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One shots- #single scene
Forbidden Love
Atticus reminisces his unexpected journey of passion with his dearest lover Maude, a woman so high above his own status that their secret relationship can truly only lead to his own demise.
Child Sacrifice?
Ero had gotten plenty of odd sacrifices as a god, but he was never going to be prepared to be handed a swaddled babe.
Don’t Meet Your Heroes
Kirin is legend amongst people; a man who can escape any prison and save those trapped inside. Only that’s not quite the truth of his escapades.
The Knight Holds Surprises
Sometimes heroes throw a curveball at villains. Mika knows this and yet she still doesn’t expect the news that Tibbey decides to share with her.
Henchman I do adore
Henchman works hard for her boss, and he decides to insist on giving her a much needed vacation. She’s never been on one and going on one with Villain makes her feel a way she isn’t sure she should towards him.
Brain Heart
Scientist, working in their lab at the hero agency, gets a visit from the notorious Villain, who gives them a very tempting offer.
A Dozen For A Dime
Filled with grief and rage at the agency covering up the murder of their son by the city’s best hero, Scientist and Supervillain desperately try to clone their son back to life.
Just a Tool
Hero learns that when you sign on to be the agency’s star, you no longer matter.
Multipart- #Chapter list
These are links to the different stories chapter lists. In progress/finished status on individual posts.
A Star Shines
Kantus, a nobleman son, is kidnapped away in the night by a band of pirates aiming to gain a hefty ransom. While in their surprisingly non-hostile hold he learns about his captors and begins to yearn for more than the life he has trapped with his abusive, grieving father. Can Kantus grow past the trained instinct to act as the perfect son to pursue his own happiness?
The Mourning Sun
Sequel to A Star Shines.
Tragedy strikes The Star as two members of their pirate crew are kidnapped to be used as slaves. Captain Des wrestles with grief and rage, unable to track her sons down. Bratha struggles with his own pride and stubborn nature while trying to find a way for him and his brother to escape and make their way back home.
Time Twisted
Time Agent Keppo is one of a handful of the highest ranking agents the agency has. Unfortunately that means he has been given one of the hardest assignments, one that the other high rankers call cursed. The stress and time the mission demands is straining his mental and physical health, as well as his relationship with his wife and young daughter. Keppo desperately hopes he can end this mission before the "curse" ends him.
Prophecy's Journey
The country of Trendonnas is taken over by a power-hungry tyrant. Upon his takeover a prophecy entailing his downfall is revealed and the newly crowned Highness places an order to capture and kill every other magic user. In a sleepy town at the edge of his new kingdom two young men are told of their destined future. Are they ready to face it yet?
Road To Healing
A slice of life following two college roommates, Toni and Chris, learning to grow and heal with each-other. Together they help each other through abusive family trauma, every day mishaps, and a society that can be unforgiving about being anything outside the norm.
Viva La Revolution
Hero starts a revolution in her city when she calls for the hero agency she works under to better their working conditions.
Amours Deception
Henchman is already struggling with her undefined relationship with the proud and manipulative Villain when Hero, undercover as a new recruit, comes in and throws her emotions further into turmoil. Will Henchman choose the sweet “Marcy” who makes her feel seen and have her heart broken by the lies of Hero or will she stay with Villain and feel herself drown every day in doubt?
How did Hench always end up in stupid situations like this? She was separated from Villain, nursing a probably dislocated shoulder, and dragging the hopeless new girl to safety.
She wasn't an idiot, Hench saw Marcy messing with the explosives right before the heroes showed up.
Coincidences weren't something she believed in. Marcy had most definitely caused the hiccup in their plan. Just peachy.
Hench yanked her behind a column, ignoring the way her stomach rolled with the surge of pain. "Stay here!" She snapped.
"What-? Where are you-?!"
Hench cut her off with a snarl. "I have to guard Vil, you stay here before you make another mistake." With that Hench ran back out into the fray. She dodged several of her coworkers getting thrown around for what felt like eternity until she saw him.
Villain was pinned down by Superhero. Without second thought Hench grabbed a chunk of building and aimed right for his head, nailing him perfectly.
With the new opening Villain threw Superhero off before calling a retreat. Everything was a bit of a blur after that.
After all the heroes had been lost and the henchmen that didn't get snatched reconvened Villain stalked along their lines with a dangerously calm look. "Can anyone tell me," He started in a light tone. "Why those explosives went off early?"
No one said a word. Hench glanced at Marcy, who begged with her eyes not to be ratted out. It seemed Hench was the only one to notice her strange behavior.
She knew she should speak up but she also…well she was a good read of character and Marcy didn't seem the type to sabotage anyone. Or…had she misread the other woman?
Villain didn't appreciate the silence. "Every one of you was a massive disappointment! You're all lucky I managed to get what we were going for. Get out of my sight!" Many would take the short lecture as a blessing but every one of the goons knew; they were going to regret this failure for weeks.
Hench waited while they all filed out, hiding a flinch as Villain strode up to her. His eyes were cold, hard. "How dare you leave my side." His hiss burned her ears.
"One of the new recruits-"
"I don't care if they were going to die! Your job is to keep the heroes off of me so that I can acquire the target!" Spit hit Hench's face but she didn't move back. "What matters on a mission?"
"You do."
"And what else?"
"Nothing, Villain. Just you."
Villain jabbed her chest with a finger. "You need to put everything under me for priority. The other henchmen, the target, even your own life Henchman. I am the only thing that matters. Don't EVER forget that again."
"Yes sir." Henchman bit back tears. She tried to convince herself it was only from the pain in her shoulder.
Villain turned away from her. "Go to the training room. I want you to practice your punches until your hands are practically bleeding. After that you move on to your basic sets. Then you go home."
"But-"
"NOW!"
She flipped around and sprinted to begin her punishment. It didn't matter that she was injured, Henchman had betrayed orders. Of course she would need to wait to see their doctor. Why would she be stupid enough to think otherwise?
---
Hero watched as Henchman shook from the pain, horrified by the fact that the other woman was slamming her fists into a bag so soon after a shoulder injury.
It hadn't been any use trying to talk to her, the woman was determined to make it through her punishment.
After another grueling moment Hero trailed towards the room Villain was in. Cautiously she knocked on the door. It swung open to a furious Villain.
"What is it?" He snapped impatiently.
Hero swallowed thickly. "Henchman is training-"
"I told her to. She needs to learn-"
"Her shoulder is injured!" Hero spat out, anger flaring. At the agency you were checked for injuries after a failed mission. Here you were forced to use the hurt limb apparently and that fact had her blood boiling. "She got hurt protecting me. I think her shoulder was dislocated. If she keeps going at this rate it will never heal!"
At this Villain's entire demeanor changed. His face fell to horror. "She's doing her punishment with a dislocated shoulder? What is she thinking?!" Hero stumbled as he knocked her to the side, running towards the training room. She followed closely. Not wanting to get her own punishment, she waited outside the door and eavesdropped on the conversation.
"Henchie!" Villain shouted. "Why didn't you inform me you were injured?"
"I- Villain? It's fine, I'm fine." The woman sounded very faint. "You told me to-"
"I didn't know your shoulder was dislocated. You can't practice like this."
"This is what you wanted!" Henchman's voice was desperate. Hero wondered how often Villain gave her mixed signals for her to sound so broken by her own confusion.
"You can't practice like this." Villian repeated much firmer. Seconds later the door pushed open. Henchman was led by Villain, bad arm cradled to her chest, face pale and expression one of agony.
Something about that sickened Hero. She distractedly stumbled her way through the rest of the day and back to the agency. What was waiting for her when she got there was a crowd of celebrating heroes. When they noticed her their cheers got louder. Superhero gestured her over.
"Hero! The lady of the hour!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and jostled her a bit. "We got over half his men in one go, you were brilliant. I trust no one caught you?"
She thought back to Hench's knowing looks and held back a flinch. "No, no one saw."
His smile was radiant. Eyes gleaming with pride at his protege. "Brilliant. Let's get you a drink huh? Can't imagine it was easy. Maybe next time we can get Villain himself." He didn't seem to mind the bandages wrapped around his head. Hero wondered what they were from.
How did Hench always end up in stupid situations like this? She was separated from Villain, nursing a probably dislocated shoulder, and dragging the hopeless new girl to safety.
She wasn't an idiot, Hench saw Marcy messing with the explosives right before the heroes showed up.
Coincidences weren't something she believed in. Marcy had most definitely caused the hiccup in their plan. Just peachy.
Hench yanked her behind a column, ignoring the way her stomach rolled with the surge of pain. "Stay here!" She snapped.
"What-? Where are you-?!"
Hench cut her off with a snarl. "I have to guard Vil, you stay here before you make another mistake." With that Hench ran back out into the fray. She dodged several of her coworkers getting thrown around for what felt like eternity until she saw him.
Villain was pinned down by Superhero. Without second thought Hench grabbed a chunk of building and aimed right for his head, nailing him perfectly.
With the new opening Villain threw Superhero off before calling a retreat. Everything was a bit of a blur after that.
After all the heroes had been lost and the henchmen that didn't get snatched reconvened Villain stalked along their lines with a dangerously calm look. "Can anyone tell me," He started in a light tone. "Why those explosives went off early?"
No one said a word. Hench glanced at Marcy, who begged with her eyes not to be ratted out. It seemed Hench was the only one to notice her strange behavior.
She knew she should speak up but she also…well she was a good read of character and Marcy didn't seem the type to sabotage anyone. Or…had she misread the other woman?
Villain didn't appreciate the silence. "Every one of you was a massive disappointment! You're all lucky I managed to get what we were going for. Get out of my sight!" Many would take the short lecture as a blessing but every one of the goons knew; they were going to regret this failure for weeks.
Hench waited while they all filed out, hiding a flinch as Villain strode up to her. His eyes were cold, hard. "How dare you leave my side." His hiss burned her ears.
"One of the new recruits-"
"I don't care if they were going to die! Your job is to keep the heroes off of me so that I can acquire the target!" Spit hit Hench's face but she didn't move back. "What matters on a mission?"
"You do."
"And what else?"
"Nothing, Villain. Just you."
Villain jabbed her chest with a finger. "You need to put everything under me for priority. The other henchmen, the target, even your own life Henchman. I am the only thing that matters. Don't EVER forget that again."
"Yes sir." Henchman bit back tears. She tried to convince herself it was only from the pain in her shoulder.
Villain turned away from her. "Go to the training room. I want you to practice your punches until your hands are practically bleeding. After that you move on to your basic sets. Then you go home."
"But-"
"NOW!"
She flipped around and sprinted to begin her punishment. It didn't matter that she was injured, Henchman had betrayed orders. Of course she would need to wait to see their doctor. Why would she be stupid enough to think otherwise?
---
Hero watched as Henchman shook from the pain, horrified by the fact that the other woman was slamming her fists into a bag so soon after a shoulder injury.
It hadn't been any use trying to talk to her, the woman was determined to make it through her punishment.
