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Relief was not large enough a word to encompass the feeling Elijah had when seeing Madeline firmly planted on the ship’s deck. There had been a pit in his stomach ever since he saw her making a break for it toward the railing. He wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself if she’d made it over. So seeing her standing next to Jack, finally loosened the tight feeling in his chest.

Shaking off the panic, Eli tried to slip back into his usual nonchalance when he watched as Madeline’s gaze dipped down to his bare chest. He stood a little straighter under her gaze, despite the painful protest of his back. Eli realized that Madeline had likely never been exposed to men in this level of undress—so he would sure as hell put on a show.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, a teasing note to his tone. “The sunrise, of course,” he amended quickly as he saw some color spring to her cheeks.

Jack was, of course, the one to ruin the mood—the bastard. However, Eli couldn’t help but feel endeared by the fact that Jack obviously cared about his well-being—though he was irritated at the insinuation that he should stay on the ship.

“Like hell am I going to give up going into town when this is the first time we’ve been to a port in weeks,” Eli told his friend. “And besides, I’ve endured worse.” He wasn’t entirely sure that much was true, the captain had done a number on him, but he wouldn’t give Alistair the satisfaction of keeping him from enjoying the night.

But it was evident the other man wasn’t listening to him anymore as another figure joined them on deck. Princess Rosalyn was easy to spot with her fiery red hair, but what surprised Eli the most about her appearance wasn’t the fact that she appeared well-rested for the first time since they’d met the girl—but by the fact that she came out dressed from head to toe in pirate garb—Jack’s clothes to be precise. Eli had to stop himself from letting his jaw hang open.

“Rough night indeed?” He managed to say before Jack left both he and Madeline to greet the other princess. Eli knew that he would have to get Jack blasted later for the man to tell him anything about his night with the girl—but he was dying to know and if there was anyone who knew how to get Jack drunk, it was Eli.

Madeline, however, was the one to finally begin ushering Eli back into his room—he minded her telling him to rest much less than he did Jack. “Right, I wouldn’t want to ruin the designs.” He joked. Begrudgingly, Eli laid back down on his bed. It was a relief to hear Madeline promise to stay put, but he was itching to do something. Eli had never been good with sitting still.

But there was something about the princess sitting at his side that quieted that restlessness within him. Because once they settled back into Eli’s cabin, without the anxiety of waking to find Madeline gone yet again, Eli began to drift off to sleep. Perhaps he did need the rest she and Jack had been pushing on him. Madeline worked to redress his wounds. Her touch was so gentle he could barely feel it—night and day difference from when Jane was the one caring for him. The next few hours were filled with some idle chatter, but it was mostly companionable silence. It was not something he was used to—half the time he ran his stupid mouth just so he wouldn’t be subjected to the thoughts that would set in once the quiet did—but it was something he could grow to enjoy, Eli had just never found someone to enjoy it with.

Once the ship docked, Eli carefully pulled on a loose-fitting shirt, trying not to wince every time the rough fabric brushed against his skin. He pushed the door to his cabin open, letting Madeline through before him as they emerged to the chaos of the deck. His other crewmates were all too eager to get off the ship and begin partaking in their various vices. Eli spotted Rosalyn’s flash of red hair across the deck first, and then saw Jack’s blond next to her. Without a word, Eli grabbed Madeline’s hand and led her through the crowd to the other two.

He hadn’t thought twice about the act until he felt her soft hand under his calloused one. Eli was not one to overthink, and he hadn’t been flustered by a woman since he was a boy—so why did the feel of her skin make his heart do a flip in his chest? He let go as soon as he reached the others, flexing his hand in an attempt to make it function properly again in the absence of hers.

“Shall we, then?” He asked, ready to get off this damned boat.

Eli was smiling as he and Jack led the girls through the crowded streets of the seaside town. He loved sailing the sea, but that’s what made coming to port so sweet. Fresh fruits and pretty women and people to talk to other than the brooding Hardings or the numbskull crew members on the Retribution. He loved the market stalls and the children running around and the fact that you could buy a drink in nearly every place you went—this port was frequented by pirates after all.

As their group approached the inn, Eli spotted a familiar face just ahead of them. “Morning, Janey,” he called after her. He had witnessed nearly all of Jane’s moods—but the one she was in now was by far one of her more terrifying ones. He hoped the princeling was smart enough to lay low and stay out of her fucking way while she was like that. Eli elbowed Jack and nodded in their direction. “Alistair get after her about last night?” It was the only reason he could think of that would get her in that foul of a mood.

They entered the inn, leaving thoughts of Jane and her foul mood behind. Jack dealt with the woman at the front to book their rooms. Eli leaned against the wall of the tavern, watching Ros and Madeline taking it all in. “So, what do you think of Port Holloway so far? Probably a far cry from Versailles,” he stated. He’d heard of the opulent halls of the French palace, but that enormity of wealth was entirely foreign to him—he couldn’t even conjure an image in his mind that would do the place justice.

Jack motioned for them to follow as a woman led them upstairs and unlocked a room. It was quaint, but was ten times more decent than the cabin Eli had on the Retribution. They warned the girls against leaving the room while they were gone—this was no place to go wandering around unescorted.

They left a member of their crew guarding the door—he was decent enough, but that didn’t stop Eli from bringing the man in close and threatening him within an inch of his life that if they returned to one hair misplaced on those girls’ heads he would personally dole out the punishment. He’d make what Alistair did the night before look like a slap on the wrists. The man seemed to have gotten the message.

It was risky business walking around town with the princesses to two world powers. Which is why he and Jack needed to get the girls clothes that would help them blend in—and would be more comfortable on the ship. Obviously the dresses they were captured in wouldn’t do, they were far too ornate and would draw too much attention to themselves. The pair headed down the street to the clothier, possibly one of the only shops Eli hadn’t frequented on their many stops at Port Holloway.

“Sooo,” Eli broke the silence. “I’m not sure whether to congratulate you, chastise you, or beg you to teach me your ways,” he looked over at Jack who was stoic as always. “I mean, sure, you’re a handsome fellow, but who would have thought you would be the one to charm the princess of Scotland out of her clothes and into yours?” Eli considered. “Or was it a game of dress up?” He feigned a gasp. “Did you try on her dress too?” Eli was basically begging to get hit.

Eli narrowly avoided Jack’s grip as he danced across the threshold to the clothier. And as soon as he entered the store he knew he was way out of his depth. There were dozens of dresses made from dozens of different fabric and patterns and Eli was entirely lost on it all. The only woman he was around with any real frequency was Jane, and he was sure as shit that she knew nothing about modern female fashion. What’s worse, is that Jack looked about as lost as he was.

“How the hell are we supposed to know what they would like?” Eli picked a dress up from the rack, and held it next to another. He had no idea what was in fashion, or what the differences between one fit and another was—and in no time flat, he had four or five different dresses in his arms. So when he saw a tall, immaculately dresses stranger walking past the shop window he didn’t hesitate to stop him.

“Excuse me, sir. In your professional opinion, would a woman like these? Please, I am driving myself mad looking at fabrics.” Eli had genuinely hoped the man would say, she’ll love it—but that was not the case. He took an appraising view of the dresses in his arms and promptly told him they were all hideous. Thankfully, the stranger came in and picked out two dresses that he said any woman would love and Eli had never been more grateful. Until the man asked him and Jack who the dresses were for.

Eli quickly answered, “My wife,” just as Jack answered, “my sister.” He panicked. And when Eli panicked, he tended to say something even more stupid—so he decided to cover up the indiscretion with, “our sister-wives.” No sooner had the words left Eli’s mouth did Jack immediately look tired of his bullshit, and the stranger looked equally confused and disgusted.

“Anyways,” Eli decided to brush past the comment. “Thank you so much for your help. Have a wonderful day.” He pulled out the coins necessary to pay for the dresses, let the shopkeeper box them up, and left the shop with a renewed sense of urgency. When Jack finally caught up to him Eli said, “shut up, I panicked,” before Jack could even get in a word.

The entire interaction was nearly forgotten though as they walked back through the doors to their room at the inn. The girls were sprawled out on the bed, looking clean and content, and he was sorry that they had ever had to feel anything but. Eli shrugged as Madeline joked about getting presents, presenting her with the box in his hands. “I hardly think spoil is the word I’d use,” he chuckled.

For some reason, his heart did another flip in his chest as she lifted the lid to the box and saw the dress lying inside. The way her eyes lit up when she saw it was everything. And for, perhaps the first time in his life, he was speechless as she asked if it was for her. All he could do was nod.

It took him a moment to register what was happening when Madeline threw her arms around his neck. Eli had gone completely rigid, not at all expecting this reaction from the girl, but after a moment he softened into it and wrapped one arm around her waist—hugging her back. He was half afraid she’d feel his heart beating against his chest. Eli cleared his throat as she thanked him and pulled away. “Anytime,” he said.

“What do you say we let the girls dress and show them around town, Harding?” He raised an eyebrow at his friend.

The four of them emerged back on to the bustling streets, when Eli pulled Madeline aside. “I distinctly remember you telling me that, in another life, you’d want nothing more than to live in a town like this and buy fruit from a street stall and be mixed in with the common people, so—“ Eli pulled out his coin purse. “It’s not much, but go crazy.” He gently tossed it to her. And he realized, in a rather dangerous moment of self-realization, that he would do anything to make her face light up again like it did in that moment.

I don’t think he was putting on a show, Princess.

Rosalyn’s cheeks flared red at the memory, and for a brief moment she felt the ghost of Theo’s mouth on her own. She hadn’t known Jack had been there to witness it, and she felt a flash of embarrassment at the revelation. Ros hadn’t much experience with kisses. In truth, she’d only ever been kissed once before. It had been with a visiting dignitary who had kissed her and expected much more than she had been willing to give. So the act was almost entirely foreign to her, and she was sure she looked like a fool while doing it—a thought that only deepened the stain across her cheeks.

“Yes, that was quite unexpected.” She answered honestly. “Theo is a good man. Better than I could have hoped for.” And that much was true too. He was handsome and young and kind. In a political marriage, that was nearly a miracle. Rosalyn’s own cousin had been married off to a fat old prick of a Lord and after their wedding night, Ros had seen the bruises on the girl’s arms. She’d been petrified ever since. So, when she was told that Prince Theodore was her betrothed, she had expected the worst. And been pleasantly surprised.

“But love is a far way off, I can assure you.” She admired him, cared for him even, if only for the care he had displayed for her and his sister. But she barely knew him. And love was not something she’d ever considered having for her husband—not in the world she was raised in.

Ros had been all too eager to change the subject. And when she broached the subject of Jack’s loyalties to Alistair, she realized that she might have strayed too far. It was all too obvious to Rosalyn in the way Jack silently defied the captain at every opportunity, that scorn filled his eyes every time the captain was in sight. But she was sensitive to the fact that defiance was the reason Eli had been the one to end up on the whipping post that night. It was a dangerous observation—but she was dreadfully curious.

She watched him as he struggled with how to answer and it intrigued her even more. When he finally did, she considered his words. “It is honorable to endure a life you loath in order to watch over the ones you love—but it is also stupid to waste your one and only life pretending to be something that you are not.” Her advice was absolutely unsolicited, and she wasn’t entirely sure where she had gotten the gall to speak so bluntly to her captor—but she had never been one to shy away from honesty. And this was no exception. However, it was a subject Jack did not seem intent to pursue beyond the answer he had already given, so she asked another question. About who he had been before this ship.

He painted an image of his life before the Retribution, it seemed peaceful and happy. Rosalyn could almost picture a younger Jack riding through the dunes with a smile on his face—the man who sat in front of her now was a ghost of the image that his story had conjured in her mind.

“It sounds beautiful.” Ros pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her head on her knees as he spoke. She watched him too, the way his eyes grew a little distant as he recounted the place he grew up—his favorite place in the world, apparently. “What was it called?” She asked. Jack had a dazed quality to him as he told her the story, like he had tunneled deep into himself, like he was returning to the person he had been before he was a pirate. But then he blinked and the look was gone—returned were the stoic features she had come to know. There was not a hint of the gleam that had filled his eyes when he talked about Fenris, the sudden coldness in them nearly took her by surprise.

Her gaze dipped down to the dagger between them, and Rosalyn didn’t know if it was the rum or her growing exhaustion but she asked him to teach her to use it. Of course, his first question was whether or not he would regret it if he did. A smile played at the corner of Ros’s lips and she shrugged. “More than likely,” she responded. “But that’s half the fun.” She’d taken to mumbling. Her eyes were so heavy. She just needed to close them for a moment, rest them. She thought she heard something about stopping at a port and Jack potentially buying her a dagger of her own, but it seemed just as likely that she’d imagined it.

——

Ros didn’t remember falling asleep. Just that she had closed her eyes one minute and woken up in a different place the next. She felt well rested for the first time since they boarded the Retribution and she noticed, with no small amount of delight, that sunlight streamed through the porthole beside the bed. The bed. She was in a bed. Jack’s bed.

Ros sat up too quickly and her head throbbed in response. Damned rum. She didn’t remember crawling into bed, only sitting in the chair that still remained pulled out after her and Jack’s conversation the night before. Which meant the pirate had placed her there, and put a thick wool blanket over her in the night as well. Something in her chest ached for the slimmest moment, but she tamped the feeling down.

While the bed was nothing like the feather mattresses she’d grown accustom to in her life, it was much better than the floor of the cell that she and Madeline had been sleeping on. And it was nice to wake to sunlight instead of the damp, darkness of the ships lower decks. She tossed the blanket off of her legs and stood on the tips of her toes to catch a glimpse out of the porthole. Her heart threatened to drop into her stomach as she saw a small patch of land in the distance.

Ros vaguely remembered Jack mentioning something about going to port and gathering supplies but she’d thought it had been a dream. Something like hope—and excitement—bloomed in her chest at that. A port meant people, and people meant they had a chance of being recognized, maybe rescued. At the very least, it meant getting off this damned boat and putting her feet on solid ground. The thought alone made her weak in the knees.

Looking down at the same worn dress she had arrived in, Ros decided that she needed a change. She propped open Jack’s chest again, unsure on whether she felt more or less guilty now that she knew it belonged to him, and found a shirt, trousers, and a leather belt. She peeled off the shift and let it drop to the floor before pulling on the clothes she’d found. They were much too large on her but she tucked the shirt into the trousers and the belt at least kept them from falling down to her ankles with each step. And it felt incredible to be in fresh clothes—not the same stale ones. She didn’t even stop to think what anyone else would think to see her in men’s clothing, only had time to think about her own comfort and mobility. If her parents could see her now, they would drop dead.

She pushed open the door to Jack’s cabin and blinked against the light as she stepped on to the desk. The sun had not yet fully risen and it painted the sky in hues of orange and gold, which was made even more beautiful by the sight of glorious land. Ros tore her eyes away from the growing island on the horizon and saw three figures standing against the railing of the deck. It was a strange form of relief to see Eli standing there with them, granted his posture held an edge of pain, but his otherwise cocky attitude seemed to still be in place. Just the night before she and Madeline had been so desperate to get off this ship they had nearly flung themselves over that very railing and had caused Eli’s punishment—but today, Ros was relieved to see the dark haired pirate standing before them.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the thought as Jack pushed himself from the railing and approached her, his arms crossed. He warily eyed her up and down—not in the way the other pirates on their crew did, but just taking in what she was wearing.

“Good morning.” Ros looked down at herself only after Jack asked her directly, and simply shrugged looking back up at him with a smirk on her face. “You’d left them lying around,” she told him innocently—the same line she’d used the night before when he’d caught her with his dagger. “I was getting tired of wearing the same dress, so I thought a change of clothes was well over due.” She looked past him as Mads was convincing Eli to go lay back down until they docked and she raised a hand in greeting to her friend before they slipped back into his cabin. “I thought we’d decided as much last night?” She taunted. “I’m a brilliant thief, remember?”

Ros walked over to the railing, using her hands to steady herself as she looking down to the churning sea below. It was a long way down to the unforgiving waves. It had been so dark the night before, she hadn’t even been able to see the water—but she couldn’t imagine how terrifying that sight would have been with the storm coaxing the waves even higher. Ros swallowed the nausea roiling in her stomach and turned her back to the sea—fully facing Jack and crossing her arms as she leaned against the railing.

“Are we to accompany you into the port?” She tried her best to sound uninterested, to keep the genuine hope out of her inflection. Ros loosed a breath when he told her they would. She did not want to be left on this ship without them—especially not in that cell. She glanced over her shoulder at the island growing nearer, not daring a glance below. “We have a while to wait then,” she stated. “What do you lot do around here to pass the time?”

—-

The small seaside town had come into view as she and Jack played a hand of cards. It wasn’t the polite parlor game Ros had played at court, but once Jack taught her the rules she was able to catch on rather quickly. She soon discovered that they both did not like to lose, which resulted in her competitive spirit being on full display.

Once the anchor had dropped, they abandoned the cards and joined the growing crowd of pirates as they waited to disembark from the ship. She and Jack quickly found Eli and Madeline, the former of which seemed to be merely muscling through the pain he undoubtedly felt with every step. Ros linked her arm through Madeline’s as they stepped, for the first time in weeks, onto solid ground. Blessed solid ground. She could have cried.

Rosalyn only briefly saw Theo as he trailed behind Jane, who had jumped from the ship, and now made her way through the town at a grueling pace. She managed to catch his eye for long enough to mouth good luck before his blond head was lost in the crowd.

The town was obviously a popular port as people crowded the streets and vendor’s stalls lined the roads. She had never once been able to walk through a crowd with total anonymity and the pure novelty of it was enough to stun her to silence. She kept close to Jack and Elijah as they lead the way, the pair were obviously familiar with these dusty streets. She drank in every detail from the way the women were dressed to the wares sold in the market stalls, until they came upon the Mermaid—the inn they would be staying at.

She was disappointed to be locked in another room when she could be exploring the town, but the sight of the bed and the washbasin was enough to banish the disappointment for now. She collapsed on the bed as Madeline washed herself. The groan that escaped her lips when she settled into the mattress was almost obscene, but it felt so good she didn’t even care.

“We are in agreement,” Ros told her companion as she rose to wash herself as well. “I wish I had never taken those hot baths for granted,” she stated wistfully as she scrubbed at her skin. She even scrubbed her hair with the bar of soap they were provided and rinsed it clean—thankful to wash away the dirt and grime she accumulated on the Retribution. She plopped down on to the bed beside Madeline when she was finished and laughed as her friend mentioned her trousers.

She lifted her legs straight up as if to showcase them, but the pant legs were so large they fell and crowded past her knee. “Thank you, they’re quite comfortable actually,” she laughed. “Most definitely beats being slowly suffocated by a corset,” Rosalyn joked.

The soft bed and the feeling of clean skin had almost been enough to lull her back to sleep, but before she completely succumbed to it, the boys came back into the room carrying boxes. Ros eyed the two warily as she realized that Madeline had hit the nail on the head about them receiving presents.

She accepted the box that Jack handed her, their fingers brushing against one another as she opened it. Whereas Madeline’s dress had been a soft blue, hers was a forest green. The color was beautiful, as was the style. It was no where near as ornate as the dresses she was used to wearing, but it was exquisite nonetheless. Her eyes flicked up to his. “Thank you, truly.” Ros lifted the dress from the box and held it up to her body—to even seemed like it would fit. How two pirates had managed to pick out dresses they actually liked, with their correct measurements, she would never know.

For probably the hundredth time since his short stay on the Retribution, Theodore watched Jane slip away into the night, leaving him alone in that damp, dark, cell. He noticed that this time Jane was sure to turn the lock to his door, even giving it a good tug just for safe measures… she wouldn’t be making the same mistake she’d made that night ever again, that much he was sure. Theo had taken his one and likely only opportunity for escape, the rare moment that the she-pirate slipped up, and utterly wasted it in a brazen attempt at bravery.

It had all been for nothing. The pain his sister had been forced to endure, the trauma his bride would have to live with, all of his damned efforts at securing their safety had been for nothing.

Theodore wrestled with the thoughts of disappointment spewed by his subconscious for the better part of the night, and was praying to whatever God was out there for just a moments rest when he finally slipped into a dreamless sleep. He was awoken the next morning by an unfamiliar face, a pirate grunting at him and motioning him towards the door once the sun has risen. The prince obliged, rising to his feet with a hearty sigh and shuffling towards the now opened door of his cell.

The cold, hard ground of his prison never got any more comfortable, and the boy’s back ached worse with every minute he spent on it.

He was jerked by the elbow down a dark hall and up a flight of stairs where the sun assaulted him with a ferocity he hadn’t expected. Theodore hadn’t been above deck since their capture, aside from the previous night when the only light was shone by the moon. In the weeks he’d spent below deck in his tiny cell Theo’s eyes had become accustomed to the dark, and now that he’d been met with daylight it was nearly blinding. The boy threw an arm up to shield his eyes from the harsh light, hissing in pain while his eyes squinted in an attempt to adjust to the brightness.

Once Theodore’s amber eyes were able to focus, he was met with the angry stare of Jane Harding. She was sporting a fresh welt on her face, and before Theo could ask her what had happened the pirate not-so-kindly told him to keep his mouth shut and drug him along behind her. Once again, Theo figured that it was in his best interest to oblige her in her request.

The prince hadn’t even realized that the ship had made it to port until Jane stepped off the boat and onto solid ground, and he couldn’t help the smallest of smiles that slipped onto his lips at the steadiness beneath his feet. While Theo hadn’t been nearly as sea-sick as his sister when they first joined the Retribution, there was still something unsettling about being at sea and the rocking of the ship that had sat in his stomach since the moment they’d boarded that damned ship.

Theodore followed his escort to the bar without a single word, watching in awe as the crowded streets parted to make way for Jane. This was the kind of treatment he was used to as royalty, and it was uncanny to see the same treatment being offered to a vicious pirate.

Although to be fair, Theo guessed the townspeople were so hospitable to Jane more out of fear than respect.

Regardless, he didn’t mention it as he slid into the bar stool beside her. He let her make her snide comments without the slightest rebuttal, and he let her shove him around with any protest - so out of character for the outspoken and confident prince, but Theo wasn’t sure he had the energy for another fight, especially not with her.

He took the ale slid his way with a courteous nod to the bar maid, glancing sideways as his counterpart slammed one back in record time before getting right to work on her second. “So…” he began, taking a deep swig of his own drink. It wasn’t anything even close to the quality he was used to and he had nearly choked it back up at the first taste, but gritted it his teeth and swallowed it down nonetheless. “Rough night, I assume?” He prodded, nodding towards her bruise stained cheek.

Sure, the entire disaster of a night had been his fault, and maybe he felt a little bad about it, but really Theodore didn’t care all that much. Jane was amusing, and he enjoyed poking fun at her and getting under her skin - but she was still a pirate, a pirate who was responsible for all of the pain he and his beloved girls has been forced to endure. It had been her hand that brought his fiancé and sister onto that ship in the first place, it had been her that’d kept him contained and rotting below deck for all of that time, and it had been her that’d thwarted his attempted escape.

So maybe he didn’t feel that bad after all.

As soon as those twisted words had left her lips, Madeline almost immediately regretted her macabre attempt at a joke. Maddy had been in a very, very dark place since their first encounter with the pirates, and being locked away in that damp and dirty cell had pretty much diminished any lingering thread of hope she’d had left. For the briefest of moments last night, escaping to the sea, to her death, had seemed the better option compared to being forced back into captivity by a bunch of savages. But she knew better now, she recognized that she had been impulsive and regretted her actions deeply. It had resulted in the harm of not only herself, but of all those around her… and she wouldn’t put any of them in that position again.

Before she could apologize and take back her twisted words, Madeline noted what almost looked like an upwards twitch on Jack’s lips coupled with the quirk of his eyebrows. Her heart rate returned to normal and the frog in her throat disappeared as she realized that the blonde boy wasn’t horrified at her joke, but seemed the slightest bit amused as he accused her of spending too much time in the company of his dark haired counterpart. “Wasn’t like I had much of a choice.” She returned with her own hint of a smile.

The newfound comfortability that Madeline had found around Jack and Elijah hadn’t gone unnoticed. After their night of shared horrors and witnessing the effort the two men had put forth in order to minimize herself and Rosalyn’s trauma, a very small sliver of trust had begun to develop between the princesses and their guards. Jack spoke of her well-being and the importance of keeping her best interest in mind, and Mads couldn’t help the small eye roll that followed. “Well that certainly didn’t seem a priority when we were first introduced, now did it? This must be a recent change of heart.” She returned lightheartedly - because who in their right mind would think kidnapping royalty and holding them hostage as prisoners was in their best interest?

Madeline spun around at the sound of a familiar voice approaching, the relief in his sighed words almost palpable. The boy looked frazzled to say the least, a raging case of bed head, his trousers disheveled and sitting crooked across his hips, those amber eyes still frantic though they softened as she and Jack turned to face him. He had stumbled out onto the deck barefoot and shirtless in his hurried attempt to locate Madeline, and Mads wasn’t sure if the act was endearing or simply a desperate attempt to find her before the captain did for a second time. She supposed that it was likely a health combination of the two.

“Good morning to you too.” The blonde replied as she took in the sight of him. He was utterly indecent. No gentleman Maddy had ever encountered would dare present himself half undressed to a lady in the middle of the day - but Madeline supposed that pirates probably didn’t care to be considered gentlemanly anyway. The blonde’s amusement was short lived as a flash of pain clouded his features, her own face tightening in concern.

The princess was grateful that she hadn’t been the only one to notice Elijah’s struggle. Jack’s words were gentle, but there was no mistaking the concern woven through them. “Yes, he should.” Madeline agreed, stepping away from the railing and taking Eli’s arm. “Come, it’ll be hours yet before we reach land, you should rest in the mean time.” She urged, steering him back towards his room. “Plus,” she began, taking note of the angry looking wounds and rough stitching all along his back. “I don’t want you ruining my needlework.” She teased.

Madeline escorted Elijah to his room and wasted little time ushering him back into bed. “I’ll stay put this time so you don’t have to go looking again, promise.” She bargained, draping a thin blanket over him before taking the same seat she’d spent the previous night in. Maybe it was the feminine urge to nurture, or maybe it was the unyielding guilt she felt after everything Eli had done to spare her, but Madeline felt wholly responsible for ensuring his wellbeing while he healed. The girl was aware that it was a silly notion to want to care for her abducter, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling. She was sure that neither she nor God himself would be able to keep him on the boat once they docked, but she would compromise for a few hours of rest and clean bandages while they waited. The two had settled into another comfortable silence as Madeline redressed his wounds and he began to doze. Sometimes they would share small talk, but most of their time was spent quietly.

The tiny port window showed the tiny blip of land in the distance growing larger and larger until eventually Madeline could see the small town in full detail. Once they had docked Elijah and Jack had led the princesses into town, instructing them not to speak to anyone and to keep their heads down. If someone were to recognize them, then they could end up in a much, much worse position than they were currently.

