience is a virtue, Wooyoung. Trust me, it will be well worth the wait."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Waiting for dinner felt like a lifetime for Wooyoung, but finally he was sitting at the table in his usual spot, across from his mother with his father at the head. There was a king's feast worth of food laid out before them, and Wooyoung could wait no longer.

     "Father, can you tell us the news now, please?" He was practically vibrating in his seat.

     His father chuckled, a deep rumbling from his chest as he dug into the pocket of his jacket. “The news is that I have already been assigned another route for his Majesty, this time as a direct request from the King himself that me and my crew are the ones to make the trip, a delivery on his Majesty's behalf to a neighbouring kingdom.”

     “Already?” His mother asked, her brows furrowed. “You've only just arrived home, when did the King have the time to approach you about another route?”

     Finding what he was looking for in his pocket, he pulled out a rolled up, and now crinkled, piece of parchment bearing the King's seal. “There was a messenger from his Majesty waiting for me at the port when we docked the ship, I spoke with him just before the two of you arrived.” He handed the parchment over to his wife, who opened it and read it, but he turned his attention to Wooyoung. “I know that this is fast, as you said I've only just arrived home, but I do believe it comes at the perfect time as there is something else I have wanted to discuss with you both for a while now.”

     “What's that, darling?”

     “Our son’s future,” he answered, his eyes never leaving Wooyoung, who now stared back at him with both worry and confusion clear in his gaze, “Wooyoung, you are of age now where you should be seriously considering your career, and it only makes sense that you would take my place in the coming years as head of his Majesty's merchant navy.” Wooyoung lifted a hand from the table, about to voice his apprehensions on the matter, but his father stopped him. “I understand that it is a very high pressure job, but I trust you will do well, Wooyoung, and that is also why I would like to take you along with me on this assignment. I can start teaching you the ropes of sailing, of managing a crew as well as all of his Majesty's shipments both in and out of our ports. It will be the beginning of your apprenticeship, and when I am ready in a few years I shall retire, and you will be ready to step in and take my place. And the last thing I wished to discuss, is that I believe it is also time that Wooyoung be married.”

     “Father, no, I don't think-”

     He was stopped again by his fathers insistent tone. “It is a wise decision, son. Many men your age are already married and starting families, it is time you did the same. Upon our return we will start the process. Your Mother will arrange for some meetings and see if we can't find you a nice girl from a suitable family that catches your eye, and hopefully by the fall we will be planning a wedding. Are you on board with all of this, Wooyoung?”

     Though it was phrased as a question, Wooyoung knew it really wasn't. It was a warning, more like his father was saying, you will be on board with this whether you like it or not, because that is how it always was. Wooyoung may be a child of a high class family, always been given exactly what he wanted and grew up in a very wealthy lifestyle, but when it came to things like this, his future or his career or even who he would one day marry, he was not so privileged. He knew this would be coming soon, as his father said he was of the age where it should have already been done, but it still angered him deeply that his entire life had just been laid out and decided for him in less than the time it took to eat dinner. But what could he do except agree, nod his head and accept his fate. The last thing he wanted to do was disobey his parents or disappoint them. So that's what he did, nodded his head and accepted it.

     “Excellent!” His father beamed and his mother squealed with excitement across from him. “Be sure you're ready in three days, that is when we shall set sail, and just like that the first leg of your bright future begins, my son.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Three days came and passed in the blink of an eye, and Wooyoung suddenly found himself standing on the overcrowded dock wishing he was anywhere else. There were crew members bustling past him, hauling all kinds of barrels full of who knew what, all of them shouting and cursing, not paying any mind to how many times they nearly ploughed him over. He was even less impressed when one of them passed by, dragging a barrel full of something that smelled god awful, bumped right into his side and scuffed a large dark stain onto his new white shirt. 

     “Wooyoung!” His father called to him from down the dock, and Wooyoung turned an annoyed look at him, just finished rolling his eyes at the man who ruined his shirt. “Come here, I want to show you how to ensure the proper inventory makes it onto the ship.”

     “Oh, sure.” He waved and faked his best smile at his father, grumbling to himself as he stalked over. “Exactly what I wanted to do.”

     As soon as he reached his father he instantly pulled him into his side and started going over the inventory parchment with him. But Wooyoung could honestly say he did not retain a single thing his father had told him, he wasn't even really looking at the parchment as his father pointed to this item or that. He had no interest in this whatsoever, frankly if half the items never arrived he couldn't have cared any less then he already did. 

     “And this must be the special item we are delivering for his Majesty, the final piece we were waiting for before we could set sail.” Wooyoung finally snapped to attention as a beautifully carved wooden box passed by them, carried by a man with much more grace and decorum than the other ruffians running around the docks earlier. It was stained in the carved crevices and highlighted with pure gold, he knew whatever was inside must be worth its weight.

     “What is it?” He asked.

     “A gift from his Majesty to the King of Nero.” His father answered, and he baulked at him.

     “Nero!?” He shook his head, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he was able to speak again. “That's a two week sail across the sea!”

     “In good weather,” his father added, absently re-checking the inventory sheets before passing them off to a waiting deck hand, “if we hit any sort of storms or even simply rocky seas, it could take double that. Which is why you always have to prepare for the worst, pack extra supplies just in case your trip takes longer than planned. Not only is your inventory a top priority, Wooyoung, but so is your crew. They need to be fed and well taken care of, because without them the ship would go nowhere. Now, get on board, I'll show you how to set off and then we will meet in my chambers later this evening for dinner.”

     His father left him with an aggressive pat on the shoulder that had him lunging forward a step. Wooyoung cringed as he stood frozen in place. Two weeks at sea, minimum, pending an easy smooth sail, which was highly unlikely. And once they arrived in Nero, it would only be to turn around and spend another two weeks or more sailing back home. Wooyoung loved the sea, but this was ridiculous. He was more than happy just watching and listening to it from the comfort of his little cliff by the edge of their home, he was not thrilled about this at all. Merchant sailing, or sailing of any kind was not the life for him, and if he didn't find a way to tell his father that, he was going to be stuck with it for the rest of his life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Seven days in, not even halfway through the journey yet and Wooyoung had lost count of how many times he'd been sick. It was starting to ease now, but the first few days it had been so bad that more often than not he wasn't even able to attend his lessons with his father, not that he minded that part, but hanging over the edge of the ship for hours at a time had been less than appealing. So far, merchant sailing had turned out to be just as horrid an experience as he had expected.

     “Wooyoung.” He lifted his head as his father approached him and landed his hand on his back. He was still slung over the edge of the ship, still sure his face was as green as seaweed, but he hadn't thrown anything up in at least a few hours.

     “Father,” he panted, closing his eyes tight to stave off a sudden wave of nausea, “I don't know if sailing is for me, I don't-”

     “Don't worry about this,” he gestured to him, sweating and limp on the railing, “I was the same as you on my first sail, perhaps even a tad worse. But it eased eventually and now look at me, head of his Majesty's merchant navy, spending weeks at a time at sea without so much as an upset stomach. You will get there after a few sails.”

     “If you say so.” He shook his head and hung it low over the railing again.

     “I actually came to ask if you would like to join me for dinner.” Wooyoung couldn't help the heave at the mention of food, but his father continued anyway. “The chef is making a special sushi dish, I've even managed to sneak some caviar aboard to celebrate your first voyage as an apprentice, and the chef agreed to make san-nakji just for you-” 

     His father stepped back and laughed, full and straight from his chest, as Wooyoung lunged further over the edge and threw up. 

     When he was finished he groaned and wiped the back of his now soiled sleeve across his mouth, eyeing his father with a deviled look. “Really, Father? Was that necessary?”

     “Just helping you get it all out of your system, son.” He reached out and gave his back another pat, this time lingering and rubbing gently. “You'll be alright soon, I promise. But you really should eat something to replace everything you're tossing over the side. I can have the chef make you something easy, some rice perhaps-”

     Both of their heads whipped up toward the front of the ship as a massive crack of thunder rumbled across the open waters. It was the first time Wooyoung had looked at anything besides the water below him all day, and though the storm wasn't too close, it was moving quickly.

