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the-kr8tor · 1 month

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Sink or Swim II

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 13 II >>> CHAPTER 14

The air gets warmer as Collette giggles next to you. Arm in arm, John leads the way with a pout from the teasing his sister is throwing at him. Literally, she throws hazelnut shells at him. It sticks in his curls, he shakes his head as shavings of browns fall off like snowflakes.

“I am about to say a rude word,” he says through annoyance.

“Say it!” Collette giggles again, ragging on her brother.

“You f—” John pauses, the three of you stop right in front of the manor. “What's all this?”

A dozen or so carriages are parked up front, filled to the brim with flowers and crates upon crates of ingredients. The smell of saffron and citrus hits your senses. The staff busy themselves with unloading the supplies, frantic feet skedaddling in and out of the manor.

“Are we having a party?” you ask, tilting your head at a peculiar yellow spiky fruit.

“Guess so.” John scratches his head, “why didn't they take the back entrance?”

“Maybe they're in a hurry?” Co utters next to you, already leading you inside as you stare curiously at the weird fruit.

“It’s a pineapple, dear cousin. Come on, you'll miss breakfast.”

“Whatever this party is for, mother and father are going all out.” John sighs out, following close, dodging a staff member holding a tray with hundreds of plates stacked on it.

You have an idea on what this party is for, or who it's for. But you wish that's not the case.

Entering the dining room, your uncle sits at the head of the table, hands cradling his heavy head, groaning loudly at the noises just outside the room. Your aunt seems unbothered, eating her plate of fruit silently.

They don't look up when their children greet them both. They only nod in their seats, not even bothering to look at them. You feel bad for the siblings but they don't seem to be concerned by it at all.

“Sit next to me please!” Collette chirpily says, patting the seat next to her.

The dining room is huge, fitting well with the rest of the manor. Narra floors and numerous paintings adorn the old walls. The table is the longest one you've ever seen, strong mahogany standing the test of time.

As you sit down on the plush seat, your aunt spares you a pointed look. More than what she gave her own children.

“Where's Miguel?” You bravely ask above the silence. “And Lyla?”

Frederick rubs harshly at his face before staring you down with his hungover eyes. “Miguel went out on a walk. And who's the other one?”

“Nevermind.” You take a breath.

A man dressed impeccably in a fancy suit, stands next to you. He clears his throat, looking at you through his nose.

“How do you like your eggs…” he thinks for a moment. “...my lady?”

“Oh,” you're suddenly nervous as the whole table waits for your answer with bated breath. “What are my options?”

“Everything.” He flatly says, hands tucked behind his back.

John looks at you across the table, mouthing something. You don't understand what he's trying to say to you, it looks like he's trying to say ‘collette’ or ‘goblet’ by the looks of it.

You shake your head and say, “I'll have an omelette.”

“Very good, my lady.” He says as he walks out with measured steps.

John subtly gives you a thumbs up, and you have no idea why.

Frederick chokes on nothing. You think he's about to get sick but he chugs water before he can. He blinks rapidly like he's trying to wake himself up.

“Oh,” he says, only now noticing his own children in the room. “Where did you two go off to?”

“The birds, with Y/N.” John monotonously says while he stabs his egg.

“That time of the year huh? I haven't noticed.” Frederick’s words falter.

Collette clears her throat. “Y/N told us about her time at sea! She's very brave.”

“She got shot.” John continues for her with a proud smile.

In truth, you told them just the tip of the iceberg. Not even half of it, you spared all the important details of it, names of people and places, the cruelest parts of it and the crew you've come to see as family and him. You excluded him in the story because you promised to him a long time ago that you'll keep his and the crew's secrets. You intend to honour it until you're in the grave.

“Oh I've heard,” your aunt says in a stiff tone.

“You know I've once encountered pirates.” Frederick says whilst he picks at his fruit. “While I was sailing the hazelside ship, they were a rowdy lot. Rowdier than I am!” He exclaims, “in the end, father didn't pay for my ransom so they just brought me back to the docks after three weeks.” Chuckling, his face falls at the memory. “Well anyway, we have a ship gathering dust in the capital’s docks. She's a beut! You might appreciate her more, dear niece.”

You inhale sharply, tucking the information in the back of your mind. “What is she called?”

“The Osprey.”

“We've only been aboard once, and we didn't even sail!” Collette recalls. “Maybe you can sail it with us!”

John grins excitedly, “yes! That would be amazing!”

“No.” Their mother says before you could say anything. “It’s too dangerous. The waters are plagued by pirates and god knows what.” Her daughter’s face falls. “No.” she says for emphasis.

Your omelette arrives, the butler gives you a nod and your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets at how appetizing it is. The egg is fluffy, cooked to perfection with cheese melting inside. Vegetables and meat are tucked aplenty, you can't help but dig in immediately.

As you gorge yourself, the conversation has ceased. The noble family are eating quietly, no words exchanged, not even an awkward one. Not when their mother dearest glares at her pomegranate.