Madeline had already learned her lesson once, and she sure as hell didn’t plan on testing her luck again.

The pirates had taken them to The Mermaid, a small inn positioned just off of the ocean. It was already brimming with townspeople, and several men from the Retribution had also flocked there looking for a bed. Jack had went to the counter to handle the transaction while Elijah waited with herself and Ros, and eventually a busty older barmaid lead them up a narrow set of stairs where there were several rooms above the tavern. The two men accompanying them had given them strict instructions not to leave the room while they ran some errands, and reminded them that the place was crawling with pirates, one would be outside of their door the entire time, and that those men would certainly not be as forgiving as they had been.

Once the boys had left to tend to their tasks the older woman returned with a couple of washbasins and rags, and Madeline nearly wept with joy. She’d gone longer without washing than she had ever gone before, and the thought of being clean again was euphoric.

The water was far from warm and the rags weren’t anything close to the sponges they used at the palace, but Madeline swore she had never been more thankful for a quick wash. She scrubbed at her skin until it glowed red, desperate to rid herself of all of the sins they’d encountered during their short stay on the Retribution.

“I’ve never been so thankful for a bucket of cold water and some soap in my entire life” Maddy sighed wistfully, sprawling back onto the lumpy bed, content as a kitten with a bowl of cream. Sure, the soaps weren’t scented with lavender or vanilla like she was accustomed to, but it had done its job, and that was all she needed. “The trousers are an interesting look - I think I may have to give them a go.” Madeline teased, sitting up on the bed. The two girls washed and relaxed while the boys were off running errands, chatting idly and mostly tried to forget that they were still prisoners despite the pampering they were receiving. A wash and a (questionably) clean bed? After the week they’d had, Madeline had to imagine this is what heaven felt like.

The boys returned a short time later carrying a few boxes, which peaked Madeline’s interest. The blonde propped herself up on her elbows from where she lay on the bed beside Rosalyn, watching as they entered and situated their belongings. “Oh, we get presents now, do we?” She joked softly, not realizing how close to the mark she actually was. “You spoil us, Mr. Hargraves.”

But what Maddy hadn’t expected was for Elijah to actually present her with one of those boxes, lifting the lid to reveal a dress of the softest blue. It took her a moment to register what was happening as she stared at the gown. “For me?” She questioned softly, raising her eyes to meet Elijah’s gaze as he nodded.

The blonde had risen to her knees and threw her arms around Eli’s neck before she had even fully processed what she was doing, squeezing him in a hug. Tears sprung to her eyes, nearly spilling over the edge before she had a chance to blink them away just as quickly as they’d come. “Thank you.” Maddy whispered close to his cheek before pulling away to admire the dress once more.

Not only did confidence seep out of her skin like seawater, but intelligence also followed. While as wicked as she may be in her own right, Princess Rosalyn knew exactly what she was playing at. How every maneuver she made was deliberate, every word that left her lips holding a weight of its own. So, as she looked at him with full sincerity in those ocean-colored eyes, the weight of it made his fingers itch to pour another drink, made him crave the burn of the alcohol to numb the guilt that slithered in. As she talked of kindness, how his actions for her friend conjured a debt to be settled between them, Jack shifted in his chair and his gaze landed onto the rickety floorboards. It was the only safe option.

He had kidnapped her – taken her from everything that she had ever known and dangled her future over her head in a sick, twisted game of power. She owed him nothing. And, as she claimed that she was nothing close to being wise, Jack couldn’t help the scoff that escaped him, as well as the shake of his head. The irony.

As much as it made a small part of him stiffen with jealousy as she talked about her wedding to the prince below, he was thankful for the distraction, even if he noticed the change of tone in Rosalyn’s voice. They were straying into uncharted waters – best to keep reality close by.

Jack could only listen, his eyes still staring at the wooden planks as she talked of her wedding. How it was supposed to be in a month’s time, how they were to tour the seas, overflowing with happiness and excitement. He knew nothing of a life where the entire world could be at his fingertips. Jane would think otherwise, for she had always wanted to chart her own path and The Retribution allowed that for her, but his wants were different than hers. He craved a life with stability, with no worries about what tomorrow would bring him, with a family he could hold and protect, and a love that was stronger than any current. Maybe it wasn’t jealously of the prince that settled in his bones, but in fact, envy of the princess herself.

“Pretend that you’re in love?” he said as she shrugged, his eyes finally lifting to meet hers. “By the way he looked at you out there, I don’t think he is putting on a show, Princess.”

He could feel her stare through the shadows the lone candle offered, how his own form was half-hidden from the flickering light and yet he could see her vibrancy as clear as day. The rum seemed to have softened her harsh edges a bet, for Jack wasn’t able to see as much scorn lacing her stare, but he knew better than to think a few drinks and a late night conversation could sway her opinion of him. He was forced into a life where he would always be the villain, no matter how hard he tried to escape its claws. It was easier to settle into the mold than to be disappointed after trying to break free of it.

Though, as she made that statement, about his loyalties to his captain, Jack froze in place.

His eyes shot to her, not bothering to hide his surprise. While he knew that Ros was bright and knew more than she let on, he hadn’t expected her to be able to read him so easily. Still, he didn’t answer her at first, not exactly sure how to respond. Fall into the old Jack, the one that still resided in Fenris and be honest? Or to take on his role as a pirate and dilute the conversation with lies.

The option he decided on came far too easily with her.

“I stay for them,” he said, his voice soft and yet nowhere near gentle. It was a steady calm, something he picked up from Jane. If Alistair caught wind of this, of what he was admitting… Well, he knew exactly what would become of him. They witnessed it on the deck today.

Realizing that his answer was good enough, she asked another question, about his life before he sold his soul to the sea.

After a few moments of hesitation, Jack shifted in his chair, leaned back so his head rested against the wall as he sighed. “We grew up on the coast, Jane and I. My father was a fisherman while my mother stayed home to take care of us.” He paused as visions of home swept through his mind like a rolling wave. An ache bloomed in his chest, sorrow swam in his eyes. “It was nothing extravagant like your home,” he smirked, “but it was my favorite place on earth. Rocky sea cliffs, rolling hills – once you got over the smell of fish, it was actually quite beautiful.

“We had a couple of horses, Flint and Poppy, though I’m sure they’re long gone by now.” His throat tightened and he swallowed. “Being a fishing town, there weren’t that many kids. But Jane and I made our own fun, riding the horses over the hills. Even as a child, I swore she knew how to handle a horse four times the size of her better than I ever could. She had always been way too fearless for her own good.” Another pause, this one longer than the rest and, for a moment, Jack thought that Rosalyn had dozed off. But, as his solemn gaze flicked to hers, noting every spark of sincerity inside it, he knew he had to cut his story short. All of this was growing far too terrifying for his liking. No matter how much he craved the normalcy he felt with her.

He was thankful for the change of topic as she jerked her chin towards the dagger resting on the table between them. Jack’s eyes darkened and he quirked a brow at her, debate clear across his features. “If I do, will I regret it?” Her reasoning was clear, logical, even, and that ferocity of it hit home with him. The other crewmates were not like him or Eli, and while he knew that Jane would only taunt her for fun, he didn’t trust any of the others. Not one bit.

“Tomorrow we are stopping at a port to restock for a few days. Maybe I’ll buy you your own so you can stop stealing mine.” Though, as he turned to gauge her reaction, he noticed that she had succumbed to the night, her eyes drifting shut and exhaustion claiming her, right there on the table. He waited until a deeper sleep came, watching the steady rise and fall of her breathing, before gently scooping the princess into his arms and bringing her towards his small bed in the corner of the room. To hell with Alistair and his rules and he wasn’t about to carry her through the rain and back down to the cells.

After setting her onto the bed, Rosalyn not even stirring as he placed a thick blanket over her, he then quietly walked towards the other side of the room before sliding down the wall.

And he did not sleep that night.

—----------------

Jack was often not awake to greet the sunrise, and what a shame that was.

There, as Port Halloway rolled into view as nothing but a mound in the distance, he took in the sight of the rich hues of gold and red as they breeched the plot of land like a crested wave. The rising sun sheathed him in all of her glory, only accentuating the blond in his curled hair and the tan that settled across his skin. With the warmth of the rays facing him, the shadows beneath his eyes were hidden and even the promise of a new morning had erased his exhaustion.

A soft, tender voice sounded from behind him and, at his place beside the railing of the ship, Jack looked over a broad shoulder as Madeline made her way to him. He did not fail to notice how easily she walked across the deck – her sea legs were coming along quite nicely and the observation caused his face to soften.

“Morning, Madeline,” he replied as she stopped at his side. Together, they admired the colorful sky, an easy, genuine silence settling between them. He didn’t want to bring up the horrors of yesterday, how seeing his friends back split open would haunt him for years, and for Madeline to suffer the same fate…

Well, he was thankful for the beautiful morning, to say the least. It seemed as if they both needed something to give them hope after being submerged in Hell.

As she joked about the early morning, Jack managed to give her a tender, almost smile. “It’s a rare occurrence for me to be up this early, though I might need to make it a habit.” Her next question did throw him off guard, however, and that rare, delicate expression soon fell. Right, he was the monster here, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. Even at her offer to pull her weight with chores, Jack’s stoney exterior did not budge. “I’ll see what I can do, though I’m sure if chores concerning a pirate ship would be in your best interest.”

He was then pleasantly surprised as Madeline offered a twisted, dark joke with a smile – something he had sworn he would never have been able to witness. It sounded odd, such morbid scenarios spilling from her pink lips, and Jack glanced at her, raising a brow. “You have certainly been keeping Eli too much company. Though I might be a little selfish and ask that the next time you get the urge to jump, make sure someone is there to catch you.”

“There you are,” came an all too familiar voice. Eli slowly made his way towards them as Jack turned to face the fellow pirate, leaning his weight against the railing and crossing his arms.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asked, though there was no threat in his voice. He was simply thankful to see the brute up and walking, let alone still able to maintain that carefree exterior Jack had grown to enjoy. “And my night wasn’t nearly as rough as yours. I’d watch yourself.” The flash of pain that shot across Eli’s face as he clapped Jack’s shoulder was just as stark as the sunrise. Jack’s brows furrowed with concern. “Maybe you should take it easy today, stay on the ship while we –”

His words dissolved in the wind as a streak of auburn hair set foot onto the deck. Despite the drinks they shared last night, the princess looked well rested, the first time he had seen her like that, in fact. Shooting Eli one last warning look, Jack then left the two of them to enjoy the sunrise and started towards Rosalyn, arms still folded over his chest.

“Morning,” he said, eyeing her. She had changed out of her nightgown and the newer clothing looked big and… oddly familiar on her.

“Did you steal my clothes?” asked Jack, humor dancing in his eyes as she shifted his weight, gaze traveling up and down the princess. “First my dagger and now my wardrobe,” a light chuckle floated in the air. “You might be more pirate than I am.”

There was once a time where Jane had wished a man talked about her like the way the prince spoke about his betrothed, and of his sister. Of course, she was sure that Jack still felt the same desire to protect, but his had been muddled down by years and years of refusal on her end -- not willing to give in to societal molds where men were the sole protectors, leaving women to be at their mercy. No, never again would she let that happen. And, with that power surging through her throughout the years and taking claim of the small, timid little girl that once sat behind her blue eyes, Jane became her own protector. Became her own warrior, never needing another. Never wanting another.

And yet, as he spoke with such honor, with such love, something deep within her stirred with envy. How thick his loyalty and dedication ran, how selfless and courageous a man of his upbringing continued to be, even when he had been handed life on a silver platter -- given everything his heart desired. The passion for life still remained, and it was fueled by the very thing Jane had run from years ago.

Love.

Love shielded his fear of her, of the knife pressed to his throat. Jane swore that she could have knicked his skin and the boy still wouldn’t have batted an eye, for he was too nourished by his heart. Such bravery for a soul she had not expected to need it. He was selfless -- sacrificial, even. For the first time, doubt of her own judgment flooded her. This prince continued to surprise her, though she wasn’t exactly sure if she was fond of it. Jane had never grown accustomed to being wrong, after all. She wore victory like armor, so finding someone able to break through her shell…

Well, to say the least, even she was unnerved.

As he threw himself against the wall of his cell, Jane shoved her dagger back into its sheath. His heavy stare pulled her own gaze towards him and she leaned against the bars of his cell, meeting his eyes with less confidence than she had anticipated. Swords and battle and stealth were what she was good at. Actions, not words. He spoke with such honesty and sincerity that it even resonated with her -- a stone cold killer, a girl with the weight of the world against her shoulders, and a heart more frozen than the arctic sea.

“How noble,” was all she could offer him at that moment, as his back slid against the wall and carried him to the floor, shattering the silence. She felt his eyes lingering on her frame, could feel that stare from across the ship, if she wanted. It felt as if he could see through every piece of her – her faults flayed out before him in an act that was far more intimate than sex. It was unwarranted – too new for her to deal with.

Though, that smirk she offered, a break in the mold, sent her back into orbit. Right. He was the one behind bars, she had the upper hand here. Jane would be damned if she allowed some royal twat to finagle his way into her head. Handsome features or not. His voice, such a rich, melodic sound, echoed through the room again, only heightening her own silence. It was a feat she was not comfortable with so, in order to cover up her insecurities, she did what she did best.

Push people away. Fall into the cruel and viscous mold life had set out for her.

“You sound so confident that you’ll get out of here alive.” Her words were serrated like a knife. She chuckled darkly. “But what you fail to understand is that pretending to be a warrior is a lot different than being one. You can train as much as your little blond head desires, but you know nothing of struggle. You will never be in their position. Will never relate to their version of life.”

The lightheartedness in his voice that followed was foreign to her and she blinked at it, not quite expecting to hear a chuckle, more or less see the remnants of dimples across his cheeks as she glanced at him through dark strands of her hair. Scoffing, Jane only added, voice rich and smooth like chocolate, “I can assure you Princeling, I am very knowledgeable. Where it matters, of course.” Her blue eyes landed on his, at that, knowing that he was far too intelligent to ignore the hidden meaning beneath her words. Though, maybe she spoke too soon of the prince’s intelligence, for the next words that tumbled out of his mouth, urging her to call him ‘Your Majesty’ had her reaching for her dagger, had her snort, the action completely pirate.

Your majesty. Yeah right, over her dead body.

He continued to rattle off nonsense, growing more and more confident in her presence as he began to ask questions about the ship. About her. The act not only brought Jane to her feet, but also made her fingers glide over her dagger, made those blue eyes turn into nothing but chips of ice. “Unfortunately for you, Theo, I don’t do bedtime stories.” She swiped the blade of the dagger against the bars of the cell, causing light sparks to fly into the darkened space. A taunting smirk graced her features and she made her way towards the stairs.

“And be careful,” she started lowly, her back towards the cell as she paused at the base of the stairs.

“I wouldn’t sound too eager about your death. I might just make your dreams come true.”

She began her ascent, leaving the ghost of her words, her promise, lingering in the air like smoke.

—----------

She needed ale. And a lot of it.

Alistair’s words with her earlier this morning had left her restless, her entire body taut like their sails, and her mood worse than normal. She had already threatened three members of the crew and the sun hadn’t even been up for an hour. Jack had tried to talk some sense into her, but when she was like this – too caught up in her own head – not even her blood could get through to her. She had brushed her brother off, like many times before.

Even as he tried to take a glance at the welt across her face, how her red cheek was turning slightly purple near her jaw. Where a small cut from one of his rings was just now starting to clot. Alistair’s anger had breeched, his tolerance no longer one she could compete with. It wasn’t the first time he had struck her, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Usually, he kept the injuries somewhere hidden, where only she could see the effects of betraying her captain. But no, he wanted the others to notice her failure. It was not only a warning to her, but to the entire crew, as well.

To never disappoint him again.

Her mood had turned so sour that she wasn’t able to enjoy the thrill of the ship docking, of stepping foot onto solid land for the first time in weeks. Where rain clouded the sky yesterday, the weather in Port Halloway was nothing short of beautiful. The sun doused her in warmth, the sky was absent of clouds and the water was just as blue as her eyes. She had long left the girl that grew surprised at the beauty of the sea, but even this day was one that stopped her in her tracks. Had made her breathe in the salty air.

At the port, birds cawed. The sounds of the water lapping against the docks soothed the anger that began to bubble inside her. As well as the embarrassment. Peace wasn’t something she often felt in her life, but this might be the closest thing she would find.

Until a blond head appeared next to her, until her duties were, once again and quite literally, shoved in her face.

Prince Theodore. The last face she wanted to see this morning, continuing to be her responsibility, even after her slip up last night.

“Shut up,” she growled, even though the boy hadn’t even opened his mouth. He didn’t have to. His silence was so, so loud. Most of the crew was tying up the ship, but Jane was one of the first members off, her eyes already locking onto the inn they would be staying at tonight. As well as the tavern attached to it.

The Mermaid. How charming.

“Follow me, princeling,” Jane grumbled, sliding her gaze to Theo for only a brief moment before snatching onto his arm and tugging him along at her side. “I need a drink. Well, since I’m stuck with you, maybe multiple.” She barely gave him time to respond before her brisk pace carried them into the bustling crowd. The smells of rich pastries and smoked fish quickly infiltrated her nostrils, only enhancing her hunger. The residents stared, which was to be expected. Jane moved like a jungle cat throughout the crowd. Lethal, alluring, silent. There was no hiding who or what she was, not that she would ever be ashamed of it. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as she strode through. It wasn’t a terrible encounter.

“In here,” she murmured to Theo, reaching the door of The Mermaid and shoving her shoulder into it. Already the tavern was filled to the brim with burly folk. Most seemed to still be drunk from the night before, while others were just starting to file in. To enjoy the beautiful day Port Halloway was rarely graced with.

Finding two open spaces at the tail end of the bar, Jane practically shoved Theo into one of the seats before claiming the other one for herself.

“Three ales.” The sound of her slamming more than enough coin onto the bar was enough to garner the attention of a barmaid. The curvy women barely glanced at Jane before starting to fill mugs to the brim and then sliding two in Jane’s awaiting palms. The other going to the prince.

She didn’t even bother cheersing Theo before she started gulping down one of the ales.

Even wounded, Eli didn’t miss an opportunity to try and push Jane Harding’s buttons. “You’re loss,” he chimed in as she made the jab about her bedside manner. He couldn’t help but laugh—then wince—as Jane urged Madeline to sew his mouth shut. Unsurprisingly, that was not the first time someone has shared that sentiment. “But you’d miss the sound of my voice, Janey,” he yelled after her as she left.

Then Jack came rushing in. Jack seemed to agree that Eli’s mouth was the problem. It had been the cause of most of his beatings throughout his life. Maybe he would be better off with it sewn shut. Eli was grateful for Jack though. Even if they fought like brothers, he loved him like one too. And seeing the way Jack’s face fell slightly when Eli used the word, it made his chest ache a bit. He knew that Jack and Jane’s relationship was…strained. He also knew Jane, and knew that she cared more about being a pirate, a damned good one at that, than her familial ties. Jack still tried though. Every damned day he showed up and tried. Which was more that Eli could say about anything he’d ever done.

As quickly as either of them had come, the Harding siblings were gone, leaving Eli and Madeline alone in his cabin. The princess quickly set to work on his back, the pass of the needle through his already torn flesh was a feeling he would not soon forget, and to be honest—despite the pleasant company—he was dreading the next several hours until Madeline would finished.

Eli was surprised by her willingness and her seemingly iron stomach, the first time he’d watched someone get whipped, he’d nearly thrown up over the railing. That weakness had been quickly beaten out of him, but for someone as seemingly delicate and poised as the Princess of France, she was handling herself quite well.

And while the pain of her sewing him back together was immense, what cut deeper was Madeline’s constant apologies. She had nothing to be sorry for. In fact, he was sorry that he hadn’t intercepted the Captain sooner. That he’d hesitated and watched what was done to her. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured her, over and over again. She was helping him, when, in all honesty, he deserved to be left to bleed alone.

When Madeline mentioned that the closest she’d ever come to sewing someone up was her needlepoint, Eli couldn’t help the gruff laugh that escaped his lips. “Can I expect my back to be covered in pretty little designs by the time you’re finished then?” It would be better than the gruesome scars that would surely be there. “You’re doing great,” he insisted as Mads told him she was trying to be gentle. “You at least have steadier hands than Jane. I’m starting to think she’s rough with me on purpose.”

To his relief, Mads finally finished her work with a final stitch and opened the port window to let in a breeze. Eli was thankful for the cool night air to kiss his sweaty, aching skin. And he was thankful for the smell of salt that filled his nostrils rather than the scent of blood. He watched as Madeline then settled on to the floor beside his bed, switching her attention to the tear in her clothes.

Eli must have dozed off, because he only woke when Madeline nudged him awake, asking for his help in tying her dress. While he was asleep, she had managed to restring the part that Alistair had ripped open. He’d agreed almost too quickly, pulling himself into a sitting position. Any movement hurt his back, but she had already done so much for him tonight, he was willing to suffer through it. His wince had elicited another apology from the princess’s lips, and Eli suddenly turned serious. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Don’t apologize to anyone who doesn’t deserve your sympathy.”

Then he took the string in both hands, and quickly realized that he’d never helped a woman restring her dress—had only participated in the untying of it. As he fastened the bow onto her dress, he couldn’t help but drag a finger across her skin near the lash mark she’d received. Just looking at it made him feel ill. He desperately wished he would have had the balls to step up just five seconds before he did. To save her from that permanent reminder of the cruelty of pirates. He apologized quickly, pulling his hand away.

Her next words stung in a way he did not expect. Eli didn’t want her to hate him. For some reason, it seemed crucially important to him that she didn’t hate him. But he did not fault her for it given the situation they’d put her in. So he just dawned his lopsided smile and said, “Good. Smart woman.” Because that was the truth.

The two settled into silence as Madeline spread Jack’s coat over herself. It didn’t go unnoticed, the shift between them. The princess was more comfortable around him than she had been previously, and he was honestly surprised that she stayed there with him. After stitching up his back, which was more than Eli expected to begin with, she decided to stay. It beat her cell, he supposed. Their conversation flowed easier as well. Eli wasn’t sure why he felt so comfortable as to tell Madeline his whole life’s story, but he wanted her to understand how he came to the Retribution, and why he stayed. Neither had anything to do with loyalty to the Captain.

When the conversation turned to Mads, Eli hung on to her every word as she explained her own, albeit different, set of adventures. While Eli’s youth had been spent picking pockets and sailing the seas, Madeline’s had been spent in glittering ballrooms. It didn’t surprise him that her company consisted of princes and successful merchants, each of whom brought her not only exotic gifts, but glimpses of the world beyond the castle as well. It sounded dull to Eli, truthfully, but the sparkle in her eyes made him try to see it from her point of view. She lost him again though when she told him what she believed to be her life’s purpose—to be a pretty bride that wins alliances for her country.

He watched as Madeline seemed to let her imagination drift far away, and caught himself leaning in closer as she spoke again. She described a life in which she could do as she pleased. He nearly choked when she said who she’d like to be like in another life. “Who, Jane?” Asked Eli. He would have never guessed that Madeline, soft-spoken and polite as she was, would have ever wished to be anything even resembling Jane Harding. “Commanding men is one way to put it. They fall to their knees because she’d swipe them out from under them if they didn’t.” Though Eli knew that was the only way for Jane to earn the respect of the other men—to be stronger, faster, and crueler than they were. It possibly was the only reason she’d survived aboard this ship for as long as she had. “I could see you commanding men. I think more would kneel for you than you realize, princess.”

Eli smiled as he listened to what Madeline would do, given the chance to live freely. He never would have guessed that a princess could want anything as mundane as to buy fruit from a street vendor, or be mixed in with the common people. Then again, Madeline was nothing like how he imagined a princess to be. She ended her brief foray into fantasy by stating that she missed home—and all that came with it. “I’d give anything to be in a clean gown too,” Eli joked. “A hot bath does sound nice though.” He agreed. Eli couldn’t remember the last time that he’d had one.

He scanned the princess’s face and shook his head. “I don’t think I could ever be disappointed by you, Madeline.” Eli might not understand her contentment with the lot life had given her, because he had never been content with anything before, but she had been given a comfortable life. And he could not judge her for wanting it to stay that way.

Eli didn’t remember when he fell asleep. Only that he had been fighting it for a while by the time it eventually claimed him. He and Madeline had stayed up talking. For a spoiled, privileged princess, she was quite interesting. The way she talked, thought, dreamed, made him actually shut his own mouth for once, and just listen. She was like no one he had ever met before.

When he woke up though, the room was empty. The candle burning by his bedside had long since extinguished and there was no evidence that Madeline had even been there save for the discarded needle and thread she’d used to sew up his back. Eli woke up a bit more, the first morning he’d woken without a hangover in some time, and briefly thought his encounter with Mads might have been entirely a dream. But his back ached with every breath he took, and that was enough to assure him that it had been real. The captain had certainly made his point. But the girl whose punishment he had withstood the night before, the girl who had nearly thrown herself over the railing, was currently missing form his room. Panic began to creep up his throat as his mind began filling in the gaps for where she could be. The last time she’d snuck away under his watch she’d almost been claimed by the sea. Eli pulled himself out of bed as fast as his back would allow. His pain was dulled only by the sense of urgency he felt to find her.

He emerged from his cabin to the full morning sun, shirtless, his back covered in stitching, and most of his body still speckled with blood. His eyes scanned the deck as he tried to fight the tightness spreading across his chest and the sinking feeling in his stomach. But finally, finally, he spotted two blond heads standing by the railing. Jack and Madeline.

“There you are,” he called, heart still racing. “I thought you’d,” he scanned her face. “Never mind what I thought. Good morning,” he said to both of them. “Rough night?” He asked, turning to Jack and clapping the man on the shoulder, swallowing the flash of pain that followed.

Curiosity had always been Rosalyn’s greatest vice.

Throughout her childhood, she’d always gotten into trouble for getting into things she shouldn’t have. As she grew older, her curiosity grew with her—as did her capacity to hide it. As a woman in a man’s world, sometimes one had to snoop in order to get the upper hand—to even the playing field.

But as the door swung open, Ros realized that she had been caught red-handed.

The man standing in the door way was soaking wet. He lacked a coat, his blond hair stuck to his face, and he looked surprised that she was there—if only briefly—which brought a small smile to Ros’s face. She’d recognized Jack almost immediately. In fact, his dark frame was permanently etched into her mind now that she’d been staring at nothing but him and Eli for the past several weeks. Still, it was a relief to see him in the doorway and not one of the other crew members. She still shivered at the memory of their leering gazes on her and Madeline anytime they made an appearance on deck.