After another grueling moment Hero trailed towards the room Villain was in. Cautiously she knocked on the door. It swung open to a furious Villain.
"What is it?" He snapped impatiently.
Hero swallowed thickly. "Henchman is training-"
"I told her to. She needs to learn-"
"Her shoulder is injured!" Hero spat out, anger flaring. At the agency you were checked for injuries after a failed mission. Here you were forced to use the hurt limb apparently and that fact had her blood boiling. "She got hurt protecting me. I think her shoulder was dislocated. If she keeps going at this rate it will never heal!"
At this Villain's entire demeanor changed. His face fell to horror. "She's doing her punishment with a dislocated shoulder? What is she thinking?!" Hero stumbled as he knocked her to the side, running towards the training room. She followed closely. Not wanting to get her own punishment, she waited outside the door and eavesdropped on the conversation.
"Henchie!" Villain shouted. "Why didn't you inform me you were injured?"
"I- Villain? It's fine, I'm fine." The woman sounded very faint. "You told me to-"
"I didn't know your shoulder was dislocated. You can't practice like this."
"This is what you wanted!" Henchman's voice was desperate. Hero wondered how often Villain gave her mixed signals for her to sound so broken by her own confusion.
"You can't practice like this." Villian repeated much firmer. Seconds later the door pushed open. Henchman was led by Villain, bad arm cradled to her chest, face pale and expression one of agony.
Something about that sickened Hero. She distractedly stumbled her way through the rest of the day and back to the agency. What was waiting for her when she got there was a crowd of celebrating heroes. When they noticed her their cheers got louder. Superhero gestured her over.
"Hero! The lady of the hour!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and jostled her a bit. "We got over half his men in one go, you were brilliant. I trust no one caught you?"
She thought back to Hench's knowing looks and held back a flinch. "No, no one saw."
His smile was radiant. Eyes gleaming with pride at his protege. "Brilliant. Let's get you a drink huh? Can't imagine it was easy. Maybe next time we can get Villain himself." He didn't seem to mind the bandages wrapped around his head. Hero wondered what they were from.
Working on the third, and possibly final draft of A Star Shines (considering renaming it to Beckoning Star) and oh my god.
Kantus is fighting me so hard on the romance aspect. I might have to go for the "One fell first the other fell hard" trope for this to work. Right now he's got more chemistry with Baesil nearly twenty chapters in but Des is his love interest. I am pulling my hair out about this.
*struggles while writing* i suck and writing is hard
*remembers some ppl use ai* i am a creative force. i am uncorrupted by theft and indolence. i am on a journey to excellence. it is my duty to keep taking joy in creating.
The morning air was crisp, almost stinging her lungs. Des watched the hazy rays of early sun bring the everything into desaturated color. The world was quiet and calm, something like a person laying awake next to their sleeping lover as they waited for them to stir. Mornings like this were always her favorite but she couldn't find it in herself to enjoy it.
Everyone was preparing to be on open waters again. Riggings were tied down or loosed, cargo secured, the deck cleared as much as possible. It was all done in haunting silence. Undocking should have been one of the more boisterous times on the ship but every member of the crew was moving as ghosts. Des didn't know how she could feel so pained and so hollow at the same time. The wind breathed through and she could almost swear she heard Moa's voice in it, mocking her with the songs he would sing, mocking the way the others would pitch in with his merriment.
Des scanned the crew to find Nalluk and Nich. They had formed a chain with Juns and someone she couldn't see, moving crate after crate down below. Her heart wrenched at the quiet reserve. There wasn't any laughter that she had grown used to. Nalluk paused often to wipe at her cheeks.
She was so focused on them that she almost didn't feel the person behind her until a hand brushed her own cheek. Des turned to Kantus. His soft eyes were rimmed with red and the beginnings of dark circles blooming on his underlids. The last time Des had seen him like this was at the news of his father's death.
"How are you?" Kantus asked, tone thick. It only further confirmed that he had recently been crying.
She chose to push down her own swell of grief at it. This wasn't the time for her emotions. The whole crew needed her. "Fine, be finer iffin we got outta this port by noon." Noon was pushing things but they'd managed it before. It didn't seem like the crew was eager to stay anyway. She most certainly wasn't. Besides what had happened they needed to make it to the next port before it closed down for the storming season. They simply didn't have enough provisions to make it farther.
Just as Des wanted, they were out on the open sea just past noon. Hopefully one of their allies was at Frinden. She was prepared to make a deal with any of them at that point, anything to find her sons.
...
Des watched Torrus with trepidation. He was…less ideal as an ally, viscious and unpredictable but when it came down to it he could be worth a lot in information and fire power. Right now that was exactly what she needed.
Torrus smiled sharply at her. "You requested a parlay Captain, I suggest you don't waste it." His dark eyes glittered with malignance, the friendliest they seemed to ever get.
"Aye," Des pursed her lips. "What do ye know bout slave tradin in this region?"
"I didn't take you for the type Des, and with your own rescued wards? How…duplicitous of you." The honeyed words were spoken as if they were sharing a secret.
Her temper flaired but she didn't take the bait. He was always trying to get her angry enough to attack him, to break the shaky truce they had. It was her least favourite quality about the man. A kind of cowardice Des respected even less than the normal kind. She ground her teeth before responding. "I ain't wantin teh buy any."
"I see." His grin turned even more predatory. "Who was taken?"
"Bratha an Moa, from last port. We need teh know where they may have gotten brought."
Bile burned Des's throat as Torrus clapped his hands together in triumph. She was showing him a great weakness. It was very clear he was about to milk it for all she would allow. Kantus laid his hand to her shoulder, a much needed piece of grounding as her anger started taking over reason.
"Well then Mrs. Des, that's some important information. What do you have to trade for it?"
That was the kicker wasn't it, no information came for free. The whole crew had spent hours trying to find a ballanced trade they could offer. Des had started getting a migraine when Pev kept suggesting they whack Torrus over the head for it. Not that it hadn't been tempting. It wasn't as if Des liked the man any but good trading partners didn't attack each other unprovoked. Not that he was one but it was a matter of principal and pride that she wouldn't dare defile.
"A favor. Me and me crew will owe ye any favor yeh want within reason."
The other captain perked up at the offer. It was rare Des gave this one, used only in dire circumstances, but this counted in her eyes. Her sons were out there and if she could get them back? She would pay nearly any price.
"We have a deal." Torrus held out his hand to shake. She took it immediately. "Now then, your sons are either going to Dangri Port or the Sulm Islands; that is where most fresh slaves are brought. Of course they could also be perchaced before they even get there. If that's the case then your sons are a lost cause. You do trading with Captain Pare yes? He should be willing to scout the islands for your sons if you offer him enough in gold or spices. Dangri Port is another story. I doubt anyone on your trade list would be willing to go there at all, very nasty place that one."
His tone made it clear that Torrus expected her to ask him to search in return for another favor. Pain flaired in her hands as her nails dug into her palms. "Thank ye Captain. Iffin that be all yer information-"
"Not quite, I do have one more bit I'll throw in for you. If your sons were taken by a ship of the name Bantum? Mark them graves, you'll not see them again if you search the rest of your natural life." Des couldn't keep her face from falling. Torrus had the audacity to laugh at her sudden swell of grief, boisterously at that. "That will be all Captain Des, I will call in that favor the next time we should cross paths."
Back on her own ship Des stared down at the deck instead of the expecting faces of the crew. She knew she would burst out crying and she didn't dare show that kind of emotion when there was still a chance of seeing her boys again. Torrus had to have been wrong. Her sons were strong and smart, they would make it back.
No one stopped her as she made her way to the captain's quarters. Des sat at her map table and found the regions that had been given to her. Both were far out of their way. They would need time to prepare and travel which would make them too late if the boys had been taken there. Her teeth protested from how tight she was cleching her jaw. Owing too many things at once…it could end them just as fast as help. Pare was less greedy than Torrus but that didn't mean he would do something at his own loss for them.
"Des?" Kantus closed the door quietly behind him. "Darling, you'll tear the maps if you hold them much tighter."
Des relinquished her grip on them. A frustrated sigh slipped out. "We be in a bad place righ' now."
"I know. We have always managed to get out of them."
"This ain't bein like before, this be worse." She pulled away when he went to touch her cheek. If Kantus was gentle with her it would be the last straw and Des couldn't bear the thought. Strength was more important than her grief. Her past cry was all she was willing to allow herself until Bratha and Moa were back in her arms.
Kantus pulled back with a frown. "We have made it through every hard time in our lives, if we work together with our partners and friends we can certainly make it through this. I know it won't be easy but we can."
Des took his hand in hers with a tight grip, not meeting his eyes but not looking away either. He made no moves to comfort her. She was deeply grateful for it. "I be needin teh go talk teh Pare."
"Would you like me to join you? I may be able to offer my service as a trade."
"Nay, we be neeedin ye here." She needed him there. "Captain Pare be a fair man, I ain't needin someone teh watch me back."
...
Captain Pare was much more sympathetic to their situation than Torrus ever could be. He listened patiently as Des explained and took time to think before speaking. "I'm truly sorry to hear of your loss, Des. I quite enjoyed your boys' antics."
"They ain't-" Des bit her tongue. This wasn't the time to be angry, she needed a level head. "We know where they may've gotten taken."
"I see, this is a request then. Where?"
"The Sulm Islands. Ye trade near there aye?"
Pare nodded thoughtfully, fingers steepled on front of his mouth. It was something that both frustrated and endeared him to her. He never went into anything without thinking good and hard on it first, including smaller things. It had come in handy many times. It had also painfully slowed things down others, such as this moment where her babies were on the line. Her skin crawled as Des tried not to shout at him.
After a time Pare leaned back. He unsteepled his fingers and rested his hands on his legs. "Well now, you have been an exemplary trading partner, and you have always been a great assistance in a fight. Because of this I believe a fair trade would be for you to pay the expenditure of their reclaim while mine and I bring them to you should we find them."
Her heart launched into her throat. "Aye, tha's more than fair." Des's desperation must have been showing through because Pare set his hand on hers with a small smile.
"It's a deal then. I will send a message to Jeckle's estate when we have news."
XXX
Bratha had swabbed decks before. It was one of the few chores you got on The Star as punishment, along with helping Uncle Kevr do dishes and listening to his papa explain proper silverware etiquette. Well, maybe not that last one but it always felt like a chore for young Bratha. He'd hated it. It was long and boring.
In hindsight, with the sun beating down on his bare skin and the crew of Tidal Crest getting in jabs at every opportunity, maybe swabbing the deck for The Star wasn't so much of a punishment. His family made sure he was well shaded and let him take breaks. Sula had ordered him into a plain pair of breaches but no shirt. Hours in the sun left his back feeling tight, burned skin stinging unbearably and threatening to crack. He was certain that it had blistered already. His head was muggy and throat scratched as he breathed. Every sweltering hour that passed made his bucket of soapy water look more tempting. What he wouldn't give for a good cool breeze to start up.
