VIOLENT TIDES (gxg - editing)

20

Ainsley slept well at night. She had gotten used to her makeshift bed in the hold of the Finch, but there was nothing quite like real blankets.

The next morning, the three of them thanked Nicchols and said goodbye, then made their way back to the Finch. The ship was ready to set sail again, bobbing gently on the horizon. Ainsley found herself watching Gael as they boarded.

The captain was quieter than before. Her gaze would drift like her ship, staring blankly out at the expanse of sea and then always back in the direction they had come from.

Should she say something?

It took a full hour before Ainsley mustered enough courage to approach the captain, posture leaning over the stern of the ship, hands dangling over the hull. She appeared lost in thought. Ainsley stood next to her and wrapped her hands loosely around the edge.

"Hello, Gael."

She looked at her and mustered a small smile. "Hello, Ainsley."

Ainsley swallowed. "Thank you for introducing me to your mother and father. They're wonderful people."

"Aren't they?" Gael stared off at the horizon, where the island was once more a blot of ink on a paper horizon. She blinked and refocused, glancing at Ainsley.

"I'm sorry. I was thinking. Can I help you with something?"

"Oh—oh, no, that's not why I'm here," Ainsley stammered quickly, suddenly flustered. Her hand found the hem of her sleeve and she twisted it between her fingers. "I just—I wanted to talk. Wanted to see—to check—" she swallowed, hating herself for the way she couldn't force words that matched the way she felt. "I mean, I wanted to ask if you're alright."

Their gazes locked. Gael's brown eyes were wide and surprised. And suddenly, very, very pretty. Ainsley flushed and tore her gaze down to the water surging along the clean lines of the ship's hull. Gael finally looked away as well, hands finding each other and fingers twisting into a nervous tangle.

"I—yes. I'm alright. Thank you, Princess—Ainsley."

Ainsley stayed silent for a long moment, and finally, Gael spoke again.

"It's my mother, that's all. I worry for her."

Ainsley nodded, thinking back to the sick, bedridden woman. Despite the illness that weakened her body and left her nearly lifeless among the sheets, she had shared something with her daughter. Something radiant and kind.

"I understand."

"Of course. Your mother, she passed away from an illness as well, didn't she?"

Ainsley nodded as well. "A different one. A fever."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry about your mother, too."

"I can only hope—" Gael stopped herself, but Ainsley encouraged her to continue with her silence. Barely two weeks ago, she would've have wanted to know anything about how the pirate felt. Now, though, that had somehow become the most important thing in the world to her. Gael licked her lips. "Every time we come through these waters, I can only hope this time won't be the one where I come home and she isn't there anymore." Her voice was remarkably controlled, but there was a waver to it, an unsteadiness that suggested beyond the tight rein she was keeping.

Ainsley swallowed. "I... I can't imagine." She paused. "May I ask why you still leave, if that's what you're so afraid of? Why don't you just stay home?"

Gael shook her head slowly. "I don't think I could ever explain it. I'm not sure I'm capable of settling down like that again, Ainsley. When I was a child I was happy enough to stay where I was, but now, I'd need something more to keep me close to home." The silence between them felt heavy enough to cut through. "I tried to leave the Finch once or twice. Tried to stay with my mother and father. But every time I came running back. There's just something about her—the ship, I mean."

The creaking of the masts and sails above paired with the way the wood was warm and alive under Ainsley's hands made her think that maybe she understood. The Finch lived and breathed in her own way, and it had captured Gael's heart.

"I hope your mother will be alright," Ainsley said at last, feeling as though it was all she had to offer. Gael nodded listlessly.

"I do as well. Sometimes I think—" Once again her voice broke off suddenly, the halt more abrupt and sharper this time, like she didn't dare speak the words that arose in her mind. Ainsley moved a hair's breadth closer to her, at once praying and dreading she would say it anyways.

And say it she did.

"Sometimes I think I must be the cause of it," Gael confessed.

"The cause of... your mother's illness?" Ainsley questioned, surprised.

"Maybe all the time she's spent worrying over me is what's killing her. Or what made her sick in the first place. I think maybe I'm to blame if she—" Gael's head dropped, and her shoulders shuddered. Ainsley stared for a moment, shocked at the revelation and horrified and broken-hearted and torn all at once. What could she possibly say to comfort her? Ainsley wasn't good with words.

She reached out and placed her hand on top of Gael's. It was warm against her palm.

"Gael, how could you—how could you think that? You are not to blame. Sometimes bad things happen and there's no one at fault, and that's alright." She took her hand off again, placing it next to Gael's so close that they brushed against each other. Taking Gael's hand had felt too wrong. Too intimate. Ainsley didn't understand intimacy.

"Listen," she continued. "Your mother is sick but she's happy, and all she wants is for you to be happy as well, regardless of what path you need to take for that to be your truth."

Gael looked up again, paths drawn down her cheeks by tears. Ainsley pushed back the growing discomfort in her stomach. She never knew what to do when people cried.

