Take me home | Seongjoong

The Long Way Home

The days had blurred into weeks, and Seonghwa had lost track of time entirely. Locked in the tiny cabin aboard the Crown's ship, his world had shrunk to four wooden walls and a single porthole that let in only a sliver of light. The steady rocking of the ship was the only indication that they were still at sea, slowly making their way back to Silverport.

He had been fed, yes—if one could call the meager rations food—but it was the only interaction he had. The guards would slide a tray through the door without so much as a glance in his direction, and when he asked about Hongjoong, the crew, or even the ship's progress, he was met with cold silence. His pleas for information fell on deaf ears, and the loneliness pressed down on him like a suffocating weight.

At first, Seonghwa had tried to keep his mind busy, pacing the length of his small cabin, tracing the knots in the wooden planks, counting the seconds between meals. But the isolation was wearing him down, and no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, his thoughts always circled back to the same dark place: Hongjoong's fate.

He couldn't stop thinking about the moment Hongjoong had been struck down on the deck of the Black Siren. The image haunted him, replaying in his mind over and over again, and each time, the guilt stabbed deeper into his chest. If only he had acted differently. If only he had found another way to protect them. But now, Hongjoong was paying the price for his decisions, and Seonghwa had no idea if he was even still alive.

It was that uncertainty that gnawed at him the most—the not knowing. Every day, he asked the guards about Hongjoong, desperate for any scrap of information, but they either ignored him or told him to shut his mouth. The silence was maddening.

Then, one day, something changed.

It was a quiet afternoon, the ship's familiar creaks and groans lulling Seonghwa into a numb state of awareness, when the door to his cabin opened. Seonghwa barely looked up as the guard entered, carrying the usual tray of bread and water. But when the guard set the tray down, he hesitated for just a moment longer than usual.

Seonghwa glanced up, and his breath caught in his throat as he recognized the man. The guard was someone from his past—someone he hadn't thought about in years. He was one of the boys Seonghwa had trained with when he was a child, back in the palace. They had sparred together, shared meals together, and once even snuck out of their training quarters to explore the castle's hidden passageways.

The guard met his eyes for a brief moment, something unspoken passing between them. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "You're not supposed to know this, but... the pirate is alive."

Seonghwa's heart stopped, his pulse racing in his ears. "Hongjoong?" he breathed, his voice shaking with both hope and fear. "He's okay?"

The guard glanced over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one else was listening. "He's in a cell below deck. He's alive... for now. I think they're keeping him as leverage to discourage you from misbehaving..."

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Seonghwa could guess what awaited Hongjoong at Silverport— imprisonment, torture, something far worse than anything Seonghwa could imagine. The Crown wouldn't show mercy to a pirate, especially not one who had defied them so openly. The only good part about this is that they needed Hongjoong. As long as he was in a cell below the castle, it's a guarantee that Seonghwa will not run away again. Not without Hongjoong.

Seonghwa's chest tightened, and he swallowed hard. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

The guard nodded once before turning to leave. Just as he reached the door, Seonghwa called after him. "Wait. Is there any way—any way at all—that we can escape?"