Another man walked by Bratha and sent out a kick. At the beginning of the chore he was able to dodge most of the attacks but now he only managed a weak flinch as the boot buried itself in his side. It took all of Bratha's effort not to curl into himself. He had to keep moving or Captain Sula would come down to see why he wasn't working. He glanced up to the wheel and met her gaze.
She looked so smug. He wanted to break her face for it.
"Missed a spot there boy." The way she said boy made rage boil up but Bratha forced himself to ignore it. He had to ignore it. If he acted well enough she let him see Moa and, despite missing his brother, Bratha had struggled to behave well enough for Sula's standards. Days had gone by since his last visit and if he didn't see Moa soon he was going to do something drastic.
He moved to scrub the spot she indicated, taking him anger out on the worn wood. Hours went by until the sun started setting. Bratha shivered under the chilling air, cursing himself for wanting a breeze earlier. The sun fully set before Sula approached him again.
Her snarl was more frightening in the lantern light. "Come on then boy, five minutes with the others."
…
Bratha winced as Moa's hands brushed the sunburn but he didn't let go. He was going to soak up every second he got with his brother. "Are ye alright? Are ye eatin enough?"
"I'll be fine Bratha." Moa's tone was meant to be reasuring but Bratha didn't buy it. He pulled back to look at him and…his fears were confirmed. Cheeks begining to sink, eyes bloodshot, hands shaking. His brother was begining to look the way he did when they had first rescued him all those years ago. Moa seemed to notice his worry. "Really, I will be alright." This time Bratha picked up on Moa's attempts to relay something to him. He didn't know for sure what it was but if he had to hazard a guess, and he did, it was that Moa was forming or had already formed a plan.
A weary sigh slipped from Bratha's lips. "Aye, I understand."
XXX
Moa couldn't say he was doing well. He was back in shackles, trapped in the kitchen of a ship, separated from his brother. None of that was particularly good. The only thing keeping him from losing it was the fact that him and Bratha were still on the same ship and if they played their cards right they could find a way to escape.
He knew that the man who had their keys, Miggs, and the captain had a bottle of ale before bed every night at sundown to wind down. He also knew that Miggs spent most of his time down in the kitchens. Putting those two bits of information together gave them a small window of escape oppourtunity. Moa had learned many things on The Star and pickpocketting was very much one of them that he was very grateful for at the moment.
Unfortunately for his plan, Miggs always seemed to keep just out of reach of him and the other slave.
His name was Kae. As far as Moa could gather he was sold into slavery as punishment for something but he wasn't sure what. Kae was an odd one, fiery red hair was stark contrast with his nearly snow white complextion and freckles littered every part of visible skin and probably more. Moa could confidently say he hadn't seen anyone quite like him before. His personality though? That was familiar. Lost, hurt, scared; all things that he felt after being taken.
At first Kae didn't say much of anything but as the weeks wore on Kae started talking more. Moa was mildly surprised to find he quite liked the man.
"You're planning something, aren't you now?" The quiet whisper filled the darkened kitchen. "You keep watching Miggs."
Kae was leaning into him. He always seemed to be seeking out physical contact, something that was considered innapropriate for boys at their age but Moa never minded. After all, he was one to cuddle his siblings at every opportunity. A deep sigh slipped out. "I've been trying to pocket the keys."
There was a moment of silence. "Maybe I could help? I could try to startle him closer to you."
"I don't want you to get hurt."
"I won't." Kae pulled away from him before a muffled gunshot filled the space. Moa jumped out of his skin. "Don't worry, that was me. Miggs won't know."
"That was you? How did you do that?"
Kae leaned back into him. A sad lilt leaked into his voice. "I don't know, I've always been able to sound like other things."
Moa knew that asking why he sounded so sad would only cause the other man to stop speaking so he chose instead to fill him in on the rest of his plan. Kae's mimicry might be exactly what he needed.
…
Kae mimicked the sound of a gunshot perfectly and in the split second Miggs got too close Moa had the keys, stashing them quickly into his pants before clinging to Kae as if he were afraid. Thankfully their captor didn't notice, too busy cursing out one of his crew members for being 'careless with their guns'. He wondered why Miggs didn't assume an attack of some kind. It didn't matter either way, because soon the man left and Kae and Moa just had to wait.
When they were certain it was the right time Moa brought out the keys. His fingers fumbled as he tried to get Kae's collar off but he managed it. Kae similarly struggled with his own collar. Once they were free Moa led the way from the kitchens as silent as a mouse. Kae was right behind him, hopefully with the little bag of food they had managed to hide away. It wasn't much but it would have to do. The real food stores were locked and that was a key Miggs didn't have. Moa tried not to dwell on how long they might end up staying on open ocean. They would figure it out.
They made their way to a ladder leading down. Kae had been the one to ask him when they would get his brother, something he was deeply touched by, and Moa knew they would need to grab Bratha as soon as they got free.
He couldn't say he knew this ship in particular but he had the advantage of being taken from where they were holding Bratha. Before he knew it they had the door open and the lantern in the room lit.
Bratha was curled on the floor, barely concious. He fitfully kicked out in his sleep. Moa's heart wrenched seeing the new bruises painting his brother's skin. He had only ever seen Bratha confident and boisterous, nothing like the quiet person he had started becoming. It was almost too much for him to bear.
Carefully he knelt down to touch Bratha's shoulder. His brother jolted awake, eyes wide with fear and body tensed. It only caused Moa's grief to grow. "It's us Bratha, we're getting out."
Bratha calmed down but he didn't move much past that. He didn't seem to be taking in anything more than Moa's words. It was all too possible that he was too weak to do anything.
After a moment to assess his brother's injuries Moa scooped him up onto his back, coaxing him into wrapping his longer legs so they wouldn't drag. He turned to Kae with a determined look. "Let's go."
Kae nodded in response and they started their way to freedom.
Up on the quarter deck a young woman scanned the seas. There was no doubt someone manning the crows nest as well. Moa glanced around the deck until he saw the ships-boat on the port side of the ship, tied up almost lazily. Momma never would have allowed such sloppy work on her own ship. He was grateful Sula had slipped like that.
Moa gestured Kae forwards, hoisting Bratha further up his back as he led the way. Halfway there the woman noticed them. She let out a loud shout as she grabbed at her waist for what Moa assumed was her weapon. They made it to the boat just as she started firing. He knew from experience that the rest of the crew would quickly follow suit so he shoved at the boat, ignoring the wood splintering right next to his head. Kae was handling it less well and was scrambling at the side as if he wanted to run without the boat.
He stayed with them though, something Moa was proud of. Before they could get the boat fully off the side of the ship there was a rush of crew members on the deck. Shouts and gunshots got more prominent. The boat tipped over, taking a few barrels and what looked to be the boarding plank off the side with it. Moa grabbed Kae and jumped off the side. "Hold your breath!" He hoped the wind wouldn't wisk the words away.
Cold overwhelmed him as he hit the ocean. Frantically Moa grabbed as his mouth and nose to keep from breathing in with the shock of it. He kicked Bratha and him up intul they surfaced next to the boat. It had landed upside-down.
Just as he was starting to worry, Kae floundered to the surface. Moa cursed. How had he forgotten to ask if Kae could swim?! He reached over for Kae, shifting how he was holding Bratha so both of them were floating on his chest. More gunshots caused sprays of water. The boat got the worst of it. It was peppered with so many holes it wouldn't be of any use to them. In desperation Moa dove them back under the surface.
He waited, holding both men underwater until he was sure there weren't more gunshots. There was a weak attempt from Bratha to help kick them back to the surface but it wasn't really all that helpful. Kae broke away as they hit air. He started coughing, grabbing onto a barrel that fell off in the scuffle. Moa dragged himself and Bratha onto the boarding plank. It tipped dangerously forwards with his effort.
Once the board stabilized Moa looked over to Kae, his own worries mirrored in his new friend's face.
The morning air was crisp, almost stinging her lungs. Des watched the hazy rays of early sun bring the everything into desaturated color. The world was quiet and calm, something like a person laying awake next to their sleeping lover as they waited for them to stir. Mornings like this were always her favorite but she couldn't find it in herself to enjoy it.
Everyone was preparing to be on open waters again. Riggings were tied down or loosed, cargo secured, the deck cleared as much as possible. It was all done in haunting silence. Undocking should have been one of the more boisterous times on the ship but every member of the crew was moving as ghosts. Des didn't know how she could feel so pained and so hollow at the same time. The wind breathed through and she could almost swear she heard Moa's voice in it, mocking her with the songs he would sing, mocking the way the others would pitch in with his merriment.
Des scanned the crew to find Nalluk and Nich. They had formed a chain with Juns and someone she couldn't see, moving crate after crate down below. Her heart wrenched at the quiet reserve. There wasn't any laughter that she had grown used to. Nalluk paused often to wipe at her cheeks.
She was so focused on them that she almost didn't feel the person behind her until a hand brushed her own cheek. Des turned to Kantus. His soft eyes were rimmed with red and the beginnings of dark circles blooming on his underlids. The last time Des had seen him like this was at the news of his father's death.
"How are you?" Kantus asked, tone thick. It only further confirmed that he had recently been crying.
She chose to push down her own swell of grief at it. This wasn't the time for her emotions. The whole crew needed her. "Fine, be finer iffin we got outta this port by noon." Noon was pushing things but they'd managed it before. It didn't seem like the crew was eager to stay anyway. She most certainly wasn't. Besides what had happened they needed to make it to the next port before it closed down for the storming season. They simply didn't have enough provisions to make it farther.
Just as Des wanted, they were out on the open sea just past noon. Hopefully one of their allies was at Frinden. She was prepared to make a deal with any of them at that point, anything to find her sons.
...
Des watched Torrus with trepidation. He was…less ideal as an ally, viscious and unpredictable but when it came down to it he could be worth a lot in information and fire power. Right now that was exactly what she needed.
Torrus smiled sharply at her. "You requested a parlay Captain, I suggest you don't waste it." His dark eyes glittered with malignance, the friendliest they seemed to ever get.
"Aye," Des pursed her lips. "What do ye know bout slave tradin in this region?"
"I didn't take you for the type Des, and with your own rescued wards? How…duplicitous of you." The honeyed words were spoken as if they were sharing a secret.
Her temper flaired but she didn't take the bait. He was always trying to get her angry enough to attack him, to break the shaky truce they had. It was her least favourite quality about the man. A kind of cowardice Des respected even less than the normal kind. She ground her teeth before responding. "I ain't wantin teh buy any."
"I see." His grin turned even more predatory. "Who was taken?"
"Bratha an Moa, from last port. We need teh know where they may have gotten brought."
Bile burned Des's throat as Torrus clapped his hands together in triumph. She was showing him a great weakness. It was very clear he was about to milk it for all she would allow. Kantus laid his hand to her shoulder, a much needed piece of grounding as her anger started taking over reason.
"Well then Mrs. Des, that's some important information. What do you have to trade for it?"