     “Those clouds look really dark,” he said to his father, “much darker than any storm I've experienced on land. What do we do?”

     His father stood still for a moment, watching the storm with a focused look, before he answered, “Our best course would be to avoid it as much as we possibly can. We can change our course to head north east and sail around the islands, put them between us and the storm, and hopefully come out behind the storm on the other side. If not, our next best course of action would be to hunker down on one of the islands. The last thing you want to do is get caught in a storm like that in open sea.”

     Wooyoung looked back at the storm again as a second ear shattering rumble of thunder hit him. It shook him to his core, seeing clouds that black, and he swore it was already much closer then it had been only minutes before. 

     His father turned and began barking orders to his crew, all of them instantly jumping into action, but Wooyoung found he couldn't move and not because of the nausea. He had a bad feeling about the storm, and even more than he already did, he regretted ever stepping foot on this ship.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The sky around them was so black one would have thought it was the middle of the night. The deck was so shrouded in black Wooyoung could barely see his own feet as he stumbled across the ship. He was soaked completely, both from the rain and the never ending mists that came from the waves crashing against the sides of the ship. His nausea was gone now, replaced with gut wrenching fear with every dip and jerk of the ship being whipped around by the storm. He knew his bad feeling had been right, and how ironic it would be for him to die out in the middle of the ocean, killed by something he loved so deeply, something so beautiful and yet as deadly as the wrath of the very gods that controlled them. 

     “Father!” He screamed above the raging turmoil around him, but he felt drowned out by the thunder, the screaming crew mates, and Poseidon's rage. “Father! We need to do something, we're going to die like this! We're lucky we haven't capsized yet, and we've already lost crew over the sides!”

     A flash of lightning illuminated his father at the wheel above him, and seeing him only made Wooyoung panic even more. He had never seen his father in such a state, washed out in worry of his own and his eyes seemingly lost in the vast darkness around them. “All we can do is keep pushing and pray we make it through! Tell the crew to batten down the hatches and secure themselves!”

     All he could do was stare up at his father, how could this be all they could do? Why did he ever agree to getting on this ship? He did not want to die at sea!

     “Wooyoung!” His father called out to him, a new fear taking over his features, one more intense than it had been moments ago, then Wooyoung found out why.

     Lightning lit up the sky, along with the wave that was hovering over their ship, as tall as the mast and heading right for Wooyoung. All he could do was stand stock still and watch as his fate curled over him and readied to crash down. This was it, this was where it ended for him. A life spent gazing out at the ocean would now end at the bottom of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: So I was going to wait until I had some chapters stocked up before posting, but I was just too excited and I couldn't! Also the writing is flowing right now, so the chapters are coming quickly lol So I gift you chapter one! In this chapter we get a little insight into Wooyoung's life and his expectations. And as a slight heads up, I'm just going to say that after this chapter, things are going to start heating up real fast… and I'm going to leave you with that, enjoy!! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N and Warnings:

First, yes, I ship kpop groups, but no, that does not mean I am crazy about them outside of their groups. It's hard to explain but I see them in their groups as almost characters in a sense, but whatever my boys decide to do in their real lives outside of the groups, I fully and completely support them as long as they are happy :) And with that being said, if this isn't the kind of fic for you, it's okay if you don't read it!

Second, this is going to be a very different fic from anything I have ever written before (I think). It's not going to be super dark or anything, perhaps a tad bit more angsty then usual, but it is a fic about pirates so there will be fighting, and blood, and violence, some homophobia because of the time period. Though keep in mind there will be a happy ending for our boys, and that the major character death in the tags does not apply to either San or Wooyoung. There will be NO rape or non-con, I do not mess with that, but there will be lots of smut, as promised.

And third, this is my first Ateez fic, so please be kind XD

And I think that just about sums it up. Please enjoy this if you do decide to read it, and I thank you for coming along on this journey with me <3

[phykios]

In All My Dreams I Drown, part one [read on ao3]

It was not shaping up to be the best of days so far. 

First, the storm had rattled one of Percy’s bunkmates so thoroughly he had vomited all over his shoes. Then his captain had the incompetency to allow his ship to be overrun by pirates. There was a perfectly fine wind which could have easily been harnessed to run, if only the captain and his lieutenant were not so fond of blowing wind up each other’s asses.

And now this. 

“What have we here?” Blocking the way out of the galley was a tall, broad, angry-looking woman, dressed in stained trousers and a thick black, jacket with the sleeves torn off. Her very form seemed to fill the ship, her shaggy, dull brown hair nearly scraping the roof of the hold. Her arms were criss-crossed with scar tissue, old, raised, colorless welts of skin which spoke to a long history of violence–a successful one–and her huge fist was wrapped around a wicked looking sword. “A rat hiding amongst the chickens?” she sneered.

With his back against the wall, a weapon in his face, and little time to think, Percy deferred to one of his oldest and most well-honed skills. 

“Well?” said the pirate, for that was surely what she was, her sword aimed directly at his heart. “Out with it–who are you?”

His hands raised, he spoke quietly, calmly, as if to a vicious animal. “My name is Percy Jackson,” he said. “And I happen to be a very good cook.” 

The woman narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. And irritated.

Percy just grinned.

Her companion, a slenderer man with a slant to his mouth that Percy thought he could like, leaned over to whisper to her. “We do need a cook,” he heard, softly and clearly not meant for Percy’s ear. 

“Have an open position, then, do you?” He asked, unrepentant, even as the woman glared at him with all the force of an ax to the face. “You’re in luck–it appears I am in need of a new employer.” 

Percy couldn’t quite remember who it was who had told him that even pirate ships needed a good cook. If he had had the time, he probably could have conjured the man’s face in the corners of his memory, a hazy image of some gnarled old sailor resting his feet on one of the docks of St. Augustine, where Percy had spent his youth. The day had probably been hot, the sunshine hazy, and he had probably run away from his mother’s dreadful landlord yet again, choosing to while away the daylight as far from the man’s foul stench as possible. Some man, maybe one who had known his mother long ago, may have pulled him aside out of the way of the town guards, shoving him down behind some sea-rotted wood, kept him quiet and kept him occupied until the coast was clear, passing on an old sailor’s knowledge to a child.

The woman growled, but she lowered her sword, acquiescing. “Fine,” she rasped. “We’ll let the captain decide what to do with you.” Then, grabbing hold of his arm, she dragged him along behind her, stomping up to the deck, while her partner trailed behind them, looking on bemusedly. 

Whoever that man had been, though, Percy could have gotten down on his knees and thanked him. Or paid for his drink at least. 

Provided this captain deigned to let him live, of course. If he had to die, he’d vastly prefer the plank to the sword. He was a rather good swimmer, for a sailor. 

Blinking as he was pushed into the bright sunlight, it took a moment for his vision to clear. The deck was a right mess, splintered wood and ruined supplies scattered about with a handful of dead bodies. No one Percy had personally been fond of, but still. He was pleased to see that the enemy crew had at least some concept of restraint. Maybe they were even inclined to be merciful. 

One glance up towards the mast was quick to rid Percy of that thought.

Bloody, beaten, and tied to the mizzenmast was the merchant captain, a desperate, wrenching look of disbelief on his bruised face.

Percy couldn’t not repress a small snort of laughter when he saw the man. 

The woman at his back noticed. “You aren’t anxious for the state of your captain?”