You finish off your omelette, and a bowl of pomegranate seeds is laid in front of you, replacing the finished plate. Remembering the last time you ate it, and how the juice ran down your arm as he ate next to you, as his warmth spread through you.

Now you're the one frowning at the fruit.

So instead of eating it, you rekindle the conversation. “Are we having a party?”

With your question, Frederick perks up at the mere mention of it. As if he's not suffering from a hangover, he claps his hands together, a grin spreading across his lips.

“Yes! The party, oh I almost forgot!” He beams at you. “It's for you, remember? Back at the palace?”

“I didn't know you were serious.” You chuckle nervously. A party full of aristocrats is the last thing you want or need.

“Oh, I'm at my most serious when I'm drunk!” He guffaws loudly, “we're introducing you to society! It has to be huge—!” Your uncle pauses, his eyes look behind you, his smile faltering slightly, mouth clamping shut.

“What's this about a party?” Miguel stands behind you, freshly pressed dress shirt tucked neatly inside his pants, hair damp and eyes fully rested. He's the exact opposite of you who hasn't rested a wink. Nodding a greeting at you, he places his hand on the back of your chair. “Sleep well?” He asks like he can't see the tiredness under your eyes.

“Mm-hmm.” You nod.

“Liar.” He winks at you teasingly. Turning towards your uncle, his face turns flat. “Frederick, what party?”

“Just a little get together, O’Hara, nothing fancy don't worry.” he chuckles, hiding from Miguel's stare behind his cup of tea.

Miguel grumbles, chest rumbling at the thought of you surrounded by strangers. Leaning down, he asks you politely. “May I speak with you?”

Looking at him in the corner of your eyes, you speak with a tone that Miguel could only describe as annoyance and with the exact same tone as an angry teenager who didn't get what she wanted.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Always, Y/N.”

“Hmm, of course I do.” You mockingly say. Standing up, you leave the table and the uneaten pomegranate. There's eyes on your back, it's better than knives.

Miguel leads you outside and into an empty sitting room. The entire room is purple, lilacs spread around the room from the settee to the curtains.

“What is it?” You swivel on your feet to turn to him with your arms crossed on your chest.

“A party?” He asks, exasperated.

“Hey, I'm not the one who planned this, Miguel.”

“I know you didn't.” Sighing, he plops himself down on the fluffy settee. “It's just bad timing. I can't be there tonight and the next day.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. “What? You can't leave me here. I just got here, and you promised.”

He's leaving you in the vultures’ den. Granted, your cousins are nicer than you thought they'd be, but you can't say for sure for your aunt and uncle; moreso for all the strangers that will visit tonight. Wrong timing is an understatement.

“I haven't been home in years, Y/N.” Miguel avoids your eyes, he doesn't see the fear in them. “I promised my staff that I'll be home for a couple of days to settle my estate and affairs. I haven't seen to any family matters in a long time. I haven't visited my daughter.”

You sit across from him on the coffee table. Elbows on your knees, ducking down to look at his downturned face.

“You'll be back?” You clearly distrust the man to a point, but he's the only person you know well enough in the entire estate. You don't want him to leave because what if he doesn't come back? What if the nobility eats you alive tonight?

He lifts his face to give you a soft smile, understanding your fear underneath your words. “I'll be back, I promise. I'll only be thirty minutes away, so if you really need to see me you can always get on horseback and come visit me within fifteen.” That eases you a bit. “Besides, I'm leaving Lyla with you, just in case. Mudwood manor is always open to you, Y/N.”

“Alright…just— what do I do? Tonight I mean?”

“Just smile and tell your stories. Feed them bullshit if you want to, just don't let their pompous asses get to you, hm?” He pats your bicep. “Can you survive a couple of days without me?”

“Yes, I think so.” You shrug shakily. “I’ll just tell them the story of how I almost got eaten by a sea monster. I'm sure that's interesting enough.”

Miguel laughs from the belly, the sound bouncing off the purple walls. “That's the kind of bullshit they'd eat up.”

“...sure, bullshit.” You clam up. “Just come back?”

“I'll be back, I promise. I'm not leaving you here alone. Your mother will haunt me to death if I do.” Smiling at you, he pats your head before standing back up. He walks towards the door, he turns back, grinning ear to ear. “I left a present for you in your room. I heard you didn't like the color last time. See you in a couple of days, Y/N.”

With a wave goodbye, he leaves the room. You groan audibly, putting your head in your hands, rubbing the heels of your palms on your eyes until little specks of dust appear in your vision.

You need sleep, maybe it's best that you do before you attend the shit show tonight.

—

Even with your protest, the handmaidens assigned to you scour you clean in the opulent tub. They scrub and scrub until you feel like your skin is about to fall off the bone.

Now clean and free of any grime, you smell like any rich noble could be— strong flowery scent from the numerous spritz of perfume and heavy citrus from the soap they used.