That was the kicker wasn't it, no information came for free. The whole crew had spent hours trying to find a ballanced trade they could offer. Des had started getting a migraine when Pev kept suggesting they whack Torrus over the head for it. Not that it hadn't been tempting. It wasn't as if Des liked the man any but good trading partners didn't attack each other unprovoked. Not that he was one but it was a matter of principal and pride that she wouldn't dare defile.
"A favor. Me and me crew will owe ye any favor yeh want within reason."
The other captain perked up at the offer. It was rare Des gave this one, used only in dire circumstances, but this counted in her eyes. Her sons were out there and if she could get them back? She would pay nearly any price.
"We have a deal." Torrus held out his hand to shake. She took it immediately. "Now then, your sons are either going to Dangri Port or the Sulm Islands; that is where most fresh slaves are brought. Of course they could also be perchaced before they even get there. If that's the case then your sons are a lost cause. You do trading with Captain Pare yes? He should be willing to scout the islands for your sons if you offer him enough in gold or spices. Dangri Port is another story. I doubt anyone on your trade list would be willing to go there at all, very nasty place that one."
His tone made it clear that Torrus expected her to ask him to search in return for another favor. Pain flaired in her hands as her nails dug into her palms. "Thank ye Captain. Iffin that be all yer information-"
"Not quite, I do have one more bit I'll throw in for you. If your sons were taken by a ship of the name Bantum? Mark them graves, you'll not see them again if you search the rest of your natural life." Des couldn't keep her face from falling. Torrus had the audacity to laugh at her sudden swell of grief, boisterously at that. "That will be all Captain Des, I will call in that favor the next time we should cross paths."
Back on her own ship Des stared down at the deck instead of the expecting faces of the crew. She knew she would burst out crying and she didn't dare show that kind of emotion when there was still a chance of seeing her boys again. Torrus had to have been wrong. Her sons were strong and smart, they would make it back.
No one stopped her as she made her way to the captain's quarters. Des sat at her map table and found the regions that had been given to her. Both were far out of their way. They would need time to prepare and travel which would make them too late if the boys had been taken there. Her teeth protested from how tight she was cleching her jaw. Owing too many things at once…it could end them just as fast as help. Pare was less greedy than Torrus but that didn't mean he would do something at his own loss for them.
"Des?" Kantus closed the door quietly behind him. "Darling, you'll tear the maps if you hold them much tighter."
Des relinquished her grip on them. A frustrated sigh slipped out. "We be in a bad place righ' now."
"I know. We have always managed to get out of them."
"This ain't bein like before, this be worse." She pulled away when he went to touch her cheek. If Kantus was gentle with her it would be the last straw and Des couldn't bear the thought. Strength was more important than her grief. Her past cry was all she was willing to allow herself until Bratha and Moa were back in her arms.
Kantus pulled back with a frown. "We have made it through every hard time in our lives, if we work together with our partners and friends we can certainly make it through this. I know it won't be easy but we can."
Des took his hand in hers with a tight grip, not meeting his eyes but not looking away either. He made no moves to comfort her. She was deeply grateful for it. "I be needin teh go talk teh Pare."
"Would you like me to join you? I may be able to offer my service as a trade."
"Nay, we be neeedin ye here." She needed him there. "Captain Pare be a fair man, I ain't needin someone teh watch me back."
...
Captain Pare was much more sympathetic to their situation than Torrus ever could be. He listened patiently as Des explained and took time to think before speaking. "I'm truly sorry to hear of your loss, Des. I quite enjoyed your boys' antics."
"They ain't-" Des bit her tongue. This wasn't the time to be angry, she needed a level head. "We know where they may've gotten taken."
"I see, this is a request then. Where?"
"The Sulm Islands. Ye trade near there aye?"
Pare nodded thoughtfully, fingers steepled on front of his mouth. It was something that both frustrated and endeared him to her. He never went into anything without thinking good and hard on it first, including smaller things. It had come in handy many times. It had also painfully slowed things down others, such as this moment where her babies were on the line. Her skin crawled as Des tried not to shout at him.
After a time Pare leaned back. He unsteepled his fingers and rested his hands on his legs. "Well now, you have been an exemplary trading partner, and you have always been a great assistance in a fight. Because of this I believe a fair trade would be for you to pay the expenditure of their reclaim while mine and I bring them to you should we find them."
Her heart launched into her throat. "Aye, tha's more than fair." Des's desperation must have been showing through because Pare set his hand on hers with a small smile.
"It's a deal then. I will send a message to Jeckle's estate when we have news."
XXX
Bratha had swabbed decks before. It was one of the few chores you got on The Star as punishment, along with helping Uncle Kevr do dishes and listening to his papa explain proper silverware etiquette. Well, maybe not that last one but it always felt like a chore for young Bratha. He'd hated it. It was long and boring.
In hindsight, with the sun beating down on his bare skin and the crew of Tidal Crest getting in jabs at every opportunity, maybe swabbing the deck for The Star wasn't so much of a punishment. His family made sure he was well shaded and let him take breaks. Sula had ordered him into a plain pair of breaches but no shirt. Hours in the sun left his back feeling tight, burned skin stinging unbearably and threatening to crack. He was certain that it had blistered already. His head was muggy and throat scratched as he breathed. Every sweltering hour that passed made his bucket of soapy water look more tempting. What he wouldn't give for a good cool breeze to start up.
Another man walked by Bratha and sent out a kick. At the beginning of the chore he was able to dodge most of the attacks but now he only managed a weak flinch as the boot buried itself in his side. It took all of Bratha's effort not to curl into himself. He had to keep moving or Captain Sula would come down to see why he wasn't working. He glanced up to the wheel and met her gaze.
She looked so smug. He wanted to break her face for it.
"Missed a spot there boy." The way she said boy made rage boil up but Bratha forced himself to ignore it. He had to ignore it. If he acted well enough she let him see Moa and, despite missing his brother, Bratha had struggled to behave well enough for Sula's standards. Days had gone by since his last visit and if he didn't see Moa soon he was going to do something drastic.
He moved to scrub the spot she indicated, taking him anger out on the worn wood. Hours went by until the sun started setting. Bratha shivered under the chilling air, cursing himself for wanting a breeze earlier. The sun fully set before Sula approached him again.
Her snarl was more frightening in the lantern light. "Come on then boy, five minutes with the others."
…
Bratha winced as Moa's hands brushed the sunburn but he didn't let go. He was going to soak up every second he got with his brother. "Are ye alright? Are ye eatin enough?"
"I'll be fine Bratha." Moa's tone was meant to be reasuring but Bratha didn't buy it. He pulled back to look at him and…his fears were confirmed. Cheeks begining to sink, eyes bloodshot, hands shaking. His brother was begining to look the way he did when they had first rescued him all those years ago. Moa seemed to notice his worry. "Really, I will be alright." This time Bratha picked up on Moa's attempts to relay something to him. He didn't know for sure what it was but if he had to hazard a guess, and he did, it was that Moa was forming or had already formed a plan.
A weary sigh slipped from Bratha's lips. "Aye, I understand."
XXX
Moa couldn't say he was doing well. He was back in shackles, trapped in the kitchen of a ship, separated from his brother. None of that was particularly good. The only thing keeping him from losing it was the fact that him and Bratha were still on the same ship and if they played their cards right they could find a way to escape.
He knew that the man who had their keys, Miggs, and the captain had a bottle of ale before bed every night at sundown to wind down. He also knew that Miggs spent most of his time down in the kitchens. Putting those two bits of information together gave them a small window of escape oppourtunity. Moa had learned many things on The Star and pickpocketting was very much one of them that he was very grateful for at the moment.
Unfortunately for his plan, Miggs always seemed to keep just out of reach of him and the other slave.
His name was Kae. As far as Moa could gather he was sold into slavery as punishment for something but he wasn't sure what. Kae was an odd one, fiery red hair was stark contrast with his nearly snow white complextion and freckles littered every part of visible skin and probably more. Moa could confidently say he hadn't seen anyone quite like him before. His personality though? That was familiar. Lost, hurt, scared; all things that he felt after being taken.
At first Kae didn't say much of anything but as the weeks wore on Kae started talking more. Moa was mildly surprised to find he quite liked the man.
"You're planning something, aren't you now?" The quiet whisper filled the darkened kitchen. "You keep watching Miggs."
Kae was leaning into him. He always seemed to be seeking out physical contact, something that was considered innapropriate for boys at their age but Moa never minded. After all, he was one to cuddle his siblings at every opportunity. A deep sigh slipped out. "I've been trying to pocket the keys."
There was a moment of silence. "Maybe I could help? I could try to startle him closer to you."
"I don't want you to get hurt."
"I won't." Kae pulled away from him before a muffled gunshot filled the space. Moa jumped out of his skin. "Don't worry, that was me. Miggs won't know."
"That was you? How did you do that?"
Kae leaned back into him. A sad lilt leaked into his voice. "I don't know, I've always been able to sound like other things."
Moa knew that asking why he sounded so sad would only cause the other man to stop speaking so he chose instead to fill him in on the rest of his plan. Kae's mimicry might be exactly what he needed.
…
Kae mimicked the sound of a gunshot perfectly and in the split second Miggs got too close Moa had the keys, stashing them quickly into his pants before clinging to Kae as if he were afraid. Thankfully their captor didn't notice, too busy cursing out one of his crew members for being 'careless with their guns'. He wondered why Miggs didn't assume an attack of some kind. It didn't matter either way, because soon the man left and Kae and Moa just had to wait.
When they were certain it was the right time Moa brought out the keys. His fingers fumbled as he tried to get Kae's collar off but he managed it. Kae similarly struggled with his own collar. Once they were free Moa led the way from the kitchens as silent as a mouse. Kae was right behind him, hopefully with the little bag of food they had managed to hide away. It wasn't much but it would have to do. The real food stores were locked and that was a key Miggs didn't have. Moa tried not to dwell on how long they might end up staying on open ocean. They would figure it out.
They made their way to a ladder leading down. Kae had been the one to ask him when they would get his brother, something he was deeply touched by, and Moa knew they would need to grab Bratha as soon as they got free.
He couldn't say he knew this ship in particular but he had the advantage of being taken from where they were holding Bratha. Before he knew it they had the door open and the lantern in the room lit.
Bratha was curled on the floor, barely concious. He fitfully kicked out in his sleep. Moa's heart wrenched seeing the new bruises painting his brother's skin. He had only ever seen Bratha confident and boisterous, nothing like the quiet person he had started becoming. It was almost too much for him to bear.
Carefully he knelt down to touch Bratha's shoulder. His brother jolted awake, eyes wide with fear and body tensed. It only caused Moa's grief to grow. "It's us Bratha, we're getting out."
Bratha calmed down but he didn't move much past that. He didn't seem to be taking in anything more than Moa's words. It was all too possible that he was too weak to do anything.
After a moment to assess his brother's injuries Moa scooped him up onto his back, coaxing him into wrapping his longer legs so they wouldn't drag. He turned to Kae with a determined look. "Let's go."