But he just shrugged. “He was my boss, not my friend.” He hadn’t even been a part of the crew for very long, anyway. Not nearly long enough to call it a home. He’d only joined this ship a month ago, in Havana, because it was headed in the right direction. “And, if I am at liberty to say, he had far too high an opinion of himself and his skills, was nasty on a good day and horrible on the bottle, and he didn’t know his business. Clearly,” he said, gesturing to his new piratical associates. “The wind and sea being what it was, with a little shortening of the sail and adjustment, we could have escaped you. Now, that isn’t a comment on your skill, mind,” he said at the woman’s scowl. “I don’t know your ship or your crew. Perhaps your ship is fast and every one of your sailors knows their business. But even so, it was a long shot. You’d have at least needed to give chase. But we didn’t even try. This was easy pickings, miss.” 

She harrumphed at the address. 

“Ah,” said Percy, “forgive me. Ma’am.” Her eyes narrowed, but she made no sound. 

Though her companion let out a short laugh. “He’s got you there.” 

The merchant captain moaned. Though if it was because of Percy’s rebuke, or just his own delirious pain, could not be determined. 

“I thought you were a cook?” The woman demanded. 

“I’ve worn many hats, ma’am,” he said by way of explanation. He’d been on a dozen different ships, and had had twice as many jobs. That Percy was more proficient in a kitchen than a galley was a distinction that these pirates didn’t need to know. He would cook for them, if that was what they wanted, until he made it to a port, and could find himself a better berth. 

Or maybe he’d just wait until night fell, and go over the side. 

“Gentlemen!” Came the cry from up on the quarterdeck. From behind the mast, a man appeared, tall and blond with a scar across his lip, brandishing a straight sword which gleamed gold in the sunlight. 

The pirate captain, Percy presumed. 

“You have all fought well, and honorably,” said the man, addressing the crew. “Know this: now that the fight is over, you have nothing more to fear from us today.”

After that, things were fairly regular. The surrender negotiated, terms were carried out, as cargo began to be shuttled on board the enemy ship, various crates and barrels of food and sugar and silk. 

And one cook. 

“Get a move on,” the woman pirate grunted, roughly shoving him across the way to her ship, nearly unbalancing the precariously placed ramp, and causing her fellow pirates to curse her name as they struggled not to lose their footing. “No dawdling.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Percy muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. 

The next few moments were entirely predictable. The woman, no longer content to tolerate Percy’s attitude without some sort of repercussion, grabbed his shoulder, and turned him around, her fist already moving on its way to collide with his face. But Percy, having performed similar maneuvers for most of his life, was able to dodge, ducking out of the way, freeing his shoulder from her grasp, and letting gravity do most of the work as she plunged off of the ramp, and into the water, with a mighty splash. She resurfaced, spitting salt water and threats of certain harm. 

For a few, tense seconds, there was silence. Then, just as Percy was sure the woman’s companion would send him to join her, only with an extra knife in his gut, he laughed instead, setting off a round of chuckles, wheezes, and guffaws from the rest of the pirates. 

He knelt down, peeking over the edge of the ramp with an impish grin. “You alright there, love?” 

“I’M GOING TO KILL THAT COOK!”

“Go on with you, then,” he said, waving Percy off. “Mr. McCowen will get you settled while I deal with Clarisse here.” 

Another man then, presumably Mr. McCowen, greeted him with a stony, unamused stare, before grabbing his arm roughly, and hauling him off towards the quarterdeck. 

He was instructed in his manners by the woman named Clarisse, it seemed. 

McCowen deposited him in front of the man he had seen earlier, with the long sword, which he was currently sharpening, seated on a stray barrel at the back of the quarterdeck. The man in question–the captain, Percy remembered–glanced up at them, seeming more bemused than surprised by their sudden appearance. “And this is…?”

“Rodriguez says he’s a cook,” growled McCowen through a Scots accent as thick and strong as hardtack. 

That got the captain’s attention. “Does he now?” He put his whetstone aside, and stood, looking Percy up and down. “Well, we have been running Mr. Valdez ragged for some time now. I’m sure he would appreciate the relief. Name?” 

“Jackson, sir. Percy Jackson.” 

“You a navy boy?”

“No, sir.” Percy had been at sea in one way or another for well over a decade. He’d known many a navy man. They had a way about them. Percy lacked all that structure. He was too impertinent for it. Too attached to his own freedom. He’d gone over the side of two ships and gotten into three separate brawls when it looked like he was about to be press ganged. He wasn’t sure how a pirate captain could make that mistake. 

“Then why do you keep calling me ‘sir?’”

“I was taught to respect my betters.” 

The other man, McCowen, scoffed. “You just tossed Clarisse overboard.” 

“Then she must not have been my better.” 

“And me?” The captain asked. Percy looked at him. Fully prepared to acquiesce to shut him up. 

But… there was something about his gaze. 

“That remains to be seen,” he said, foregoing the “sir” for the moment. Honestly, what captain, particularly a non-naval captain, didn't want to be called ‘sir’? Twelve-year-old midshipmen were awarded the privilege; surely a grown man would demand similar deference from his crew. Particularly a pirate crew.

The captain held his gaze for a moment, blue eyes piercing right through him. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword–loose, untensed. For now. “In any case,” he said, shrugging, “it’s not my decision anyway. The captain will need to speak with you before any offers of employment can be made.” 

Percy started. “You’re… not the captain?”

“He’s not,” came a new, unfamiliar voice from just behind his head.

Whipping around, Percy discovered the source of the strange, light voice which had just spoken in his ear, and saw…

He swallowed. 

It was a woman. Not merely a woman, no, but perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. She wore a lady’s shirt, loose, tied about her waist with a wide belt on which hung a short sheath fit for a dagger. The lace on her sleeves, though stained, was intact, meticulously well-cared for, as were her men’s trousers and her black, leather boots. Around her neck, she wore a gold chain, on which hung a large ring, and her ears were studded with diamonds–no doubt from a former conquest. Yet even such jewels were outshone by her hair, a cascade of golden curls which were drawn about the nape of her neck, and her eyes, a curious, stormy gray, which were set in a cold, hard stare. 

If McCowen had taken lessons in intimidation from the woman named Clarisse, perhaps Clarisse could stand for a few lectures with this woman. 

“Captain on deck!” called the man with the scar on his lip, somewhat redundantly, Percy thought. It wasn’t as though every eye on the ship was not already fixed on them, a little play for their general amusement of the crew. 

“Thank you, Mr. Grace,” said the captain, her eyes never wavering. “And who is your friend?” 

The question was not directed at him, which was all well, as Percy still found it hard to speak. 

Standing from his seat, Mr. Grace, apparently satisfied with his work, sheathed his sword, a measure surely meant to calm, to pacify, to ease his tension. Percy wasn’t certain it was working. Fixed in place by that stony gaze, he found himself fighting the urge to stand taller, to meet it head on, and to overcome. 

A misplaced attempt to intimidate a pirate captain would surely produce a less than favorable outcome. 

“Mr. Jackson, ma’am,” said Mr. Grace. “I believe Mr. Rodriguez intended to introduce him to you as our potential new cook.”

“I see.”  The captain stepped closer to him, her curls swaying gently in the sea breeze. She was a little bit shorter than him, he noticed, though no less fierce and intimidating for it. “And would that be before or after Mr. Jackson here sent Mrs. Rodriguez over the side?” 

There was a small round of chuckles from the assembled crew. Even Mr. Grace cracked a smile. From the corner of his eye, Percy saw the Mrs. Rodriguez in question, sopping wet and glowering up at him from the side of the lower deck as her… husband, Percy supposed… cheerfully squeezed water from her red bandana, smirking up at the quarterdeck. 

Percy swallowed. “That would be before, ma’am.” He winced as his voice cracked, just a touch. Dry throat. Not enough water. Probably. “But, if there is still to be an offer of employment, then I could be available to you and your crew.” 

“Could you?” She asked, quietly. It was not a question which required an answer. 

And yet. “If you’ll have me.”

That, finally, got a rise out of her. “And why should I?” She asked him, raising a perfect brow. “You’ve belittled my quartermaster, made a mockery of my crew–”

“She attacked me first!”

“–And now you’ve interrupted your captain while she is speaking,” she finished. 