Gael's hands trembled as she pulled them away from Ainsley's and wound them together.

"I know," she said at last, voice threatening to break. "I know."

The two stood in silence for several long moments, nervousness settling in on Ainsley's shoulders. She had probably far overstepped her boundaries. She had overstepped her own boundaries, really. She couldn't remember the last time she had wanted so badly to comfort someone.

"I should go see if Nathe needs help," she said at last, trying to wash the last traces of compassion from her voice. Gael straightened, brushing her hand across her eyes.

"Of course. Ainsley—"

Ainsley looked at her.

"Thank you."

The barest hint of a smile forced its way onto Ainsley's lips. She gave the young woman a polite nod, then turned to go once more.

—
It was late at night when Ainsley pulled herself from the hold of the ship, standing on the quiet deck. The Finch wasn't quite as uninhabited as it seemed at that moment- she knew there was someone in the crowsnest and at the helm, as well as likely one or two others taking shifts walking about the deck, just in case. But with most of the crew fast asleep, and accompanied only by the creaking of wood and splashing water, the Finch felt large and deeply personal. Like she had it all to herself.

There was the sound of footsteps against wooden planks to her right, and Ainsley turned to see Gael approaching her. She had mostly avoided the captain through the course of the day, not wanting any awkward encounters to ensue after their conversation earlier. Now, she felt a bit guilty about that.

"Ainsley? What are you doing up?"

Ainsley stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Just looking at the stars. Why?"

"Only curious." Gael looked up at the star-spattered canvas of sky. "Are you much of an astronomer?"

"Not particularly, but I learned a few things in my classes."

"I would've liked to learn that," Gael replied, tone slightly envious. "I'm sure that was included in my classes, but I became a pirate before I'd finished my schooling. I never learned any astronomy."

Ainsley was silent for a moment, then she lifted a hand to gesture upwards.

"Do you see the four stars in a line, almost directly underneath the moon?"

Gael nodded.

"That's Areeora's Sting."

"After the titan," Gael replied. "Areeora, known to take the form of a giant scorpion."

Ainsley smiled. "Exactly. And that arrangement, to the right of it—do you see it? Several bright stars slightly in the shape of a far-off bird in flight. Like a crooked line."

The starlight seemed to reflect in Gael's eyes as she stared up at the sky. "I see."

"That's Cleathoria."

"The dragon titan."

Ainsley nodded. "The titan accredited for the creation of dragons, if you believe in such things."

"Was she the creator of dragonbloods, then?"

Ainsley shrugged. "That's the most common belief. That dragonbloods were created by Cleathoria to protect and care for her children, the dragons. Or that it was a gift to those she deemed worthy."

"Which do you believe?"

Ainsley laughed, tone hollow. "Well, it doesn't always feel like much of a gift, so I'm more inclined to believe it's a curse from the Red Lady myself."

Gael grinned. "You think the Queen of Devils is responsible for your existence?"

Ainsley shrugged again. "Sometimes that seems to be the most believable choice."

The moonlight set the curves and angles of Gael's face in pale silver. Ainsley tried not to look for too long.

"Well, it doesn't seem so bad all of the time."

A rush of recent memories filled Ainsley's head. Riding the large coppery dragon with Gael clinging close to her. Reaching out and touching its consciousness with her own. Gael's arms wrapped tightly around her waist and the way the wind ruffled her hair.

"No, it isn't, I suppose." Ainsley shifted her position, and suddenly, words blurred out of her mouth before she could stop them. "But if I weren't dragonborn, my father wouldn't be so adamant to control me and have me marry a specific man, and I'd be able to be my own person instead of his chess piece, and—" she cut herself off, biting off the torrent of words that nearly escaped with the rest. "I'm sorry."

Despite the darkness, Gael's features were soft.

"No, I'm sorry. That's no way to live." She paused. "He treats you as a pawn to control, does he not?"

Ainsley nodded, smiling bitterly. "He does. Because if he can keep his control over me now, he knows I'll follow in his footsteps when the throne is mine. And as long as I'm not ruling, he can use me to..." Once again she trailed off, then continued, encouraged by the way Gael stayed silent, watching her. "He's asked me for help should wartime come. I've always refused, and it angers him. I'm afraid of the lengths he would go to in order to have me help."

"He wants your help fighting?"

"Yes, because I could summon an army of dragons and raze a country to the ground if I tried hard enough."

"And you don't want to do that."

"What I don't want to do is talk about this any longer, actually," Ainsley admitted. In a show of understanding no one had ever given her before, Gael stepped away slightly, turning her eyes away from Ainsley and back towards the sky. Ainsley's respect, as well as gratitude, for the pirate jumped a few notches.

"Would you like to just keep talking about the stars?" She questioned. Ainsley found herself smiling and wanting to cry at the same time.

"I would like that a lot," she replied.

hey y'all, here's another chapter! hope you're all staying safe <3 don't forget to vote and comment, i'll see you next update!