Kae nodded in response and they started their way to freedom.
Up on the quarter deck a young woman scanned the seas. There was no doubt someone manning the crows nest as well. Moa glanced around the deck until he saw the ships-boat on the port side of the ship, tied up almost lazily. Momma never would have allowed such sloppy work on her own ship. He was grateful Sula had slipped like that.
Moa gestured Kae forwards, hoisting Bratha further up his back as he led the way. Halfway there the woman noticed them. She let out a loud shout as she grabbed at her waist for what Moa assumed was her weapon. They made it to the boat just as she started firing. He knew from experience that the rest of the crew would quickly follow suit so he shoved at the boat, ignoring the wood splintering right next to his head. Kae was handling it less well and was scrambling at the side as if he wanted to run without the boat.
He stayed with them though, something Moa was proud of. Before they could get the boat fully off the side of the ship there was a rush of crew members on the deck. Shouts and gunshots got more prominent. The boat tipped over, taking a few barrels and what looked to be the boarding plank off the side with it. Moa grabbed Kae and jumped off the side. "Hold your breath!" He hoped the wind wouldn't wisk the words away.
Cold overwhelmed him as he hit the ocean. Frantically Moa grabbed as his mouth and nose to keep from breathing in with the shock of it. He kicked Bratha and him up intul they surfaced next to the boat. It had landed upside-down.
Just as he was starting to worry, Kae floundered to the surface. Moa cursed. How had he forgotten to ask if Kae could swim?! He reached over for Kae, shifting how he was holding Bratha so both of them were floating on his chest. More gunshots caused sprays of water. The boat got the worst of it. It was peppered with so many holes it wouldn't be of any use to them. In desperation Moa dove them back under the surface.
He waited, holding both men underwater until he was sure there weren't more gunshots. There was a weak attempt from Bratha to help kick them back to the surface but it wasn't really all that helpful. Kae broke away as they hit air. He started coughing, grabbing onto a barrel that fell off in the scuffle. Moa dragged himself and Bratha onto the boarding plank. It tipped dangerously forwards with his effort.
Once the board stabilized Moa looked over to Kae, his own worries mirrored in his new friend's face.
i don't get the sentiment that writing isn't fun. writing is so much fun! it's so rewarding! yeah it's hard sometimes but that doesn't mean it isn't fun. I love untangling the mess of plot threads in my head to figure out what should go where or why a certain section or sentence isn't working. it's like solving a puzzle. and my little guys are there! and i get to make them kiss or put one of them in a blender! so much fun!
please please please please reblog if you’re a writer and have at some point felt like your writing is getting worse. I need to know if I’m the only one who’s struggling with these thoughts
When you start learning more of how to write, seeing the mechanics of stories, you start seeing where your own works can improve. Because of this it may feel like your writing is getting worse. It's not, you're learning. Keep going!
Warnings: I assume none, but if you notice something, let me know! Light angst romance, basically. Heavily based on/ inspired by VOILÀ - Something blue.
The wind is harsh against Villain’s face, prickling his skin with each cold blow. The crisp air bites into his lungs, filling them alongside the deep-settled tightness. When Villain reaches the central square, the sun is high in the sky, but the air lacks the warmth expected from a spring day. She hates it when the noons are this chilly.
The square is already full to the brim, a good half of the city there to witness Hero’s wedding. She’s always been a crowd favourite, and the groom being the mayor’s son only brought more publicity to the event. And Villain… Villain would never be good enough. He hisses at the annoying voice in the back of his head to quiet. The same voice that prompted him to leave before she could, to let her go before he got hurt. He takes in the grandeur of the cathedral, its enormous oak doors decorated with flower arrangements. It looks magnificent. She hates big weddings and magnolias.
It doesn’t take much time to round the square and sneak into the cathedral through a back door. The reality of it all seems to hit Villain much harder once he steps inside. Coming here today was a bad idea. Villain’s fingers curl into fists, his breathing coming out in frantic huffs as he climbs the stairs. A part of him considers turning around right this instant, but he doesn’t allow himself to. Not today. He won’t be a coward again.
He walks past several ajar doors before coming to a halt in front of the only closed one. With a deep breath, Villain pushes it open. Hero is standing in front of a full-length mirror, and she looks stunning. His breath hitches in his throat, every single thought leaving his mind the second his eyes lock onto her form. She doesn’t seem to notice him yet, so he shuts the door behind his back, careful not to make any noise as he steps closer. She keeps fidgeting with the hair framing her face in soft brown waves. She hates having her hair up.
Villain stops behind her, his mind racing. He rakes a hand through his hair, brushing the dark strands back from his forehead, and before his brain can comprehend what he’s doing, his arm wraps around her middle, pulling her back against his chest.
“You look beautiful,” his voice murmurs against her ear. Hero shudders, her eyes flying up to meet his gaze through the mirror. Her lips press into a thin line. Don’t do this to me. Villain’s arm tightens around her. “Absolutely ravishing.”
“Don’t lie,” Hero leans back into him, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder. “White was never my colour. Good thing I don’t own this dress.” She shrugs, her tone a tad too impassive for his liking.
Villain lets out a light chuckle, yet his sharp eyes remain pained. He wouldn’t give a damn what she wore if only it was him with her. “It’s something borrowed then?”
“What?” Hero tilts her head to look at him, still wrapped in his arms. Her eyebrow raises quizzically, when he doesn’t loosen his hold. She hates the way his body fits against hers so well.
“You know how that thing goes? Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” Villain lists, not registering when his thumb starts rubbing soothing circles into her forearm.
She laughs, but it doesn’t reach her hazy brown eyes. Villain’s chest tightens as he watches her expression. He loved how her eyes would shine, and her nose would scrunch when she laughed with her full heart. How she laughed with him.
“I'm the old, and he's the new,” he explains, pausing to swallow the lump of emotions in his throat. “And since he gave you the borrowed dress, I figured it should be me that gives you something blue.”
Hero’s heart slams against her ribcage with a savage force. She wants to push him away, to yell at him, to demand for him to leave and never show his face again after how he abandoned her for idiotic reasons. Instead, her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek. “Oh?”
“Remember the time when I bought you a locket in the flea market?” Villain recalls, watching her breathing pattern go from frenzied to still. Hero goes rigid in his arms, her irises blown wide, not daring to take a breath in for fear of losing it entirely. “Where did it go?”
“I- I must have lost it,” her voice is small, words tumbling off her lips almost unconsciously.
“Feels symbolic, don’t you think?” Villain’s hands leave her body as he pulls the locket with a blue stone embedded in its ornaments out of his pocket. He moves her hair to the side and fastens the clasp, his fingers brushing against the side of her neck in a tender touch. He gulps, his darkened eyes locking onto the reflection of her watering ones. “Like losing your love and having to watch it.”
He can’t stop himself as his head dips into the crook of her neck, eyebrows furrowing when his lips leave a lingering kiss against her bare shoulder, sending a chill of goosebumps along her spine.
Hero lets out a shaky exhale, averting her eyes from the mirror. She hates that he is here. She hates that he’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt. She hates that he looks dashing, too. She hates how perfect they look together. She hates how he could… “It’s cold for a wedding, isn’t it?”
Villain withdraws despite his reluctance, his fingers twitching to take hold of her again until he wraps his arm around her waist. “Are your feet getting cold?” He attempts to sound lighthearted, but the quiver of his voice gives it all away.
Hero shakes her head, her dejected expression wrenching Villain’s heart in a way he didn’t think possible before. “They were never warm in the first place.”
He doesn’t know how to take that. He doesn’t know how to take any of this anymore. It feels like the sky is shattering over his head, burying him alive.
“There's something I must confess,” Hero whispers as if saying it louder would mar the sanctity of the cathedral walls. She disentangles from Villain’s arms, stepping towards the door as Canon in D begins playing. “I wish it was you instead.”
She offers him one last glance before stepping out the door, a trembling hand clasped over her mouth to keep the sobs raking through her body from escaping.
Her words echo in Villain’s mind like a tocsin as he rushes through the doors, only to catch a glimpse of her as she begins walking down the aisle. He walks in, remaining at the doors as she reaches the altar. He knows he should wait on the priest to give him the time to speak, but his stomach is in knots, adrenaline rushing through his blood like a fire ready to burn the damn church down.
Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today…
“To watch a big mistake,” Villain’s voice booms through the nave of the cathedral, reflecting off of the vault and spilling down onto the guests’ heads, which snap to stare at him as he steps forward.
“I'm not gonna hold my peace,” Villain meets Hero’s tormented gaze, her throat closing in as she sees his face contorted in a mixture of pain and desperation. “I’m not gonna…” He pauses, his breath hitching when the flames reach his chest, burning a hole through his lungs. “What I mean to say is, my feelings haven't changed.”
Hero’s blood runs cold. She’s frozen in place, watching him approach her with an unreadable expression while her groom growls something in her ear with a displeased expression. For better or for worse, Villain can’t hear what he’s saying to her.
He knows coming here today was a bad idea. Watching Hero today was supposed to desecrate whatever was left of his heart, to wreck the shrine of her in his chest, to utterly and wholly rip him apart.
But...
But then she takes his hand, meeting his pleading gaze as tears brim her eyes. Villain brings her hand up, pressing it to his lips before pulling her towards him as they sprint down the aisle. He leads her out through the same back door he came through and along narrow sidestreets away from the crowded square. By the time her groom stops throwing a fit, Hero is in Villain’s car as he drives them out of the city, his hand still clutching hers tightly. He brings it up to his lips again, turning to look at Hero, cast in the afternoon sun. She looks otherworldly with her hair down, playing in the wind.
“White is absolutely your colour,” he mutters softly, his eyes darting down to his shirt on her, her dress left somewhere along the road.
Hero snorts, shaking her head as she shifts closer, leaning her head on his shoulder, her hand in his tight hold. He still can’t wrap his head around the events of the day, but he can lace his fingers through hers. He can kiss the tip of her nose and make her scrunch it as she giggles. He can kiss her smiling lips over and over again. He can pull her into his chest and hold her close to his heart.
The first thing he became aware of was a throbbing ache in the back of his skull. It pounded to the rhythm of his heart, making stars dance behind his eyelids. When he tried to call out for one of his siblings his voice came out muffled. Bratha's heart jammed into his throat as he realized there was a gag shoved between his teeth. He jolted upright, causing a wave of pain in his head, and tried to take in his surroundings.
Unfortunately wherever he was being held was almost pitch black. Remembering what his mother had taught him, Bratha immediately tested his arms and legs; finding the former bound and the latter very shaky and weak.
He most definitely did not let out a childish shriek when he felt something warm brush against his shoulder.
A muffled exclamation calmed the brief panic. Moa was not a morning person like him and Bratha had heard him mumble complaints into his bedding enough times to know what his brother's voice sounded like through fabric.
There wasn't a guarantee that Moa recognized him though. Bratha chewed the gag a bit before letting out three sharp grunts, two longer ones, and three sharp ones. The call was meant to be done with whistles and clicks of the tongue but the grunting would have to do.