The stockings itches, the corset pinches, making you want to run and get naked in the woods instead. But after seeing the beautiful ruby red gown Miguel gifted you, you feel all the ache from the intense scrubbing fade away. Just a tiny bit anyway.

As you stand in front of the large mirror, you finally see your whole self. All lace and silver ribbons. All elegance and none of the person you once were. You suddenly feel like you're staring at a different person. Drowning in red, and jewels that would have fed you during the times you starved on the road.

“I look like a very large apple.” You say out loud. Your handmaidens stifle a giggle. The dress is so wide that you have to place your hands above it. If you sat down, the dress could probably eat you up.

The women bow at you, stopping them halfway with a frantic wave of your hands, they still do it. You don't blame them for it.

As they leave you alone in your room that makes you feel small, you admire the silver bangle in your arm. The accessory is in the shape of a bird, wings stretched around your wrist, face facing you, beak poking your skin slightly.

You suddenly have an idea when you feel for the pearl that you hid inside your corset. Fishing for it like you hid money down your bust, you take out the dark pearl. It still shines in the low light of the oil lamps. Taking a red thread your handmaids used to fix the fit of the sleeves better, and a pair of scissors, you craft a necklace made from the thread and the pearl.

Tying the thread around the dark pearl using the same knot that James and Hobie taught you, you finish it off by doing it twice around the pearl to secure it properly. Tugging and testing the strength of the three threads woven together, you gingerly tie it around your neck.

It sits prettily atop your clavicle next to your mother's golden necklace. You think it fits well together.

With a soft smile and a sob rising above your chest and a deep inhale, you close your eyes while patting the necklaces in one hand, and in the other, you feel for the dagger hidden inside your stockings.

You could cry but there's a sudden knock at your door. Lyla comes inside the room with a curious look. She whistles, ogling your form.

“I knew you look better in red, because christ, I think I'm falling for you, your grace.”

“Stop,” you look at her through the mirror. She wears a dark blue dress, lace adorning her front and sleeves. Silver stars placed around her neck and ears. “I could say the same for you, Lyla.” You tease back.

“Oho!” She saunters over to you, heels clacking on the polished floors. Placing her cool hands atop your bare shoulders, she coos, “our duchess knows how to flirt back. Guess you do learn everything from the streets.”

You roll your eyes, “I didn't learn that in the streets, Lyla.” Scoffing, you shove her hands off. “You just remind me of someone.”

“Aww,” she pouts. “And here I thought we had something.” Giving you her arm, she smiles genuinely at you. “Ready to wow them, Y/N?”

“God no.” You still take her arm.

—

There's a lot of people, a sea of finely dressed nobles clamoring to talk to you. Amidst the crowd gathering around you, there's a few of them who sneer and turn their heads away from you. They hold their drinks like it's about to shatter in their hands, grips strong and clearly annoyed at the newcomer, who in their minds is trespassing in their small circle of nobility.

You turn down numerous drinks since you want to be ready in case something happens. Or someone doing something they might regret once they see the steel of your dagger.

Miguel was right, entertaining them with stories gets their attention away from questioning you with unsavoury queries. After the sixth crowd hearing the ‘fake’ story of the sea monster, they've dwindled out, finding something else to entertain themselves with.

Lyla filters through the people who want to dance with you. She turns down every person she deems unworthy of your hand. Which is most of the people in the entire ballroom.

Underneath all the stuffiness of the event, the gorgeous ballroom is a pleasant surprise. The ancient walls are decorated with lit candles that dance with the music. There's flowers in every table and corner, it helps mask the scent of cigars filtering through the air. The music crescendos as the dancers in the middle finish off with a twirl and a hop. Their dresses whoosh and flap as they bounce, tulles swishing and heels clacking.

You sip at your glass of water, letting the ice inside cool you down. With the amount of people inside the ballroom, it's getting hard to breathe. You're glad that you planted yourself near the balcony where the breeze outside helps you from passing out from the warm air.

Shaking your now empty glass, the ice clinking inside, you huff. Lyla notices the sound and she promptly takes it from your hand before the condensation drips on your expensive dress.

“Be right back, don't move.” She says, wagging her finger at you.

“Wasn't planning on it.” you say above the loud chatter of the crowd and the music from the orchestra, but not loud enough for the people to notice you unattended.

But someone does notice, he comes walking towards you with wide strides and with a wide smile. He bares a striking resemblance to the king, ash blond hair perfectly coiffed, suit perfectly fitted to his broad form.

You don't notice him at first because you have been watching Colette dance circles around the crowd. Her lilac dress dances with her, the flowers in her hair adds to her beauty. John secretly keeps a watch on her too, he stands near the dessert table, mouth full of macaroons, hand occupied with a flute of champagne.

The stranger escapes your attention. With a tap on your elbow, you almost unsheathe your dagger at the man.

“I'm sorry,” he smiles politely. “Didn't mean to scare you, my lady.”

“Who are you?” You feel for the dagger with your hand above your dress.