Ros watched as his hand briefly fell to the dagger at his hip but dropped when he realized it was her. She guessed that she didn’t look too imposing of an intruder at the moment—if she had to guess, she probably looked more like a drowned rat. Jack’s hands were still speckled with blood—Eli’s blood—and that fact made her stomach churn once again. So she shifted her attention back to his face.

She wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not, but his gaze lingered on her face for a moment before he even seemed to notice the dagger she had pointed at him. And despite herself, it made her blood warm. Ros merely shrugged as he asked if the dagger she had was his. “You’d left it lying around,” she lied coolly, waving the dagger in front of her. In fact, she’d found it beneath several layers of clothes and several other weapons, but she wasn’t willing to divulge that at the moment.

The last time she’d pointed a dagger at him, she’d held it at his throat. And while she still stood by her statement, that the best pirate is a dead pirate, she was slightly glad she didn’t kill him that day. If only because he had most certainly been right about someone worse taking his place. Ros shuddered to think what the last several weeks would have been like had he not knocked the thing from her hand.

A smile played on her lips when he told her that he was either a rotten pirate or she was brilliant thief. “Maybe a touch of both,” Ros quipped. “You certainly don’t seem as bloodthirsty as the others,” she stated. And he didn’t accept the captain’s orders blindly. No, she saw the defiance in his eyes every time the captain was around. “I am brilliant, aren’t I?” She asked. “Can you imagine? Princess of Scotland kidnapped on her engagement tour and becomes a thief instead of the Queen of France. I’d quite like to see that headline.”

Jack crossed the room and Ros nearly forgot how to breathe as he brushed past to get to the bottle of rum he had stashed there. He poured two stiff glasses and offered one to her as he spoke. Rosalyn rolled her eyes and took a large sip. The taste was revolting but she tried to not let that show on her face. “Where else should I be then? My cell? Tie me up if you must, if you think I’ll run again,” she set her glass down on the desk and held her wrists out to him. When he made no move, she picked her glass back up. “Otherwise, I think I’m just fine where I am,” she told him and drained the rest of the rum.

The liquid burned its way down her throat but warmth bloomed in her chest. She quite liked the feeling. Ros set the glass down again, a silent plea for another round. “And besides,” she started, “I did almost die tonight. Let me enjoy the fresh air for a moment before you shove me back down into the dark.” A fact that hadn’t fully sunk in yet, and made her even more in need of that second drink. She tried to push the panic down. If it weren’t for Alistair catching Madeline, they both might have been lost beneath the waves.

Jack refilled her glass, and maybe it was the rum, but Rosalyn told him that what he had done for Eli and Mads was kind. Because it was. She hadn’t expected such an act from a pirate, and maybe that’s because she had never experienced such loyalty in her life. No one cared for her the way that Jack and Eli and Jane cared for each other. Except for Theo, who had risked his life again and again for her and Madeline. Though she wondered if he did so out of a mere sense of duty or if he actually cared for her. Her lips still tingled from the kiss they’d shared. Yet another thing she wasn’t sure she had the capacity to think about at the moment.

“Then I owe you a debt,” Ros stated. “In Madeline’s stead, for the kindness you showed her because it was just that—kindness.” If pirates dealt in debts, then she would too. She took a seat in the chair that Jack had nudged out for her. Might as well make herself comfortable. Ros chuckled a bit as Jack told her that her company was an improvement to those he’s used to. “Fair enough,” she told him, setting his dagger down on the desk between them.

“Well, you’ll come to learn that I am not very wise.” She admitted, her gaze settling on his face once more. She sucked in a breath as he brought up her impending wedding. Something she hadn’t exactly keen to remember right now either. Ros shrugged.

“Seeing as we’re currently captives, I’d say the wedding is on an indefinite hold.” She took a long sip of the rum left in her glass. “But, it was supposed to be in a month, give or take. We had to do the tour, make the appearances, maybe try and get to know one another while having to pretend that we’re in love,” she explained. It had felt trivial when she’d been on the tour, but now, in an infinitely more dire situation, the whole thing seemed so foolish. “We’d only met a few days before we embarked. Political marriage, and all.” She told him with another shrug.

The rum they’d been drinking was disgusting, but she had to admit that she quite liked the way it made her feel. Like her edges had been smoothed out. Similar to the way the candle light smoothed Jack’s typically hard features and highlighted his blond hair. Ros noticed, not for the first time, that he was handsome. In a way that made her heart beat a little harder in her chest. She was not attracted to a pirate. She could not be attracted to a pirate. He had a large hand to play in her kidnapping and while she was glad she wasn’t being forced into appearances on her engagement tour, she wasn’t sure she’d rather this alternative.

Her eyes flicked down to the blood still dotting his hands. “You aren’t loyal to Alistair,” it was an observation, and one that wasn’t incredibly hard to ascertain. “Why do you stay?” Ros was sure she was prying too deep, and had it been anyone else she would have been too afraid to even ask—but Jack was different from the others. His loyalty was with his sister and Eli, that much was clear. “What did you do before you were a pirate?” Another question that had lingered in the back of her mind for these weeks. Jack had never seemed as at home on the ship as the others had, Eli and Jane included.

She rested her chin in her hands as she listened to him talk. Her limbs and eyes growing heavier by the moment. But every time she closed her eyes for more than a second, she saw the whip crack over skin. She saw blood pool beneath Eli’s knees. Rosalyn had just sat there, helplessly as Madeline was taken, while Theo fought for their lives. She had felt entirely helpless these last several days, and that feeling was eating her up inside. Threatening to hollow her out. She didn’t want to live in fear. “Will you teach me how to use that thing?” She nodded towards the dagger. “I know you’re probably inclined to say no, because it is most definitely not in your best interest, but I—“ She swallowed. “I hate standing by and feeling like my life is in the hands of others. I have lived that way for far too long.”

Ros knew that she was asking a lot, too much probably, but she would hate herself in the morning if she didn’t ask. She rested her head in her hands once again—falling asleep was easy after that.

She awoke to the sound of gulls. Ros sat straight up, realizing quickly that she was in a bed, not a cell. Jack’s bed, to be more precise. He was no where to be found. And judging from the amount of sunlight streaming in through the window, it was well into the morning. She rubbed her eyes and began to question why her head was pounding before she saw the bottle of rum on the desk across the room. How Jack and Eli managed to function after a night of drinking like that was beyond her. She’d only had two glasses and felt like curling back up in bed for the rest of the day. But she stood and went straight to the window. It was a luxury she had almost forgotten, to wake up to the morning light and not to the damp, darkness of a cell.

But what lay in the distance is what truly shocked her. Because on the horizon, Rosalyn spotted land.

Theodore wasn’t sure what had possessed him to do something so absolutely scandalous as to kiss his betrothed square on the mouth in front of all of these people, but boy was he glad that he’d did it. Maybe it was rash and ill-thought out, but it had filled his bruised soul with a beacon of hope. Plus, the look on Rosalyn’s face as he’d pulled away was enough to make that brief kiss worth all of the trouble in the world. The princess had been a facade of forced smiles and feigned politeness since the moment they’d met, and even the letter’s they’d written each other throughout their engagement had been painfully straight-laced - but for maybe the first time, she had a genuine smile spread across her lips. And it was because of him, and his kiss. “The story of a life time - something of a fairytale.” He agreed with a grin of his own.

Theo felt like he was floating after that brief kiss with his bride to be, and would’ve swore nothing could have ruined this moment for him as he turned away… that was until he saw Jane, at least. That bubble of love induced bliss was quickly burst by the razor sharp glare of the she-pirate, her eyes boring into him so hard it was a wonder he didn’t have holes burning through his skull.

Their journey back to his prison was silent, but filled with tension that grew thicker with every step that they took. Finally, the prince couldn’t take the growing animosity any longer, the judgement in her eyes too much for him to bare. He was trying to do the right thing. To be good, and just, and protect his sister and Rosalyn like he’d been raised to do. So, he lashed out - he hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but his nerves were shot and well beyond saving by this point. All he’d wanted was to live up to the expectations of his family, Rosalyn’s family… hell, even his own. But instead he’d nearly gotten them all killed, his sister beaten and his bride traumatized.

He had failed himself and them in every sense of the word, and it was eating away at him.

Still, he hadn’t expected the raven haired woman’s quick reply, the insinuated terrors hidden throughout her words. His expression softened as realization sunk in, his rage dwindling though frustration remained. He wouldn’t torture the girl by asking a question he knew the answer to - the girl had grown up with pirates, practically raised by savages - it wasn’t a stretch to assume that those men had taken advantage of her. So instead he simply nodded his head, dropping the topic of Madeline and Rosalyn’s risked virtue with a quiet “I’ll hold you to that, then.”

Still, he didn’t envy those men. It also wasn’t a stretch to assume what Jane had done to those men once she was older, more able to defend and avenge herself.

“My life isn’t precious to me, Jane. I don’t know what else I have to say to make you see that. They are precious to me, and that is why I am so desperate to do something.” The prince breathed, eyes barely even glancing to the dagger the woman held to his throat. He didn’t fear her, not now - if she’d wanted to kill him, she would’ve done it long before now. “I can’t just sit and wait like a rat trapped in a cage. It’s driving me mad. I.. I need to be able to see them, to know they’re all right. To get away from this god forsaken cell.” The blonde spat, the frustration in his tone beginning to rise once more.

With a grunt Theodore threw himself back against the far wall of his cell, sliding to the ground with his long legs sprawled out in front of him, eyes still locked on the pirate just outside the barred door. “Of course I want to save them.” Theo sighed, his head dropping into his hands for a long few moments. “But if I just sit and ‘listen to you’ and do nothing, then they will continue to be violated, and I can’t just let that happen.”

Raising his head from his palms, Theodore offered the she-pirate a small smirk. “Forgive me for assuming, madam, but I have a hard time believing that a bunch of pirates have those women’s best interest in mind.”

It was clear that the two were tired of bickering with each other, so it didn’t take long for another heavy silence to fall between them. Theodore hadn’t minded the quietness, his head lolling to the side eyes fluttering shut with a single heavy exhale. He wasn’t tired, quite the opposite in fact. His mind was still racing between the fight with Jane and his sisters screams and Rosalyn’s kiss and everything in between… but his body was so exhausted. Every muscle on his body ached with fatigue, down to his very bones.

Yet still, the sound of a feminine voice across the room snapped his head back up to attention. “I have a country to rule one day, very soon.” He grinned, dimples popping out at the corners of his mouth. “Surely I’d need to know how to defend it.” He answered, the memory of hours training with the palace guardsman day after day briefly flashing through his mind “It was important to me that as the head of my armies that my soldiers not only answer to me, but that they respect me as a fellow warrior. I find they respond better to the requests of someone they can view in their same position, not just a figurehead who doesn’t leave the throne.”

Truly, all Theodore had ever wanted was to be a good and righteous king. It was his every dream, and he believed it to be his true calling in life, so he had dedicated every moment of his childhood to learning how to be the best ruler that he could possibly be. He’d sacrificed so much for the throne, though few would see the position of prince or king as a sacrifice, it had always felt so to him.

“Aren’t pirates supposed to be well traveled? Knowledgeable of the world?” Theodore teased lightheartedly at the pirates question of his name. “Prince Theodore Gabriel DeLeroux the third, reigning heir to the French throne.” He introduced in his most official and kingly tone. “Although Theo, or ‘your majesty’ will suffice just fine for our purpose.”

"So tell me, pirate, what's the story here? You? This ship? Where we're going and why you haven't killed us yet?" He pried, not bothering to hide his inquiry.

“Please Mr. Hargrave, I insist.” Madeline interrupted as she pulled the pirate’s arm across her shoulders, helping him to bear the weight despite his attempted protest. The walk to his cabin felt like a marathon as they took slow and steady steps, taking their time as to limit the discomfort Eli was surely in. Maddy was patient with him despite the pouring rain and wandering eyes looking for a bit of exposed skin, she did not rush or complain. Really, who was she to complain? A single lick of the whip and a shiver from the cold compared to the to the flaying that this man took for her seemed like nothing.

By the time they’d made it into Elijah’s cabin and successfully gotten him into bed, Mads feared the poor boy would pass out from the exertion of it all - not to mention the amount of blood he’d spilled. But in came Jack like a breath of fresh air, Eli’s closest friend and the only man that had shown her any kindness since she’d been on this damned ship - well, before today at least. True to his nature, his words were gruff, as if he hadn’t cared at all, but his eyes filled with concern said otherwise. It was the first thing Madeline had noticed about him when they’d first come upon the ship, what set him apart from all of the other pirates, and even some of the civilians she’d met back home - Jack had kind eyes. It didn’t matter how much of a front he put up, Mads recognized a softness in him that she also shared, eyes full of kindness and a heart of hope.

Jack’s stay had been short, but he was quickly replaced by his sister. Madeline didn’t think she’d ever get used to the might that was Jane Harding, and while that woman scared the living day lights out of her, a small part of Madeline still wished she could be more like her. Jane was loud and commanded attention, she couldn’t ever be ignored; whereas Maddy was soft-spoken and found that she easily faded into the background of things. Maybe that was just the life she’d become accustomed to, growing up in the shadow of her brother. However, no matter how hard she tried, there would be no hiding from the wrath of the seawitch as she lashed out at the blonde. Although the verbal assault was painful, Madeline tried to face it head-on. The tiny girl raised her chin just slightly, eyes remaining steadily on Jane’s as she took in each and every word. It wasn’t like any of them were lies… no, the worst part was that she had only spoken the truth.

Elijah was quick to jump to her defense despite his tattered state, and she was thankful when the dark haired woman finally left.

Thus, the two set forth in a long night of idle small talk, quiet humming, and the bandaging of some of the most gruesome wounds Madeline had ever seen. “I’m so sorry.” She would repeat softly. “I’m afraid the closest I’ve ever been to something like this has been needlepoint, and this is very, very different.” She apologized each time the poor boy so much as winced, even though the two had a clear understanding that Madeline was doing her best, and it was going to hurt no matter what. “I’m trying to be gentle.” She insisted with a small laugh each time he poked fun at her.

Once Eli was sufficiently bandaged and settled into bed and resting, Maddy opened the small port window to let in the sea breeze, taking her place back on the floor by the head of his bed. She set to work attempting to salvage the remainder of her dress while keeping it on - which proved much more difficult than she had anticipated, but was ultimately pleased with the outcome after a while. Madeline almost felt bad having to wake the dozing pirate to help her with the ties, but a few glances revealed that he would open his eyes every so often and watch her for awhile before closing them again.

“Oh-“ Madeline breathed, reaching out when Elijah grimaced at the pain of having to move. “I’m sorry,” She began for probably the thousandth time that night, but her breath caught in her throat and the words halted at the feel of his calloused fingers skimming the porcelain skin of her back. A shiver ran down her spine, and goosebumps marked the trail of his fingers once he’d snatched his hands away. For the second time that night she noted that she’d never touched or been touched by a man to such degree - even if it was all perfectly innocent.

Neither of them lingered on the moment, Eli quickly filling the silence with an apology of his own. Madeline simply nodded in response, suddenly feeling very exposed even though she was more covered now than she had been all evening with her dress mended and laced back up. The blonde cracked a small smile as the pirate reminded her that she had every right to hate them, including himself.

“Don’t worry.” She agreed, turning back to face the man with very little distance between them. “I do.”

With that being made clear, Madeline snagged Jack’s freshly dried cloak from the back of a the chair, draping it over herself as she settled back into her spot against the wall. Not that she would ever be fond of the man that’d stolen her from her family and life back home, who’d held a knife to her throat and took a lashing for her within the same week - but she could appreciate the new comfortability they had around each other now. They’d shared a great pain and exposed parts of themselves to one another this night, and that would not be easily forgotten.

The conversation flowed more easily, smiles were cracked more often, and for the first time since they’d boarded this rutting ship Madeline actually felt tired instead of just scared. She trusted that in this room with four walls and no bars for wandering men to peer through, even with a pirate only a few feet away, that she would be safe.

A quiet yawn escaped her as she laid her head back against the wood of the cabin wall, looking up to meet Elijah’s eyes as he explained his loyalty to the ship. Maddy couldn’t say that she understood his loyalty, even after his thorough explanation, but it was nice to get some insight into how these pirates were made. It humanized them for her, because they were not born as devils of the ocean, they were born normal like every other human being - except their life called, or pulled them a different direction than most. If anything, Madeline mourned their innocence, the natural purity that had been stripped away from them the moment they stepped onto this damned ship, a life that they could never get back.

Still, she was caught off guard as the man turned the question around on her. Madeline had never really considered what her life could be like outside of the castle - it had never been a realistic option, so she’d never wasted her time dreaming. “The palace had many adventures, but not the kind that you are used to.” Mads mused, the picture of her home becoming very clear in her mind. “We had parties and hosted guests from all kinds of foreign places, and I got to see what the world was like through their eyes. A prince from Monaco telling me about the beaches and vegetation around his castle, bringing me pastries and treats native to his home. A wealthy merchant brining back mangos and colorful gowns from India - I experienced all of these beautiful places and their people without ever having to leave my home.” The blonde sighed wistfully, caught up in her daydream and missing those parts of her life. “Most days were rather dull, needlepoint with the ladies, riding with the younger children, practicing my fortes on the piano, entertaining suitors-“ She waved her hand, as if this were all common knowledge to him. “You know, the usual. My entire lives purpose is to marry a wealthy prince who will ally their nation with France and bring my brother armies. I’m paraded around like a china doll at home, and my only responsibility is to look pretty and woo men for the country’s benefit. It isn’t ideal, but it’s comfortable, and its safe, and I never have to question who I am or what my purpose is - and I can find peace in a life like that.”

With another sigh, Madeline’s seemed to drift very far away again as she imagined an alternate world. “In another life, I think I would like to be bold. I’d want to command men like that girl that you’re so fond of, the one that was in here earlier does.” Okay sure, maybe she was prying a little, but what else was she supposed to do when she was stuck on a pirate ship? Meddling in the personal lives of pirates was the only sort of entertainment she had. “All she has to do is speak and men fall to their knees, she’s never scared of them. I’d never marry, and if I did it would be my own choice. I’d visit any little town I wanted to and spend time in each of the shops. I would buy fruit from those little stands that line the streets, and give sweets to all of the little children running about. I would learn to cook, and I imagine I would quite like the camaraderie of being mixed in with the common people. Sometimes my life feels so cold and far away from other people, aside from my family and the staff.” A yawn escaped her as her cheek fell into her palm, propped up on the corner of the cot that Elijah occupied. The girl’s eyes grew heavier and heavier as she described how she would like to live if she hadn’t been born into royalty, her mind beginning to drift into unconsciousness even as she spoke. “But still,” She finished, eyes fluttering open once more. “I miss my home so dearly, my family and friends. I miss having a hot bath and soft bed to end every night. I miss the food and the dresses, and maybe that makes me shallow, but I would give anything to be in a clean gown with a soft bed right now.” She ended with a small laugh.

“I’m sorry if that disappoints you, Mr. Hargrave.” She looked up at him again, a small smile on her lips this time. “I understand your crave for adventure, but I quite like my life. It isn’t perfect, but it is all I’ve ever known.”

Madeline wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep considering the last thing she remembered was conversing with Elijah long into the night. A startled gasp escaped her as she opened her eyes, her head propped against the corner of the cot and nearly laying nose to nose with the pirate. Maddy rose quickly, putting space between them and making herself busy by dusting off her dress from kneeling on the dirty floor all night.

To her luck, Elijah hadn’t woken from her outburst, only began to stir. Gathering up Jack’s cloak, she draped it over her shoulder’s once more, her hands just barely peaking out of the front of it as she quietly slipped from Eli’s room. Mads wasn’t sure where exactly she was going or what she had planned to do, but she kept out of the way of the very few other pirates up at the break of dawn. Finally, she spotted a head of familiar blonde hair standing at the railing of the deck, looking out over the sea. “Good morning Mr. Harding.” Madeline spoke softly, approaching the man from behind and standing at his side. “I’m glad to see I am not the only one who appreciates the sunrise on board… I was afraid these early hours would be a bit lonely.” She joked lightly, passing the pirate a smile before turning her eyes back to the sea.

“You won’t be putting me back in that cage, will you?” Madeline asked, looking up at him through thick lashes. “I’m not sure I could bare another day in that cell.” She admitted, shivering once at the thought. “I could be of so much more use out here, couldn’t I? Chores or something, whatever you see fit.” The girl bartered.

“And I certainly wouldn’t feel the need to jump off the ship in the middle of the night if I had a little bit of fresh air and sunlight.”

Okay, maybe it was a little too soon for dark humor.

Jack realized it must have taken great strength to remain kind in such a cruel, dehumanizing situation like the one Madeline had been confronted with. As soon as he barged in his eyes went to her back to assess her damage, only to find that his heavy cloak had shielded her. Good, he thought, and his lips parted as if Jack were about to speak, although words seemed to escape him as he turned to Eli and the blood pooling off the cot and onto the floor. “Shit,” he growled, passing an apologetic glance to the young woman for his less than appropriate language. He watched the rise and fall of Eli’s back as each breath allowed more blood to spill, practically soaking into Madeline’s dress at the knees where she knelt beside him.

The mischievous lilt to Eli’s voice broke Jack out of his stare, attention quickly flicking back to his friend. He practically scoffed at the pirate’s attempts of relieving Jack’s worries. “You’re tough, Harding, but it’s that damn mouth that gets you in trouble.” His deep voice nearly echoed through the room as silence as heavy as a turbulent wave settled between the trio. It was only until Eli’s own gaze met Jack’s, him uttering his gratitude for the boy, that Jack deemed his friend was well enough to be looked after by Madeline, despite how small and soft she looked next to the rugged and injured pirate.

He only nodded to Eli, throat tightening and unable to grasp onto words. Brother. A title he had always craved, the sense of love and familial duty that not even Alistair could take from him. Jack’s feet felt heavy and his eyes turned glassy. “Get some rest,” he murmured to Eli before turning to the door. His hand had perched on the handle when a small but firm grip shot out, snatching his other hand and holding it gracefully. Madeline’s eyes were lined with silver and he held her stare, giving her hand a small, gentle squeeze as she thanked him. Jack only nodded again, eyes darting down to her feminine hands covered in dirt and blood -- hands that never deserved to look like that, had never deserved to set foot on any ship as twisted and vile as The Retribution. None of them deserved it.

“Let me know if either of you need anything,” he said into the dim room before shoving himself out the door, the anger of the events of the night returning, claiming any piece of empathy and kindness that had breached the surface. There was no room for such emotions on a pirate ship, no matter how hard Jack had begged for that part of him to return.

The rain had now developed into a chilled mist and he ran a hand through his damp curls, remnants of water still sliding down his face, underneath the sharp cut of his jaw. His shirt was soaked and so were his pants and Jack didn’t even want to know how long it would take for his boots to dry. From across the deck, he spied Jane, her blazing gaze boring into the back of the prince as he cupped Rosalyn’s cheeks tenderly, brushing his thumb over the droplets of rain on the princess’ face as if he were attempting to remove the horrors they had just witnessed. As if Hell could be washed away by rain, love, and the warmth from another. His jaw clenched, mirroring his hands that gripped the railing harshly. And then the prince’s mouth was claiming hers in a swift but substantial kiss. He watched them, facing the twist in his gut and the weight in his chest head-on, until they broke away.

Jack didn’t move from his position against the railing for a long, long time.

He didn’t understand that feeling that washed over him stronger than any tide. Again, something so pure and innocent was aboard one of the most disgusting and morally inept places he had ever been. The Retribution would never be home -- never be anything more than a prison. It caged the body and deserted the man, the boy, back on his home soil. Fenrys was his home. It would always be his home.

Jane had taken the young prince back down to his cell, probably double-checking his locks and handing his ass to him while she was at it. He was worried for his sister and how Alistair would handle her. Jack had no doubt that she could handle herself, as much as he hated to think of it, but that protective and brotherly instinct still sat inside. He was responsible for her, he was the only thing left of their life back home. And Jane Harding seemed to want to dispose of him like she had disposed of her life back in Fenrys.

The chilled air bit at his skin until Jack’s whole body was nearly numb. Most of the crew had returned to bed while others were cleaning up the mess that was made. Mopping up Eli’s blood and rinsing the deck with salt water. He couldn’t stand the sight of any more blood, so Jack retreated towards his cabin. It was a cramped and dingy thing and Jack knew that he only had the special privilege of a room to himself was because of Jane, even though it was definitely the smallest one on the ship. He strode across the deck, boots heavy against the slick wood, and nearly threw himself against the door. A warm bed and dry clothes calling his name like a sea siren.

The first thing he saw was a flash of red hair and Jack instinctively reached for a small dagger strapped to his waist. However, his hand immediately dropped from the sheath as the princess whipped her head towards him, freckles dancing underneath the flickering candlelight. His eyes then went to the dagger she was wielding after examining her beautiful features. He cocked a brow, noticing the familiar blade and muttered, “Is that mine?”

She waved the glinting dagger across her face, that sly and far too enticing expression reappearing across her face once more. The last time he saw it she had held a dagger to his throat. “You have a knack for stealing pointy objects. Preferably mine. Either I’m a rotten pirate or you’re a brilliant thief.” He strode across the room, keeping an eye on her while he snatched a bottle of rum and two glasses, pouring a few knuckles worth of the liquor in each. And then a little more, just for good measure. “You shouldn’t be here,” he told her, handing the glass to Ros anyway. He knew his words were an empty threat and, after knowing the girl for a couple of weeks, Jack also knew that Rosalyn MacKenzie lived by her own set of rules, anyway.

She would make a good pirate.

The way she downed the drink in one swallow solidified his thought and even he couldn't hide the bewildered expression on his face as she slammed the glass down onto the small table in his room. Kicking out a chair, taking the hint that she did not plan on leaving anytime soon, Jack sat down while nudging one out for her as well. With those captivating eyes begging for a refill, he had no choice but to oblige. He poured her another knuckles worth and then took a long, generous sip from his own drink.

Rosalyn’s next words nearly made him choke, and Jack set his glass down harshly, peering up at her from dark, lowered lashes and swallowed. “There’s no kindness on a pirate ship,” he almost growled, holding her stare. “Only debts.” His fingers shifted on his glass and he then switched his gaze to stare into the amber liquid, as if drinking himself silly might hold all the answers. Some nights, Jack thought it did. For others? Well, he drank because he didn’t want to know.

His mouth quirked up just the slightest bit as Ros claimed she was a horrible drinking partner. “Given the company that I’m used to,” he jerked his head to the door that led out to the deck and the other crew members, “I’d say this is an improvement.” The sound of the dagger hitting the table echoed inside the room. Jack didn’t glance at the weapon on the table, he simply kept his eyes on hers. “Thank you. Stealing from a pirate is not wise.”