Almost immediately Moa responded with three long grunts, two sharp, and three long. The further confirmation eased what tension was left in Bratha's shoulders. The pair leaned into each other, warmth very welcome in that moment.
Ignoring the pain that flowered with thinking hard, Bratha pushed to recall how they had ended up tied up in a hold to begin with. They had docked at Hantrip for certain; he recalled their mother getting into an argument with Auntie Baesil about how well the mooring lines had been tied down.
Des insisted they were too loose.
Then…? He and Moa went to explore…they had gotten food at some point but…He let out a muffled sigh. It was hurting too much to think much harder and Bratha would rather spend that effort thinking of a way out.
A rubbing on his shoulder caught his attention. His brother was seemingly trying to rub the gag out of his mouth but with how tight Bratha's own was he doubted Moa could remove it that way. Fumbling a bit, he found Moa's clothes and gave a few sharp tugs, hoping he would understand. Thankfully he seemed to.
Moa wriggled down until his face was at Bratha's hands. Just a few moments of searching and Bratha had his fingers hooked under the gag in his brother's mouth. Even sooner it was pulled free.
"Bratha." Came the harsh whisper. He flipped around, struggling to get to a point where Moa could remove his own gag. Once they were both free to speak they shuffled into a more comfortable position, curling in close on each other. Getting their arms out from behind their backs could wait.
"What do we do now?" Moa was clearly trying not to panic.
Bratha swallowed down a lump forming in his throat. "We wait. Mama'n Papa'll find us." He had no doubts on it. Their parents would notice that they didn't come back at curfew and they'd go looking. Before they knew it Bratha and Moa would be back on the ship being scolded for not being careful enough. Papa would hug them and Mama would spend weeks keeping them under close watch.
Everything would be okay.
Everything had to be okay.
.
.
.
Everything was not okay.
Bratha wasn't sure how much time had passed, but judging from the food that got chucked in at them, the new people being tossed in as well, and the sleep he'd had, more than a few days had gone by. Were they leaning into weeks at that point? Possibly.
Without a solid way to judge he couldn't be sure. Through that time none of them had been able to get the wrist restraints off but each new person tossed in had their gags removed. Not that it did much. Of the five others in there with them, only one ever spoke, and only when she was hissing at Moa and Bratha for speaking to each other.
He tried not to take it personally but every time she snapped at them his temper flared. Part of it was the hunger. Bread was tossed in every once in a while but it was never enough to fill one of their bellies, let alone all seven of them. Bratha always gave most of his share to Moa as well.
Dehydration was quickly becoming an issue on top of it. Sure, a bucket of water had been put in the cell with them but it didn't smell or taste right.
Bratha half suspected drugging but more likely was that whoever had them didn't care the quality of what they drank, so long as they weren't dead. He had long since gotten used to a dull throb in his head, one that was clearly not leftover from getting wacked when they were taken.
Since talking with Moa would only get him hushed Bratha spent most of his time daydreaming. Memories of the sea, different port towns, their family. One in particular he focused on more than the rest; the time they had moored along a stretch of tiny islands for repairs.
There wasn't much to do in the towns, at least not for their kind, so Bratha and his siblings had made a game of finding things along the shore. They would all search for a short time before meeting back up and voting who had scrounged the best 'treasure' in the lot.
Nich had found a tide pool after a few rounds and the group swiftly abandoned the game to search for sea stars and other creatures. It had been such a hot day but even the sun beating down on them couldn't ruin the merriment.
Bratha wished he were back in that moment. He wished he were in the sun pointing out little fish to Nich, chasing Nalluk with crabs as she shrieked a mix of fear and delight, watching Moa dive into the waves and come up with a new rock or shell each time.
But it wasn't bright in the hold where they were kept and there wasn't a refreshing breeze to clear the rank, stale air.
"Bratha?" Moa whispered.
He snapped out of his dreaming to find that his brother had pushed his face into Bratha's arm. "Aye?"
A small sniffle. "I don't think they are going to find us."
Bratha wanted to deny it. He wanted to get mad and yell at Moa for doubting their parents. That wasn't what happened. Instead he let out a shaky sigh that scratched at his throat as he leaned his head back into the wall. "…yer right…we'da been home by now."
There was no point in trying to hide behind childish dreams of rescue. They were probably well out of their family's reach by then and the chances of someone else deciding to rescue them was practically non-existent.
The suborn part of Bratha started trying to form a plan of escape. Maybe if they waited for food to be thrown in? But they didn't know how many crew members were on this ship and they were weak from hunger. Waiting to be taken to auction wasn't a good plan either; there would be crowds of people to stop them. Both plans ended with the brothers dead.
Bratha didn't want to be a slave but he really didn't want to die. "Do ye think we'll be bought t'gether?" He was scared of the answer.
Moa and Nich had been taken together, but sold to different people. The crew of the Star had been lucky the two buyers were in the same city when they freed them, but the chances of it happening again was…
"I hope so." Moa said, his tone thick with grief.
Before Bratha could respond an angered hiss broke in. "Be quiet! All you ever do is yap!"
"All ye ever do is-!" He snarled just before the door slammed open.
Instead of another person being thrown in, or food, or even new water, two larger men stomped into the hold and grabbed Moa by the arms. While his brother didn't fight, Bratha lunged forwards.
He clawed desperately at their captor's clothing and tried to get in their way. Anything to get them to drop Moa. His resistance was met with a kick to the chest. A pained wheeze pushed out from the force but before Bratha could get his breath back he was grabbed by the hair and yanked out right behind them. One of the men that just laid there all day was taken out as well.
While they were dragged who-knew-where Bratha scrambled to get his footing. He was half worried that his hair was about to be ripped out. When it got to the point that he almost couldn't bear it all three of them were thrown to the floor of a semi-lit room.
Even with how dim it was his eyes stung. Bratha curled in to protect them and just in time. Ice cold water was carelessly dumped on him. Another breathless wheeze came out of him and when he went to scramble away a thick hand grabbed him by the back of the neck before a brush was dragged along his skin.
Blinking water and spots from his eyes, Bratha saw Moa and the other man getting the same treatment. Unlike him the two of them lay docile and let it happen.
While he knew complying would make the experience easier, the indignance of it all stung his pride more than Bratha could tolerate. He thrashed and snarled like a wild beast.
Was that even more humiliating? Possibly, but Bratha didn't think so. The thought of behaving like tamed cattle made bile burn his throat.
It wasn't a surprise when the men bathing him resorted to punching his lower back to hinder him as he was flipped around so his front could be scrubbed as well. He wasn't sure what brush they used but he was sure that they were taking several layers of skin off with the grime.
Once they were washed as much as their captors felt was needed the three of them were hauled to their feet. Bratha tried memorizing the route they were taking but that plan died the instant they got above decks.
It was grey and cloudy out; threatening but not quite storming. There was twice the number of crew The Star had and seeing just how much bigger the ship was Bratha wasn't surprised. Pulled up next to what had been their prison for who knew how long was another, smaller ship. A man and a woman were exchanging something between themselves and both of them held very satisfied expressions. It all clicked together; they had just been sold off.
A small part of him felt relief at still being on a ship, the rest seethed. Sold like mindless beasts, handed off to the highest bidder. A growl escaped him.
Unfortunately it drew the attention of the woman on the other ship. She wasn't remarkably tall, built square and thick it was clear she had spent a decent chunk of her life doing physical labor. Her golden hair was in tangled dreads hanging loose over broad shoulders. Simple black pants and a dark grey tunic contrasted with her fair complexion. She regarded them like barnicals stuck to a hull with piercing blue eyes that froze the blood in Bratha's veins.
"Well," The gruff voice drew his attention to what was clearly the captain of their current ship. "What do you think Captain Sula? These three suitable?"
Sula's face twisted into a cruel sneer. "They'll do. The tall one seems feisty but I'll have that beaten out of him in no time." She said, eyes locked to Bratha. He couldn't help comparing her to his mother.
Where Des was strong like a boulder, something you could shelter behind and brace with during a storm, this woman seemed more like the storm itself. She was the kind of captain who would batter and wear down anyone to keep them in line, using her strength to harm rather than protect.
Bratha had seen plenty of her type go up against his momma; he knew first hand just how brutal they could be. And now instead of having Des as their rock, Bratha and Moa were going to be left to Captain Sula's full mercy. His gut sank like he'd swallowed lead. Something told him his temper was about to get him into a lot of trouble.
After watching him a little longer she turned to one of the men behind her, a tall lanky redhead, and made a hand signal Bratha didn't know. "Miggs, hold."
Clearly the man understood where he didn't because Moa, Bratha, and their silent companion were all herded along a plank to Sula's ship. Bratha wanted to scream as they were once again taken below and out of the fresh air.
Just like the other ship, Bratha mapped where they were going in his head. He wanted to fight right then since there was only one man leading them but with two ships full of slave drivers he knew he couldn't do anything to put Moa and the other man in danger. That only made the anger ballooning in his chest that much worse.
In the smallest blessing possible the hold they were brought to had a lantern by the door. After the three of them were shoved in Miggs pulled a crate from outside over, sitting on it as the door swung shut. Bratha was utterly confused until the man pulled out a block of wood and knife. Miggs whistled as he carved. He was their guard until…whatever the captain was going to do with them.
Despite what was happening the sound of wood carving eased his shoulders. Aunt Pev would carve things sometimes when she wanted a break from tinkering. She would even let them sit and watch if they behaved. It was one of the few times Bratha was able to sit still without feeling like his skin was too itchy. His siblings always stayed longer than he could anyway but that never seemed to bother his aunt at all.
Where was his aunt now? Was she doing maintenance on the ship or eating with the others, carving something new? Without knowing what time it was he couldn't be sure what any of their family might be doing.
A sigh slipped out as he scooted closer to Moa. There was a pause in carving as Miggs looked up but he went back to it when he saw that none of them were about to do anything rash. Bratha closed his eyes and waited.
It felt as though a lifetime had passed before the door's hinges whined at being used. Captain Sula stepped in with a leveled glare. He didn't like the way she looked at them, sizing them up. With a grunt she pointed to Moa and the other man. "Kitchen. Put them in the collars so they can use their hands."
"Yes Ma'am." Miggs moved to do that but Bratha lunged in his way with a snarl. He would not be separated from his brother. He refused to be.
Sula didn't seem impressed. Before Bratha knew what had happened he was face down on the floor with a boot on the back of his neck. Pain throbbed in his ribs and head. "This one stays here. I need to give him training."
Fire boiled his blood. Taken down in seconds! Bratha could have given her a good resistance if he wasn't so weakened and he was sure she knew it. She wouldn't have been so tough if he had food and- "I suggest you stop fighting me or this next part is going to really hurt." Her voice was flat but a hint of disdain crept in.
Dread pooled in his stomach. In a flash Sula was landing hit after hit. His ribs, his head, his back, arms, legs. Anywhere her fists or feet could connect. With his restraints he couldn't wriggle free. Yelps and cries joined the cacophony of dull thuds.