“My captain?” he asked, unable to keep the grin off his face. 

A pause, as she pursed her lips, clearly trying to keep her own grin from making an appearance. 

“I’m told you don’t have a cook,” Percy said, taking the initiative. “As I’m told I can make a good meal, as well.” 

Her eyes narrowed, and she looked over his shoulder, where Percy could hear Mrs. Rodriguez going below. 

Mr. Grace, her quartermaster, stepped up to them, nearly coming between them. At some point, without him noticing, Percy and the captain had begun inching closer towards each other. He was so close, now, he could see the little freckles which dotted around the shape of her lips. “My lady,” he said. “A word, if you please?”

With one final significant look to Percy, the captain turned away from him, joining Mr. Grace in the far corner of the quarterdeck for private speech. Percy made to follow them, only to be stopped by McCowen’s firm hand on his shoulder. 

My lady? Well, that was an unexpected honorific. Percy had heard about a small handful of women captains, but normally they preferred the title of ‘captain’ above all else. 

Who was this woman? And what kind of respect had she gained from this crew? 

He turned to McCowen, “How long have you been on this ship?” He asked.

“About a year,” he said. 

“Is that long for the crew, or short?”

“Short,” McCowen replied, curtly. “Most people have been there for 2 or 3 years.” 

That was indeed a long time for a pirate crew. “And how long has your captain been the captain?”

That, unlike everything else, caused McCowen to stiffen. “Our lady has always been the captain. This is her ship.” 

There was that ‘lady’ again. So it wasn’t just Mr. Grace. It was the norm here. The Lady Captain.

Fascinating.

“What’s her name?”

McCowen jerked back. “What?”

“The captain–I mean, the lady, or whatever she’s called. A crew like this, I’d have to have heard of her. Of all of you.”  

The pirate frowned. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know your own captain's name?”

“No.” He leaned close, his Scots accent making the growl gruffer. “And if you want a chance at your hands for cooking, you won’t be asking her Ladyship, either.” 

Her Ladyship. That carried even more weight than a mere ‘our lady.’ 

He glanced back up at the captain and Mr. Grace. If they let him stay, curiosity was probably going to keep him here at least to the next port.

If they didn’t let him stay, hopefully they’d just throw him over the side without any harm to his person. That may be the best thing for him. He suspected staying, getting entangled with these people, would end poorly. 

But damn if he wasn’t interested. 

“Jackson!” called the captain. Having finished her conversation with Mr. Grace, apparently, she beckoned him towards her, already headed down the stairs to the great cabin. “Come.” 

McCowen, very helpfully, pushed him forward. He seemed disappointed when Percy didn’t trip and fall on his face. 

Percy smirked, where no one but the wall could see him. That was one thing about Percy Jackson on board a ship. He didn’t step a toe wrong on board. His impertinence might get him in trouble with a crew or seven, but his sailing never had. He was born for the sea. He even had a trident shaped birthmark to prove it. His mother used to poke at it when he was in the bath, and say it meant he was going to be a great sailor, like his father had been. 

The great cabin was a finely appointed one–far nicer than the merchant ship he had just come off of. Large, open, and airy, it even had an actual door, not merely a temporary partition. The walls, interrupted only by the presence of a large, full bookshelf, were decorated with beautiful stamped paper, silver on blue-green, shimmering in the light which played on it through the woven lace curtains which hung over the wide windows. There was a great deal of it, and it must have been a costly import from China all the way out here. She probably noted his eyes widening. 

“Surprised?” she asked. She was sitting down in her chair, observing him from across her desk. 

“Yes, my lady,” he said, and then reconsidered. “Or captain. I’m not sure what you prefer. But I have never seen a cabin like this. Your ability to maintain such a lifestyle speaks to your success. How strange it is that I’ve never heard of your exploits.”

“I make it a point not to have my exploits heard,” she replied, busying her hands with the tidying of various papers and books on her desk. There was a stack of journals, four high, three of them black, leatherbound, and one in a richly hued red. “You seem quite keen for a new berth, Mr. Jackson. Why?”

“Need I remind you, captain, of the fate of my previous ship?” 

“She still sails,” she said. “There are competent men who can take command of her. Mr. Grace and his men know better than to knock about an enemy vessel too poorly.”

Percy raised an eyebrow, “Well, then I’ll take my leave.” He didn’t move. But he really hadn’t thought she’d let the others go. “Though I don’t know if I can keep all of this,” he waved a hand, but not at her particularly majestic cabin, but at the particularly majestic creature that occupied it, “to myself.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “That path is now closed to you,” she snapped. Her eyes raked over him again, clearly trying to figure him out. And unable to. It rattled her so, a far cry from her calm demeanor above decks. “Why did you volunteer yourself?” 

“Well, I suppose I really thought you were going to light the boat aflame, captain,” he said. “I know a great deal of pirates. And most of them that level swords at your throat and debate killing you need to be sold on the usefulness of your survival.” 

“Clarisse threatened a cook who wasn’t fighting back?” She asked, more annoyed than angry. “I see. But you still seem eager to join.” 

“I didn’t like that ship,” he admitted. “I only joined because a press gang was sweeping through Havana and I know in my bones I’m not meant to be a navy boy.” 

“You’d prefer a pirate’s berth?”

“I’ve served on many ships, my lady,” he said, “but never a pirate one.” 

“You’d prefer it to the Navy.” 

“Oh yes.” 

“Why?” She seemed almost genuinely curious. “No threat of hanging with the Navy. You get prizes, and don’t have to worry about the consequences.” 

“You also can’t find your own way in the Navy,” he said. “I have no desire to find a ship in the Caribbean, and then find myself shipped off to India or the Mediterranean.” It was the truth. “I want to be where I am. I want to be able to go where I need to be.” 

“And where is that?” The captain asked.

Percy was silent, for a moment. “I don’t know yet.” He admitted. “I’m looking for someone. And I need to be able to search for this person on my own terms. Not subject to the whims of a bunch of old men on an upjumped Island across an ocean.” 

“You’re looking for someone?” the captain asked, quietly.

He nodded. 

For some odd reason, that seemed to relax her. “I understand how you feel, Jackson.” She tapped her fingers on top of her pile of journals, her nails thumping against the red leather. “I’m looking for someone, as well.” 

Something passed between them–a kind of understanding. The world was very big, and it was all too easy for someone to disappear into it. All too easy to lose someone in it. 

She sighed, opening a black journal, and taking out an inkpot from her desk. “Go and speak to Mr. Valdez,” she told him. “He’s been our reserve cook for a while now. He’ll get you settled. I’m sure he’ll be glad to have his duties lessened.” 

Percy blinked. That had been… simpler than he expected. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

“My lady, if you please, Mr. Jackson,” she instructed, her eyes on her paper.

So that was how it was going to be. “My lady.” He thought about bowing, then thought better of it. “May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of my new ship?” 

“You now serve aboard the Argo.” She scribbled something on the parchment, her statement clearly intended as a sort of dismissal. 

“The Argo?” He asked, taken aback. “A bold move to name one’s ship after the vessel which killed her master.” 

That got her attention. She raised her eyes to him, head tilted curiously. “A sailor who knows his classics?” she hummed. 

“My mother taught me,” he blurted out, then internally cursed himself. 

He was not here to make intimate friends. The less he shared of himself, the better. Especially with his captain. 

“Indeed,” she said. For a heartbeat, it seemed as though she wished to say more. But then she turned back to her paper. “You may go, Mr. Jackson.” He slipped out of the cabin, breathing a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him. He’d never heard of the Argo before, nor her singularly striking captain, but he supposed it could have been much worse. He could have been made an unwitting guest of the fearsome ship The Lightning Thief.

[mybelovedwoo]

Long Journey - Chapter 4

Life hurts a lot, that's just how it is. At least that is what Destiny thought, living a life where living hurts more than dying. But one day everything changes when an unexpected guest appears. What does this long journey hide behind? Will it be worth it to be alive again?