He felt the comfort and warmth the rum brought as it flowed through his system. The lone candle in his cabin allowed a soft glow to flicker throughout the room, highlighting his golden hair and the princess’s pale skin. There was no doubt she was beautiful -- the most exquisite creature Jack had seen and he couldn’t help the muscle that quirked in his jaw as he thought that kiss she shared with the prince. “When’s the wedding?” he asked, his curious nature getting to the better of him and Jack cursed himself silently.

She was a princess -- an engaged princess. He was a pirate. And they would never be anything more than that.

Something foreign showed inside Jane Harding’s eyes on the ship. It was raw and confusing and it put the pirate into a far more sour mood than before, even with the blood staining the ship and her clothes chilling her to the bone from the harsh rain that had finally let up. She had always been the girl with a sword, with a smile sharper than any blade and just as deadly. Not even a hint of humanity laced her features, only a stone-cold killer and all the cruelty that came with it. She had never questioned the Captain’s orders -- never was one to speak up about his rash decisions.

Until these bloody royals came along.

But this… Something about the sound of the tiny girl’s screams, the horrified look in Eli’s eyes and the earth-shattering wails that rang out of the prince at her feet. This was now so much more than being a pirate, the assassin Alistair needed and trained her to be. This was about being human down the very first steps: between right and wrong. Good and evil. Jane had never shied away from the darkness, had embraced its shadows and monsters with open arms and bared teeth. However, something deep within her ignited on the deck of the ship in the rain, with Eli’s blood pooling on the ground. There was a crack in her deadly mask, a chip in the shell around herself that fell into the churning sea below.

It was pain that unveiled itself in her ocean eyes. Pain and guilt.

She also saw it in the eyes of Madeline inside the cabin, as the poor girl trembled beneath her, gaze flicking back to Eli and then to herself chaotically. But, the blonde did not balk at her harsh words. She stood her ground, chin slightly raised despite her wide eyes. Jane had to give credit where credit was due, Madeline had rushed in to help her friend instead of tending to her own injuries like Jane had assumed she would. And as she agreed to Jane’s demands, a little more of that mask removed once again. This woman wasn’t evil. If anything, she was a soft glow inside the endless night aboard The Retribution. An undying flame.

Eli’s rough-sewn voice echoed inside the chamber and it broke Jane’s concentration on the girl, those stormy eyes immediately drifting back to her friend with far less animosity, even with his warning to lay off on the timid little creature. “Unfortunately, you know nothing about my bedside manner, Elijah,” was all she offered him. Her voice was like honey, smooth and slow, but with malice lingering at the end. She turned to the door, giving Madeline one last warning look. “Feel free to sew up his damn mouth while you’re at it, blondie.” And with that, she kicked the door open furiously with her boot, leaving the pair alone at last.

The sight back on the deck wasn’t any better. There was Jack, who had been watching the prince and princess like a hawk, his hands tightening and loosening on the ship's railing with every word the two seemed to exchange. The stars were slowly appearing now that the storm had passed and the moon illuminated the golden strands of her brother’s hair, his full mouth, the hardened edges that life out at sea granted him. That was the only thing they seemed to share, in fact. Their roughed state and distant demeanor. Whereas Jack was warm, neutral, and almost comforting, Jane was cold, vengeful, and, for some, a fate worse than death. They looked nothing alike, but they shared some of the same horrors. However, she obviously handled the demons better than he had. She scoffed audibly, her mind remembering the infinite times where he had tried to become Father on the ship -- tried to limit her and reign in the woman she wanted to be. One that fought and worked her way into getting what she wanted, not sitting idly at the sideline. A sitting duck for death to claim. Jane had lost touch with the timid girl that cowered back in Fenrys, but she wasn’t sorry about it. Not when it granted her a life of power, independence, and strength.

And then there was the prince, who had his mouth latched onto the princess in a quick and desperate attempt, it seemed. Jane narrowed her dark eyebrows, her lips pressed into a thin line. She was surprised at the outburst, especially from the prince. He didn’t seem to be the type to commit such… feral acts. Maybe the life out at sea was getting to him, maybe it stirred something beneath him, just like it had done for her all those years ago.

She cleared her throat, urging the prince to finish up his act of passion and return with her back to his cell. Alistair no doubt would want to talk with her later, to get the full recap on why and how the royals had escaped their cells and who was to blame. Something inside her chest recoiled at the inevitable fate and, instinctively, Jane brushed a hand to her jeweled dagger strapped to her side. Once she and the prince eventually closed the distance on the deck, she silently began to lead him back down towards his cell. It was only when they passed the sleeping drunks and endless crates below when she heard his rough voice, as if his screams took every last bit of energy from him.

At his questions, Jane sighed and closed her eyes as she walked, muscle memory weaving her through the path to his cell at the end of the ship. However, as he insinuated that his betrothed and sister were nothing but playthings, Jane stopped dead in her tracks and whirred to face him, her dagger out in a second and glinting at his throat. “Do not, for a second, think that as a woman I would allow anything like the horrors you are thinking of be done to them.” Her eyes went wide with rage, her teeth gritting as repressed nightmares resurfaced. As unwanted touches from crewmates and blurry nights weaved their way back into her mind, no matter how unwelcomed they were. Nights when her body did not belong to her, but belonged to men. They didn’t care about her age, her injuries, her pleads to stop. While Alistair had never touched her in that way, hadn’t even attempted to, he also did nothing to stop them. Had turned a blind eye to her tears. Her screams.

The bastards eventually got what was coming to them. Jane made sure of it. Her first kill was one of them, and after she tasted the bloodlust, after she felt the power that loomed over her, she didn’t stop. Not after the first. Not after the second. Not until five bodies lay strung up on the main mast, naked. Their throats slit. She was death. And death had finally come for retribution.

After that, no one attempted to ever touch Jane Harding again. And her secrets of what she had endured as a girl died with those men, never breaching the surface. Although the acts still haunted her, especially at night. When she could feel the ghost of those touches, feel the remnants of her tears.

“If you sit and wait, the odds of keeping your precious life will be in your favor, princeling. As well as the lives of those women.” As his voice then continued to raise, more fire bursting from those kind eyes, Jane loosened her grip on her dagger. The blade still remained near his throat, but the rage in her gaze had diminished. Her hair was still sticking to her face from the rain, her clothes soaked and forming to every inch of her body. The small cut she earned from her swordfight with the prince stung. Her blue gaze studied him, the curve of his lips that were just against the mouth of the princess minutes ago. How his blond curls were plastered to his forehead. How defiance and loyalty and pride seeped from his skin, soaking him more than the damned rain. He was a good man, far too good of a man.

Her voice then lowered into nothing but a hiss, “Then next time you find the urge to do something, you remember the sound of your sister's screams. How she was violated in every sense of the word.” Jane’s hand trembled as well as her voice, but she did not lower her blade. Even as he once again spoke of love, of sacrifice.

Instead of responding, Jane finally lowered the dagger. Her eyes scanned his, searching for any slice of the monster she had assumed lurked beneath all men. The desire to claim, the need to control. And yet, she found none. Only selflessness. Only love. “If you want to save them, then you need to listen to me.”

With her jaw locked she took a step back, then another until she finally reached his cell. She held the unlocked door open for him, beckoning him inside with her chin. After the prince had entered and claimed his usual spot across from her she then locked the door and claimed her own spot on a stool across from him with a heavy sigh. The bars their only barrier. Jane leaned her head against the wall, her eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion from her fight and the horrors from above finally set in.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence. The flickering of a few candles their only source of light. Part of her felt the need to observe him, to make sure he didn’t once again try to escape. But, another part of her was buying time. She knew what fate awaited her when she returned onto the deck. She knew the insults that would be thrown her way, the screams and rage that Alistair would spew onto her -- considering it was her prisoner that had started the whole mess. This was her fault. No matter how much she had tried to put the blame onto the prince or Madeline or Jack, she knew who the real culprit was. And it made her sick.

“Where did you learn how to fight like that?” she finally asked, her hoarse voice cutting into the silence. Anything, she would do anything to not head up those stairs. Not just yet. So, she dared to ask another question.

“What is your name, princeling?”

Watching Alistair drag Madeline to that post had been damn near the most excruciating thing Eli had ever witnessed. Second only to the sight of him bringing the whip down onto her back.

Eli wouldn’t describe himself as a smart man—nor would any of his friends—but he typically had enough sense of self-preservation to keep his mouth shut around the Captain. However, it appeared that where Madeline was concerned, all sense of the aforementioned self-preservation went out the window.

He stepped forward, willing his voice to stay steady—nonchalant—as he addressed the Captain. Eli didn’t dare a glance down at the girl held to the post, he couldn’t show any sign of weakness or concern, lest it is turned against him. But as he held his captain’s stare, he knew that this would not see this as an act of kindness, nor would he see it as Eli acting on some shred of honor that he still possessed. No, the Captain would see it as a slight to his authority, and Eli would pay dearly for it.

The pirate only felt relief when the man agreed to let the blond go, even if it meant taking her place.

Seeing her slight form alone on that block had cracked something open in his chest. Perhaps some sliver of humanity that had been buried from his years aboard this ship. Eli would be the first to admit that he had done some fairly monstrous things in his time as a pirate, but sitting idly by and watching Madeline beaten and broken seemed like crossing a line—like he would lose himself entirely. But perhaps he just couldn’t bear to see her cry, to see her in pain.

Eli moved quickly to get Madeline off that block, tried to get her out of the Captain’s sight before he changed his mind. One look at both of the men holding her down had them releasing their grip—he would pay them back for their part in this that later if he walked out of this situation at all.

She was shaking under his touch and he didn’t know if it was the cold or out of fear, but he wished he could say something comforting, to tell her that it would be okay, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Alistair would exploit or punish every bit of weakness that he showed, and whether he’d admit it aloud or not, Madeline was one. So he led her back to the other royals and tried not to watch as Rosalyn tucked the girl into her side—her face set in a rigid determination like she’d set the whole ship aflame if she had the chance. And her brother, who seemed relieved, and a little broken, by what they’d been forced to witness. By what Madeline had been made to endure.

Eli pulled his waterlogged shirt over his head and threw it at Alistair’s feet on his way to the block. Another slight. And that’s when he saw the gleam in his captain’s eye. The gleam that told him this would be a brutal punishment, one he would not easily walk away from.

He felt his heart thundering in his chest, and panic started to claw up his throat. Had he made a mistake? He was risking life and limb for a princess—a captive. But she was everything that this place, this ship, was not. Madeline was kind, and soft, and innocent, and Elijah would try to ensure that she remained that way. He would not let the Retribution—or Alistair Grey—break her. Eli dared one glance back at her and steeled himself as he saw Jack’s cloak slung over her shoulders, and his friend making his way to the block—to him.

If he made it out of here, Eli was going to buy Jack an entire cask of rum

The two men had been at each other’s throats since the moment they’d met. Since Eli realized that Jack was not like the other pirates on board, not like his sister even. Not as bloodthirsty, not as cruel. Yet he was just as angry as the rest of them, and therefore an easy target to goad and prod until one of them threw the first punch. And yet, the fighting had been as much an outlet for Eli as it had been for Jack. Despite how much they argued and brawled, Eli wouldn't rather have anyone else at his back. Since they were boys it had been them against the world. Brothers, if not by blood, then by bond.

Eli nodded once as Jack held him down to the post, swallowing hard at his words of encouragement. At least he would not do this alone. He tried to settle his nerves, tried to brace himself as Jane’s voice rang out across the deck. An appeal to Alistair, however veiled, to spare him this punishment. While Jane was his friend, and while he knew that she would have his back against any enemy, would kill for him—he hadn’t expected her to so directly challenge the Captain in his defense. Eli would be touched if it hadn’t been an idiot move. She might be Alistair’s favorite, but even that didn’t spare her from the whipping post. He glanced over at her and shook his head once, telling her to stay out of this

He barely had time to brace himself before the first lash.

Alistair had been holding back with Madeline. He had been merely making a point, but this, no, this was retaliation. Retribution.

Fire licked up his spine, growing with each subsequent blow. He could feel the blood and the rain sliding down his back, could see it splatter Jack’s hands and face as he held him down. Eli was glad that Jack was keeping track of the lashings because, after the first twenty or so, he lost count. And they just kept coming. One after the other. Eli dug his fingers into Jack’s forearms, trying desperately to focus on the other man’s voice, his encouragements, rather than the pain. But finally, Alistair dropped the whip. He felt it hit the deck, felt Alistair’s footsteps behind him, and felt the shot of pain down his back as the Captain pulled his head back and whispered in his ear.

Eli sagged against the block as he heard the door to Alistair’s cabin close. He heard Jane’s voice first and once she spoke the deck was a flurry of movement again as the rest of the crew went back to bed—the show over. And somehow, Eli drew what remained of his strength and stood. He tried to keep his head high, tried to not show just how much pain he was in, but it hurt—god it hurt. Every step, every movement, sent a shock of pain through his body. His back was throbbing and he could feel the blood pooling at his feet, but he tried to keep moving. He just had to make it to his cabin.

Then he felt a small body press into his, helped to hold him up. At first, he thought it was Jane, but he saw a flash of blonde hair, heard the gentle lilt to her voice, and realized it was Madeline. Not that he was complaining, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to be yelled at by Jane at the moment anyway. “You don’t have to, Madeline,” he told her, wondering if what drove her to help was guilt or because she actually wanted to. She owed him nothing. Not after what had been done to her. And part of him wanted to hold on to his pride, to tell her that he could make it on his own, but honestly, he was glad to share the weight—so he pushed it no further.

Eli couldn’t help but realize this was the closest they’d been since the night they’d taken the royals from their ship, since the time Eli had held a knife at her throat. He had to admit that he liked this better—not playing the villain.

The pair painstakingly made their way across the deck and into the empty cabin, and Eli damned near toppled over at the sight of the bed. Even with his back throbbing in pain as Madeline helped him on to it, it felt better to be horizontal. To lie still. Though that only lasted a moment as Jack came through the door, concern flaring in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he told him, not entirely sure that was accurate. “I’m tougher than anything that old bastard can throw at me.” He tried to muster an air of confidence that typically came easy to him—but Alistair had shown a ruthless side to himself tonight that Eli had not been on the receiving end of in a long time, and frankly…it had scared him. Eli caught Jack’s stare. “Thank you, brother.” Eli had never been good at gratitude, but he meant it. Truly meant it. And as soon as Jack left, Jane came bursting through the doors. Eli could never be rid of the Hardings he supposed. He stifled a groan as she continued with her onslaught of insults. Jane only stopped when she saw Madeline sitting there.

“You have terrible bedside manner, Janey.” He apparently had a death wish. “Try to throw a compliment in there at least, I am injured after all. I would accept, ‘stupid, fucking, rutting, handsome idiot, at the very least,” he winced as he lifted his head to look at her. But Jane’s eyes weren’t on him—they were on Madeline.

“Lay off,” he warned her as Jane got increasingly angry with the girl. He’d be pissed if he saved her from Alistair just to allow her to fall victim to Jane. But Eli was pleasantly surprised when Jane dropped it rather quickly, leaving the first aid supplies she’d managed to find in Madeline’s hands.

He rolled his eyes at Jane’s final retort. “Only because you’re about as gentle with the needle as you are with a blade,” he called after her. Eli turned to Madeline. “I’ll try not to scream like a bitch if you promise to be gentler than that one,” he nodded his head toward the door Jane had just walked out of, which only cause a ripple of pain down his back. Alistair had really done a number on him.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Eli held her gaze. “The Captain is…that was the least I could do. I’m sorry I let it go as far as it did.” He inhaled a sharp breath as Madeline pressed a damp rag on to his back. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. "You're almost as bad as Jane is," he tried to joke, but the words caught in his throat. This was going to be a long, miserable night.

Madeline continued on. She cleaned the blood from his back and took to sewing up the deeper wounds. Eli tried, and mostly failed, to keep himself from yelling out but—as Jane had mentioned—he was a terrible patient. He huffed a laugh when Madeline said she wished there had been a real doctor to care for him. “I haven’t seen a real doctor in years. The last one was some quack at a port when I had a fever that wouldn’t break. I swear my fever was worse after I saw him. Besides,” he hissed as began another stitch. “You seem to be doing just fine. Is sewing up pirates a pastime of yours?”

Eli actually found Madeline’s humming calming as she worked, he almost found himself dozing off a few times during the night but he wasn’t sure if that was from her company, pure exhaustion, or blood loss. And she was a much more calming presence than Jane typically was, that much was certain. It took hours until she was done, and for a royal, she held herself quite well around all the blood and gore. Eli was sure his back must have been a sight to behold, definitely not something suitable for a woman like her.

When she had finally finished she had opened the window, the rain had stopped pouring, and she tried to fix what remained of her dress. Eli watched her while she did. Her hair was gentle blowing in the breeze that came up off the water, and she almost seemed to glow from the candlelight. He was almost startled when she spoke directly to him. He swallowed hard when she asked him to help her with the ties of her dress.

“Of course.” Eli sat up, wincing at the sharp pain that accompanied any movement. Though it was the slash across her back that brought him the most pain. Without thinking, the tips of his fingers skimmed the unblemished skin beside her wound and immediately withdrew as he realized what he was doing. “I’m sorry, again. For what was done to you. You did not deserve that.” He made quick, albeit sloppy, work of the lacing, trying not to focus on the proximity of his skin to hers. Eli laid his hands flat on either side of him to keep them still, to keep from reaching out to her again. She was a princess of France, stitching up a rutting pirate—he didn’t deserve to be in the same room as her let alone be the recipient of her seemingly unyielding kindness. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, you know. You have every right to hate us—me.”

He watched her drape Jack’s cloak over her body as she settled against the wall, hung on to her every word as she spoke. Though he was slightly shocked by her questions—by her bluntness. “No one has ever asked me that before,” he noted. Eli bit the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. He wasn’t sure he’d ever asked himself that before either. “I guess because he saved my life. Well, sort of. I was always itching for something more when I grew up—an adventure. Everyone around me was content with living and dying in the same ten-acre plot, never seeing the world. So I left home, not a cent in my pocket and I went to the sea. It’s the only place that’s ever felt right, I could feel it in my bones.” Eli settled back onto the bed. “And that’s where Alistair found me. Some little fishing port. And he gave me a job and a family. Yeah, the crew onboard are a bunch of brutes, but we all look out for each other. And I know the Captain is cruel, I’m not so jaded that I can’t see it but…” he lowered his voice slightly like Alistair could hear him through the walls. “I’m less loyal to the man, and more loyal to the ship—to the crew. A life of adventure, a family, and the open water, that’s all I ever wanted.”

It felt like a confession. And he was almost embarrassed for oversharing so much about his past, about his desires. Eli blamed it on the blood loss and the fatigue clouding his mind. But that didn’t stop him from asking her a few questions. “What about you, princess?” He glanced sidelong at her. “It’s a great big world, have you ever wanted to be more than you are? I can’t imagine living in that gilded castle would have held too many adventures.” He guessed.

They’d been mere steps from the railing.

Mere steps away when Alistair grabbed Madeline by the hair and threw her to the ground. Rosalyn stopped dead in her tracks. Her gaze flitted briefly to the churning waves below, visible from where she stood. If they had made it over the edge, had flung themselves into the sea below—there would have been no hope for surviving that.

Alistair’s voice was seething with malice but he wasn’t speaking to her, nor to Madeline. No, he was looking past her, at the two pirates who had been hauling ass across the deck to get to them. Two pirates who wouldn’t have made it had Alistair not been there to stop them. But Jack had called out to her, she realized. Had tried to stop her. Eli had shed his coat and his weapons as he ran as if preparing to jump after them. Had Jack been prepared to jump as well? Had they all been moments from a watery grave? Ros was going to be sick.

The captain hauled Madeline to her feet once more. Rosalyn took a step towards the girl but firm hands twisted her arms painfully behind her back, pinning her in place. She was helpless as the captain dragged Madeline away toward a block at the front of the deck—a whipping block. Icy horror seeped into her blood as she realized what Alistair intended to do.

Rosalyn was shoved to her knees beside Theo who was cursing and thrashing against the hands that held him. Her betrothed had seemed so gentle, so kind when she’d met him weeks ago. When she’d resented the engagement and the fact that she would have to leave her home. But now he seemed to burn from within. Rage and despair from their time aboard the Retribution had damaged his soul in a way she wasn’t sure could be mended. Theo was a protector, and Alistair knew that nothing would hurt him more than making him sit idly by while his loved ones were hurt—while he could do nothing but watch.

She’d never been one to comfort others, but the desire to reach out to him was overwhelming, to tell him it would be okay. Though she wasn’t sure it would be. Not from the sickening gleam in Alistair’s eyes, not from the way the typically bloodthirsty crew now shifted uncomfortably on their feet. Even they didn’t know how far he would go tonight.

Then the bastard ripped the back of Madeline’s dress open. Her delicate skin was such a stark contradiction to the rough hands that held her, to the blood-stained block she was being forced against. Even from where she knelt, Ros could see the tears running down Madeline’s face. And it was like she could feel Theo’s heart crack open. Saw the anger and the light leak from his eyes as he realized there was nothing he could do. Rosalyn could’ve ripped the whole crew apart with her bare hands just for that look.

Then the whip cracked.

She hadn’t even seen Alistair’s hand raise, had been too focused on the sight of Madeline on that block that when the whip sounded she didn’t have time to flinch, to look away. One deep red gash had been sliced into her back. Ros swallowed hard. She forced the burning behind her eyes to cease, and bit down on her lip to keep it from wobbling. She would not cry here, in front of so many witnesses, in front of a man who wanted to watch her break. Perhaps the tears would come if she ever found a moment alone, perhaps then she would break apart entirely. But not here—Rosalyn wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

A familiar voice sounded from behind her, and Ros whipped her head around to see Elijah step forward, eyes not daring to leave the Captain’s face. Eli usually had an easy swagger to him, but she could hear the wavering in his voice. The fear. Though she didn’t know if that was fear for Madeline’s safety or his own, for speaking out of turn, for undermining the Captain in front of the entire crew.

Ros held her breath as Alistair considered his offer, not daring a single inhale until he agreed to let Madeline off that block. Until Eli led her back to them until the girl was tucked into Rosalyn’s side and she was sure that the horrors they had just witnessed were over. But as Eli pulled his shirt over his head, Rosalyn dared a glance back at Alistair. At the, now hungry, look that had crossed his features. Eli was to be made an example of, that much was obvious. But he went to his punishment without a moment’s hesitation. His typical, easy demeanor now replaced with something stoic—immoveable. She would have thought him an honorable man if he hadn’t been a pirate.

But it was Jack to whom Ros’s attention was drawn next, as he shed his cloak and placed it gently on Madeline’s back. Not only shielding her from the rain and the cold that was starting to soak into Ros’s own bones, but from the leering stares of his crewmates. Ros briefly caught his gaze before Jack made his way back to Eli’s side. She almost wanted to thank him. For the coat, for the shred of kindness he had shown to her and Madeline over the last week—but she held her tongue. He and Elijah might not be as bad as the other monsters aboard this ship but they were still the enemy, despite the fact that Eli was willing to withstand the punishment meant for Madeline.

Alistair beat the boy bloody. The first few lashings had been horrible. Blood splattered on the deck, on Alistair, on Jack who now held Eli down to the post. But the next were ones that would likely linger in Rosalyn’s nightmares. Alistair became insatiable, landing one blow after the other without so much as a moment’s reprieve. Ros wondered how a man as old as the Captain could exact such vicious beatings, but she’d obviously underestimated his bloodthirstiness. And after the first ten lashings, the first twenty, Rosalyn realized that this was no longer about exacting punishment—no, this was for enjoyment. A man reveling in inflicting pain.

And even with the blood and the gore now dripping down Elijah’s back, Ros couldn’t keep her eyes away from the hold Jack had on the man. Couldn’t help but notice the dip of his blond head, his hair waterlogged and darker than its usual hue, as he spoke into Eli’s ear. As he talked the boy through it. Acted as his anchor. For however much Jack seemed to hate his crewmate, he was going to considerable lengths to ensure Eli didn’t break altogether.

The world had become nothing but the sound of rain on the deck and the whip on Elijah’s flesh. But finally, finally, Alistair dropped the whip. He was breathing heavily, that savage look still lighting up his eyes as he took an assessing glance—as he admired his handiwork. He then pulled Eli’s head back and muttered something in his ear, something too low for Ros to hear, and the Captain slinked back into his cabin like the worm that he was.

The crew on deck remained still, silent, for only a moment—everyone seemed to be reeling from the events of the night until Jane broke the silence. The rough hands holding Ros and her friends let go at Jane’s order, but not before the pirate barked a threat at Theo—like what just happened to them hadn’t been enough to prevent further attempts at escape. Ros wasn’t sure such a thing was possible anymore.

She was almost shocked as Theo gathered both her and Madeline in his arms and apologized over and over again. The sound of it threatened to crack her heart open even further. But Ros leaned into the embrace, allowing cool relief to wash over her, to let the panic slip away. They were okay—for now.

Madeline was the first to pull away, her attention caught by Elijah, who had somehow summoned the strength to stand from the block. She wanted to help him, to repay him. Rosalyn wanted to stop her, to tell her that she owed them nothing after what they’d done to her, but she understood. Elijah had sacrificed himself to keep her (mostly) out of harm’s way. She was at least grateful to the man for that. So she merely caught Madeline’s hand. “Be careful,” she pleaded and watched as Madeline slid under one of Eli’s arms and helped lead him into a nearby cabin.

Her gaze was only torn away from the pair by Theo pulling her into another hug, and it took her a moment but she wrapped her arms around him too, only pulling away when he joked about how their engagement tour hadn’t gone as planned. She huffed a small laugh and was surprised at her ability to do so given the traumatic events that had just occurred. “No, I can’t say this is at all like I expected it to be.” She’d expected insufferable dinners, too-tight dresses, and tittering nobles—pirates had definitely not been a part of the plan. “Much less romantic,” she admitted. Though romance hadn’t been truly expected on her part either, Ros felt like Theo would have tried his hand at wooing her had things gone to plan. And maybe if they had been given the time it would have been a true love match, not just a political marriage. “But at least we’ll have a story to tell if we ever get back to court,” she countered.

Theo told her to be safe and Rosalyn glanced over his shoulder, raising her eyebrows at the woman who was boring holes into the back of Theo’s head. “I think I should be the one telling you that.” She gave a slight nod of her head in the pirate’s direction. “If looks could kill, well…I think I’m too young to be a widow,” she joked. It was some effort to keep her tone light. If they were to be taken back to their cells, then she didn’t know when she would see him again.

She was about to open her mouth to speak again when she saw Theo leaning even closer to her. Her back straightened, and Rosalyn became keenly aware of every breath and beat of her heart as his lips brushed her cheek. Her breath was almost knocked out of her completely when he caught her chin in his hand and pressed a kiss to her lips. And damn her, she felt a blush creeping into her face. Had they been anywhere but this godforsaken ship, it would have been completely inappropriate since they were still not married—but she didn’t care. And when he told her that the kiss would carry him to their wedding she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. Perhaps it would not be so bad to be his wife.

