Hoist the Colors

Three - Koen

The wheel cracked under Koen's grip, the weight of it unfamiliar and wrong. The same broad-shouldered man from earlier, whose name he had overheard was Van, had insisted he take over the steering. He stared out at the vast expanse of ocean, his knuckles white against the polished wood. The horizon bobbed gently with the movement of the ship, in contrast with Koen's churning stomach.

    "Captain!" Van's voice barked from behind him again, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

    He flinched, the title still catching him off guard. Captain. That's what they were calling him, his brother. That's who they thought he was.

    Koen believed Van was to be his first mate, as he was always the one reporting to him or seemed to be the one taking control over the crew when he came out onto the deck that morning. The man was watching him expectantly, arms crossed over his chest.

    "We'll be at the docks within the hour," he paused, cocking an eyebrow after a longer-than-needed silence, "What's the call?"

    His breath hitched, mind scrambling for an answer. Docks? They were already there? The heist was happening now?

    He cleared his throat, "Right, um," he lifted a hand off the wheel, gesturing to the vast sea before them, "Stay the course, continue as planned." He tried to mimic the confident tone his brother may have responded with, quickly steadying himself back on the wheel.

    The man held Koen's gaze slightly longer, but nodded, "Aye, I'll have the men prepare for docking."

    He watched the man stride through the bustling crew, barking orders and sending them scattering amongst the deck. His heart continued to pound in his chest as he returned his attention to the swaying of the ship. The spray from the crashing waves mixed with the salty air made his dark curls stick to his dampened forehead.

    He was beginning to fear that this wasn't a dream. The creaking floor of the ship, the burning of the sun's rays on his skin, the blinding reflection coming off the water- all too real to be a dream.

    But it was all so unexplainable. How had he gone from sleeping in his bed in the palace and waking up here, in the body of his brother, head of a gang of pirates in the midst of their greatest heist yet?

Nevermind all that. How long would he have to continue acting as his brother? The very respected, trusted, knowledgeable captain of the Crimson Scythe Crew. The most infamous group of pirates known to this day. What would it look like if he couldn't keep up this act? Would he end up getting himself- or his brother- killed?

Koen had just started falling into the spiral of thoughts, the pace of his breathing becoming faster just when another voice called out from behind him, smooth as silk but laced with sharp confidence.

"Captain, you're looking unusually solemn this morning."

He swiveled his head to see her- the woman he'd seen earlier, leaning casually against the railing, her dark hair pulled into a loose braid swayed to one side in the wind. Two daggers strapped to each side of her hips caught his eye, reflecting the sunlight, but they didn't hold his attention for long as her piercing green eyes demanded his attention. They glinted with amusement, which made her all the more enticing in the most effortless way. Koen felt his pulse quicken.

Runa, someone had called her earlier. It suited her, a name with edge, mystery, and beauty, just like the woman before him.

"Not like you to be so silent," she pushed herself off the railing and sauntered toward him, "What's the matter? Plotting another secretive reckless adventure again, or just enjoying the view?"