“Viscount Eugene Thompson, my lady.” He takes your hand, pressing a kiss above your knuckles. Staring up at you through his lashes, lips still near your hand, he smiles, a smile that could make anyone fall to their knees. But you've seen better. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Thank you?” You nervously glance towards Lyla who's currently eating an entire plate of cream puffs. “How may I help you, viscount?”

“A dance, perhaps?” Leaning away, Eugene waits for your answer. “You haven't been dancing and I've seen you watch the dancefloor with longing. I'm here to remedy that. If you'd do me the honour.”

“Uh… I have a bad leg that is currently not for dancing.”

“I'll help you,” Eugene squeezes your hand softly. “You can stand on my shoes and I'll dance for you. It's bad enough that you can't dance in your own party.”

No one comes to your rescue, meanwhile Lyla is scarfing down all the pastries on the dessert table.

With a deep inhale, you smile politely. “Sure, why not.”

Eugene beams at you like he won first place at a pony show. Guiding you towards the dance floor, you once again feel eyes on you.

“Take my hand, put your feet up on mine, and I'll do the rest.” He whispers softly to you.

With a nod of encouragement from (surprisingly) your aunt, you take his hand and the other placed behind his neck. Carefully and blindly feeling for his shoes, you stand on top of the leather that squishes under your weight. Chest to chest, he looks down at you with his sparkling eyes. Did you have a choice in this? Or did he back you into a corner? You guess you'd never know as he glides around the dancefloor whilst you let him carry you around effortlessly.

There are worse partners to be had in this situation.

“So, duchess—”

“My life at sea was tumultuous but rewarding and I learned a lot of lessons from it.” You recite the script you prepared for yourself.

“Not what I meant, my lady.” Eugene chuckles, “I was going to ask how you're faring in all of this. It must be…a lot.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel embarrassed in front of the charismatic stranger. “It’s a lot, but I'll get used to it, viscount, don't worry about me.”

“Please call me Eugene or even Thompson, just don't call me viscount. It makes me sound old.” He laughs, it's light and honest. The sound fills you with ease.

You smile, “just don't call me duchess or my lady and I'll do just that.”

“As you wish, my la— Y/N,” he tests your name on his tongue. “I can't help but worry, you know. I just inherited my title so I know how it feels. Granted it's not exactly the same but I'm here if you need someone.”

“That’s— thank you, Eugene.” You smile genuinely, he squeezes your hands once, the act flinging memories back into your mind.

“Are you alright?” He asks, concerned. “You look like you're about to cry, is it your leg?” Stopping right in the middle of the room, he flits his eyes all over your face and twitching eye.

“No— I…”

“May I have this dance?” A familiar voice asks, and you feel like you're dreaming, suddenly floating through the clouds as your ears perk up from his voice.

Slowly, you crane your neck to look at him. You swear your heart stopped beating but the mere sight of him brought it back to life.

Hobie gives you the smile he reserves just for you, soft and endearing, all love and affection under the grey eyes you've come to love.

“I think she's done for the night—” Eugene tries to finish but you cut him off once you see Hobie's outstretched hand.

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Yes, you may.” Stepping off Eugene's shoes, you take Hobie's hand without sparing the other man a glance.

In your peripheral vision, you see Eugene smile through his annoyance. But your entire attention goes to the man whose hand you're currently holding, whose hand fits perfectly in your grasp.

“What are you doing here?” You say tearfully, voice breaking. The music hides your cracking voice and the crowd hides your unshed tears.

His calloused hands holding you aren't but a memory anymore.

“‘m sorry, I know you told me not to follow but—”

Laughing, you finally feel whole again. “Captain,” you say it with your whole heart. “Is it bad that I'm glad you did?”

“No,” Hobie lifts you up by your waist to place you atop his own shoes. His hand never left your waist as he dances with you. Letting your warmth fill his entire being, he resists the urge to take you away from the prying crowd. “It's not bad. Did you miss me, scuttlebutt?”

“Aye, I did.” You mumble, but you say the words truthfully. “Why are you here, Hobie?” Uttering his name audibly fills you with glee. “Not like I don't want you to be but—” you finally now notice his fine garb.

With a once over, you ogle him. The suit looks like it's tailored for him, cinching his waist perfectly. Even his shiny leather shoes fit him right. The red waistcoat matches your dress. The dress jacket covers his arms, you silently wish it didn't. A rose is pinned on his lapel, he smells of burgundy and sea salt. Home, you thought. You do miss the leather though. A well placed tophat on his head helps conceal his recognizable hair. You wish to see it again.

You haven't seen him dress like this the entire time you've known him. And based on his stories, he has never worn anything like it either.

He looks good, incredibly good in it, but you know him. And you know that he doesn't feel good in it.

Hobie admires you whilst you do the same. He feels like the fishbone stuck in his throat has finally gone away now that he can finally see you close, touch you and talk to you like he used to. Underneath all the silver and frills, he still sees the real you. But he's prepared to love both.