"Sailors tell stories, Pirates make legends!"

ateez pirate au, fluff, angst, smut

??? x named reader

word count: 2k

warnings: violence, fighting, guns and weaponry, blood injuries, trauma, smut, sa, pa, abuse specific to this chapter: brutality, death

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"So what's the plan?" I ask Seonghwa who I think always knows the most, since his the Captain's right hand. Ever since I met him he seemed the most reliable out of all the boys. I still don't know why, but I feel like I can trust him. On his side, San walks with us out of the Captain's quarter, they rush as if they want to get out of this place as soon as possible. It's quite hard for me to keep up with them, I get a little behind them every second step, and at this time, I run a little bit so I can be next to them once again.

"San already knows everything about the plan, all you have to do is stay unnoticed and listen to him. Don't try to be a hero or anything, you're putting not only yourself in danger with that but also one of our people too. Remember that you are not one of us, if something happens, he will leave you there without any question. Got it?" The Quartermaster had never been this harsh with me before, it really surprised me, but at least I could see where I stood. He stopped in his track."I hope everything goes smoothly tho." Then the tall men left me alone with my partner in this thrilling mission.

"Are you ready ma'am?" The sweet boy with the Cheshire cat smile asked. I swallowed hard, only then I answered.

"I think so, yes." I didn't think I would sound so desperate, but I can't hide my feelings in a situation like this.

"You don't have to worry as long as you're with me." His dimples were so deep, I swear I could get lost in them. They distract me so much that I would believe anything he says to me, that's why I believe that this man is quite dangerous. However, I feel like I shouldn't trust him that easily, based on what Seonghwa said just now, I shouldn't trust anyone on this ship, to be honest. I have to remind myself that I'm not one of them, I don't belong here. It would be best if I disappeared at their first stop so that I wouldn't be a pain in the ass.

-

Walking down the narrow alleys, all I can think about is what would I say to Joanne when it's finally time, but I somehow can't find the right words. She always knew what to say to me, she could always comfort me with only her words. But I'm not her, I'm not such a good person. She sacrifices herself for me, I don't even really know that I deserve this present from her. Surely not, since I should be there right at this moment.

"You are very quiet." San turns back to me and keeps walking backward. He gave me a cloak to put over my head so no one could recognize me. It's a little big on me, it covers almost half of my vision, but I still see the concerned look on his face. "What's on your mind?"

I sigh and wonder if I should tell him the truth, or just brush it off and say that I'm okay. But before I can stop myself, my mouth is already speaking. "I don't think I can do this." I stop and I'm thinking about going back to the ship so I can hide in the bed, I woke up in this morning, so when I get up I can realize that all this was just a dream, and everything will be back to normal.

"What? We're so close, you can't give up right now." San walked up to me, I can see him trying to comfort me, he is hesitant to give physical touch, I think he noticed how I can't handle it. "Tell me what's wrong, what's on your mind?" 

"I just...I feel like I'm not worthy enough to be here...to live. You are all such good people, you, Captain, and all the boys, and Joanne too of course. I should've taken the blame, not her." Tears start to gather in your eyes, but you don't let them fall out of it.

"We are not as good people as you think, Honey." He looks down as if he is ashamed of something, that I don't know about. Of course, I barely know them, but what I've seen in this short period of time, it can't be that bad. "I know you've been through a lot, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve a beautiful life. That's what Joanne wanted too."

I hate it when someone is right, but how could I possibly live a "beautiful" life, if I don't have anybody anymore?

As we continued our journey, I realized I don't have to know what to say in advance, right there at the moment I will know, hopefully. When I was about to take another step I bumped into San's hand, which he held out in front of me on purpose, so that I wouldn't go any further. 

"If I'm not wrong, she is being held in that building. That's what Captain told me" I look at the tall, brick building in front of me. San pulled me closer to the wall of one of the buildings when he noticed two guards at the entrance looking around. 

"How are we going to get in?" It seemed kind of impossible to stay unnoticed by the guards, and my task is entirely that. 

"Do you see that carriage over there? Every day at exactly 10 o'clock, that is in 2 minutes, letters are brought in with the diligence. We will hide there." He looks at me as if he's waiting for some kind of praise.

"What if they find us?" I am not very convinced with this "huge" plan of his.

"They won't. It's a closed carriage, those guards are too lazy to check everything." Since I don't have much of a choice here, I have to accept my faith, so I follow San. I slowly but surely walk up to it while the coachman is at another building as he hands over the letters there. San opens the door for me and lets me go in first, just like a true gentleman. The interior is not too spacious, and it doesn't help either that it is full of letters. I push a couple away when I sit down. 

There is an awkward silence for a while, so I decided to break it because it was killing me. "What is up with Wooyoung? I saw everyone back on the ship except him. Is he okay?" I am truly curious, I hoped when we get back I could talk to him in private. 

"He locked himself in, and he has not left his room since last night. He doesn't open the door for anyone, not even for Captain. I think he was deeply affected by what happened." The pictures from last night suddenly rush through my brain, it's like a really bad nightmare, but in the meantime I'm awake. "But don't worry, he will get over it." I know he just wants to comfort me, but I can't imagine how anyone can get over something like this, I know I can't.

I couldn't speak at the moment, but luckily for me, the carriage started moving right at that second. I heard the gates open when it slowed down just a little bit, I tried to stay as quiet as possible, so they don't find us accidentally.

As soon as we heard them close it back, San immediately signaled me that it was time to leave our hiding place. There was a small door on the right side of the courtyard, and it was wide open. This was our greatest opportunity to get inside the building undetected. I followed San's every move inside the less-lit stone-lined tunnel, he was sure that this leads to the dungeons, where they keep all the prisoners.

And he was right, for the second time today, I thought about it, maybe he is always right, how annoying. As soon as we entered the area where all the cells were, all the prisoners started shouting and throwing things at us. It was really scary, so I stepped closer to San, he didn't look scared at all. 

He approached one of the cells and spoke to the man sitting in it. "Where is the woman they brought in last night?" The man scoffed, and what he said surprised both of us. "They say they are looking for another girl, much younger, just like her," he nods his head toward me, "they say she helps pirates. It won't be hard to find them. Because we all know where all the pirates are. On the sea." He starts laughing, and it gives me the chills. "The woman is dead soon if she isn't already." Carelessly he sits back.

San caught my arms, I didn't have time to resist or push his hands away, he was already pulling me with him. I shout at him. "Where are we going? We haven't found Joanne yet!"

"We must return to the ship immediately. The mission is canceled." He seems very worried, he squeezed my hands more and more tightly as we ran out of the dungeons. I don't know what to think of this sudden change, because what that man said was not true.

We went up a couple of stairs that we didn't pass on the way here. We're walking down the hallway of the first floor when San finally stops. "We're going out of this one." He states. My eyes immediately go wide, I don't want to believe what I just heard. "What!? You're just kidding, right?" I can't believe, he wants me to jump out of a window.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Unfortunately, he didn't look like that at all. To be honest I liked the San from earlier a little more.

He opens the window and leans over it to look around. "Great, look at that hay wagon. We will land there. You go first." He lets me there, I walk there hesitantly, and when I lean out the window, the little bravery I had until now disappears. "San, I can't jump out of this window, it's too high." I turn back to him.

"Unfortunately you don't have any other choice, because no matter what Seonghwa said earlier I won't let you behind at any cost. So either you jump on your own or I throw you out of it, you choose." Somehow, the first option seems more promising.

I stand up on the windowsill and I close my eyes. I count to three in my head and push myself away, still keeping my eyes shut. After a few seconds, I only realize I'm lying in the hay. I did it, I can't believe it. San jumps after me without any hesitation, and I wonder if is he even a human.

"Move along!" He shouts at me. I climb out and I run after him, he goes very fast.