Once Theo and the pirate woman had disappeared once again, Ros found herself alone. Madeline was tending to Eli, and Jack was nowhere in sight. The rest of the crew had scurried off, left to go sleep or drink or whatever it was they did this late at night, and so Ros began to wander. She had been so lost when they were first brought aboard the ship, and even since then she only knew where their cell was and how to get back to the main deck. Every other part of the ship was still foreign to her, and if they were to be spending their foreseeable futures aboard the Retribution, she figured she might as well become acquainted with her surroundings. And she wasn’t going to just wait around in the rain to be dragged back to that dank, dark cell. Truthfully, the thought of going below deck again made her skin crawl.

So, she meandered around the ship, ducking into storage rooms and cabins—trying not to wake or disturb the pirates dwelling within, mentally marking all of them as she went. By the time she ducked into an empty cabin she had managed to explore most of the right side of the ship, but she was ready to be out of the rain and cold. Her hair was plastered to her face, her dress was completely waterlogged and clinging to her body—she would give anything to be in dry clothes right now.

The cabin obviously belonged to someone. The sheets were rumpled, the desk was littered with several belongings, and the candle in the corner of the room had clearly been used recently. She moved to it, striking a match she found on the desk, and lit it, casting everything in a warm glow. The room was small, a fraction of the size of her room aboard the French ship they’d been on. Ros eyed a trunk at the foot of the bed, and unable to help herself, she opened it. Ros had always been insatiably curious, and nosy, a trait that had often gotten her in trouble back home.

The trunk had a few pieces of men’s clothing but was mostly filled with an assortment of weapons. There were several swords, and however tempting they were to take, they would be too heavy for her to wield. She picked up a dagger next and felt the weight of the blade in her palm. It was plain compared to the one she’d brought aboard, and larger as well—but there would be no hiding it with the dress she currently wore. Just as she was about to drop the blade, she heard the door click open.

Rosalyn whirled on her heels, dagger raised, as Jack strode through the door. So this was his room then. Like her, he was soaked from head to toe and he looked…a little worse for wear. He had more shadows behind his eyes than usual, though she couldn’t blame him. It had been horrible to sit by and watch Madeline hurt by Alistair, but she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Eli’s friends to have watched him beaten like that, to have to hold him down while he endured it. Jack’s clothes, face, and hands were splattered with blood. He looked utterly gruesome. But all she could see was the pirate, the man, who had called out after her when she had been steps from hauling herself overboard, who had given Madeline his cloak, who had held his friend’s hand while he was enduring something awful. Jack Harding might act like he had a heart of stone, but Rosalyn was coming to realize that’s all it was—an act.

“Care for a rematch?” She asked, waving the blade in front of her face a little. And while Jack seemed surprised, and slightly annoyed, at her presence in his room, Ros could have sworn she saw a flicker of amusement there. Jack crossed the room, picking up a bottle of amber liquid, and poured two glasses. She could’ve sunk to her knees in relief as he handed it to her, she hadn’t had a proper drink in ages. Ros downed it in one greedy gulp, trying not to wince at the taste. It was nothing like the liquors she’d had at home. No, those had been strong and smooth going down, this burned. But she had the feeling it would get the job done, so she placed the glass back on the desk—a silent plea for a refill.

“That was kind, what you did for Elijah. And Madeline.” More a statement than a show of gratitude, and she knew she owed him nothing—he was one of her captors after all, but she hated to see those shadows on his face. And she wondered when she’d gained even an inkling of empathy for the man across from her. “I’m a poor substitute for your drinking buddy, but any company is better than none, I suppose,” she told him, taking another sip from her glass as she laid the dagger down on the desk between them.

Theodore typically considered himself a strong man. There wasn’t much that could make him waver - that’s how it was when you were raised to be a king though, wasn’t it? Kings don’t show fear, they don’t show weakness, and they sure as hell don’t cry. Yet there he was, the crowned prince, dauphin to the French throne, a king in his own right - standing there crying in a crowd of other men. His father would have been ashamed.

But alas, what else was the boy to do as he was forced to bare witness to the atrocities taking place on that damned ship. Theo’s chest ached at the image of his baby sister being defiled right in front of him, but unable to do anything to free himself and come to her aide. It didn’t matter how hard he thrashed or cursed or tried to break away from his restraints, there would be no winning against the grip those filthy pirates had on him.

Although for a split second, Theodore was thankful that this was happening on a pirate ship in the middle of nowhere, and not somewhere that people would recognize Madeline. The only people here that could bare witness to any of these horrors with any credibility was himself and his bride, and he trusted that neither of them would speak a word of this outside of their trusted circle. It would ruin Madeline, if anyone found out. Not that the poor girl had done anything wrong, but having her bare skin on display in front of so many men - their hands touching that skin to hold her down, would taint her in the eyes of the court. It didn’t matter what the context was, she would be considered soiled goods, her modesty gone, and unfit for any match that would be her equal in station.

Theodore hated himself for being so selfish. For the briefest of moments he had let his mind wander away from his duty as a brother to his responsibility of a king - marriages made powerful alliances, and with the loss of Madeline’s viability, also came the loss of a powerful bargaining chip for France. No, he vowed, this would be their secret. He trusted Rosalyn and he trusted Maddy, no one else had to know what had transpired on this ship.

That is, if they every escaped it. Right now those chances weren’t looking so good.

It had been the sound of the whip cracking in the air just before it dropped against Madeline’s back that had snapped him out of it. He couldn’t help but flinch away from the strike, no matter how much of a coward that made him. His sister cried out, and bile rose in his throat. “Please!” He begged in a strangled scream. His tears mixed with the rain, eyes darting all around in search of anything that could help.

He wanted to reach out to Rosalyn, to comfort her through this because by the end he knew they would all be traumatized in some way or another. As a work-roughened hand dug into his curls, lifting his face up to watch at the captain’s command as he rose the whip a second time, Theodore finally gave up. He came to terms with he fact that there would be little chances of ever making it off this ship, let alone saving his sister from the punishment he had earned them all. The fire in him fizzled out, only embers of the strength he’d once possessed left.

That is, until an unsteady voice spoke up from across the ship. A man he only barely recognized as one of the pirates who’d captured them so long ago and delivered the royals to their captain - like a dog bringing a bird to it’s owner - was speaking out on Madeline’s behalf. Just like kindling to a flame, the pirate’s words stirred the slightest bit of strength back to his eyes. For the first time, it felt as if they might have an ally aboard this ship.

Theodore could’ve cried all over again as he watched the man take his sister’s place against the block, Madeline finally returning to himself and Rosalyn, crumpling against the red-haired girl as she cried.

The whipping was gruesome. When the captain whipped Madeline it was show, to teach them all a lesson. But when he brought the whip down against Elijah’s back over and over again it became increasingly clear that this time the captain had something to prove. By the time he dropped the whip the other pirate sagged against the block, blood mixing with the rain as it ran in small streaks across the deck.

Theo was relieved, although that feeling was fleeting as Jane strode towards them, demanding he be released. The prince stared right back at the blue eyed pirate, not daring to say a word while she was so riled up. He was just thankful that the horrors of the night were coming to a close - he could withstand verbal lashing from Jane if that was all he had left to endure. Plus, he was sure that wouldn’t be the end of it for them. Surely the two would have words once he was securely locked away in a cell once again.

As the she-witch stormed away, Theodore fell against the two women beside him, gathering them both up in his arms as he hugged them as tight as he humanly could. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” He repeated over and over again, head ducked against their own. The three sat like that for several minutes, huddled together in the rain, holding each other on the floor and crying.

Eventually Madeline excused herself, feeling as if she owed the man who’d taken her place on that block her life and needing to thank him. “I love you.” He reminded her before she went, trying to catch hold of his emotions before they ran too far away from him. Turning back to Rosalyn, Theo offered the girl a sad smile as he pulled her back into a brief hug. “Not exactly how we imagined our engagement tour, huh?” He joked in a sad attempt at lightening the mood and putting a smile back on the princess’s face. He knew they would all have a hard time with that after tonight.

He could feel Jane’s eyes boring into him from across the ship, and damn it, those blue eyes might as well have been lasers because the prince could have sworn it hurt. He knew she was waiting on him, giving him these last free moments with his bride-to-be before he was locked away again. With a heavy sigh, Theodore rose to his feet, offering Ros his hand up as well. “Please be safe, Rosalyn.” He murmured, stooping forward to press a quick kiss to her cheek before he turned to leave. He knew he shouldn’t have, that even little acts of affection could pose dangerous to them while they were unwed, but social constructs be damned - they’d been through so much the past few days that damn it they deserved even the tiniest bits of happiness they could steal. Turning back on his heal to face her once more, Theodore quickly caught her chin, dipping down to press a quick but firm kiss to her lips. “Yes-“ He murmured, taking a step backwards as he faced her. “-I think that will carry me to the wedding.” He joked with a cheeky grin, turning away from her once more and approaching the pirate waiting for him across the deck.

His smile quickly faded and anger flared back to life in his amber eyes. Jane was everything that Rosalyn was not. While Ros was warm and happy and soft - Jane was all cold and mean and nothing but sharp edges. The two walked in silence for a few minutes before Theodore couldn’t take it anymore, all of the hostility in the air but no words to express it. “What would you have had me done?” He demanded, throwing his arms into the air. He knew she was angry at him for trying to run, angry for her friend who’d taken the whip. “What was I supposed to do? Sit and wait around to be cut down like a dog? When I’m no longer useful? Sit and watch as my sister and bride are having god-only-knows what done to them? Sit idly as they whither away?” His voice grew, though he didn’t mean for it to. Slowly but surely, the fight in him was going from a dull ember to a raging fire. “I had to do something, whether you think it was smart or dangerous, I don’t really care. But I had to do something.”

“Have you never loved someone so much that you would put you life at risk to save them? Because that’s how I feel. I would rather not take another breath if it meant they were free.”

Madeline wasn’t exactly sure what she’d had in mind when she made that mad dash for the railing amongst the chaos of their attempted escape. The girl wasn’t a fool, she knew that she’d have little chance of winning a battle against the waves of the roaring sea if she successfully made it overboard, but somehow that still seemed better than waiting to be struck down at the convenience of such a barbaric, filthy, pirate. At least this way, she could decide her own fate - for maybe the first time in her entire life, really... how cruel that it was only in death that she could have a say.

Tunnel vision had blinded her against everything other than the nearing railing, blinding her to the chaos that ensued around her, deafening her to the cries of a pirate, a boy, begging her not to do this. It was only once Alistair had lifted the blonde from the floor of the deck that things began to click into place.

He had been ready to jump too.

Green eyes flicked to his own amber gaze for the briefest moment, a wordless apology written all over her face. Guilt consumed the small girl as she took in the stray robe, sword, belt all discarded behind him. Madeline’s chest ached at the sight, but what pained her most was that she was sure that she hadn’t been the only one to notice what Elijah had planned to do, and the captain would surely have his way with the poor boy once their current debacle was through. She wished she could apologize for her selfishness, for making him risk his own safety in an attempt to preserve her own, but she could do nothing as Alistair drug her to the whipping post.

Madeline went numb as the captain ripped open the back of her dress, exposing her satin skin to the entire ship. Maybe it was her mind’s attempt at self-preservation, but the girl could have sworn she couldn’t feel anything besides the steady stream of tears rolling down her face.

That was, until the whip struck.

The first strike blazed across her back like white hot fire, leaving every last nerve dancing in pain. Her scream pierced the air like a siren, and her body sagged against the block. A part of Mads was ashamed that her body was ready to give up against the pain so soon, but she wasn’t sure what else she should have expected either. Sure, she reckoned herself a strong girl, but she had also grown up with a life of luxury. The most pain she encountered on a daily basis was the occasional needle stick from her embroidery - nothing near a whip slicing into her bare skin.

Madeline prepared herself for the next strike as best as she could, eyes clenched shut and muscles tightened against the pain that was sure to come - but she was shocked to hear a familiar voice call out just before she took the next blow. “No.” The word was silent on her lips, though her mind screamed in disagreement, for she knew his fate if he spoke on her behalf. It was clear even to her that he was fumbling for words, trying to seem unbothered as he pleaded her case although he was so obviously frazzled.

“She’s not worth nearly as much with scars all over her back” He had said. Her stomach rolled.

For Madeline’s entire life she had little worth other than being a potential bartering piece for her family once her brother’s marriage was finalized, and even now as a prisoner on a pirate ship in the middle of the damn ocean, her only value laid in her beauty... what she could be traded for. It was a sick reality.

The blonde’s entire body shook as Elijah moved forward, the men on either side of her releasing their grip as he came to lift her off the block. Her head hung low as the man attempted to subtly pull her dress closed, shame wracking her body as she felt a hundred pairs of eyes gliding over her bare skin. No woman, especially a woman of her station should be exposed to such a crowd, to so many men. Her reputation would be in shambled if anyone of importance ever caught word of this display… good thing pirates weren’t much for morals, and didn’t mind their women’s lack of modesty.

Still, she cowered into the pirate’s side as he guided her away from Alistair, grateful for his protection against the cruelty of his ship mates. In truth, the boy had guarded the two princesses since they’d boarded the ship. From the very beginning he and his softer-natured friend had stood by their door, shooing away the nasty men that came in waves to oggle at or taunt the women. In the moment Madeline hadn’t been anything other than angry over being trapped in a cell and held prisoner, but in hindsight she figured that they really had gotten lucky with Elijah and Jack. No matter how rough their edges, they had good souls, and that was more than she could say for most of the other men she’d encountered on this retched ship.

Madeline was startled as a heavy fabric was draped across her shoulders as they neared the other royals held prisoner, green eyes rising from the floor to meet the steely gaze of the other man who’d taken watch over her. Just as the stream of tears running down her face began to dwell, she was overcome by the man’s kindness and they were back full force. He’d given her his cloak. “Thank you.” Mads whispered as she clutched the fabric around her, thankful not only for cover but the warmth it brought as well. She wanted to thank him, to hug him, hell she would’ve kissed either one of those men for the kindness they’d shown her today. But before she could work up the courage and open her mouth, the two were leaving her with her brother and dearest friend and returning to the whipping post.

Jack’s cloak pooled around her as she was forced to her knees between Theodore and Rosalyn, and Maddy couldn’t help but notice how opposite the two looked. Her brave and outspoken brother now looked so broken and defeated, as if it had been him under the whip and not herself - and Rosalyn, well she was looked like a mixture of sadness and pure rage. When Madeline and Theodore had first left to sail to the Scots and meet the soon to be bride people had warned them to beware of a red head’s fiery nature, something she had taken as jest until now. That girl had a storm brewing behind her eyes, and for some reason that brought a thrill to Madeline. Roslyn wouldn't let this break her, that much she was sure.

She tucked herself into the Princess’s side as the other girl reached her arms out to her, grateful that if nothing else, she had a friend to rely on in this forlorn hell-scape. Madeline was blinded by either the rain or her own tears - she really couldn’t be sure which - maybe both, her body trembling from the unforgiving coldness of rain as it beat down on them. By the time she’d regained a smidge of composure and peeled her face out of Rosalyn’s shoulder, Elijah had discarded his shirt and was bent over the block. And - damn her for noticing in a moment like this - but he looked so strikingly strong. Madeline had never much been one to swoon over men, much preferring to be chased than be the one doing the chasing, but it was impossible not to notice what an exquisite specimen of a man he was. From the scars along his back marking a history of overcoming these sins, to the way his muscles rippled just under the skin as he tensed in preparation for the first strike. He was beautiful - for a pirate at least - that much she could appreciate. In another world, where Elijah Hargraves was a respectful gentleman of nobility and not a stinking, rutting pirate, Mads could almost imagine herself liking him. Almost.

Alistair paced behind him, the handle of the whip twirling menacingly in his hands as if this were just like any other afternoon. Sure, he seemed angry, but more than anything he seemed absolutely careless - merciless - and that was what scared Madeline the most. It was clear that the man had no regard for another human life, not her’s, and surely not Elijah’s either.

Then came the first blow, the whip crashing against the boy’s back with enough force to send a crack echoing over the deck.

And then it came again.

And again.

And again.

Madeline tried to look away, attempted to hide herself from the horror by burying her face back into the shoulder of her red-headed friend, but she couldn’t. She was responsible for this, it was her fault that he was in this situation, and she decided that even if it was from afar, she wouldn’t let him bare this alone. Tears welled in her eyes once more as she glued her eyes on the scene, gaze drifting between the pain scrunched face of Elijah and the blonde head bent beside him, Jack whispering reassurances to his loyal friend - or mortal enemy, it depended on the day really.

The petite girl flinched with each and every strike, and they didn’t stop until Elijah’s back was gruesome and Alistair was covered in sweat. Madeline hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath until she released it a wave of relief when the captain finally dropped the whip, it’s dull thud signaling the end of the night. She’d begun to think that the man would kill him if they didn’t let up soon.

A single wave of Jane’s sword had been all it took for the pirates holding them to their knees to release them, which earned an eye roll from Mads. She wasn’t sure how that woman commanded the attention of so many men without so much as a word, but damn it, she wanted to learn. Rising to her feet, Madeline shared a brief look with Rosalyn as she took a step away. “I should tend to him, or at the very least make sure he will be okay.” She explained, the guilt she still felt nearly getting caught in her throat and making her choke over her words. She turned to Theo next, offering him a sad smile. “Please try not to get any of us killed. Mind your temper, brother.” The words were supposed to be light, but ended up coming out much more serious than she intended. That was okay though, she supposed, because they were serious.

With one final glance between the couple-to-be, Madeline spun on her heel and made her way across the deck to the man who had somehow gathered to strength to rise back to his own two feet. “Please-“ The girl began, ducking under his arm and pulling it across her shoulders to help him walk. “Allow me to help. I insist.” She stated in a no-nonsense tone, leaving little room for argument. Although, she wasn’t really sure how much she was actually helping due to the fact that Elijah towered over her - she supposed it was the thought that counted, if anything. The pair took slow and steady steps, Mads not wanted to rush the pirate and cause him any more pain than he was already in, trudging along to a small cabin located just off of the deck, where she helped him up onto a cot.

It was a girlish, silly notion, but Madeline felt so awkward being near him like this. For Maddy’s entire life everything had been about her up keeping her virtue so she would be an easy trade when the right titled man presented himself to her parents, for maintaining modesty and keeping men at arm’s length at all times to fend off any uncertainty a potential suitor would have against her morals. Yet here she was, alone in a room with a half-undressed man and her dress in tatters. If only her father could see her now, he would have a stroke. And even as harmless as it was, she had never touched so much of a man, felt so much skin against her own from someone who wasn’t family or a dear friend. She felt stupid for even having the thought, clutching Jack’s cloak tighter around her.

Madeline knelt beside the head of the cot, the excess fabric gathering around her and making it look like she were sitting in a puddle of spare cloak. She was unsure what to say to him now that the deed was done, the right words refusing to come to her lips no matter how hard she called them. Thankfully, Jack broke the silence. She turned her face up to him as he busted into the room, an urgency to him that quickly dwindled once he located his best-mate and confirmed that he was in fact still alive. Before he could leave, Maddy darted out a hand, taking his own in both of hers as she stared up at him with green eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you.” She said softly, giving the boy’s hand a squeeze and holding it for a moment longer before dropping it.

Almost like a revolving door, when one Harding left, in came another right behind him. But this one wasn’t nearly as pleasant. Jane rolled in like a hurricane, angry and chaotic and hurling insults like punches as she rummaged through the cabinets and drawers in the cabin. Madeline hated that she was so scared of her, cowering further into the corner the other woman finally realized her presence beside Eli. Truthfully, Jane scared her more than Elijah and Jack combined - and that was saying something. She took the pirate’s threats in stride, knowing that she deserved every bit of harshness the woman threw at her. She had been selfish, and it had nearly resulted in the captain killing one of the only people to have ever shown her kindness on this ship. Sure, he was still a pirate and she was still his prisoner, and she sure as hell still disliked him, but she couldn’t deny that he had saved her today. “I won’t” Was all the blonde offered in reply, catching the thrown supplies as the dark haired she-pirate stormed back out of the room just as she’d came.

“I want you to know that I am so, so sorry for what you had to endure on my behalf.” Madeline began, her voice just barely above a whisper. With as gentle a hand as she could manage, Madeline dampened a cloth and ran it along Eli’s back, cleaning away the blood until she could actually see what she was doing. She worked silently as she threaded the needle through the worst of his cuts, covering the others with a clean cloth so they could heal on their own. “I wish there was a proper doctor to attend you.” She noted in a murmur, taking short breaks while she worked to give him time to rest between the spurts of pain The two sat in silence for a long while, until Maddy took to humming while she patched him up. It seemed to soothe the poor boy, who was wrenching in pain although he was doing his best to hide it from her, and it gave Mads something to occupy her mind so she wouldn’t hurl.

This was much different from her embroidery.

They kept that routine that for several hours through the night, until Madeline’s work came to an end as she wrapped a thin layer of gauze around the pirate’s lean torso to hold the bandages in place. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, the sea air cool and crisp as it drifted in through the window. Her hair had finally dried, Jack’s cloak hung off the back of the chair as it dried as well, and she had managed to salvage the remainder of her dress. “If you could assist me, Mr. Hargrave.” She murmured hesitantly as he began to settle, turning to give him her back. “I’ve managed all but the ties, if you would so kindly assist me by lacing and knotting them.” A red, angry looking slash ran across her back from nearly her shoulder blade to the opposite hip bone, a single mark on her otherwise unblemished skin. It stung like all hell, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t deal with - especially in comparison to the ones scattering the man beside her’s back.

Mads tried to push off the light blush that attempted to rise on her cheeks, again, feeling very silly for having to ask for a man’s help for something as simple as to tying the back of her dress. She’d always had a lady’s maid to assist her with it before, even when traveling. Apparently those were a rarity on a pirate ship. Still, she ducked her head at the feel of his work-roughed hands against the smooth porcelain of her skin as he laced her up, tying the back of her dress closed with a simple bow. “Thank you.” She offered, settling back in the floor at the head of the bed as she had been before.

Pulling Jack’s cloak down and draping it over her as a makeshift blanket, Madeline leaned her head back against the wall, turning her eyes to Elijah once more. “I must know…” She breathed, shaking her hand in disbelief before she could even speak her question - she didn’t think any answer could justify what she’d witnessed today. “What could make you loyal to a man like that? So cruel? You could be so many things in this great big world we have... so why a pirate? And why for him?”

Jack wasn’t exactly sure how he had planned on spending his morning.

However, chasing after some nearly naked, ballsy as hell, royal women while Jane unleashed herself on a prince while simultaneously flirting with Eli Hargrave in the pouring rain was definitely not fucking it.

And Rosalyn also had shot that infamous and fiery attitude towards him, claiming that their escape was simple enough, considering they were able to sneak past them so effortlessly. Wherever the hell they were able to snatch a key from, Jack wasn’t certain, but he knew that all of them would be under the wrath of Alistair once he found out.

And, to top it all off, he had a damned headache.

While the nagging feeling to observe Jane and her swordfight with the prince tugged at him, nearly dragging him towards the battling duo, Jack managed to control himself. That brotherly instinct still sitting inside of him after all these years. Even though Jane clearly didn’t need it from him -- if she still even considered him family. Jack didn’t spend much time on that thought.

Eli’s sudden movements caused Jack to shoot his attention away from his baby sister and at the escaped women, who were now hauling themselves towards the railing of the ship. To jump. The little blonde one, Madeline, led Ros towards the edge. Jack was only able to see the dark crimson of her hair as it grew soaked with the rain, sticking across her face. Something inside of him that wasn’t laced with his duty as a pirate, but his duty as a man, shattered through the callous wall he had shrouded himself with and, before he knew it, Jack was racing towards the girls. Unknowing of what the hell he was going to do, but confident enough that he was not going to let them out of his sight.

An image flashed inside his mind: the rocky, unforgiving sea below. Blonde hair floating through the waves, golden strands entangling with the red hair of the unmoving body next to her.

Jack quickened his pace, nearly sprinting across the deck.

He heard Eli call out to Madeline between the clashing of swords from his sister and the prince. Throughout the ship, other crewmates were stirring and rising from their cabins to see the show, too bad Jack would make sure there wouldn’t be one. “Ros!” he called to her, voice hoarse.

Just as he had nearly reached the pair, a large hand snatched Madeline’s golden waves, snagging her out of the air. The echo of her body hitting the wooden deck silenced the entire ship and Jack stilled. Eli stepping forward as they shoved Mads onto the wooden block shot Jack out of his trance, only to give his friend a sorrow-filled, but warning look. The prince’s raging insults and fury filled screams were the only things audible across the ship as Alistair brought Madeline towards the block.

As the Captain tore open the back of her dress, Jack instinctively turned away.

But, as the whip came crashing down, Jack’s gaze snapped back to Madeline, and the streams of blood running down from one clean lash on her pale back. He repressed the nausea that rolled inside of him, his jaw clenched tightly. He was prepared to open his mouth in attempt to stop the torture, but Eli had beat him to it, stepping forward and challenging the Captain with his nonchalant and playful taunts.

God damnit.

Jack’s pain-filled eyes traveled to Eli, noting the bravery and also the slight tinge of remorse in his gaze as he stared at Alistair and was given his punishment for speaking out. He had done something Jack was too scared to do, and now he would face the consequences. The declaration of Eli’s punishment came as no surprise to Jack, but still, his throat grew tight.

As two burly pirates snatched Madeline off of the block and hauled her towards her brother and Rosalyn, Jack nearly moved towards the group of royals himself. He knew the pain of the whip, knew the burning sensation that would ebb away at Madeline’s back for hours. He wanted to help -- he needed to help in any way he could. So, he reached out a hand, stalling the pirates while they gripped Madeline. Jack shucked off his worn and tattered cloak -- one which he had stolen from a fishing port years ago -- and hastily draped the thick fabric over Madeline’s slim shoulders, covering her bare back.

Part of him wanted to follow her towards the other royals, to put a warm arm around her and coax her through the pain that Jack had learned all too well and all too frequently.

But, as Eli moved towards the post, peeling off his shirt willingly, Jack knew what he had to do.

Now without any hesitation, he headed towards the block and knelt next to Eli, grasping his arms tightly. He squeezed the boy’s arm once, a silent reassurance as well as a promise. Jack could see the strength flooding his crewmate's eyes as he prepared himself for the first blow, but Jack was also familiar enough with Eli that he noticed the small tinge of fear that laced through them as well. “Don’t let the bastard win,” he hissed to him, barely moving his lips.