By the time she stopped his head was filled with cotton. Jagged breaths only inflamed his ribs.
Sula pulled his arms up to look closely at his hands, eyeing the callouses and nicks. "This must be humiliating. These are the hands of a fighter but you couldn't land a single hit on me." Bratha couldn't manage words. His vision was splitting into doubles, twin smirks on the captain's face mocking him. "I think you've had enough today. I don't want to break you yet."
With that she swept from the room. Bratha whimpered pathetically as he struggled to curl in on himself. He wanted his brother, he wanted to be home, he wanted this to be a nightmare. The hold was meant for a lot more people and the empty space left him feeling even more alone.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat was impossible. Shame burned just as much as the tears that started streaming down his face.
Bratha hadn't cried in years and he was breaking down on his first day under this woman. How would he be strong enough to save his brother if he wasn't strong enough to keep from childish tears?
XXX
The dim light that streamed in and flooded the unlit quarters enough to strain her puffy eyes. She barely reacted when Kantus knelt down beside the bed. He reached forwards to cup her face, thumb rubbing against her wet cheek.
The gentle motion brought out another jolting sob. Des thought she knew what grief was but this overwhelming swell was like nothing she had experienced before. Kantus opened his mouth to say something but couldn't seem to think of anything. What could he say in that moment that would have helped?
Frankly nothing.
Impossibly she felt her chest tighten further. He shut his mouth with a sigh. After a moment of just staring at each other Kantus pulled himself into the bed, burying his face into her chest and allowing her to keep him close.
She knew they couldn't keep searching. Weeks had gone by since Bratha and Moa hadn't returned to their ship, weeks of scouring the port-side town and beyond, weeks of rumors about two young men being taken by known slave traders of the area.
It sickened her but at first Des had begged it to be someone else's children…only the descriptions had matched, and the boys wouldn't run off overnight. Or for a few days. Or a few weeks.
"Kan-…" Her throat felt too thick with her emotions. "We promised'im Kantus…"
"I know." His own voice was rough.
The way Nich had looked upon hearing who had taken his brothers…it was a look of betrayal and disbelief that Des didn't ever want to see on one of her children's faces again.
Was Moa feeling the same thing? Her dear son raging at the broken promise they had made? "We told'im he wouldn' ne'er be a slave 'gain."
"Des…" Kantus's tone wasn't chiding exactly but it felt just as stern.
"An Bratha: he be too much like me, too stubborn."
"Des."
"He'll be killed." She wanted the words to come out as a shout. They were only horrified, breathy whispers.
"Bratha is like you; stubborn, strong, clever. Moa understands the rules of being a slave and Bratha has the will to keep them going. We may not be able to hunt them down, but Des? Before you know it they will return to us and we will be able to hold them close again. We must simply go where they know to look."
"How can ye be sure?!"
"I can't," Kantus's grip tightened. "But If I give up on that idea I'll have no hope left…" The cabin fell into silence once again. Des wrestled with fear and rage as Kantus gently raked his fingers along her back.
Their sons were taken from them.
There was nothing they could do to find them.
She wanted to hunt the kidnappers down and strap them to the bottom of the ship.
She wanted to curl into Kantus and cry forever. Sickening waves of frustration, grief, fury. Des dug her finger's into Kantus's shirt so tightly they burned. Was the pressure building in her chest and threatening to break her ribs a scream or a sob?
An eternity of nothing but emotions was cut off with the door cracking open again. Thankfully she didn't need to blink tears away to know who it was. Nich's raspy voice filled the space, causing her heart to clench.
"Can we stay with you?" The two adults immediately moved to make room as Nich and Nalluk shuffled into the bed.
Des couldn't help thinking of how all six of them used to lay down after rough waters. Bratha and Nalluk simply got a little sick with the choppiness, but Moa was there to comfort his siblings and Nich never liked being left out. She nestled the two left on either side of her while Kantus stayed at the edge.
Normally she liked being the one closest to the door but now it was a welcome comfort to have someone else at the point of vulnerability. It made it so she could focus on her little ones without distraction.
Little was a stretch now, Nalluk was almost of age and near as tall as her. Nich was still young but a growth spurt had landed him a good few inches taller. Des frequently had times where she would stare at her children in disbelief. It never seemed like enough time had passed for them to change from their little pudgy faced, baby eyed years.
She missed when she could easily pick them up. Strong as Des was, she was getting older and had her limits. Admitting it made bile crawl up her throat.
She wanted to be strong enough to protect them forever, she needed to be.
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This is a sequel! I made it so it can stand alone but if you're inclined, read the first part HERE!
The first thing he became aware of was a throbbing ache in the back of his skull. It pounded to the rhythm of his heart, making stars dance behind his eyelids. When he tried to call out for one of his siblings his voice came out muffled. Bratha's heart jammed into his throat as he realized there was a gag shoved between his teeth. He jolted upright, causing a wave of pain in his head, and tried to take in his surroundings.
Unfortunately wherever he was being held was almost pitch black. Remembering what his mother had taught him, Bratha immediately tested his arms and legs; finding the former bound and the latter very shaky and weak.
He most definitely did not let out a childish shriek when he felt something warm brush against his shoulder.
A muffled exclamation calmed the brief panic. Moa was not a morning person like him and Bratha had heard him mumble complaints into his bedding enough times to know what his brother's voice sounded like through fabric.
There wasn't a guarantee that Moa recognized him though. Bratha chewed the gag a bit before letting out three sharp grunts, two longer ones, and three sharp ones. The call was meant to be done with whistles and clicks of the tongue but the grunting would have to do.
Almost immediately Moa responded with three long grunts, two sharp, and three long. The further confirmation eased what tension was left in Bratha's shoulders. The pair leaned into each other, warmth very welcome in that moment.
Ignoring the pain that flowered with thinking hard, Bratha pushed to recall how they had ended up tied up in a hold to begin with. They had docked at Hantrip for certain; he recalled their mother getting into an argument with Auntie Baesil about how well the mooring lines had been tied down.
Des insisted they were too loose.
Then…? He and Moa went to explore…they had gotten food at some point but…He let out a muffled sigh. It was hurting too much to think much harder and Bratha would rather spend that effort thinking of a way out.
A rubbing on his shoulder caught his attention. His brother was seemingly trying to rub the gag out of his mouth but with how tight Bratha's own was he doubted Moa could remove it that way. Fumbling a bit, he found Moa's clothes and gave a few sharp tugs, hoping he would understand. Thankfully he seemed to.
Moa wriggled down until his face was at Bratha's hands. Just a few moments of searching and Bratha had his fingers hooked under the gag in his brother's mouth. Even sooner it was pulled free.
"Bratha." Came the harsh whisper. He flipped around, struggling to get to a point where Moa could remove his own gag. Once they were both free to speak they shuffled into a more comfortable position, curling in close on each other. Getting their arms out from behind their backs could wait.
"What do we do now?" Moa was clearly trying not to panic.
Bratha swallowed down a lump forming in his throat. "We wait. Mama'n Papa'll find us." He had no doubts on it. Their parents would notice that they didn't come back at curfew and they'd go looking. Before they knew it Bratha and Moa would be back on the ship being scolded for not being careful enough. Papa would hug them and Mama would spend weeks keeping them under close watch.
Everything would be okay.
Everything had to be okay.
.
.
.
Everything was not okay.
Bratha wasn't sure how much time had passed, but judging from the food that got chucked in at them, the new people being tossed in as well, and the sleep he'd had, more than a few days had gone by. Were they leaning into weeks at that point? Possibly.
Without a solid way to judge he couldn't be sure. Through that time none of them had been able to get the wrist restraints off but each new person tossed in had their gags removed. Not that it did much. Of the five others in there with them, only one ever spoke, and only when she was hissing at Moa and Bratha for speaking to each other.
He tried not to take it personally but every time she snapped at them his temper flared. Part of it was the hunger. Bread was tossed in every once in a while but it was never enough to fill one of their bellies, let alone all seven of them. Bratha always gave most of his share to Moa as well.
Dehydration was quickly becoming an issue on top of it. Sure, a bucket of water had been put in the cell with them but it didn't smell or taste right.
Bratha half suspected drugging but more likely was that whoever had them didn't care the quality of what they drank, so long as they weren't dead. He had long since gotten used to a dull throb in his head, one that was clearly not leftover from getting wacked when they were taken.
Since talking with Moa would only get him hushed Bratha spent most of his time daydreaming. Memories of the sea, different port towns, their family. One in particular he focused on more than the rest; the time they had moored along a stretch of tiny islands for repairs.
There wasn't much to do in the towns, at least not for their kind, so Bratha and his siblings had made a game of finding things along the shore. They would all search for a short time before meeting back up and voting who had scrounged the best 'treasure' in the lot.
Nich had found a tide pool after a few rounds and the group swiftly abandoned the game to search for sea stars and other creatures. It had been such a hot day but even the sun beating down on them couldn't ruin the merriment.
Bratha wished he were back in that moment. He wished he were in the sun pointing out little fish to Nich, chasing Nalluk with crabs as she shrieked a mix of fear and delight, watching Moa dive into the waves and come up with a new rock or shell each time.
But it wasn't bright in the hold where they were kept and there wasn't a refreshing breeze to clear the rank, stale air.
"Bratha?" Moa whispered.
He snapped out of his dreaming to find that his brother had pushed his face into Bratha's arm. "Aye?"
A small sniffle. "I don't think they are going to find us."
Bratha wanted to deny it. He wanted to get mad and yell at Moa for doubting their parents. That wasn't what happened. Instead he let out a shaky sigh that scratched at his throat as he leaned his head back into the wall. "…yer right…we'da been home by now."
There was no point in trying to hide behind childish dreams of rescue. They were probably well out of their family's reach by then and the chances of someone else deciding to rescue them was practically non-existent.
The suborn part of Bratha started trying to form a plan of escape. Maybe if they waited for food to be thrown in? But they didn't know how many crew members were on this ship and they were weak from hunger. Waiting to be taken to auction wasn't a good plan either; there would be crowds of people to stop them. Both plans ended with the brothers dead.
Bratha didn't want to be a slave but he really didn't want to die. "Do ye think we'll be bought t'gether?" He was scared of the answer.
Moa and Nich had been taken together, but sold to different people. The crew of the Star had been lucky the two buyers were in the same city when they freed them, but the chances of it happening again was…
"I hope so." Moa said, his tone thick with grief.
Before Bratha could respond an angered hiss broke in. "Be quiet! All you ever do is yap!"
"All ye ever do is-!" He snarled just before the door slammed open.
Instead of another person being thrown in, or food, or even new water, two larger men stomped into the hold and grabbed Moa by the arms. While his brother didn't fight, Bratha lunged forwards.
He clawed desperately at their captor's clothing and tried to get in their way. Anything to get them to drop Moa. His resistance was met with a kick to the chest. A pained wheeze pushed out from the force but before Bratha could get his breath back he was grabbed by the hair and yanked out right behind them. One of the men that just laid there all day was taken out as well.