"San, what happened? What that man said is not true, you are not pirates, there's nothing to be afraid of." Finally, I catch up to him, but he doesn't look up at me, he is scanning the ground as if there's something interesting there. "We are!" I stop in my track, at first I just think he's joking, but when he looks at me I can see in his eyes, that he's not kidding at all.

His statement is too shocking to me, I've been helping pirates all this time. I can be hanged for this, I committed one of the greatest crimes of our time. What should I do now? I can't go back to that ship.

In the middle of the big rush, none of us paid attention to where we were going and I only now realized that we accidentally ended up in the main square. There are strangely too many people here, I wonder what's going on. I fight over some people to see what they are looking at so much, not even caring about leaving San behind, I can feel my heart pounding in my ears.

When I saw the horror before my eyes, I fell to my knees and started sobbing. The only person who cared about me, who raised me, was hanging on the gallows in front of my own eyes. I was late, I couldn't say my last goodbye to her.

© belongs to mybelovedwoo

note: soo i know you had to wait for this chapter for a long time, but here is my explanation for that. I'm really sorry.

tell me how do you like this one? i worked really hard on it, so I hope you like it <3

[anmylica]

Fly With the Black Swan

Chapter Two: The Avalanche

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @tiganasummertree @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @whimsicallyenchantedrose @deckerstarblanche

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Their arrival in the tiny port town came late at night. After settling the matter of docking and arranging shore leave for the majority of his crew, save the skeleton shift for the night watch, Hook met with a handful of his most trusted sailors to plan for their reconnaissance trip. After staying awake for way too long that evening making plans, they agreed to set out the following morning in order to rest and gather supplies. The North Mountains were known to be cold and snowy all year long, so Hook and his crew would need to be prepared.

“Make sure that a skeleton crew mans the ship at all times,” Hook repeated to Mister Bones, the second mate, who was to stay with the ship and watch over her. He had already made sure to stress this order to the man, and Mister Bones clearly was weary of hearing Hook’s insistence, nodding his head and waving his hand in the air. Hook ignored the man’s dramatics, well used to the man’s mannerisms due to how long they had sailed together on this ship. “Arrange for shifts each day. I don’t want to come back to the Jolly Roger commandeered by someone else.”

“Aye, sir,” Mister Bones nodded exasperatedly for the upteenth time. Finally satisfied that his ship would be taken care of, Hook turned his attention to the rest of the preparations. He knew his ship would be in good hands with the second mate for all his nagging. Mister Bones had come on as a member of his crew shortly after Hook’s turn to piracy, and he had been loyal ever since. Hook spared no more thought to the matter as he made way into town to arrange for transportation of some sort and the necessary supplies.

The morning had dawned bright, a perfect cloudless day with a comfortable wind that belied the coldness that awaited them as they climbed into the mountainscape of the Diamond Peaks range. They had arranged for horses to take them through the valleys, and the band of pirates collected their mounts from the local stable, a small structure that barely had enough extra horses to lend to the men. Hook had made sure that the owner of the stables would be compensated fairly as a result.

Once they collected their mounts, they made haste for the Emerald Pine Pass, the road through the mountain range that would hopefully lead him to the next step in his revenge. The crew of six plus their captain were in good spirits, singing sea shanties and telling jokes at each other’s expense (especially Smee’s) as they started the first leg of their journey. Starkey, a tall, wiry pirate who served as Hook’s master gunner, told bawdry jokes the entire time. Black Murphy, an older man from the Tolou province of Northern Wei, joined in with Starkey, egging him on.

Damien Salt and John Turk, both from Tirulia, spent their time reminiscing about previous fights they won at taverns they had all been patrons at in the past. One Eyed Jack rode silently alongside Smee, occasionally correcting details in any of the stories told by their accompanying party members. Hook led the pack, slightly ahead of the others, but close enough to laugh and chime in with remembered details of his own. His revenge was never far from his mind, so he was more subdued than his compatriots.

Their journey through the Emerald Pine Pass was slow. Snow banks that hadn’t yet melted in the sun frequently cut off parts of the road, and so their horses had to wade through it. Because of this, they had to pause to take frequent breaks to warm the animals and make sure they were taken care of during the voyage. Other than these minor annoyances, the trip had begun without a hitch. That should have been Hook’s first clue that things were about to go awry.

Their good fortune with the balmy, mild weather didn’t hold up. As they slowly climbed in elevation, the temperature dropped. Hook began to grow more and more concerned at the weather conditions, worrying as to whether he and his men could carry on with their already slow pace. Each day brought worse and worse conditions. As the temperature dropped more and more, Hook recalled how some of the locals had spoken of the quickly changing weather and of how sudden snow storms uncommon for the warmer seasonal months could sometimes sporadically appear. He hoped this was just a fluke and the temperatures would begin to warm again, but his hope was to be vain. On the sixth day of the otherwise boring journey, a blizzard came through the area, covering everything in a blanket of snow and whiting out the pass. Hook and his crew had no choice but to hunker down and wait it out.

“A bloody menace these storms are,” Starkey complained around a feeble fire, shivering as he held a thick fur blanket around his shoulders.

“Aye, the deserts of Agrabah are a tropical paradise compared to this,” Damien Salt sneered, holding out a piece of hardtack on a long stick over the fire in an attempt to thaw it out.

“I think I’d take a typhoon,” Starkey shot back, clenching the fur blanket tighter around his wiry frame.

“At least we have shelter,” Smee said, pointing to their makeshift tent, the only thing protecting them from the worst of the elements. “And we can sing songs to pass the time.”

The group collectively groaned, for singing shanties had gotten old after the third day. John Turk and Black Murphy threw pieces of hardtack at their first mate, who crouched and flinched to try and avoid being pelted. Hook sighed but said nothing, continuing to sip from his rum flask that has refilled itself since the last time he had corked it closed. For as much as he hated most magic with a passion, he had to once again thank the gods for his foresight in having the bottle enchanted to always refill itself. He was going to need every drop being stuck here with this lot.

One Eyed Jack rolled his eyes and got up to brave the conditions to check on the horses rather than stick around for Smee’s usual false cheer. Hook ignored them all as they carried on with their antics, double-checking his calculations for how far they still had to go. He hoped the weather would move on and allow them to carry on with their journey. He sipped his flask of rum as he did so, finding that the warmth from the rum made the temperature in the tent almost pleasant.

The rest of the men eventually broke out a deck of cards and proceeded to play a few rounds of five card poker to pass the time. The storm outside grew worse and worse as the evening proceeded and night fell. They all fell into an uneasy sleep at different points in the night, save for a couple left to keep watch. By establishing shifts, they were able to keep their fire going even through the raging storm. Each one checked on the horses at the start of their watches, so there would hopefully be no problems in setting out once the storm passed.

It was just Hook’s luck that the storm lasted three long, miserable days. As petty arguments began to break out that he would have to quell, he began contemplating just how lost he could get in the melee if he left their sorry arses there. After the latest squabble between Starkey and Smee about going to fetch more firewood, Hook rolled his eyes and drank more from his flask, thankful once again that he had had it enchanted to never run out long before his sojourn to Neverland. He vowed to keep up a steady buzz so as to be able to better tune out the bickering of his crew.

The morning after the blizzard finally blew itself out dawned clear and bright, much like their first day in Sapphire Springs. The light off the snow was blinding in these early hours. Hook applied a new layer of kohl to try and help with the glare, but it did little to actually help. Smee, Starkey, Black Murphy, One Eyed Jack, Damien Salt, and John Turk all followed suit with their own kohl, grumbling and griping all the while about not having warm enough clothes and lamenting that they hadn’t stayed behind on the ship.

The group quickly broke camp after a hasty breakfast of hardtack and cured meats, not wanting to linger long in these colder conditions. The group were mostly silent as they packed their belongings into the saddlebags of their horses, tamping their feet and rubbing their hands as they blew into their cupped fists, trying to keep the cold at bay as they did so.