As the first lash struck, Jack winced. “One,” he whispered to Eli, counting the lashes, squeezing his arm again, trying to do anything to keep his mind off of the pain. A small spray of blood splattered across Jack’s face, yet he refused to wipe it away. “Two.”

As the Captain went on, cracking the whip an unearthly amount of times, Jack’s voice never faltered, never missed a count. He needed to remain steady for Eli as the boy seemed to fade in and out of consciousness. “Don’t fucking let him win, Hargrave,” Jack snarled, giving him another squeeze as another spray of blood flooded the deck.

Jack wasn’t sure how much time had passed, how long it took for Eli to receive fifty-two lashes from the Captain’s hand. The sound of the whip hitting the deck sent a wave of relief through him and Jack leaned forward, exhaling a sigh and releasing Eli’s arm. His forehead pressed against the side of Eli’s head, blond intermixing with ebony curls. “Fifty-two,” he confirmed quietly to him. “Fifty-two.”

The stomping footsteps of Alistair nearing the block caused Jack to back away from Eli, now in full view of the punishment the poor boy had received. He wasn’t even able to tell what pieces of skin were left unmarked, for blood flooded the entirety of his back. Jack swallowed a lump in his throat. His eyes then met Jane’s while she addressed him with a singular nod, no doubt the only recognition of a ‘thank you’ he would ever get from the woman. Still, Jack took it with a grain of salt and nodded back. You’re welcome.

In the time between his and Jane’s silent conversation, Eli had mustered up the strength to head into a cabin on deck, Madeline trailing him. Even with her injured back, the small, tiny little thing managed to weave herself under Eli’s arm and assist him into shelter. Jack clearly may have underestimated her strength.

Thank the rutting Gods that the prince knew how to use a sword.

Because after he said her name in that scolding, condescending tone, she wanted to cut that stupid smirk off of his stupid mouth.

Jane couldn’t control the grin across her rain-soaked face as the blond boy raised the blade against her own, the clash of metal on metal ringing out in the storm that continued to sweep across the ship. Sweet music to her damn ears. It was surely a hell of a lot better than the snarky tone he had started using on her once he had grown more comfortable inside his cell. Even in shackles and behind bars he still looked regal, damn him. Those conniving smirks, that somewhat sultry voice he used against her, almost in a form of mockery. The blond boy certainly figured out entirely too quickly how to get on her bad side. Hell, if Jane didn’t know any better, she might have thought he was doing it on purpose.

Idiot.

She still didn’t know his name, so Idiot would have to suffice. That title usually belonged to Eli, but she didn’t think the fellow pirate would be entirely sad to see it leave.

One cue, Eli’s drawl sounding through the rain and as Jane clashed her sword against the opposing blade. She dared a quick glance at him, offering a wink through the soaked strands of hair sticking to her face. “Come to my quarters sometime, Hargrave, and you can find out.”

Jane could practically feel Jack’s eyeroll.

But, that quick momentary distraction allowed the prince to maneuver his sword, pressing it against hers and reaching around her side, granting a slice on the arm as the prince took advantage of the exposed area she had left unguarded. A fool’s mistake. A stupid fool’s mistake.

Rage once again took over and Jane lashed out with her sword, pivoting her feet and clanging the metal against the other sword in a swift move -- one the prince dodged just in time. Damn, he was good. She hated that he knew what the fuck he was doing. For once, Jane was challenged in a duel. While Eli’s tactics were strong and mighty, the boy’s strength and power were unmatched, his strategies and moves were also predictable. To her, anyways. She would never underestimate her friend’s ability to slice a man where he stood before he even had the opportunity to scream, she had seen it happen more than enough times to count.

But the prince? The lean and tall blond that matched her moves effortlessly, nearly egging her on while doing so, was something she was entirely unfamiliar with. She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t having a little bit of fun, even if he tore her favorite shirt. “Trying to get me out of my clothes, are you princeling?” She taunted through panting breaths, slightly shocked at her own tiring voice and her muscles to go with it.

It was decided, Jane despised these fucking royals.

She lunged for him again, just as a piercing scream ricocheted across the deck. The tip of her sword landed against the prince’s smooth cheek as his head whipped towards the sound, nicking him once, a small trail of blood mixing in with the rain. A couple of crewmates then snagged his arms, restraining the flailing boy as Alistair held one of the other captives, his sister, in a deadly grip. Jane lowered her sword.

Her blue eyes darted to Eli, then to Jack, then to the small blonde girl being pulled across the ship, towards a post. No, the post. Her sword immediately became heavy in her hand and Jane merely stared ahead as they tore open whatever remained of the dress the girl had worn. She knew what was about to occur, she clearly heard the rage and threat laced in Alistair’s raspy voice.

Vaguely, at her side, while the pirates held down the prince, she could hear his strained screams, the onslaught of curses and vile phrases that left his lips. However, through his thrashing, she did not look at him. Only at Madeline and Alistair, the captain with a satisfied sneer on his face as he turned the whip nonchalantly in his hand. A sight Jane was far too comfortable seeing.

She knew the girl’s fear, she recognized the trembles, the sobs. Images of her younger self flashed across Jane’s eyes as she continued to stare ahead -- numb to more than just the chilled rain that continued to pour.

As Alistair cracked the whip, a large and deep red slash appearing on Madeline’s body, Jane did not flinch.

A part of her, deep inside that stone-cold chest, flickered. Her gaze eventually slid to Alistair, watching the satisfied grin appear on his face as he watched the blood ooze down from Madeline’s pale back. Jane’s stomach rolled, but her face remained expressionless, indifferent, even though she knew that the screams of that girl would echo inside her mind while she tried to sleep in her quarters tonight. That she will never forget the sound of the prince’s screams as he struggled with all his might to save someone he loved.

Her mind drifted to Jack, only for a moment, at a memory of his very first time seeing Jane on that post. The screams he made, the bartering he attempted.

Jane was about to open her mouth, unsure of what she was even going to say to Alistair, until Eli’s voice broke through the silence.

No, no. Shut up, you oaf.

Jane knew what he was doing right away. She took note of the worried gleam in his eye, one that Alistair may not notice, but something she definitely did. God damnit. He had gone soft for the tiny little thing. Eli always seemed more… human than the rest of the pirates. His witty jokes, his warm smiles, knowing when to back off and when she or Jack needed a good brawl to take their frustrations out on.

He was a good man. Probably the best out of everyone on the ship.

Waiting for Alistair to speak felt like an eternity. And, once he did, Jane’s stomach sank in her chest.

She watched Eli, her friend, intensely as he shucked off his shirt, the wet fabric hitting the ship with a smack! Her eyes lingered on the multiples scars across his body, scars that she helped him heal from, cuts and slashes that she had to sew up by candlelight. Jane wondered how many candles they would go through while she would inevitably have to sew him up later -- how hard Alistair would take out his fury on a mere boy.

“You’ll need his blade, especially if we’re raiding more ships,” Jane started, then quickly added, “Captain.” But, it didn’t seem like Alistair was in the mood for anymore bartering or compromise. He sneered at her, passing a sidelong glare her way in warning. She got his message loud and clear. Don’t make me tie you up on that post as well.

The first crack of the whip sounded. She flinched.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Still, Jane watched every one of them. She watched as her brother, one of the men that volunteered to hold him down, held onto Eli’s strained arm with all of his might. His lips were moving, blond head bent low, no doubt talking him through it. Jack, the boy who seemed to hate Eli with all of his being, but would also undoubtedly go to the ends of the earth for him. Jane would never know such loyalty.

Her throat tightened, almost ready to speak up again until Alistair’s whip finally ceased. The whip clattered to the ground, the tip soaked with Eli’s blood as it flowed across the deck, becoming diluted from the rain.

Eli’s back was nearly in ribbons.

As the captain strode towards him and snagged his thick hair, Jane tightened her grip on her sword.

While she didn’t hear what Alistair had hissed into Eli’s ear, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. It was a threat, no doubt, and a threat from Alistair Grey was unwavering. Relentless.

When the captain eventually strode back into his cabin, Jane then sheathed her sword.

“Release him,” she ordered the raggedy pirates that still held onto the prince. Her voice felt hollow, as if it didn’t belong to her. She heard them remove their hold from the prince and Jane managed to move her gaze from Eli’s back and land onto his the blond's brown eyes. She knew that the wetness on his face was not just from the rain. She stared at him for a while, the rain eventually letting up, resulting in a thin mist.

“I hope you’ll now think twice about pulling that sort of shit again.” While the warning was sharp, the maliciousness that often weaved through Jane’s voice was missing. Next time, it might be you, her words seemed to say, hidden behind the front she put off.

Leaving the solemn prince on the deck, Jane stalked off to one of the other cabins on the main deck, one that Jack had just stepped out of, golden hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes weary. Without any hesitation, Jane raced towards the cabin, giving Jack only a singular nod before she burst through the cabin door.

“You stupid, fucking, rutting idiot!” Jane snarled to Eli through her white teeth, not even daring a glance towards him as she rummaged through the chests and cupboards, looking for cloth any other first aid supplies on the damned ship. Their selection was slim to none. Still, her hands found a needle and thread and a bundle of fabric pieces. Good enough.

Whipping her head towards him, another slew of insults ready to roll off her tongue, she met green eyes instead of Eli’s familiar brown.

While the pirate lay face down on a table, candles already lighting the dim room, there sat Madeline at his side. The back of her dress was still torn open, the deep and red slash still leaking blood. Her eyes narrowed at the sight and she slowly stepped towards them.

With water dripping down her dark hair, Jane glared at the blonde girl and jutted a finger towards the slashes on Eli’s back. “He got those from you and your precious royals, I hope you realize that and never forget it.” However, after taking note of the fear, regret, and sorrow that filled those ivy eyes, Jane’s voice softened, only slightly. “Use these,” she commanded, shoving the supplies into Madeline’s frail hands.

She started towards the door once more, fire flickering behind her eyes, not just from the flames of the candles, either. “And I’ll warn you,” Jane said, kicking open the door and her stare drifting to meet Eli’s. Playful malice sat inside her eyes, a language only spoken between them. Between friends. “He screams like a bitch.”

With that, she left the cabin, nearly colliding into the Crown Prince of France.

Just her luck.

Eli spent most of his days, after bringing the royals onboard, getting piss drunk and trying to discover new and inventive ways to piss Jack off. There was nothing else to do, really. And the man made it incredibly easy given his already sour disposition. Eli guessed that had something to do with Jane, it usually did. Even Eli had stayed out of Jane’s way this week as she had seemed to be in an even fouler mood than usual.

Eli didn’t consider himself a smart man, but he’d learned the Harding siblings better than anyone. He knew when to goad them, when they needed to let off some steam, and when to steer clear of them completely. It was one of the only reasons he’d survived them for as long as he had. But seeing as he and Jack had been assigned to watch the royals together, that meant Eli had no choice but to endure Jack’s sour moods. Which typically resulted in a fight at some point or another.

The job had been a tad more demanding earlier in the week when their crewmates had taken it upon themselves to come below deck and catch glimpses of the two women in their cell. Anyone that had so much as looked at the royals the wrong way or said one foul thing had received a swift kick to the balls, and soon enough the number of visitors had dwindled once they’d learned their lesson. Eli wouldn’t see either woman hurt at the hands of his crewmates, that was for damn sure.

Neither royal was how he’d imagined them to be—all sneer and pomp. Well, the red-haired one had the sneering down, but the blonde, Madeline, was kind despite the situation and the company she found herself in. And Eli tried to return that kindness whenever possible.

Though he hadn’t been able to look either woman in the eye after they’d brought them to Alistair the morning after their attack on the French ship. Eli knew Alistair to be a cruel man, not beyond maiming women if it got him one step closer to his goal, but Eli never condoned nor participated in it. He had managed to maintain some semblance of morality in his time aboard the Retribution. But when Madeline had returned from the Captain’s cabin, she had been sporting a split lip and something inside him felt both shame and rage at the sight. Ros had been escorted back some time later, covered in bruises—it seemed as though Alistair had gotten his hands on the artifact he’d been after for months now.

Over the course of the week, Eli had actually come to enjoy the company of Ros and Madeline, especially if it meant some reprieve from only having Jack to talk to. The women had more fire to them than he’d expected from those born with a silver spoon in their mouths and he found them entertaining. It wasn’t often they kept prisoners aboard the Retribution for as long as they’d kept these ones. And Eli had come to dread the day Alistair either grew tired of them or no longer needed them.

However, after a week of nothing but sitting, drinking, and playing cards with the other pirate, even Eli’s mood was growing sour. He was bored. Which was why, that night, he’d downed even more rum than usual during their nightly round of cards. The particulars of the night blurred together. But Eli did remember gloating because while he was a sore loser, he was even worse when he won something—especially against Jack—which must have meant he’d won the game that night. He also vaguely remembered saying something about Jane, though he didn’t remember what, and apparently it had not been the right thing to say as Jack hadn’t hesitated in throwing a punch.

Eli wasn’t sure if the headache he’d woken to was due to the rum or to the fact that Jack had punched him so hard his teeth had rattled, but either way it wasn’t pleasant. He had heard low voices and the shuffling of feet but he figured it was either the royals in their cell or some crew members in search of something to drink. He ran his fingers through his hair and pushed himself off of the ground. Then had to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness of the candlelight and poured himself a cup of water.

Once his eyes had adjusted though, they landed on the open cell door—the cell where Ros and Mads were supposed to be—the key still sitting in the lock. The girls were nowhere to be seen. Someone must have lifted the keys from his belt while he’d been asleep. Eli dropped the cup back down on the table, letting out a slew of curses under his breath as he went to find Jack.

The Captain was going to absolutely gut them for this.

He’d found the other pirate curled up and fast asleep down the hall, and while Eli had learned very early on to never wake a Harding if you wanted to keep your head attached to your shoulders, he figured this was an exception to that rule. He kicked at the man’s boots until his eyes opened.

“Yeah, yeah, threaten me later,” Eli spoke quickly over Jack’s curses. “Right now, we have a bit of a problem.” He glanced over his shoulder at the now empty cell. Jack shot to his feet and Eli followed close behind, strapping his sword to his belt as they walked.

“I was supposed to be watching them?” He scoffed. “Don’t put that on me, I think it was meant to be a joint effort, asshole,” Eli shot back as the men broke into a sprint, bounding up the stairs and bursting out on to the deck. The rain was coming down so hard it had soaked the pair within seconds of stepping foot outside, but even through the downpour, Eli could make out four figures in front of them.

“Of fucking course she beat us here, does that woman ever sleep?” Eli asked as he took in the scene. Jane had the tip of her sword pointed at the Prince’s throat and he had managed to swipe a sword of his own. It was painfully still for a fraction of a moment before Theo swung down on Jane’s sword and the two erupted into motion, the clanging of steel ringing out over the rain and crash of the waves. Any man that willingly got into a duel with Jane surely had a death wish, but Eli guessed they already knew that about the princeling.

“Shit,” Eli muttered, drawing his own sword. But as he was about to jump into the fray he saw Madeline grab Rosalyn’s hand and make a break for the railing on the other side of the deck, and it struck him what she planned to do. She planned to jump. Jane didn’t need his help anyway, she looked like she was holding up quite well against the princeling, and she honestly might bite his head off later if he were to help her.

“Madeline, don’t.” He broke into a sprint across the deck toward the women, shedding his coat as he ran. He wasn’t going to make it to them before they got to the railing, he wouldn’t be able to stop them if they pulled themselves overboard. But before they were within reach a firm hand pulled the blonde back and she slammed against the wooden deck. Eli stopped dead in his tracks.

Alistair held the girl by the back of her neck, surveying the crew in front of him. Many of whom had come on deck at the sounds of fighting. Then he’d made eye contact with Eli and his blood ran cold. Eli glanced behind him at his discarded jacket, knives, and sword, and realized he’d been seconds from jumping after them, after her. Even if he had survived the fall into the water, and hadn’t drowned almost immediately in the growing waves, he’d almost certainly have been dragged under by whatever monsters waited beneath the surface. Yet, he’d been willing to risk all of that, no hesitation, in an attempt to save her.

“What the fuck is the meaning of this?” The Captain had yelled, the question warranted no response. Alistair didn’t deal in petty excuses. They’d fucked up, and they’d pay for it.

Eli glanced over at Madeline who had gone deadly still with the presence of a knife pressed to her throat, and he had to force himself to look away. He watched as the Prince was disarmed and restrained, that same feral energy had returned as his loved ones were at stake yet again. Rosalyn had been caught too, dragged over to kneel beside her fiancé. But Eli stayed wholly still as he listened to the Captain.

He took a step forward as Alistair pulled Madeline toward the whipping block but he stopped himself. Eli knew he couldn’t get in the middle of this—he was already in enough trouble as it was. Even if he had come to like the girl, Eli was in no position to tell Alistair how to treat his prisoners. This was the life he had chosen years ago, so why now did it seem so hard to stomach?

Eli had no misconceptions about the lengths to which Alistair would go to prove a point, even if it meant cutting the woman down simply to teach them a lesson, to teach her brother, especially. But seeing Madeline held to that block, where Eli had seen his Captain punish more men than he could remember, was a sight that would forever be burned into his mind. Even after taking off that fancy dress and spending a week below deck, she still looked like a princess. Like she belonged in a castle, not tied to a block that was stained with blood.

The Captain tore the back of her dress, revealing delicate and pale skin beneath it. Prince Theo had, mercifully, decided to shut his mouth. Apparently, he’d realized, a bit too late, that his slurs and snarls didn’t make the situation better for any of them, especially his sister. Or maybe he’s just simply given up, realized that nothing he could do would save any of them from what Alistair had planned.

The two men who held the blonde to the block looked as if they were enjoying themselves a bit too much, and Eli knew he would make them pay for it later. But seeing Madeline cry and beg for the Captain to stop made his chest ache. Maybe it was guilt or something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on but didn’t want to sit there and watch Alistair beat her bloody.

Alistair raised his arm and Eli watched as the whip came down hard on Madeline’s back. He hadn’t made the conscious decision to move, but before he could stop himself he’d pushed through the crew gathered on the deck and called out to his Captain before he could strike her again.

“C’mon Captain,” Eli tried to sound unhurried, unbothered, but all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. He was an idiot. Why was he risking his neck for a girl they’d taken as a prisoner? But he continued. “You don’t want to damage the goods.” His eyes slid over to where Madeline was still being held to the block. “She’s not worth nearly as much with scars all over her back, is she?”

It was the longest moment of his life waiting for the Captain’s reply, but he stood tall, his gaze not wavering from the Captain’s face. If there was one thing Alistair hated more than showing mercy, it was showing weakness. So Eli would stand his ground.

“Fine,” Alistair conceded, taking a step back. Eli took a deep breath and moved forward to get the blonde away from the block and the men holding her there but paused as the Captain continued speaking. “But you have to take her place, Hargrave.” He tried not to wince at the words.

He’d been to the block once before, not long after he’d first joined the crew. Eli had made a misstep, he’d let someone escape, which cost Alistair the entire haul and left them with the British Royal Navy at their backs for days until they were able to outrun the bastards. He’d barely been more than a boy then, and Eli still remembered the pain. But he’d healed, and he’d learned his lesson—he hadn’t let another soul go since.

This was an outcome Eli should have expected. Not only did he stick up for a prisoner who had been attempting to escape, but he undermined the Captain in front of nearly the entire crew. If he walked away from this at all he would be surprised. Dammit, he was a fool. But he nodded his head, agreeing to the terms. It was better to endure the punishment himself than to watch Madeline do it.

The two men holding the girl to the block let her go and Eli pulled her up, taking her over to her brother and friend. He could feel her trembling, and he didn’t know if that was from the rain, the cold, or from fear. Eli wanted to say something comforting, if only a word or two, but he knew it would make him seem weak—more than likely make his punishment that much worse. And for once, Eli was smart enough to keep his damned mouth shut.

He looked the Captain in the eyes as he removed his shirt, tossing it to the side, and knelt at the block. Eli would face this punishment stoically—like a man. Two of his crewmates held his arms down, pinning him to the block, and Eli braced himself for the first blow.

Once the first lash struck the skin on his back, Eli knew the old man wasn’t holding anything back. But he didn’t make a sound, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing just how much it hurt. The pirate tried to keep count of how many lashes he had endured, something to keep his mind off the feeling of fire licking down his spine, but eventually, the pain won over and he lost count. The Captain continued until Eli could feel the blood running down his back, hot and slick compared to the cool rain that was washing it away.

Eventually, the man grew tired, or bored, and threw the whip down—his point had been made. Eli sagged against the block, pain radiating through every limb—every nerve. But he tensed once again as the Captain grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his head back to whisper something in his ear.

“I suggest you reevaluate where your loyalties lie, boy,” Alistair told him before releasing his grip. Only once the Captain had swaggered back to his cabin, and his door shut firmly behind him, did anyone move to help him off the block.

Caspian grew up unafraid of most things.

He did not fear storms, the waves that crashed against the sides of his ship, or even the fog that sat before him -- holding creatures that some have only seen in their worst nightmares but were merely a day to day occurrence for him. He was not afraid of his crewmate’s ghost stories about the vengeful spirits that haunted The Morana, long before Caspian ever took hold of the large beast whose black sails and shadowy presence were about as infamous as his father’s own armada.

Still, his ship was bigger.

And cleaner -- for the most part. Pirates will be pirates.

However, throughout his unmistakable bravery, there was one thing that Caspian Grey still feared to this very day. It wasn’t some sea legend or monster that undoubtedly lurked beneath the dark waves. It wasn’t the ever prevalent fact that they were constantly being hunted, chased, while also stalking the man that had taken everything from him, down to the boots on his feet as he washed up onto a port beach at the age of nine. Caspian’s father was known for being ruthless, but only his one and only son knew of just exactly how sadistic the man could go.

The Morana, named after a Goddess of Death, did not take long to grow infamous through the seas. Within a few short years of Caspian snagging the beautiful beast out of a merchant port, after a lucky hand in cards, as well as a righteous crew to go along with it, they were nothing short of legends. Villainizing any ship that strayed in their path, claiming what they wanted and never looking back. Caspian eventually grew so tired of gold that he began collecting knives, then jewelry, clothes, and other sorts of cosmetic dressings. He didn’t care if his crew minded sleeping next to where they pissed or wearing the same clothes for months on end without ever washing. He, on the other hand, would never grow comfortable with that lifestyle.

For a pirate, he sure had some damn class.

But, right now, Caspian was afraid.

He was afraid that if he never sought his revenge on his father, reclaiming what Alistair had stolen from him, he would eventually let the waves take him. To drown him relentlessly beneath their melancholy crests. There would be nothing left to live for, otherwise.

“Captain,” Clarke started, knowing well enough to not step any closer than his spot from a few feet away. The stout man wrang his hands nervously, a bead of sweat trailed down his red forehead and past the cracked glasses that sat on top of his round nose. “Y-your order, sir?”

Caspian smoothly turned towards the French Soldier his crew had a hold of. The man’s uniform was dirty and tattered from remaining a prisoner in the cells below deck. Bruises and cuts were scattered across his face and the man had lost a significant amount of weight from when Caspian had seen him last. As the French prisoner met Caspian’s grey eyes his body trembled slightly, trying to tug free of his shackles and the tight grips the crew had over him. They had come across the disheveled ship weeks ago, capturing this man before they slaughtered the rest of the remaining crew.

A part of Caspian wanted to drink up the man’s fear, to inhale it as if it were smoke.

Another part of him nearly grew sick at the sight.

He knew the man trembled because Caspian was a monster through and through, unable to be anything else. He had every right to be terrified.

“What did he give you?” Caspian eventually said, his stare never faltering from the weak man.

“Please,” the prisoner begged, his dirt ridden arms outstretched towards Caspian. His hands shook furiously and his eyes were red rimmed from tears.

“Nothing, Captain. He wouldn’t break,” said Clarke, eyes lowering to the slick wood of the deck.

Caspian’s eyes narrowed, but he stepped towards the prisoner with freshly shined black boots, accompanying the matching cloak that covered his dark tunic and pants. He was a vision of night, nearly blending into the sky and the stars that sat above them. He laughed once, bitter as the darkness that surrounded them. “We’ll see about that.”

Finishing off the distance between them, Caspian snatched the prisoner’s curled hair at the nape of his neck, gripping it tightly within his gloved fingers as he jerked the man's head back, lifting his chin, forcing the man to stare into his icy eyes. The man let out a whine of pain that Caspian dutifully ignored. “Please,” he whispered again, eyes wet and pleading.

“I must say, you have wonderful manners,” Caspian sneered, unsheathing a glimmering dagger from his belt and setting it against the man’s jawline. He pressed into his skin, drawing a small pool of blood that ran down the dagger in a crimson river. The prisoner wailed, eyes squinting shut with pain as he struggled against Caspian’s iron grip. “Let’s try again, shall we?” With the blade against his pale neck, he urged the man once more. “What can you tell us about our mutual friend Princess Rosalyn and her loving betrothed, hm?”

The prisoner shivered and his dirty hands clawed at Caspian’s, trying to wrangle himself free. In return, Caspian pressed the blade once again into the neck of the man, this time a little deeper and more prolonged. His screams echoed off The Morana and dissolved into the fog that covered the ship. “No one will hear you,” Caspian whispered into the man's ear. “These waters are excellent at keeping my secrets.”

“S-south,” the Frenchman stuttered, a lone tear slipping out his eye. “They went south, that’s all I know. Please.”

Another slice of the knife left the man screaming.

“Santoa! Santoa!”

Caspian paused his blade, a feline grin emerging from his lips. “There we are...” His signature accent sneaking in. It did not have the poise of the French, but it also certainly did not hold drawl from the northern lands, either. It was sharp as his blade and just about as menacing.

He released the prisoner and the auditory sigh of relief that came from the man caused Caspian to chuckle once. Oh, he wasn’t out of the woods. Not yet.

“Toss him over, I’ve gotten what I wanted,” he ordered, taking out a rag to clean his dagger. The pleading and begging from the prisoner returned and Caspian gritted his teeth and furrowed his brows at the sound.

“Please, no! I can work! I’ll become a part of your crew! Please! I’ll do anything.”

Santoa. The island of legend and stories. The one place that held the key to mankind — to ruling mankind.

Life. Eternal life.

Caspian would be damned if he allowed his father to reach Santoa alive. Yes, he had gotten what he wanted, exactly what he wanted, like always. But still, he was not happy.

Thick and damp strands of ebony hair fell into his eyes and his breath was a mere patch of fog as he exhaled once. Contemplating. Wagering. He had never shown mercy before and a weeping Frenchman couldn’t be the start. Tossing the man over the railing would result in a painful death. He would either fight it and tread water until his limbs felt as if they were no longer connected to his body, or the carnivorous beasts under the waves would do just that for him. A Red Sea was a sight Cas was all too familiar with, although it rarely brought him comfort, contrary to popular belief.