While they were dragged who-knew-where Bratha scrambled to get his footing. He was half worried that his hair was about to be ripped out. When it got to the point that he almost couldn't bear it all three of them were thrown to the floor of a semi-lit room.
Even with how dim it was his eyes stung. Bratha curled in to protect them and just in time. Ice cold water was carelessly dumped on him. Another breathless wheeze came out of him and when he went to scramble away a thick hand grabbed him by the back of the neck before a brush was dragged along his skin.
Blinking water and spots from his eyes, Bratha saw Moa and the other man getting the same treatment. Unlike him the two of them lay docile and let it happen.
While he knew complying would make the experience easier, the indignance of it all stung his pride more than Bratha could tolerate. He thrashed and snarled like a wild beast.
Was that even more humiliating? Possibly, but Bratha didn't think so. The thought of behaving like tamed cattle made bile burn his throat.
It wasn't a surprise when the men bathing him resorted to punching his lower back to hinder him as he was flipped around so his front could be scrubbed as well. He wasn't sure what brush they used but he was sure that they were taking several layers of skin off with the grime.
Once they were washed as much as their captors felt was needed the three of them were hauled to their feet. Bratha tried memorizing the route they were taking but that plan died the instant they got above decks.
It was grey and cloudy out; threatening but not quite storming. There was twice the number of crew The Star had and seeing just how much bigger the ship was Bratha wasn't surprised. Pulled up next to what had been their prison for who knew how long was another, smaller ship. A man and a woman were exchanging something between themselves and both of them held very satisfied expressions. It all clicked together; they had just been sold off.
A small part of him felt relief at still being on a ship, the rest seethed. Sold like mindless beasts, handed off to the highest bidder. A growl escaped him.
Unfortunately it drew the attention of the woman on the other ship. She wasn't remarkably tall, built square and thick it was clear she had spent a decent chunk of her life doing physical labor. Her golden hair was in tangled dreads hanging loose over broad shoulders. Simple black pants and a dark grey tunic contrasted with her fair complexion. She regarded them like barnicals stuck to a hull with piercing blue eyes that froze the blood in Bratha's veins.
"Well," The gruff voice drew his attention to what was clearly the captain of their current ship. "What do you think Captain Sula? These three suitable?"
Sula's face twisted into a cruel sneer. "They'll do. The tall one seems feisty but I'll have that beaten out of him in no time." She said, eyes locked to Bratha. He couldn't help comparing her to his mother.
Where Des was strong like a boulder, something you could shelter behind and brace with during a storm, this woman seemed more like the storm itself. She was the kind of captain who would batter and wear down anyone to keep them in line, using her strength to harm rather than protect.
Bratha had seen plenty of her type go up against his momma; he knew first hand just how brutal they could be. And now instead of having Des as their rock, Bratha and Moa were going to be left to Captain Sula's full mercy. His gut sank like he'd swallowed lead. Something told him his temper was about to get him into a lot of trouble.
After watching him a little longer she turned to one of the men behind her, a tall lanky redhead, and made a hand signal Bratha didn't know. "Miggs, hold."
Clearly the man understood where he didn't because Moa, Bratha, and their silent companion were all herded along a plank to Sula's ship. Bratha wanted to scream as they were once again taken below and out of the fresh air.
Just like the other ship, Bratha mapped where they were going in his head. He wanted to fight right then since there was only one man leading them but with two ships full of slave drivers he knew he couldn't do anything to put Moa and the other man in danger. That only made the anger ballooning in his chest that much worse.
In the smallest blessing possible the hold they were brought to had a lantern by the door. After the three of them were shoved in Miggs pulled a crate from outside over, sitting on it as the door swung shut. Bratha was utterly confused until the man pulled out a block of wood and knife. Miggs whistled as he carved. He was their guard until…whatever the captain was going to do with them.
Despite what was happening the sound of wood carving eased his shoulders. Aunt Pev would carve things sometimes when she wanted a break from tinkering. She would even let them sit and watch if they behaved. It was one of the few times Bratha was able to sit still without feeling like his skin was too itchy. His siblings always stayed longer than he could anyway but that never seemed to bother his aunt at all.
Where was his aunt now? Was she doing maintenance on the ship or eating with the others, carving something new? Without knowing what time it was he couldn't be sure what any of their family might be doing.
A sigh slipped out as he scooted closer to Moa. There was a pause in carving as Miggs looked up but he went back to it when he saw that none of them were about to do anything rash. Bratha closed his eyes and waited.
It felt as though a lifetime had passed before the door's hinges whined at being used. Captain Sula stepped in with a leveled glare. He didn't like the way she looked at them, sizing them up. With a grunt she pointed to Moa and the other man. "Kitchen. Put them in the collars so they can use their hands."
"Yes Ma'am." Miggs moved to do that but Bratha lunged in his way with a snarl. He would not be separated from his brother. He refused to be.
Sula didn't seem impressed. Before Bratha knew what had happened he was face down on the floor with a boot on the back of his neck. Pain throbbed in his ribs and head. "This one stays here. I need to give him training."
Fire boiled his blood. Taken down in seconds! Bratha could have given her a good resistance if he wasn't so weakened and he was sure she knew it. She wouldn't have been so tough if he had food and- "I suggest you stop fighting me or this next part is going to really hurt." Her voice was flat but a hint of disdain crept in.
Dread pooled in his stomach. In a flash Sula was landing hit after hit. His ribs, his head, his back, arms, legs. Anywhere her fists or feet could connect. With his restraints he couldn't wriggle free. Yelps and cries joined the cacophony of dull thuds.
By the time she stopped his head was filled with cotton. Jagged breaths only inflamed his ribs.
Sula pulled his arms up to look closely at his hands, eyeing the callouses and nicks. "This must be humiliating. These are the hands of a fighter but you couldn't land a single hit on me." Bratha couldn't manage words. His vision was splitting into doubles, twin smirks on the captain's face mocking him. "I think you've had enough today. I don't want to break you yet."
With that she swept from the room. Bratha whimpered pathetically as he struggled to curl in on himself. He wanted his brother, he wanted to be home, he wanted this to be a nightmare. The hold was meant for a lot more people and the empty space left him feeling even more alone.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat was impossible. Shame burned just as much as the tears that started streaming down his face.
Bratha hadn't cried in years and he was breaking down on his first day under this woman. How would he be strong enough to save his brother if he wasn't strong enough to keep from childish tears?
XXX
The dim light that streamed in and flooded the unlit quarters enough to strain her puffy eyes. She barely reacted when Kantus knelt down beside the bed. He reached forwards to cup her face, thumb rubbing against her wet cheek.
The gentle motion brought out another jolting sob. Des thought she knew what grief was but this overwhelming swell was like nothing she had experienced before. Kantus opened his mouth to say something but couldn't seem to think of anything. What could he say in that moment that would have helped?
Frankly nothing.
Impossibly she felt her chest tighten further. He shut his mouth with a sigh. After a moment of just staring at each other Kantus pulled himself into the bed, burying his face into her chest and allowing her to keep him close.
She knew they couldn't keep searching. Weeks had gone by since Bratha and Moa hadn't returned to their ship, weeks of scouring the port-side town and beyond, weeks of rumors about two young men being taken by known slave traders of the area.
It sickened her but at first Des had begged it to be someone else's children…only the descriptions had matched, and the boys wouldn't run off overnight. Or for a few days. Or a few weeks.
"Kan-…" Her throat felt too thick with her emotions. "We promised'im Kantus…"
"I know." His own voice was rough.
The way Nich had looked upon hearing who had taken his brothers…it was a look of betrayal and disbelief that Des didn't ever want to see on one of her children's faces again.
Was Moa feeling the same thing? Her dear son raging at the broken promise they had made? "We told'im he wouldn' ne'er be a slave 'gain."
"Des…" Kantus's tone wasn't chiding exactly but it felt just as stern.
"An Bratha: he be too much like me, too stubborn."
"Des."
"He'll be killed." She wanted the words to come out as a shout. They were only horrified, breathy whispers.
"Bratha is like you; stubborn, strong, clever. Moa understands the rules of being a slave and Bratha has the will to keep them going. We may not be able to hunt them down, but Des? Before you know it they will return to us and we will be able to hold them close again. We must simply go where they know to look."
"How can ye be sure?!"
"I can't," Kantus's grip tightened. "But If I give up on that idea I'll have no hope left…" The cabin fell into silence once again. Des wrestled with fear and rage as Kantus gently raked his fingers along her back.
Their sons were taken from them.
There was nothing they could do to find them.
She wanted to hunt the kidnappers down and strap them to the bottom of the ship.
She wanted to curl into Kantus and cry forever. Sickening waves of frustration, grief, fury. Des dug her finger's into Kantus's shirt so tightly they burned. Was the pressure building in her chest and threatening to break her ribs a scream or a sob?
An eternity of nothing but emotions was cut off with the door cracking open again. Thankfully she didn't need to blink tears away to know who it was. Nich's raspy voice filled the space, causing her heart to clench.
"Can we stay with you?" The two adults immediately moved to make room as Nich and Nalluk shuffled into the bed.
Des couldn't help thinking of how all six of them used to lay down after rough waters. Bratha and Nalluk simply got a little sick with the choppiness, but Moa was there to comfort his siblings and Nich never liked being left out. She nestled the two left on either side of her while Kantus stayed at the edge.
Normally she liked being the one closest to the door but now it was a welcome comfort to have someone else at the point of vulnerability. It made it so she could focus on her little ones without distraction.
Little was a stretch now, Nalluk was almost of age and near as tall as her. Nich was still young but a growth spurt had landed him a good few inches taller. Des frequently had times where she would stare at her children in disbelief. It never seemed like enough time had passed for them to change from their little pudgy faced, baby eyed years.
She missed when she could easily pick them up. Strong as Des was, she was getting older and had her limits. Admitting it made bile crawl up her throat.
She wanted to be strong enough to protect them forever, she needed to be.
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This is a sequel! I made it so it can stand alone but if you're inclined, read the first part HERE!
Tragedy strikes The Star as two members of their pirate crew are kidnapped to be used as slaves. Captain Des wrestles with grief and rage, unable to track her sons down. Bratha struggles with his own pride and stubborn nature while trying to find a way for him and his brother to escape and make their way back home.
I hate reading my WIPS because I will forget that they're not done and then get mad because I'm the one who has to make them done. I love writing and I know how this story ends but man sometimes it's exhausting having to actually write it down.
This is a friendly reminder to never, ever publish your book with a publishing company that charges you to publish with them. That is a vanity press, which makes money by preying on authors. They charge you for editing, formatting, cover art, and more. With most of these companies, you will never seen a cent of any royalties made from sale of your book. A legitimate publishing company only makes money when you make money, they will never charge you to publish with them. If a company approaches you and says "Hey, we'll publish your book, just pay us X amount of money," tell them to go fuck themself and block them.
I write sometimes @gbee-writes - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
