COMPLETED
Nereida has always been shackled to her royal duties as princess of Triteria, and when her kingdom becomes involved in a series of mysterious vanishings and deaths she begins to seek answers. Rebels soon shatter her world, and she finds he...
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Distant soft melodies mixed with slurred singing woke me from my sleep; I rubbed the remainder from my eyes and pushed up from the bed. Reaching for the pieces of my dress from the chair, I put it on and exited. As I took the first few steps on deck, the crew had already begun their celebrations, with some singing a cheer and others clinking cups with whoever was closest. A man, who I learned to be called Goldheart, walked over and handed me a mug full of ale. I gave him a small smile, accepting it graciously, brought it to my mouth, and drank it quicker than I should have. The gleefulness was contagious and heavy in the air; many of us were thankful to be alive. Mr. Gibbs, animatedly sipping from a jug of whiskey, came into view, and I walked over to sit beside him.
"Mr. Gibbs, I would like to extend to you my sincerest gratitude," I praised. "You've always been so kind to me. It has been extremely appreciated yet entirely unexpected."
Mr. Gibbs had not only earned that acknowledgment but even, dare I say it, respect. Despite outward appearances, he was different. He had this gentlemanly disposition despite his company. More importantly, Mr. Gibbs taught me how to survive in this world in the above. He looked at me not as an object needing protection or value but as someone capable, an equal, something no one had ever done. The short man nodded and let out a little sigh bashfully, then looked toward the floor, averting my gaze.
"Aye, tis' no issue. Besides, you remind me of me daughter, Nell. She has curly light hair like yours, only a bit more yellow innit." I remained silent as Mr. Gibbs shared his secrets, hoping he would continue. "Haven't seen her since she was six or seven. She's probably almost sixteen years old now."
"That is a long time for you both to be separated. Perhaps one day you'll be reunited," I suggested reassuringly, placing a hand on his arm. But he shook his head in protest.
"Nay, she doesn't want to see the likes of me. Her ma and her deserve better. Much better. I send them money, but I'm no good to them, and I understand that." He nodded his head and took a quick sip. "I chose the life of the sea, but I'll always take care of them. Aye. I'll always take care of my girls."
I watched as Mr. Gibbs proceeded to chug the entire bottle; once the bottle had been completed, he let out a cheer and threw it hard at the floor, shattering it into pieces. Inspired by his act, the crew grew even rowdier while I took another swig of the ale. Mr. Gibbs's sorrowful tale penetrated me, and I realized the men on this ship had made many sacrifices; I wasn't alone in this.
In the corner sat atop a barrel, a man strummed at his instrument, playing a new tune. The pirates shouted the song lyrics, and I clapped my hands to them, laughing along with them. But the familiar sense of being watched began to stir, and as I looked up, a pair of eyes fell on me. When I looked past the group of men dancing the jig, I saw Sam leaning on the ship's side. Our eyes connected, and we held each other for a few more moments until one of the dancers came over and offered me his arm.
"No, I can't," I refused in between laughs while shaking my head.
"Aye, ye can and must miss!" Johnson pressed. He then grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet.