“Toss him.” The order was sharp and firm and within seconds, the crew had snatched the man once again, dragging him towards the slick railing of The Morana, the ship ready to claim her next victim.

He didn’t watch as they shucked him overboard, not bothering to remove the heavy shackles around his wrists, canceling out all hopes of giving him a fighting chance. Caspian didn’t take well to chance.

“Please! I beg of you, please! I have a family!” The man screamed as his head rose above the water, his splashing loud and frantic.

That word struck him, worse than a blow to the face.

Family.

Caspian pulled his pistol from its holster and shot the man in the head, silencing his screams.

He didn’t know what part of him shot the man: the part that reeked of anger and betrayal, or the part that he resented, the part that related to the prisoner. A man trying to get back to his family. Not the man who deserted him and tossed him out as if he were nothing but chum for the damned sharks. No, he was searching for someone else -- someone he knew would be on The Retribution, as well. He had only seen her once, a glimpse of the assassin, Alistair’s greatest weapon, as she ravaged through ports and villages. Claiming men as if they were hers for the taking.

A monster.

Like calls to like, so it seems.

Devil, beast, villain -- Caspian had heard it all. He enjoyed listening to the chilling tales that traveled across the lands of the Ship of Death and its captain who feared nothing and no one. The ship that appeared as soon as it could disappear, leaving blood in her wake.

However, there was one part the stories always seemed to leave out about the fearful captain and his rigorous crew.

He was also just a boy.

In the days following their capture, Rosalyn’s hope for rescue had all but vanished. It had been over a week since they were taken from their own ship, and there had been no sign of the French navy. Ros wondered if anyone suspected they’d been kidnapped, or if the royals were thought to have died with their crew, or maybe no one knew they were missing at all.

The days locked in the confines of their cell felt brutally long. The seconds dragged by as the two women had nothing to do but sit and watch the two pirates assigned to guard them—which Ros was convinced served as it’s own form of torture as the men did nothing but argue and brawl with one another. Her limbs had grown stiff from lack of use and she was still sore and bruised in places after their ‘questioning’ from the Captain.

They’d all been dragged in front of Alistair the morning after their capture and been asked, beaten, and asked again about the whereabouts of some artifact. The fact that none of them knew what the hell he’d been talking about didn’t seem to register with the pirate. But once Alistair had caught sight of the locket Ros wore at her neck, he’d sent them back to their cells and hadn’t wanted to see them since. She assumed that what he had been searching for then. Though she had no idea why he had wanted to go to such lengths for a small piece of jewelry. Had no idea why he’d kidnapped them and killed their crew for a locket that held no worth beyond the sentimental.

Still, if that was what Alistair was after, what purpose did he have for keeping them alive now that he had it? The Captain didn’t exactly seem the type to safely drop his prisoners off at the nearest port once he’d gotten what he wanted. Ros guessed she should just be thankful that they were still alive, but she’d had a hard time being optimistic lately.

If there was one upside, it was Madeline. Ros hadn’t expected to befriend anyone from the French court. Hell, she hadn’t anticipated even liking anyone from the French court. But Mads had been genuinely kind—a bright spot in their otherwise bleak experience aboard the Retribution. Rosalyn would be glad to call the girl her sister someday.

Rosalyn supposed she was glad she hadn’t plunged that dagger into Jack Harding’s throat on their first night aboard. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that the man had been right about one thing: if she had killed him, then someone infinitely worse would have taken his place.

Jack and Eli, at least, kept their distance from the women and treated them with a semblance of respect—the same could not be said for their crewmates. The other pirates on board had taken to coming below deck to either ogle the royals once they’d peeled off the heavy layers of dresses, or to call them a slew of colorful nicknames that demeaned them even more than their unsavory stares. Jack and Eli kept the others at bay, and Ros could at least be thankful for that.

The two pirates were also her and Madeline’s only source of entertainment while they were locked behind those bars. The pair reminded Ros less of crewmates and more of quarreling brothers who couldn’t go a night without arguing and goading the other into throwing the first punch. The end of the night was the most entertaining. The boys had taken to playing cards and when one of them won, the other would accuse them of cheating which usually ended in verbal assaults and then physical blows. She noticed that the two never really hurt each other too badly, but it seemed like the fights were more for blowing off steam than anything else. Ros had even taken to betting with Madeline on who would win cards that night and who would land the first blow. They had to do something to pass the time.

Rosalyn had struggled to fall asleep for the past week, usually not able to even shut her eyes until well after the pirates guarding them had stalked off and passed out thanks to the copious amounts of rum they’d consumed. So, she had been wide awake when she heard the shuffle of footsteps making their way toward them. They were too light-footed, too sure in their step, to be either Jack or Eli as they had gone to bed far too intoxicated to be so stealthy.

Panic started to set in as Ros thought of increasingly gruesome scenarios inflicted by whoever was just beyond the reach of the candlelight and what exactly they wanted from the two women in the dead of night. She wondered if either of their guards would bother stirring if she or Madeline were to cry out for them. Ros shook the other girl awake as the footsteps came closer and Ros had half a mind to at least try calling out to the pirates before Theo’s face came into view. She loosed a sigh of relief before the confusion of seeing him set in.

The women had only seen Theo the night they were taken and that next morning when they’d been questioned by Alistair, but she’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t happy to see him. Even happier to see that he managed to escape, and in one piece. Ros knew that she and Mads had gotten the better deal when they were stuck with Jack and Eli as opposed to Jane. That woman seemed nearly as cruel and bloodthirsty as the captain she served under.

Ros felt like she could breathe for the first time in a week once Theo swung open the door to their cell. Something like hope bloomed in her chest.

It didn’t surprise her when Theo told Madeline that no one had come for them. If the navy was here, Ros suspected that Theo wouldn’t have had a need for stealth in rescuing them from their cell. But she was still thankful he had managed to escape and had managed to find them. Maybe together they stood a chance.

When Theo held out his hand to her, Rosalyn didn’t hesitate in taking it. Then she surprised even herself in wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace as well. She supposed the act probably wasn’t entirely appropriate, especially considering she was wearing only her shift, but dammit she didn’t care—Ros was just happy to see him. She rolled her eyes yet couldn’t help but smile at his joke about being her knight in shining armor.

“I couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the job,” she smiled. “Let’s just hope I never have to play the damsel in distress every again,” she was half-joking. As grateful as she was that he had found a way to free them all, she’d wished she wouldn’t have had to rely on a man to do it. Wished she could have done more than sit and wait for whatever fate awaited them with Alistair. But she’d thrown away her one shot when she’d pulled that knife on Jack their first night.

The three of them mercifully made it to the deck without waking their guards or the other pirates they passed along the way. Madeline pointed out the rickety old rowboat hanging over the side of the Retribution and they all were running like hell to get to it. The rain was pelting down on them and before they were even halfway across the deck, Rosalyn was soaked to the bone. The trio had no food, no water, and no idea how far they were from shore but Rosalyn knew she’d much rather die on the open sea seeking freedom than wait to be cut down like a dog and dumped overboard like Alistair no doubt had planned.

For the briefest flicker of a moment, Ros thought they would make it. Until she heard Jane’s voice bellowing at them over the sound of the rain.

Rosalyn froze and her heart sunk once she turned to find the damned woman with her sword pointed at Theo’s throat. The two had an easy banter between them but a tension that was palpable.

Then like clockwork, Jack and Eli burst from one of the doors that led below deck. The pair looked a little worse for wear. Eli, at least, looked half asleep and like he was still a little drunk. “We used the key,” Ros shot back at Jack’s question. The truth was, she didn’t know how Theo had managed to escape, but she did know that Jack and Eli had been too drunk to notice when Theo had swiped the keys from them.

Theo swung his sword down on top of Jane’s and the deck erupted into action. Ros had never watched a true sword fight, and she’d certainly never seen a woman involved. In fact, come to think of it she’d never seen a woman wield a sword at all, let alone watch a woman hold her own against a Prince who had more than likely been trained since childhood. The pair matched each other step for step. Though the yelling and clashing for steel was enough to wake the whole damned ship. Before they knew it the entire deck had been filled with pirates coming to investigate.

Madeline pulling at her hand was what ultimately brought Ros back to her senses and the two of them made a break for the railing. Though the look on Madeline’s face gave Ros a bad feeling before she sensed what the girl was planning. Throwing themselves over the railing would almost certainly mean their death. But before Ros could even consider the jump, a hand pulled at a clump of Madeline’s hair, slamming the girl to the ground.

Captain Alistair had apparently finally decided to grace them with his presence.

The entire deck seemed to freeze save for the whirl of movement between Theo and Jane until he too was disarmed and forced to watch as Alistair picked his little sister off the ground again. Ros felt arms come around her, but she was too focused on Madeline struggling in the Captain’s grip to even spare a glance at who it was.

She was brought forward to kneel beside Theo who barely resembled the man she’d seen just moments before when he was unlocking their cell. Where there had once been kindness had hardened to anger and hatred. And as she watched the Captain bring Madeline over to the block, she felt those emotions rise within her as well.

“Leave her alone,” Rosalyn warned, trying to keep her voice steady. Alistair’s words made Rosalyn’s stomach drop. She felt nothing but white-hot rage as he led Madeline over to the whipping block. Mads had been the first to comfort her in that cell below deck, and seeing her cry and beg for the Captain to stop while Ros and Theo could do nothing felt like a punch to the gut. She hated feeling so helpless. Rosalyn wished that it had been her up there instead of Mads because somehow watching it happen felt infinitely worse.

The pirate ripped open the back of Madeline’s dress and Ros tasted bile. She felt anger and anguish claw at her throat, felt tears threaten to spill over her eyelids, but before the Captain brought the whip down, Rosalyn looked over at Theo. That fight she’d seen in him moments ago was gone now. Then, when she heard the crack of the whip, Ros watched the Prince. Theo, who would move Heaven and Earth to protect those he cared about, flinched. And Ros knew that Alistair would be the one to break them all.

Her attention turned back to Madeline who was soaked to the bone and alone on that block, but as the Captain raised his arm to administer the next blow, Eli stepped forward.

“C’mon Captain,” Eli tried to maintain an air of nonchalance and confidence, but Rosalyn could see the tension behind his words. The fear. “You don’t want to damage the goods,” he spoke slowly like he was figuring out his argument as he was making it. “She’s not worth nearly as much with scars all over her back, is she?” Rosalyn swallowed hard, eyes flitting between Eli and Alistair as he considered the man’s words.

“Fine,” the Captain shrugged, the whip still held firmly in his hand. “But you have to take her place, Hargrave.” Eli looked like he had anticipated that outcome and he just nodded. He gently pulled Madeline from the block and brought her over to her brother and the princess.

Ros reached her arms out for the girl and the pirate holding her didn’t protest as she wrapped Mads in her arms, pulling the back of her dress together so she wasn’t as exposed. When Rosalyn looked back up, Elijah had pulled his shirt over his head and was being held to the block like Mads had been only moments before.

The first crack had been sickening. It sounded like the Captain had unleashed his full strength into the whip but Ros had to give Elijah credit, he didn’t so much as make a sound as the whip connected with his back, time and time again. Rosalyn lost count of how many times the whip had come down on him. She only allowed herself to breathe once the Captain threw the weapon to the ground.

The blood from Eli’s back was pooling on the deck as the rain washed it from his body, revealing several deep gashes in the skin. The thought that Madeline had been minutes from that fate made her stomach churn. Even seeing Elijah, who she should hate, with those wounds made her feel a pang of sympathy—he had least had stepped in when Mads had needed most. When she or Theo couldn’t.

After Alistair had stalked off and slammed the door to his cabin the entire deck lay frozen in a solemn stillness until one of the pirates untied Elijah from the block.

Theodore’s time upon the Retribution had been very different from his sister’s experience. While his baby sister was miserable in the confines of her cell, aching each moment for escape, Theo had come to find his time spent aboard as somewhat pleasurable. Sure, his cell was hard and uncomfortable, the cold air rolling in from the sea at night was unforgiving, and he wasn’t sure if he could stomach one more bowl of foul broth or another slice of stale moldy bread - but it was different than anything he’d ever experienced. And while he was sure to partake in all of the pleasures that life as the next king of France offered, in his heart, down to his very bones, the prince craved adventure.

And if being abducted and held prisoner by a bunch of pirates was anything - it was an adventure.

Each day had been the same routine - wake up to the sound of screaming pirates, stare out the porthole, get harassed by the she-witch keeping watch over him, try to stomach whatever rancid excuse for a meal they offered him for the day, and fall asleep to the sound of more scuffling pirates. It was a torturous cycle, but it was beginning to almost be a game for him. He enjoyed taunting the dark haired woman who stood watch outside his cell, he liked watching her try to contain herself despite the fact that her blood was obviously boiling.

And call him crazy, but Theodore would’ve bet that she was beginning to enjoy their banter as well. She may have been made of stone, but maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to soften towards him. More and more he found her holding back an irritated smile as they bickered, and he couldn’t help but notice the same in himself.

And at the very least, it provided some entertainment to help pass the days until their escape. That thought had been the one thing keeping him sane throughout these many dreary days upon the retribution - soon, he would free them. At this point it didn’t look like anyone was coming to rescue them any time soon, and so they would just have to rescue themselves. It was part of the reason he’d taken to taunting Jane, hoping to gain her trust long enough for him to slip away.

And thus, 8 days after the pirates had jacked their royal ship and kidnapped them, Theodore had his chance.

He’d pried a price of sharp wood from the floor, dangling it in front of Jane’s face like a new toy with taunts of using it against her her. Just as he’d planned, the girl came to take it from him, and his plan came to a head. With a few smooth words and a couple flirtatious smiles, Theodore had pissed the pirate off enough to cause her to stomp away, leaving a mess of broken things and turned crates in her wake.... without locking the door.

Theodore waited well after night fall, when he was sure that no one would be awake until they were already long gone before making his move. The Frenchman slipped from his cell, careful to silently shut the door back behind as to not raise suspicion, and tiptoed past his sleeping guard. Though he knew she didn’t see him, Theo stopped to blow the she-devil a kiss followed by a wink before scurrying off - it felt like a sort of ode to his time aboard the ship, something he was hoping to end very soon.

His heart pounding from his chest, Theodore quickened his pace as soon as he cleared the first corridor, his boots clacking against the wood with each step as he tried to find his way to his betrothed and sibling. He knew that the brutes had whisked the women away in the opposite direction he had gone, but that was the only knowledge he had about their location. The Retribution was massive, and he was already working against the clock. Theo was getting more and more disheartened with each door he peeked into only to find another snoozing pirate or a room filled with sacks grain. He was almost to the point of believing he’d lost them when he spotted a man balled up in a corner, snoring loudly with a mug of spilled ale beside him and sword cast on a nearby table - the same man who’d swiped his sister.

With a new burst of confidence, Theodore swiped the discarded sword from the table, tucking it into his belt before kneeling down to carefully unclip the keyring from the pirate’s trousers. Surely if he was here, so were the girls. Another few doors and he spotted the faint glow of Rosalyn’s red hair against the dim candle light, along with the sleeping frame of his baby sister tucked into the corner of the cell. A grin on his face and hope in his heart, Theodore tried each key on the ring until one clicked into place, the door swinging open to his girls. “Hello ladies.” He smirked, waving them along with fluttering hands. “Hurry now, we haven’t much time." He insisted.

Before he could step to lead the way, Madeline was flying into his chest, wrapping her thin arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. He smile turned sad at his sister’s hopeful words, and Theodore hated to be the one to crush her dreams of a grand rescue. “No one has come for us, little dove.” He murmered, smoothing the hair on her head. “So we must rescue ourselves.”

Theo reached his hand out to Rosalyn, giving her own hand a reassuring squeeze in greeting. “What’s that saying about a knight in shining armor?” He joked, flashing the fiery girl a smile before leading the trio from the cell. Together they traversed the ship, stepping over sleeping pirates and hurrying through the narrow corridors until they made it back onto the main deck. His sister’s quick eye pointed out a row boat hinged to the side of the ship, and Theo wasted no time in trying to get to it.

However, his tunnel vision had proved to be a fatal flaw, because into their path stepped the very woman he’d tried to woo into freedom, a sword pointed at his throat. “Jane.” He scolded, eyebrows furrowed but a playfulness to his tone. “Come now, don’t go spoiling our fun now.” He gritted out, swinging his own stolen sword to strike her’s down. The two leapt into a faced pace dance of blows and blocks, both of them cursing and grunting at the efforts it took to try to gain the upper hand. She was a skilled swordsman, he had to admit, and rivaled even some of the best men he’d had on his guard back at court.

Sweat dripped down his brow, his loose shirt clinging to his chest at the constant onslaught he battled - though he couldn’t help but be impressed with her skill, even if she were trying to end his life. It was only the sound of his sister’s scream that broke Theodore’s focus, his head whipping around to find Alistar holding her by her hair before throwing her to the ground. The tip Jane’s sword sliced into his cheek, a blow he hadn’t been anticipating due to his shifted focus, and before he could even react he was being restrained by a pair of men.

His ears rang with anger, watching as Madeline laid on the ground like a corpse, fighting for consciousness, and Rosalyn being grabbed by another pirate. Theo could hardly even hear what the man was screaming as he drug the girl back up by her neck, a rage flaring in his chest like he’d never known before. “Don’t fucking touch them.” He snarled, a string of curses and ill wishing flowing from his that were very unfitting for a future king. He lurched towards them, fighting against the men who held him back as his sister was taken to a whipping block, the sick realization sinking in and only making him want to fight harder.

Realizing that he was only making their fate worse, Theodore shut up. He bit the insides of his cheeks so hard that they bled to keep from calling out, turning his face away so he wouldn’t have to watch what was about to ensue.

Clearly, Alistar had other plans.

“Make the prince watch!” The rugged old man called. “Make him watch, and let him remember that this was all his doing. Because he was brave.”

One of the pirates drug Theodore’s face up by his hair, training his gaze on Madeline as the back of her dress was ripped open and men held her down. Theodore tried to contain himself, truly, but watching his baby sister, the girl who’d idolized him and looked at him as her protector since they were but small children sob as she was held to a whipping block in the freezing rain all because of him had been his breaking point. The boy’s lips trembled as slow tears rolled from the corners of his eyes, watching as the first blow came down across her back.

He flinched away at the cracking of the whip and his sister’s screams despite his attempts to stay strong and bare this with her.

But he was a coward, and turned his eyes away from the pain.

Even though it’d only been a few days upon the Retribution, it was a wonder that Madeline had survived this long at all. Each day she spent on the ship chipped away at her innocence, her hopefulness, the girl that had once dreamed of comfortably living in a castle for the rest of her days. In it’s wake the Retribution left the shell of the girl she once was, hardening her a little more each morning her eyes opened again and again, until the weight in her chest was so heavy that she was sure that she would surely sink the entire ship.

The only glimmer of light had been Rosalyn. The two had started as all but strangers, two young women from different kingdoms suddenly supposed to be joined as family, but they’d become fast friends amongst their time stuck with the pirates. They were each other’s only solace, and they had plenty of time on their hands to get to know each other after being locked in a cell together.

Their personal guard dogs - Jack Harding and Elijah Hargrave so she’d learned - hadn’t been too insufferable either. Despite locking them away in a cell, they’d done their best to fend off the less than polite pirates that’d stop by to leer at and taunt herself and Rosalyn. Some of their threats and dirty requests they’d whisper to them made her stomach churn, and each time she’d have to fight off the urge to hurl. She’d even found bit of amusement in the teasing jokes shared between their bodyguards and themselves through the barred window of their cell door. But best was at night, when the two boys would get rip-roaring drunk and play games outside their door, always ending in a brawl that sent them brooding in opposite ends of the small hall.

They’d even been kind to her when she’d returned from the captain’s quarters, tears staining her cheeks and sporting a fresh split in her bottom lip. It’s not that she’d been rude or even talked back, Madeline simply hadn’t had the answers Alistar had wanted to hear. While a princess, that station was by title only, and she’d rarely ever been included in anything relatively important in French court. The tall dark haired one had offered her a rag - even if it was a little dirty - to wipe the blood from her lip and tears from her eyes, and Jack had brought water for her to sip.

Madeline had stripped out of her heavy ballgown days ago, unable to handle the humidity of her cell along with the sweltering heat of the summer sun beating down on the ship. She’d ripped the jeweled pins out of her hair in a fit of frustration, leaving the blonde locks to fall along her back in tangled waves. With messy hair and nothing but the thin shift of her dress covering her, Mads had never felt more exposed.

It also didn’t help that her and Rosalyn’s lack of dress drew the attention of more and more oogling pirates, each hoping to catch a glimpse of the royalty stripped before them - sure to fill their sick dreams in the midst of night. Their guardians did their best to keep them shooed away with vague threats or a boot to the rear, but it didn’t stop Madeline’s skin from crawling each time a new man came to drool at them through the bars of their prison.

- -

Madeline had finally drifted to sleep, curled up in a corner with her head rested against the wall and Rosalyn at her side - just like every other night - when her red-headed friend shook her awake. “What is it?” She mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her mossy eyes. It was a second scratching coming from outside their door that finally connected the dots for the blonde - something wasn’t right. Just as she reached for Rosalyn’s hand, none other than her brother popped his head into the door, blonde curls flopped across his forehead. “Hello, ladies.” He greeted, a shit-eating grin on his face to match the cocky lilt to his voice. “Hurry now, we haven’t much time.” Theodore insisted.

“Theo!” The petite blonde gasped, flying from her spot cowered in the corner to embrace her brother. The reunion was fleeting, as moments after Theodore was ushering the two girls out the door and navigating the halls. “What are we doing? Has someone come for us?” Madeline pressed in a hushed tone, eyes flitting from side to side as she surveyed for roaming pirates. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, hope bloomed through the princess’s chest, like a spring flower finally pushing through the snow.

“No one has come to rescue us, little dove.” Her brother said remorsefully, but not without affection, pausing to place a hand against the back of her head. “So we must rescue ourselves”

The trio of royals had just barely made it onto the main deck, rain beating down and soaking them within minutes as they scouted out a tiny row boat hinges to the side of the ship. “Over there!” Madeline whispered, drawing the other’s eyes to the ship as well. It seemed as if that little dry rotted boat was their only hope of ever escaping the forsaken pirate ship.

However, they’d hardly made it two steps towards the boat before they’d been caught. The dark haired she-pirate, the bitch that had drug them onto this damned ship to begin with, now stood between them and their only chance at freedom with a sword pointed at her brother’s throat. Fear and rage battled within the girl, though fear eventually won out as she grabbed Rosalyn’s hand and took a quick step back when Theodore met the pirate’s sword with his own.

The clashing of swords and grunts of effort from both Jane and Theodore were deafening, and surely enough the other pirates on the ship began to rouse from their slumber and investigate what was causing so much racket. The deck began to swell with disgruntled pirate, and any window of escape was quickly closing. Madeline felt much like a scared dog backed into a corner, tail tucked but still ready to lash out.

“Come!” The word came as a rushed whisper as she tugged at Rosalyn’s harm, lifting her skirt with one hand and running as hard as she could for the small open of railing left unguarded. Sure, maybe throwing herself over the edge was a rash decision - but it felt like it was her only one left.

Madeline had tunnel vision, her only thought being to get to that railing. Her heart pounded, sweat pooled at her temples, cheeks flushed - she was almost there. Only a few more steps, her subconscious encouraged. She would make it.

The blonde was ripped back into reality has a large hand reached out, clenching a fist full of her hair and throwing her to the ground moments before she would’ve reached her destination. The girl’s vision went crazy, almost as if she were looking at the world through kaleidoscope, a ringing in her ears so loud that she could only here the muffled shouts of those fighting on the deck. Pain exploded through her head and her mind spun, only stabilizing as the same hand that’d thrown her down to begin with reached back down to pick her up.

Alistar gripped the back of Madeline’s neck, dragging her up off the deck and holding her against him, a knife held to her throat. “What the fuck is the meaning of this?” The old man barked, cataract covered eyes surveying the scene before him. A prince and princess - his prisoners - engaged in a battle with whom were supposed to have been their guards. His own pirate disarmed, the Prince now wielding his weapon. “The lot of you, fucking pathetic.” He growled, not interested in hearing whatever excuse his men attempted to muster up.

“And you, eh?” The captain taunted, finally turning his attention to a subdued Theodore who was all but foaming at the mouth as he sling threats and curses in the captain’s direction. “A brave one, aren’t ya? Let this be your lesson, boy. Let this teach you to keep being brave.”

“Please-“ Madeline begged, her mind beginning to clear as she was marched forward and thrown to her knees over a block of wood. “Hold her!” The captain barked, two men immediately coming forward to hold the poor girl’s arms out to either side as the rest of her was bent of the block. They all looked like they were enjoying this - enjoying her pain - far too much. She’d seen this before, back at court for the prisoner’s they interrogated or for criminals being punished.

A whipping block. And she was on it.

“No, no, please-“ Madeline continued, though there was little hope left in her voice. “Make the prince watch.” Alistar barked as he ripped open the back of the little blonde’s dress. “Make him watch, and let him remember that this was all his doing.” Tears slipped from the corners of Maddy’s eyes, a sob ripping out of her chest as she felt the brisk night air and cold rain beat against her newly exposed back.

Madeline didn’t remember screaming as the first blow stuck her delicate skin, but she was sure that she had at the wince and look of pain written all over her brother’s face.

Ros. So that was her name. Jack normally didn’t pay attention to formalities and introductions. He did what he had to do to survive, and that was that. No matter how twisted and sick it made him feel, he always made sure to save his own ass in the end. Well, and Jane’s, whether she appreciated it or not. While he had killed, he was no murderer. While he has stolen jewels and gold, he was no thief. And, certainly, while he spent most of his life on board the Retribution, he was no pirate.

However, the way the Princess snarled at him made Jack feel like one.

The desperation in the blonde’s voice made Jack’s attention flicker to the struggling woman in Eli’s arms for a quick moment. There in front of him stood two different kinds of women Jack had experienced in his life. The blonde reminded him of a young Jane. Wide-eyed, softspoken, and with a seemingly good head on her shoulders. Just like her, Jane had also emptied her contents of her stomach into the crashing sea below the Retribution throughout her first months onboard. Jack, thankfully, was used to the sea and the unsteadiness of the waves due to helping his father from time to time. But Jane -- Jane who never learned how to swim -- was entirely surrounded by her biggest fear and would be for the rest of her life. Yes, this girl was the spitting image of his past baby sister. Smart, delicate, and everything Jack had tried to protect a long time ago.

The other, Princess Ros, was the kind of woman Jack had run from. The kind of woman that Jane was after few months onboard the Retribution. Impulsive, stubborn, and with a flame behind her eyes that not even seawater could extinguish. Surely, this woman wasn’t nearly as ruthless and cold-blooded as his murderous sister and seemed to have more of a fight within her than Jane, but the temper was all there.