Black Murphy glanced around warily as he tightened the straps on his saddle. “It’s mighty warm today,” he muttered, his breath coming out in foggy clouds. “Much warmer than it was yesterday.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Damien Salt sneered. “Maybe my hands won’t fall off before I get back to the ship.”

“Your hands were already gonna fall off, Salty,” wheezed One Eyed Jack. “What with all your time in front of the forges repairing our cutlasses.”

“Aye, and if you lot would be more careful about breakin’ ‘em, I wouldn’t have to lose any appendages,” Salt laughed. “No offense, Captain,” he added with a respectful nod of his head.

Hook shrugged the comment off, much like he did the cold conditions they were in. “None taken. Are we all ready?”

A chorus of “Ayes” rang out from the others, and he mounted his horse, tugging his duster closed tight once he was settled in the saddle. “Then let’s shove off. We might not have much time before the next snow storm comes and cuts off the pass entirely.”

The others nodded and mounted their horses as well. They began riding through the snow, their horses trudging along through the thick drifts. As the morning progressed, the day grew warmer and warmer, much to the relief of the crew. They had settled into a companionable silence, speaking only briefly as they moved steadily forward. They ate more hardtack and cured meat whilst on the move around noon.

Shortly after they had finished their meal, a soft thump echoed through the mountain air. Smee looked around in concern, having been the one of the group paying the most attention to their surroundings.

“What was that?” Smee asked. The others listened, but the sound didn’t happen again.

“‘S probably your imagination,” Starkey rolled his eyes. Smee had been famous amongst the crew in Neverland for hysterics at the slightest thing gone wrong.

“I heard something,” Smee insisted. “It wasn’t my imagination.”

“Let’s see if it sounds off again,” Black Murphy sighed as he rolled his eyes, hoping the two sailors would avoid another argument.

The group fell silent again. After a moment, another soft whump sounded, this time from higher up the mountain peak they were under. The sound echoed off the sides of the surrounding mountains.

“There it is again!” Smee exclaimed. “What is making that noise?”

John Turk smirked. “Perhaps it’s your stomach.”

The sailors laughed, save for Hook, who just smiled wryly. Another well-known fact about his first mate was Smee’s propensity for constantly eating, drinking, or even just thinking about food. Smee turned red from embarrassment and didn’t respond.

No one else said anything, content to fall back into silence as they trudged forward. The whumping sounds could be heard occasionally, coming more and more frequently as they continued.

Hook glanced up at the sky. Seeing that it was getting quite late in the afternoon and they had maybe only an hour or two before sunset, he halted his horse.

“Let’s set up camp,” he ordered. “I don’t want to get to nightfall without at least a fire going.”

The pirates agreed and began the process of making camp. Smee went off to gather firewood, and wandered off aways as the rest began pitching tents and readying the ground for the fire.

Just as Smee bent over to pick up a large branch, a large cracking sound echoed off the ridge, causing the pirates to pause and look around in befuddlement. Hook surveyed the mountainside above them. He gasped when he laid eyes on what it was that had caused that sound. An avalanche was coming right towards them from the nearest mountainside.

“Run!” he bellowed, gesturing at his men to grab their horses and try to get out of the way.

Five of the pirate crew managed to react quickly and led the way, but Smee, having been the furthest away, fell behind. Hook was nearly to the tree line when he glanced back to see his first mate struggling in the snow.

He groaned and turned back. He struggled to get his horse to turn back around, but once he did, he made it over to Smee in moments. He wrapped the reins loosely around his hook and reached for Smee's hand. Smee grabbed it and Hook hoisted the man up on the horse’ back in front of him, Smee hanging on for dear life to the side of the saddle as his legs dangled awkwardly in the air.

The horse had already struggled to carry Hook through the snow, but now that it had to carry Smee and Hook, it could barely leap over the snowbanks. The horse whinnied and shrieked in fright as it struggled to maneuver through. Hook could see his men in the tree line, cursing and yelling at him to hurry up. The tree line looked to be safe from the falling snow, and Hook nudged his heels deeper into the horse’s sides, hoping against hope that they would make it.

He was forty feet away. Then thirty. Then twenty-five. He felt his horse struggle even more and begin to slow from the exertion, and he jumped off, growling in frustration. There was no way they were going to make it at this rate.

“Captain!” Smee protested but Hook waved him off.

“I’ll be fine. Go!” Hook ordered. The horse began to move faster to the tree line now that its load had been lightened, and it finally made it to the tree line to safety with Smee dangling from the saddle.

Hook was feet away from the tree line, himself, but as he surveyed the flying snow and debris, he sensed with the kind of perfect clarity that accompanied deadly experiences that he wasn’t going to make it. He ducked down into the snow, covering his head with both arms just as it piled on top of him. His crew yelled frantically as he was buried, but they couldn’t be heard over the din.

Hook felt himself get swept away. Everything was a mass of white. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know which way was up. He couldn’t stop his descent.

He smashed hard into some object buried beneath the snow, knocking what little wind he had left. His body felt as if it were on fire. Still he tumbled on. As he finally, finally ground to a halt, his last coherent thought was of how badly his right side hurt. Hook’s eyes slid closed and he knew nothing more.

After some time, Hook could feel his life slowly slipping from his grasp as he came around back to consciousness. His body hurt everywhere, though the feeling was growing weaker every moment he lay there on the snow and debris. Dazed, his vision blurry, he tried to survey his surroundings. The last thing he recalled was the sight of his crew looking on in helpless terror as the snow overtook him, burying him under the mountain of snow and debris in the avalanche as it swept him away. He had knocked into something hard, and he knew instinctively that it had damaged something inside.

He didn’t have long left.

He squinted his eyes against the brightness of the snow that still surrounded him. The snow was dislodged all around him, rocks and pieces of trees scattered throughout the white from where they had been swept away along with him. He had somehow managed to come to a stop at the surface of the snow, which was lucky even if he were dying. Finally his eyes alighted on a lone dark object in the blinding whiteness of his surroundings. He focused through the dizziness on the figure, his heart seeming to come to a stop when his vision finally focused.

It was a woman, with blonde hair as fair as any in Arendelle that he had seen and eyes as green as the evergreen trees around them. Her lips were the color of blood and her eyes were rimmed in an interesting style of kohl that Hook had never before seen, even considering all of his travels throughout the centuries. Her hair looked fluffy, like the down of a newly hatched chick, and she was dressed all in black. Her legs were encased in the tightest black leather pants he had ever seen on a woman, tighter than even Milah had worn hers. Her black leather jacket looked like it had been taken from the skin of a snake, and it was closed tightly over her form. She wore black knee-high heeled boots.

These details were observed, filed away, and dismissed in a heartbeat. It was her skin that gave away who she was.

Her skin, though deathly pale, was covered in white, glittery scales. Hook had seen only one other person with scaly skin like this in his long life.

This woman was the newest Dark One.

He watched as the woman blinked and then approached him. She knelt down to his left, surveying him critically.

“You don’t have much time,” she said, her voice a husky drawl. “You’ll die soon if something isn’t done to prevent it.”

Hook blinked. He grunted, but didn’t actually respond like he wanted to. The pain surged through him, robbing him of his voice.

“I can save you with a flick of my wrist,” she said mildly, carrying on as if he hadn’t tried to speak. “It’s very easy magic, healing internal damage. But it comes at a price.”

Hook eyed her with alarm. He sneered, gathering his breath for one response, whispered and barely overheard through the whipping wind around them: “I’ll not pay any price for your evil.”

She raised her brows in mild surprise but otherwise gave no other reaction. She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The price is 15 years of servitude. No more; no less.”

Hook sneered, whispering, “I’d die before I become a Dark One’s plaything.” His efforts ended in a hacking cough, spitting out blood into the pure fallen snow.

The woman hummed. “It’s up to you. You obviously were in pursuit of something coming into these inhospitable mountains, but I’m sure your pride is worth giving up on that business of yours. You can die knowing that you failed in obtaining whatever it was you sought.”