“You're ogling.” You beat him to it. “Where'd you get the clothes? The hat doesn't do you any favours.”

“A lord something something found himself unconscious after accidentally chugging down absinthe that he thought was gin. In his defense it was dark. He was lucky that I was there to catch him, eh?”

“What?” You giggle, hand kneading at the back of his neck. He missed that.

“It wasn't me though.”

“Sure.” You dress glides as he twists the both of you. Gasping, you hold on to him tighter. “Where'd you learn how to dance?”

“We all have our secrets, love.” Love, oh how you missed that.

“It was Finn, right?”

He sighs, smile still on his lips. ��...yes.”

You laugh, placing your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat wash over you. “I can't imagine.”

“I think it's better that you don’t.” He whispers. “Wanna get out of here?”

Lifting your head up lightning fast, you grin widely. “Please.”

“I'm walking out of here in five minutes, join me after three. And tell your bodyguard that you're just going to bed, yeah?”

“Are you finally going to kill me?” You joke, wishing that you could meld closer to him.

“Yes, I've got a pocket of pomegranate seeds at the ready.”

“Alright, wait for me?”

Hobie stops right where you two began. He helps you off with his hands on your waist. His touch lingers there for a second, a second more and it would've caused a scandal.

“Always, love. As long as you're comin'” He leans down, hand holding your own. Kissing your knuckles like a gentleman, his eyes never left yours, eyes crinkling the corners into a subtle smile. “I'll see you outside.”

“Yes.” You say breathlessly.

Hobie leaves, resisting the urge to look back at you.

As you watch his retreating back, your aunt suddenly appears by your side, making your skin jump.

“What—?”

“Who was that?” She commands.

“Lord…” You see a bee buzzing over an apple near the tables. “Applebees. Yes, lord applebees.”

“Huh,” She narrows her eyes, but accepts it as truth anyway. “Never heard of him. Do you know him?”

“Nope.” You act innocently. “Just met him.”

“Hmm, carry on.” Victoria finally leaves you alone.

Weaving through the crowd, avoiding Eugene and other people, you make your way towards Lyla with an excuse that you don't feel so well.

“I can escort you—”

“No need, I've basically memorized the manor now.” A big fat lie on your end. “Enjoy the rest of the party though.” You leave quickly, leaving her to her cream puffs.

—

The night air kisses your cheeks the moment you step outside. Scanning the field and behind the fountain, you see Hobie slink away towards the hedge maze, the top hat discarded just at the entrance. The greenery adds to your excitement.

“Little shit.” You say to yourself as you make your way towards the maze.

Hands lifting up your skirt, the fabric is silky soft and heavy. Yet you practically sprint towards the entrance with a smile despite the cold and spiky grass grazing along your feet. The full moon shines brightly, bronze braziers are placed along the maze, helping you find your way. The smell of dew and grass greets you.

Entering the thicket, you whisper yell for him. “Hobie!”

You jump when he answers somewhere inside the dim maze. “Place your right hand on the right wall, follow it and you'll find me, trouble.” You can hear his smirk through his words.

“You are such an ass!” You say with a giggle, following his instructions. The hedge is rough and pointy under your palm, your other hand is lifting up your dress so you could run faster.

Your leg aches but you don't care enough to notice.

“Hurry so you can beat the shit out of me then!” You now hear him a lot closer now. “Getting warmer, love!”

Huffing, puffs of smoke escape your cool lips. “Oh I'll fucking smack you upside the head.” You hear him laugh loudly at your words. Following the sound of home, you finally make it to the center.

Hobie yanks you immediately, pulling you close to his chest, laughs rumbling his chest as you screech. With a well placed hand on your mouth, you lick at his palm, earning a yelp from the man. Yet he doesn't let you go, instead he hugs you tighter against his chest.

After the laughter subsides and the sound of crickets permeates the air once again, you look up at him, back placed on his steady chest, arms around your torso. You stare at an upside down Hobie. He smiles, breath fanning across your heated face.

“Hello.” Your heart beats louder than a drum with the simple greeting.

“Hi, come here often?” You beam up at him, feeling his muscles relax at the sight of your smile.

“I come here every autumn, how about you?” Hobie pinches your sides, but you barely felt it through the thick corset

“Oh well I kinda live here now.”

“Really? Do I get a discount now?”

“Better, you get to stay here for free.” You stand on your tippy toes to lean further up until the top of your head is perfectly leveled to his lips. Just as planned, he places a feather light kiss that makes you shiver.

Eyes closed, his lips linger atop your skin.

“Are you alright?” Hobie asks, voice muffled by your skin.

“I am now.” You open your eyes to heaven.

He grins, “good,” taking a long breath, he feels like it's the first time he has breathed into you. “That's good.”

“Are you?” Your eyes flashes with worry.

Hobie pushes the thought of the crew leaving him in the void of his mind. “I'm fine, don't worry about me, scuttlebutt.” he turns you in his arms, concerned for the crick in your neck.