“But the way I see it, it’d be one less pirate in the world.” The words hit him and he narrowed his eyes slightly. Jack did not blame her one bit at the attempt at killing him -- he almost commended her for it. It was safe to say that he related to her words. One less pirate in the world would be a better world to live in, even if it meant his own life would be taken. A sacrifice he would no doubt be willing to make.

But, not wanting to make that sacrifice quite yet, Jack repositioned himself and Ros effortlessly. Years of learning how to defend oneself with sneaky and sly tricks made the maneuver impossibly easy, almost boring. He held her tightly against him, he hadn’t been this close to a woman in months. Surely, whenever they docked at a port and paraded through an old fisherman's town for a few days Jack got his fair share of late nights with women who enjoyed his rugged and standoffish appearance. But, Alistair had been obsessing over this Princess for months, and whenever they did dock it was for a couple of hours at most. Of course, it didn’t stop the other pirates from having their sick ways of fun.

As the Princess used the sort of language Jack was only used to hearing come out of a pirates mouth and certainly not a noble lady’s, he arched a brow and met the intensity of her gaze with one of his own. While he didn’t smile, a slight bit of playfulness filled his words. “Pirates will be pirates, aye?” He said to her, voice low.

He was almost enjoying himself until Eli’s stupid voice rang out beside him and Jack held Ros’s eyes for a single moment longer until he released her body, tossing her deeper into the cabin while his clenched fist made contact with Eli’s incessant shit-talking mouth. His eyes radiated fury but he knew the boy was just trying to take the edge off of Jack. The tension radiating off of him after dealing with Alistair and his sister was one even their new hostages could probably sense.

Eli was doing him a favor, but it still didn’t stop Jack’s anger towards the pirate.

“Shut up or I’ll do it again,” he growled, nudging Ros forward, passing the blonde in Eli’s arms a quick glance. Part of him felt sorry for acting out in front of a woman like her, but the pirate in him won and he locked his jaw and carried on deeper into the ship. His calloused and rough hands once again latched onto Ros’s arms, not taking any more chances after her little surprise from earlier. While he knew he could handle her attacks, he was growing more frustrated by Eli and Jack just wanted to get away from the boy as quickly as possible.

He didn’t want to do this. Jack never wanted any of this. He wanted to be back in Fenris, lying on the damp grass and watching the constant array of darkened clouds that encased the small fishing village. He wanted to listen to the clomping of horses hooves on stone and go and visit the stables with his sister. Jack missed the bareback rides he would take on their horse through the rolling hills that sat behind their home. He missed a lot of things about his old life, but mostly his freedom.

After locking the two women in the cell, trying to ignore the darkened and damp spaces that certainly would make him break if he were locked down here, Jack watched Eli toss the keys on the table and his eyes lingered on them for a moment until his partner’s voice echoed through the space once more. Eli was doing an awful lot of talking. He surely had a death wish. But, realizing that the fellow pirate actually had a good idea for once, Jack nodded and followed him to grab some rum as well. Jack’s fist had no doubt soured Eli’s mood and his chest warmed at the realization of it. “That’s the best idea you’ve had all day,” he muttered along with him and finished his drink quickly.

Mocking his movements, Jack took a seat from across the table and leaned back in the chair, long legs sprawled out in front of him. He tried his best to ignore the women in the cells only feet away and Jack was slightly thankful that Eli had mentioned a card game. “You're a pisspoor excuse of a player, Hargrave. You cheated and just won’t admit it,” Jack scoffed but took the worn cards anyways. Card games lead to drinking, drinking leads to brawls -- all of which he needed at the moment. And, thankfully, Eli was happy to oblige for soon enough Jack had become drunk, enraged, and richer than before.

Sending his fist into Eli’s jaw while clutching the boy's shirt in his hand, Jack looked up at the Princess from his position on the floor on top of the pirate. His face was slightly bruised and he had a small cut on his lip from a hit Eli managed to land. Sweat covered his body and his shirt hung loosely around him. “What would your ideal night be with a couple of pirates then, princess?” He panted, kicking himself off of Eli and retiring to the side of the wall, his steps swaying and sloppy, and not from the wavering ship, either. He slid against the wall with his head against the wood and Jack was fighting unconsciousness before his body hit the floor.

-------------------

The princess was gone for longer than usual. Alistair was making quite the spectacle of keeping her longer than the others. The prince, no longer looking to antagonize the other pirates, seemed like he was now boring Jane to pieces which only resulted in her growing testier by the night. Bringing random crewmates to her quarters, only for them to leave the morning after with cuts and bruises that did not come from just bedding a woman like Jane. She was looking for someplace to take her frustrations on and the poor suckers who were idiotic to fall for her beauty and wit were her new prey.

So, it was safe to say that Jack was annoyed throughout the past few days on the Retribution.

The blonde woman was interesting. Jack had found out her name to be Madeline and he made sure to call her that the few little times he spoke to her. Not prisoner, not bitch or the other creative names the other crewmates called her and Ros -- which earned them a punch to the throat or a kick to the balls from either himself or Eli.

Jack also tried not to notice the clothing changes the women made. While he was no stranger to seeing a woman in her undergarments, the sight of the princess in hers made Jack’s face flush slightly, although he blamed it on the rum.

Besides making sure the women didn’t die while onboard, Jack’s week was filled with alcohol, Eli’s shitty jokes, and a pounding headache. Which was exactly what he had woken up to. Jack was leaned against the wall of the ship down the hall from the cell. He and Eli had gotten into another tiff over cards and Jack made sure to retire a decent space away from the pirate, unable to look at his annoying mug for the rest of his night. But, low and behold, Hargrave’s face stared down at him while his boot knocked Jack’s own.

“You kick me again and I’ll piss in your ale, Hargrave,” Jack grumbled, squinting away the sleep as his eyes traveled up to Eli’s. Noting his worried expression, Jack’s gaze then traveled to the empty cell down the hall and the key that sat in the opened lock.

“Fuck.”

Jack shot up from the floor and grabbed his discarded sword that sat on the table. “You were supposed to be watching them you prick!” Jack groaned and ran his hand through his hair before shooting himself towards the stairs and hauling ass onto the deck. Rain immediately pelted his body and Jack scanned the ship, only for his eyes to land on his sister and her sword pointed right at the Prince’s throat.

Hand on the hilt, Jack took a few steps towards them. “How the hell did you escape?” He called to the prince and the two women.

A numbing sensation overthrew Jane's body and a gentle roaring rang in her ears, concealing every other sound on the busied ship besides her panting chest. She didn’t notice Jack and Eli’s banter or the soft blonde women hurling herself towards the edge of the boat. She hadn’t even realized she was glaring at the man that towered above her -- her fists ready to swing at her sides. Only the slight tinge of pain from her nails digging into the palms of her hands made her realize that she had clenched her fists so tightly that she had small indents in her skin. Releasing her fingers, Jane’s hands went slack as she stared into eyes that held such intensity crueler than stormy waves crashing against cliffs -- an intensity Jane herself had only seen when she looked in the mirror. Her jaw was tight and Jane bared her teeth as she gritted them to the Prince, looking down at her as if she were the prisoner. And, after his question, she might be.

It was a word she hadn’t heard in years, and with good reason too.

Jane didn’t love anyone -- not Jack, not Eli, not even herself.

Things were easier that way.

Granted, her choice to love was taken from her years ago by a bearded pirate and a ship with black sails. She was never given the opportunity to be something other than a weapon. Scraps of her life before the Retribution still sat dormant in the back of her mind, but they were never allowed to see the light of day. Love died that day her father went down with his fishing ship and her childhood now belonged to a monster who forged her into his own ruthless creation. When your heart belongs to nothing but the sea, there is no room for such a pointless emotion like love. Love makes you stupid, vulnerable, and weak.

A picture of Jack flashed in her mind. Jack was weak, Jack was vulnerable. He still held onto the boy back from Fenris so unapologetically that at times it made her cringe whenever she dared a glance at him. She was no longer someone he knew, and Jane was okay with that. There was no room in her heart for weakness, even for her brother.

But she knew. She knew if she looked into the eyes of someone that held so much love, so much hope -- eyes like Jacks -- she wouldn’t be able to handle it. Jane spent her days blinded by everything besides destruction, sex, and blood. Thankfully, when you lived on a pirate ship, love was hard to come around.

But, here it was, glaring at her.

Jane wasted no time in punching the Prince in the face. His mop of blond hair flew back and her hands gripped his jacket, shoving him against one of the masts. A spray of salty seawater rushed onto the deck, misting both of their forms and a breeze ruffled her damp dark hair, sending pieces across her face, sticking to her tanned skin. She pressed her entire weight into the boy and snarled at him, her face inches away from his chin and her teeth bared. “You speak to me like that again and I will cut out your damn tongue, princeling.” Her words were a fiery hiss as she spoke through sharp and clenched teeth.

Tugging on his clothing, Jane pulled him away from the mast and shoved him towards the cabins to head below deck. She grew even more annoyed when the Prince started to make his way out of the room on his own, no force necessary. Damnit, she wanted a little bit more of a fight. Ever since he brought up that wretched word, her blood was boiling and her fingers itched to grab hold of her sword. Either she would end her night burning off her senseless rage with a brawl or an idiotic man in her bed.

Glancing at Eli and Jack taking their prisoners towards the other cells, Jane wrinkled her nose at the Princess -- what should have been her responsibility. She was the one Alistair really wanted, anyways. Now she was left with a snotty brat who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Talking about love and marriage -- it was disgusting. “Better sad than pathetic,” she retorted to the Prince, the playful malice that once laced her words nowhere to be found. He seemed so… confident. Even while his hands were tied on the most feared pirate ship in the world, he strode across the deck as if he owned it and he seemed to willingly step in front of Jane as she led him towards his cell.

She didn’t like this boy, she decided. She didn’t like him at all.

Seeing him turn towards her slightly, glancing at Jane over his shoulder, her hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword instinctively. However, noting that his only weapon was a stupid smirk on his lips, Jane scoffed and nudged him forward with a small kick to the ass. After dealing with this royal pain, she would surely need to antagonize one of the crewmates in getting into a fight with her. She sure as hell needed it. Eli was annoying her entirely too much today, maybe Jane would steal him from Jack and their nightly routine and flying fists and lay one on him herself. Wouldn’t be the first time and certainly not the last. “As I said, if you keep talking, I might cut out your tongue.”

After pushing him inside the cell, being sure to make dramatics of slamming the door and locking it just for shits and giggles, Jane eyed the boy with a cat-like predatory stance. Eyes burning with a desire for bloodshed or even a damn good argument. Today was growing quite bothersome.

As the Prince sent an empty threat her way, the corner of Jane’s lips turned upwards into a smirk. That tingling sensation in her fingertips only the hilt of her daggers could fix snaked its way up her hand. She lifted her hand and dragged a finger down one of the iron bars of the cell, her eyes following its path until it ended right at the lock -- eyes then flicking back to him with a fire raging beneath. “I do not fear death,” she said softly, her voice threateningly calm.

“I am death.”

---------------

Prince duty hadn’t been as boring and uneventful as she thought. The boy, whose name she still did not know and she had too much pride to ask for, had a tongue almost as sharp as her blade. While Jane would have still preferred to be in charge of the princess and her blonde companion, she found herself growing slightly curious about the Prince. His head wasn’t filled with air like other royals they had captured and he seemed to have his wits about him, challenging Jane’s own, for once. He thankfully didn’t bring up that word again or else her sword might have accidentally slipped through the bars and right into his stomach.

All in all, she was still terribly annoyed that she had to babysit the collateral damage, but it also could have been worse. The boy seemed to hate their pairing just as much as she did, which was also a bonus. The Prince should be thankful there was a cell blocking in between them, otherwise, Jane probably wouldn’t have been able to control herself due to his incessant attitude and ‘holier than thou’ presence. Plus, she lost the damn keys a few days into his imprisonment. She hadn’t mentioned anything to Alistair -- not wanting to get punished publicly. She was too good for that. So, just like with everything else in her life, she ignored the problem. The keys would turn up eventually.

After Alistair's little interrogation tactic, the Prince had returned with a little less spark inside. Even with Jane’s menacing taunts and petty jokes, he still hadn’t fought back. It was pitiful, really. Fight back, she thought. She had been tossed around and beaten most of her life, no one saw her pouting in a corner about it. It was time the boy knew that there was no room for feeling sorry for yourself on a pirate ship -- just like how there was no room for love in the heart of an assassin.

Alistair had gotten what he wanted, like always. He had mentioned something about the Princess's necklace after his daunting games he played with her throughout the week and Jane only managed to catch a small glimmer of the piece of jewelry before he had tucked it away in his desk and locked the drawer with a key, shoving it into his coat pocket afterward. Whoever wanted to get that necklace had to go through him. Even Jane wasn’t that stupid or daring to try and cross him when it came to that.

Jane had been sleeping soundly in the comforts of her quarters when she heard the rustling outside of her door. Surely, she should have been resting near the Prince’s cell, but he was growing insanely boring, not to mention the prick gave her a headache, so she took it upon herself to retire to her room for the night. He wouldn’t do anything, anyways.

Footsteps pounded outside of her door and Jane let out a slew of curses only a pirate could have created before she rolled out of bed, snatched her sword, and tucking that glimmering dagger in the waistband of her pants. She slipped her boots on swiftly, not even bothering to grab her jacket or hat as she burst through the doors and scanned the deck for the asshole who had awakened the lion.

Of course, it was him.

“Leaving so soon?” She called to the Prince as he held both women’s hands in his own. It was raining, and within seconds Jane’s entire body was drenched. Her loose fitting white shirt sticking to her body. A proper woman might have been embarrassed, but Jane relished it. Proper wasn't in her vocabulary. Unsheathing her sword, Jane chuckled as she took slow and lazy steps towards the escapees. Her sword pointed right at the Prince's throat, although Jane’s eyes traveled to the women here and there -- the redhead did hold a knife to Jack’s throat earlier in the week. Eli hadn’t let him live it down. The woman had more balls than her brother, that was for sure. “We were having so much fun.”

Eli couldn’t help but laugh at Jane’s promise to bring her slew of weapons to bed if he were to call her Janey again. “Kinky,” Was all he managed to shout back before Jack’s irritation and anger towards the boy became palpable. Typically, if Eli saw that something was annoying Jack he’d press those buttons even harder but the crew was already piling up on the deck of the Retribution. The pirate made his way over the wooden planks, not bothering to look back at the carnage he and the crew had left in their wake.

The captain’s orders had left a foul taste in Eli’s mouth but he didn’t question them — especially not in the way Jane talked back to him, or the way Jack silently challenged him. Eli was a least smart enough to keep his mouth shut around the captain. He’d seen what Alistair was capable of and would rather not find himself on the receiving end of that wrath. Elijah picked the little blonde up by the forearm and scoffed at Jack’s comment and gave the boy a rude gesture, but before he could respond the princeling’s voice rung out yet again. Eli gave the boy an easy, unbothered smile. “You rich bastards steal and pillage and rape just like us pirates, only difference is, we’re more honest about it,” He drawled before nudging the girl away from her brother and towards the door that led below deck.

The fact that Jack seemed so nonchalant about publicly showing his distaste for the captain, in front of prisoners no less, made Eli roll his eyes at the boy. It would be his funeral. “I’ll have to stop going easy on you then,” Eli challenged as he felt the blonde pull out of his grip and rush to the railing. For a brief moment, Eli thought she was going to jump and was only slightly relieved when she started hurling her guts up over the side instead. The act reminded him of when he had first joined the crew and had been violently ill the first week aboard. It took time to adjust to the constant sway of the ship, but now he felt sturdier on deck than on solid land.

The boy hung back awkwardly until he figured the girl was done and pulled her back towards the others. “You’ll get your sea legs soon enough,” He stated, pulling the door open and letting her walk past him into the dimly lit hallway. Eli couldn’t help but chuckle as she thanked him yet again. The girl had been taken from her ship in the middle of the night, and here she was thanking him for opening a door — these royals were something else.

“You can call me Eli,” He told her with a lopsided smirk and a raised eyebrow. He had to admit, she was a hell of a lot prettier than the other royals they’d crossed paths with. Eli opened his mouth to speak again but heard the voice of the princess from behind him, only to look back and see she held a little stiletto knife pressed against Jack’s throat. Without a second thought, he pulled the blonde to him and held his own knife to her neck, though it was mostly more for show than actual intent to harm — he was fairly certain it wouldn’t earn him any brownie points with the blonde girl.

The red-headed princess was either immensely dumb or had the biggest balls he’d ever seen threatening two pirates with nothing but that sorry excuse for a knife. Though he admired the bravery nonetheless, even if it was reckless and not well thought out — that described most of his own actions anyway. The voice of the blonde girl was soft, scared, and the sound of it made Eli’s grip loosened slightly as guilt ate at him. But it wasn’t until Jack’s voice lashed out telling him to let her go that he released that grip entirely, though he kept his knife in his hand.

Eli wasn’t nervous for Jack, especially not after more thoroughly assessing the situation. The princess’s stance was all wrong, one right move from Jack and she’d be knocked on her ass, and from the way her hands shook with the knife in it, Eli was fairly certain she wouldn’t deliver a killing blow. Though the intense look in her eyes had him reconsidering until Jack managed to disarm her. The tension in that little hallway was tangible until the redhead told the pirate to go fuck himself and Eli lost it. This girl had more spunk than he would have guessed.

“Don’t worry, princess. Jack already does that every night,” He managed through fits of laughter, only to feel, moments later, Jack’s fist connect with his face. Eli doubled over rubbing his already sore jaw. “It was just a goddamn joke. Jesus Christ Jack, who knew your ego was so fragile?” He spat blood on the ground but couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off his face. Eli was honestly itching for another fight.

The boy nudged the blonde one forward again and lead them towards the cells they kept far below deck. Eli usually avoided this place since it was dark and damp, but if he was stuck down here for the foreseeable future watching those two then he’d make the best of it — at least there was rum. He unlocked the cell door and motioned for the girls to enter before he locked it back and threw the keys down on the table across the room from them.

“I’m getting a damn drink,” He muttered, disappeared further down the hallway and reappearing with a quarter cask of rum and two cups. Eli poured himself one and downed it before he poured one for Jack. The boy sat back in a chair and kicked his feet up on the table. “Rematch on the card game from last night? You were such a sore loser, I figured I’d give you another shot to win your coin back,” Eli taunted, pulling a deck of aged and worn cards from his coat pocket and tossing them on the table.

Several rounds later, Jack had indeed won his coin back — and then some, and Eli was right drunk and fully convinced that Jack had been swindling him. He ignored the voices of the women across the room from them and launched a full attack against Jack that left Eli bloody, more bruised, and clinging to consciousness. So, all in all, it was a good night.

———

The morning after their attack on the French ship, Alistair had ordered them to bring the prisoners back up to the deck where he questioned them about the whereabouts of some artifact he was looking for. Alistair had always been a practical man, but in the last few years, he’d been looking for something — something he wouldn’t tell the crew any specifics about, only that it would put their hoard of wealth to shame if they were to find it. So, Eli didn’t ask questions. Even still, the interrogation had been hard to watch, so he kept his eyes trained elsewhere.

The captain had apparently found something of importance on the princess that kept him locked away in his cabin for the days following. Usually, they’d be instructed to get rid of the prisoners, but instead, they were told to continue watching them. Eli and Jack had remained on guard duty, which was beyond boring, but usually allowed Eli to be drunk halfway through the evening and wake up the next morning with a pounding headache.

Though that night, Eli had stumbled off to a dark corner to sleep off the rum when he woke to the sound of hushed talking and footsteps. He just figured the royals were pacing around. He got up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his mouth feeling particularly dry, and the light from the candles ahead wasn’t helping the growing ache at his temples. He shuffled toward the cell and the table they had set up camp at and grabbed a cup off the table, pouring out whatever had been left in there before pouring himself a cup of water. He was halfway through it when he glanced over and saw the cell door hanging open with the key still sitting in the lock. The two women he and Jack were supposed to be watching were nowhere to be found.

“Well, fuck me,” He muttered to himself throwing the cup down. “Jack!” He yelled, approaching the sleeping man and kicking at his feet until he woke up. “We have a bit of a problem.”

Rosalyn felt sweat start to prickle on her palms as the pirate she had pinned to the swaying walls of the hallway didn’t seem scared, he didn’t even seem phased, by the fact that she was threatening his life. She swallowed hard when he’d told her that she wouldn’t be seeing her ship again and tightened her grip on the handle of the knife, pressing it a little harder against his tanned throat. “I think I’d rather take my chances in the water than here with you lot,” She spat at him, fear starting to grip her as she realized the severity of their situation.

She was so royally fucked.

What had been her plan exactly? Kill these pirates with the little thing in her hand, that at this moment vaguely resembled a kitchen knife compared to the ones they had at their belts, and then what? Kill the entire crew? Fling herself into the ocean and swim back to a ship whose entire crew was now dead? Fucking brilliant. She’d wasted her one opportunity. Her one weapon.

Eli’s voice sounded beside them and when Ros’s eyes slid over to him she saw that he had Madeline in a very similar position she now had his friend. She felt guilt working it’s way up her throat as Madeline spoke to her too. Ros had let her fear and anger win over the logical side of her brain and she was mentally cursing herself for it now. The knot in her throat loosened slightly when the pirate she had under her hands told the other to let Madeline go, and he begrudgingly obliged.

She held steadfast eye contact with the pirate as he told her that if she were to slit his throat someone worse would just take his place. “I have no doubt that’s true,” She told him. The crew out on the deck that had been ogling them since they were brought on board were a group of men she’d much rather not cross paths with. “But the way I see it, it’d be one less pirate in the world,” She told him softly, but just as fierce.

Before Ros could even ascertain what was going on, the knife was knocked out of her hand, her arms were pinned behind her back and she was pressed against his chest. Rosalyn tried to pull away but his grip didn’t budge. She rolled her eyes at his statement about doing her a favor. “Do me another?” She asked sweetly, leaning even closer to him. “Go fuck yourself,” Ros muttered harshly in his ear.

She wasn’t used to speaking like that. In fact, her family had all but beaten her smart mouth out of her when she was younger, leaving behind only the niceties and polite small talk common in court. But apparently pirates and the risk of death brought out the worst in her.

The pirates led the two women through the swaying hallways, and Rosalyn was all too aware of the pirate's hands pushing her along. If anything, she’d taught them not to underestimate her again. Though she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

She felt like she had been punched in the gut when the cell came into view. It was small and dirty — the thought of being locked away in there made her throat tighten with panic. She’d been locked away before and had survived it, though even then the conditions had been far superior despite the trauma of it all. Ros tried to tell herself that she’d survived it once, and she would survive it again. Though she was pretty sure she was lying to herself.

If there was any solace to be had in the whole situation, the men at least didn’t follow them into the cell-like Ros feared they might. They merely locked them inside and posted up directly across the hall from them with what looked like a couple of pints filled with either ale or rum. Typical pirates.

“I’m sorry,” Ros told Madeline quietly, leaning against one wall of their cell. “For almost getting you killed. I panicked and I’m sorry,” She wasn’t used to giving apologies, but she figured the girl was owed that much since Ros had been the reason a knife had been at her throat. “Are you okay?” She asked apprehensively before begrudgingly sitting on the ground of their cell. Focusing on Madeline kept the anxiety of being locked up again at bay, for the time being anyway.

As the night wore on Rosalyn got more and more anxious and annoyed and she wanted nothing more than to just get out of that damned cell. She really wished she would have just jumped overboard when she had the chance. Sure, she’d be fish food by now, but at least she wouldn’t have had to sit here and watch the two pirates act like absolute asshats all night. Well, one of them — Eli — acted like a dumbass, the other just barely tolerated him.

“Can you just tell us what your captain is looking for so we can all go our separate ways?” Ros bartered with them from the floor of the cell. “Watching you two get drunk and get into a sparring match isn’t my ideal night,” She spat at them. Though no sooner had the words left her mouth did the dumb one throw a punch that sent the two of them rolling on the floor. “Lovely.” She rolled her eyes and leaned her head back against the walls of her cell.

——

It had been nearly a week since Ros and the others had been kidnapped from their ship. Much to her displeasure, the French navy hadn’t come to their rescue and she had come to the conclusion that they wouldn’t be coming at all.

The morning after their kidnapping, Captain Alistair had all of the royals brought to him to ‘ask a few questions’ -- a far from pleasant exchange that Ros still had bruises from. He had asked them about some artifact that would lead him to a treasure beyond worth — whatever the hell that meant. None of them knew what he had been talking about. It wasn’t until after Ros had been hit again that her locket had spilled from the confines of her dress and it caught the captain’s eye like shiny things often did with pirates.

Rosalyn had tried to tell him that it was worthless, something passed down to the women in her family when they got married — tried to tell him that the damned thing didn’t even open anymore. He’d asked her more questions about some fountain but she didn’t know about. Ros only told him that if the locket was what he was after he could have the blasted thing if he only dropped them off at the next port. He’d taken it and they’d only been locked up again. That had been days ago.

Ros still wasn’t quite sure what else the captain needed them for. He had his royal trinket, and if they were no longer useful to him then he would have, no doubt, had them thrown overboard — but he hadn’t. Which told her they were still necessary to whatever plot he was hatching.

The little cell they’d been kept in had become even more intolerable the longer they stayed there. It was hot and humid and Rosalyn had stripped out of her corset and heavy dress days ago and now only had on the plain white shift that she’d had on under that floral gown. She’d rather be seen in her undergarments than die of heatstroke, even if her dignity took a bit of a hit in the process.

Eli and Jack were still tasked with watching them and despite Rosalyn’s growing irritation with their situation, she was the slightest bit glad it was them tasked to watch them and not some of the other crew members on board who had, more than once, stopped by to leer at the girls. The boys had gotten rid of them fairly quickly, something she was grateful for. They were also particularly entertaining to watch when they’d get piss drunk and brawl with one another nearly every night.

After their two guard dogs had stumbled off somewhere to sleep off the drunken stupor they’d gotten themselves into, Rosalyn heard a rustling just beyond the reach of the candlelight. She gently grabbed for Madeline’s arm. “Did you hear that?” She whispered just before the sound of footsteps sounded down the hall. Rosalyn knew it wasn’t Jack or Eli since they’d disappeared in the opposite direction. If it were another crew member coming to harass them, they didn’t have anyone to get rid of them this time. Fear clawed at Rosalyn’s throat until Theo’s face came into view in the soft light. She had to blink to be sure that she wasn’t hallucinating.

“Theo?” She asked softly, going to the front of their cell. “What’s going on?” She couldn’t help the giddy feeling spreading over her chest. Ros was fairly certain this was the happiest she’d ever been to see someone in her entire life.