She stood silently and turned to walk away, picking her way gracefully through the detritus around them. As he watched her perfectly postured form go, Hook thought about all that he had wanted, and all that he had gone through to get his revenge. He remembered how it had felt to hold Milah in his arms one last time as she lay there on the deck of his ship, panting and moaning from the pain of having her heart slowly crushed to dust. He recalled watching the dust blow into the wind along with all of his dreams and plans for the future. He remembered the high pitched gleeful giggle of Rumplestiltskin’s as the demon murdered his estranged wife and mother of his child in cold blood. He thought of the wracking pain his heart had felt as it shattered beyond repair. The pain of losing his hand was nothing compared to the emotional upheaval her loss had caused. Finally, he thought of leaving the demon itself in this world, of not making it pay for preying upon people and twisting them to its sick desires, and he shuddered out of disgust. He could not let his life’s purpose go unmet. Not now. Not when the creature responsible for every torment he had felt these last centuries was standing mere feet from him at last.

He closed his eyes in despair for the choice he was about to make. He had sworn once he had clawed his way out of indentured servitude that he would never be enslaved to another’s bidding again. He had had to agree to similar terms as these during his long stint in Neverland, playing the errand boy to Pan’s machinations, and he had sworn again, No more. Hook desperately tried to recall Milah’s bright smile, faded from his memory due to the passage of time, and of her gray eyes as they looked on at him in pain and heartbreak. He couldn’t let his revenge go, not at the cost of his own life. Not if the price was another stint of servitude alongside the demon that caused all his pain.

“Wait,” he grunted, closing his eyes against his decision.

The Dark One stopped and turned back. She walked back to his side and knelt by him again. “Have you changed your mind?”

Hook closed his eyes, fighting for coherence through his injuries. “I agree to ten years of service.” He was panting harder and harder, the breath he needed to speak growing harder to muster. If he couldn’t accomplish his goal in another ten years, it would be worth suffering this new Dark One’s wrath as he met his end at her hand. Either he would have his revenge or he would be united at last with his beloved. Ten years would have to be worth it all.

The Dark One considered him. She nodded once and waved her hand over his form. Golden light flowed from her hand and into his body. He felt his body heal, the cuts and lacerations closing up, the broken bones forging new ties, the bleeding and bruising stopping and reversing. He began to breathe easier, taking deeper breaths each time, and finally, he was healed.

He raised up into a half sitting position, surveying his body with awed interest, when he noticed a black band around his wrist just below the edges of his tattoo.

“The band represents your agreement to provide services to me. It is magically binding, breakable only by my magic or your completed time. You will not be able to remove it in any way. Once your ten years are up, it will disappear.”

He looked up at the Dark One in shock and fear. She had already turned her back on him.

“My pet will be along momentarily to bring you to my residence. Don’t try to run; it will only make things worse for you if you do.” She stepped forward and disappeared in a cloud of gray-white smoke.

Hook looked wildly around him. He was alone on the mountainside, the sun quickly setting below the horizon. Even if he could run, he had no way of knowing which way to go. His crew were nowhere to be seen, and the mountain was silent. He started shivering and tugged his leather duster closer to him, cursing his ability to now feel the cold he hadn’t felt while he had been dying.

He didn’t have long to wait before this supposed “pet” came along. A rush of wings sounded from overheard, and he looked up, gasping when he realized what it was.

A giant black swan slowly descended from the air, just a ways down the mountain from him. He gaped at it as it landed and tucked its wings against its body. It stared at him with a familiar green gaze, though he couldn’t place why the eyes looked familiar. He slowly stood from his stooped position.

The bird had to be at least as tall as a house and as wide as a small barn. He eyed its beak warily, but it seemed to want to do nothing but blink at him.

“Are- are you here to bring me to the tower?” he asked with uncertainty. The black swan nodded once.

“Am I meant to walk with you?”

The black swan shook its head.

Hook frowned. “Then how are we meant to go there?”

The black swan lowered its head to the snow and unfolded a wing, dipping it to the snow as well in a strange sort of bow. Hook blinked.

“…You want me to ride on your back?” he asked slowly.

The swan looked up at him, its green eyes blinking, and nodded once.

He sighed in uncertainty and looked at the swan’s back. He wasn’t sure how to mount the animal without injuring it with his hook. He found that, though he loathed the thought of being the Dark One’s servant, he did not want to hurt this beautiful pet of hers. It seemed so innocent.

He stepped up to its side and stroked the feathers along its neck. “I apologize if I hurt you,” he murmured before taking hold of a bunch of feathers and hoisting himself up.

He somehow managed to get settled on the bird’s back without pulling any feathers out, but it had been an awkward mounting. He swayed unsteadily as it raised its head, grabbing on with his right hand firmly to keep from falling off. Hook had just managed to secure his grip on the feathers when the bird unfurled its wings and flapped them hard, launching them both into the air.

Hook grabbed the bird’s neck out of an instinctual fear, closing his eyes against the wind and the rapidly receding ground below. He sat paralyzed, afraid to move an inch lest it dislodge his hold on the feathers in his hand. He had never wished more for the return of his left hand than he had in that moment. After a few minutes, once the ascent had steadied, he slowly opened his eyes. He raised his head up slightly and looked around.

The sight was beautiful, Hook had to admit. Though he had always preferred the sea, there was something majestic about these mountains. The sun’s rays hit the peaks just right, singing a melody of sight. He smiled slightly at the view.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the swan began its descent. He leaned as far over as he dared, desperate to see what their destination was. Growing ever closer was a tall tower resting in a valley, completely surrounded by mountains on all sides.

‘How perfect,’ Hook thought. ‘A prison surrounded by land.’

The tower extended quite high into the sky; it had to be at least seven or eight stories. The landscape around it was littered with trees and bushes and flowers of all colors. The tower’s edifice was cheery looking, casting a reflection on to the lake beside it in the now dimming light of evening. It was a stark contrast to the imposing figure that Rumplestiltskin’s castle cut in the countryside of the kingdom in which he had chosen to live after losing his son to his cowardice.

The brick was a smattering of pink and red and white, and windows dotted the sides in levels. The roofline was pointed, the shingles were a pretty cerulean blue, and a Germonian flag flew at the top of a spire. Hook wondered at the flag and why the new Dark One would live in a tower that sported the Germonian flag. He stared at the yellow buttercup on the crimson background for a moment longer before turning his attention to the rest of the valley.

He must have been a thousand feet above the ground, far higher than he had ever been before, even when his ship had the Pegasus sail as they flew to Neverland. A quick survey of the mountains showed no way out, save the aerial kind. Hook frowned. He knew there had to be some way out of this valley; it was simply a question of finding it. He noticed a stream that flowed through the grounds and into the lake just a ways down the shore from the tower, and Hook wondered whether the stream possibly held a way out.

The black swan dove down sharply, startling him from his thoughts. It glided down, down, until it landed on the ground. He clambered gracelessly off its back, falling to his knees once he was back on the ground. The black swan spread its wings and took back off to the air, flying beyond the mountains until he couldn’t see it any more. He turned back to the tower and contemplated the lone door that led into the structure. Before he could take a step towards it, he fell to the ground hard and passed out. He never noticed the Dark One standing behind him with her hands raised, the remnants of a sleeping powder made from poppies blowing in the wind from where she had blown it out of her hands and onto the pirate captain.

The Dark One stood over him, surveying him with curious eyes in the dimming light, before smiling softly. With a casual wave of her hand, the door of the tower shimmered with the release of a ward that served to keep anyone out of her home away from home. She gave one last lingering look to the pirate captain before going inside, waving her hand once more to send his sleeping form to a guest bedchamber that had never before been used. When she stepped onto the threshold, she closed the door, grinning widely at her new fortune.

Somewhere deep inside, the Darkness gave a heaving shudder at this new turn of events.