Hands splayed over his chest, you feel his heart beating faster. “The crew? Are they alright? No one got caught?”

He nods, cradling your face, noting every difference on your face since he saw you last. Eyes staying on your lips, he resists the temptation.

“Not our first escape. They're nearby and they're alright.”

You exhale, hands sliding up and down, blindly feeling for his skin under all the expensive cloth. It's still him underneath it all, and you're glad.

The dam breaks, thumping your head on his chest, you let out a sob. “I miss them. I miss you.”

“And I, you, love. You have no idea.” As he holds you in his arms, you tell him everything. From how Jessica found you, to how there's a conspiracy against your family.

“Mathias did the deed, Hobie.” He visibly stiffens at the sound of the navy captain's name. “He killed them under the behest of someone more powerful.”

“I know,” you lean away with a raised brow. “I was following you. I'm sorry, I had to know that he wasn't leading you towards your death.” Hobie expects you to yell and get mad at him. Instead you slap his chest weakly with a chuckle.

“Stalker.” You lay his wrinkled dress shirt down gently. “You could've let me know, I can keep a secret.”

“I tried, but I couldn't find an opportunity. You're popular now innit?” He stops your hand, placing his own atop it.

“Just a little bit.”

“I got close once but when I entered your room, you weren't there anymore.”

“I think that's when my cousins called for me—wait, how'd you get in?” Hobie finds your scrunched up face endearing.

“Employee tunnels, there's hundreds of them that connect to each room.” Before you could ask how he knew about them, he beat you to it. “Bribed a handmaiden with one of my necklaces.”

You stare at him with wonderment. “Let me pay you back then.” Untying the necklace you recently made, you place it in his open palm. You intend for him to keep it, in case your reunion is short lived.

Hobie takes it without question. He admires the dark pearl in his hand, the memory of your face after finding it is engraved in his mind.

“Help me tie it?”

You nod with a shy smile, pulse rapidly increasing. “Turn around, cap'n.” He obliges, mirroring your smile. With gentle and tender hands, you tie the red thread around his neck. He turns back around to face you, the pearl shines atop his skin brilliantly.

“Beautiful,” you whisper just to him, his own flustered face is reflected in your shining eyes.

A comfortable silence hangs above the both of you as his hands are placed on your waist, laying there politely. You do the same with your hands around his elbows. The two of you look like you're about to dance with the sound of the crickets as your choice of music.

You expect him to ask you to come with him. To run away and leave the manor, your family's legacy behind. But Hobie doesn't, cannot do that to you, now that you both have the same goal— kill Mathias.

“I’ll help you find whoever killed them, then…” you blink in surprise, heart pounding at his next words. “Come back with me to the mermaid's head? We can find a decent crew there. Then we can avenge them, every single one. After that we can sail wherever you want, see the real world.” His words are genuine, no lie or false hope in his tone. He believes that you and him can do it, do anything as long as you're with him. Gwen and the others are right, he needs to think things through more, and this is his chance to do so.

“You'll stay with me until then?” He nods, eyes serious but full of affection. Breath stuck in your throat, “With what ship?” You ask with a growing smile. Happy that someone finally wants to know the truth with you. Stay with you after so many people have left you.

“We'll find a way, we always do, right?” Hobie squeezes your waist softly. “Or after everything, if you want to stay somewhere, settle somewhere, we can.”

Oh.

“You've convinced me, you had me at ‘wherever I want’” You say, still in disbelief that he wants to stay with you.

You both feel it, the static in the air like lightning is about to strike where you and Hobie stood. He smiles sweetly and you give in.

Leaning in, hands wrapped around the back of his neck, you're prepared to seal the deal with a kiss. Hobie meets you halfway, his lips briefly brushes along yours and it's enough to send electricity through you from his skin alone.

His breath hitches in his throat, chest tightening, affection flowing freely from his fingertips. But before he could properly kiss you, a loud voice calls for you just outside the maze.

You both moved away quickly, flustered faces hiding the giddy smiles you and him both sport. His skin burns while his heart aches. Meanwhile, you can't stop thinking about his lips grazing yours. It'll keep you awake throughout the night.

Lyla yells like someone took her coin. Hobie quickly grabs you by the elbow, pulling you close and then whispering in your ear. His lips brush along the shell of your ear and you shiver from the touch.

“I'm staying at the barn.” Hobie kneads softly at the small of your back, eyes keeping watch at the entrance of the maze. “If you need to see me, there's a tapestry of a unicorn in your room. Flip it away and you'll see the doorway into the tunnels. There will be a fork in the path, take a right and it'll take you outside.” With every word he utters, you melt.

He subtly invites you, and you silently accept with a slow nod.

Backing away when he hears rustling outside, his warm hand remains a second on your heated skin. With a lopsided smile, he turns away.

Fading inside the maze, he disappears into view just as Lyla gets to the center.

“Christ!” She flicks a branch off her hair. “What are you doing here? You said you'd be in bed!”

“I went out for a walk.” Your tone is wobbly. “It's a lovely night for it.”

“Sure sure, you can walk anywhere you want. But come on, not in the ‘murder maze’ Y/N! Miguel's gonna cut my pay if I let you die on my watch!”

“And here I thought you really cared for me, Lyla.” You pout, you're in a good mood. But it could've been better if Lyla didn't show up at the wrong time.

“Pssh, come on, let's get you to bed. It's fucking freezing out here.” She beckons you over, grumbling about being a babysitter.

—

You lay on the soft bed, eyes wide open, arms spread across the large mattress. The blue canopy above you reminds you of the waves on your island. The windows are closed, while the fireplace illuminates the room. Shadows dance in your vision, and you wonder if he's cold.

With a shake of your head, you sit up, gathering enough confidence to visit him. After a minute of slapping your face awake and telling yourself to not be a coward, you finally stand up.

You're in your linen slip, frilly collar and sleeves, white roses adorning the almost see through fabric. It doesn't help much with the cold so you take your robe and hastily put it on. Gathering the thick blanket in your arms, you don't even bother folding it properly as you haul it out of bed to drag the heavy material across the room and into the tunnel entrance.

Stopping by the unicorn tapestry, you flip it open with your foot. A breeze passes by, peeking into the dark tunnel, you bravely walk inside.

You do the same thing like you did in the maze, right hand sliding across the right wall, following it to the exit. Your eyes adjust to the dark, soon after that you can see outlines of the chipped walls. You reach the fork in the path, and just as Hobie instructed, you head towards the right tunnel.

After walking the cool tunnel, you finally make it to a wooden door. It has seen better days, looking like it's about to collapse any second. With a creak, you push it open with your shoulder.

Finally making it outside, you beeline towards the barn. You remember passing it on your way towards the lake, so you strain your ears to hear the sounds of animals, using it as your guide whilst the moon shines a path for you.

The large doors loom above you, it's dark inside based from the crack on the door, a cow moos inside while a horse neighs. With your heart in your throat, you push open the door.

But Hobie flings it open before you could even touch the wood. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, hand trembling on the door. His surprise quickly turns into happiness.

“Can't sleep?” He asks like his legs aren't shaking, threatening to buckle under his nervous self.

“No, I thought you'd be cold.” A lie, in truth, you haven't slept well since you parted ways. “Don't just stand there like a tree branch, help with this.” You practically throw the heavy blanket in his arms. He catches it with an ‘oof’ but his smile stays on his lips. You remember how soft it was.

Hobie pats down the top of the cloth to get a good look at you, he wishes he hadn't for he thinks he died and gone to purgatory.

Your linen slip doesn't hide much as the moonlight perfectly aligns on your back, shining behind you, showing him every curve and dip of your body. The robe doesn't help as it's made from the same cloth, it just adds to his racing heart and rushing blood.

He swears the hay underneath his feet has burst into flames.

“Why are you sweating? It's freezing!” To add to your clueless cruelty, you step closer to him to wipe at the sweat streaming down his temple. “Yuck, Hobie!” You joke with a giggle.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He breathlessly asks, clutching the blanket tighter in his arms.

Your eyebrows knit adorably. “No? I left the dagger under my pillow.”

He clears his throat and his mind, “A-alright. D’you want to come inside?”

“O-oh.” It's your turn to be flustered. He looks beautiful in the low light, it illuminates his best features, which is every part of him in your opinion. “Are your friends alright with you receiving guests?” You tease to hide your current state.

Hobie looks over his shoulder with a laugh. The animals look back at him with blank faces.

“I think they're alright with it, as long as you pick up after yourself.”

“I can do that. I've heard I'm a wonderful guest.” You saunter towards the pen, Hobie’s eyes avoid your backside. “Hi, gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous? That one's new.”

“I'm talking about the horse, Hobie.” He finally looks at you petting the dark horse as the animal snorts in your hand. You giggle, cooing at the docile horse.

“I'm fucking done for.” He whispers lowly, a deep rumble under his chest. Closing the barn door, he tightly closes his eyes with a giddy grin.

“What was that?” You twist around to face him, the horse nudges you, asking for your attention.

“Nothin’” he saves face. “That there is Bernard,” he says while he places the blanket on top of a hay bail. “He's here at the barn instead of the stables because he won't let anyone ride him without bucking them off.”

“How'd you even know that?” You chuckle.

“The stable hand and I are best friends now. He's lettin’ me stay here as long as I stay quiet.”

“Best friends huh? Miles wouldn't like that.” You poke his bicep.

“He'd be devastated.” He jokes back, taking your finger right before you retract it back. Uncurling your fingers, he laces your hand together with his own. Your pulse quickens under his touch.

“Mm-hmm,” you could only say while he looks at you like you found a treasure chest just for him. It's the best you can do really.

“That one is Butter,” He gestures towards the cow staring intently at you like you're made of grass. “Don't try to pet her, she bites.”

“Noted.”

“The goat in the corner eating a shoe is Jack, he likes to ram people.”

“I already like him,” you say through a yawn.

“You can sleep here if you want.”

“As long as I don't share the bed with Butter.”

“Worse, you'll share it with me.”

“Oh that is definitely worse.” You giggle, squeezing his hand. “You drool in your sleep.”

“C’mon, up at the hayloft.” He guides you towards the ladder, grabbing the blanket on the way. “Careful, the second step is loose.”

“I can handle it, expert climber, remember?” Climbing up, you miss the way he averts his eyes.

Finally making it up, you roam your eyes at the small space covered in hay bales. There's a single circular window in the middle of the wall, the light filters through it, shining directly down at the laid out blanket on the floor.

“Nice, you're living in luxury, Hobie.”

He flings the blanket at your feet whilst he still climbs the remaining steps. “Cover yourself up, you'll catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” your skin is on fire from where he touched you.

Hobie hums, avoiding flitting his eyes over to you where the moon shines a spotlight on you. He feels like he's not gonna survive the night, and you think so too.

Sitting down with a groan, he lays his head on the makeshift pillow filled with hay. It doesn't smell as much as you thought it would be, you wonder if these were fresh hay.

“How'd you get to stay here?” You ask, while you sit next to him. He scooches away to make space for you.

“The bloke knew who I was—”

“What?! What if he—”

“We're good, love. He won't tell anyone, he said I've helped his family once, I barely remember it but he was happy to keep everything quiet. Lie down?”

“Are you sure?” His hand guides you down on the blanket, hand on your shoulder, gently pulling you down. And you let him without apprehension on your end.

“‘m sure, you're not the only popular one. Don't worry about it, yeah?” Hobie grabs the blanket from your arms to lay it on top of you both. “This is nice, just like in the island eh?” He pats your arm.

“Only this time there's no sand in our knickers, just hay.” You lay on your side to face him, he does the same. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he smiles, hand splayed over your bicep. “This is a five star accommodation compared to the island.”

You bravely close the small distance, he's so close to you that you could hear his heartbeat.

With trepidation, you can't hold it in any longer, lest you regret never telling him.

“I love you, Hobie.” Staring at his swirling eyes, you feel yourself shudder. “And I know you only love the part of me that reminds you of her. And I'm alright with that.”

He swallows thickly, hands clammy.

“Don't worry, I've come to terms with it.” You choke back, smiling, accepting.

“I love you anyway.” He whispered in wonderment.

You can't believe his words. Eyes glossy, you shake your head. “Don't pity me—”

“I don't pity you, I love you. I-I may have liked you at first because of the similarities. But that phase has passed, the feeling is still there, it's stronger now.” He says truthfully, hands grasping your own, kissing your knuckles softly as tears flow out of your eyes. “Because I know you, Y/N, your hands are gentle when you sew me close. You give the same softness when you do it to my crew. Your eye twitches when you're annoyed. Your ankle never fully recovered after you twisted it, you talk to me like you fuckin' hate me but you smile at me like you loved me from the start.”

He holds you close, grey eyes calm, tears pooling in the corners. “I love the parts of you too. Similarities or not, I would have fallen for you either way.” With a nervous chuckle, he continues.

“I love you as you, not as MJ.”

With his confession, you sit up and then immediately pressed your lips against his own. He gasps, pleasantly surprised. You brace yourself on his shoulders, whilst he holds you in place by your waist. Lips moving in tandem, teeth clacking, breaths heaving above the sounds of the animals below—everything seems to fix itself.

Hobie holds you like how you hold rain in your hands— gentle and cradling the water like you would seep through his fingers.

You feel him smile through the kiss, it makes you snog him deeper. His fingers grasps at your slip, balling it in his fist, a proof that this is real and not a dream his lovesick mind concocted. Sliding his hand above your nape, he pulls you in closer, deeper and deeper the kiss goes, the less air he has in his lungs.

Reluctantly pulling you off with his hand lifting your chin away, you chase his lips before surrendering. “Fuckin' hell, let me breathe.” He chuckles out.

“Sorry.” You stare at his kiss bitten lips, and the sheer your lips left. “I got carried away.”

“Nah, don't be. I've wanted to do that for a while, you just beat me to it.”

Eyes downturned, nose kissing the tip of his own, you exhale like it's the first time you've breathed. “I'm not trying to replace her, I don't want that. I know she will always stay with you. So, let me ask you this— Are you sure? There'll be consequences.”

“I can handle the consequences. I'll fight the consequences.”

You smile. “We'll fight the consequences. Together.”

Hobie chuckles deeply, chest bobbing up and down, lifting you up and down on top of him. Your heart beats sync, grey eyes staring up at you with reverence, a whirlpool of affection swirling inside.

“I think I've got enough air now, do it again?” He asks like he's asking for a second heaping of lunch.

You nod with a grin, and you dig in.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you liked it! ❤️

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