A young woman kissed by the sea finds herself stranded when her ship sinks. Luckily, she has quite a reputation, and luckily, there's another female pirate willing to give her a chance.
{Yara Greyjoy x OC}
I don't own the characters or the plot, t...
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Being on land sucked. Deema did not like it, missed the gentle sway of the ship when she was laying in a bed that was way too soft. She missed the moon, which she couldn't always see from her room. But most of all, she hated the land people. Who could even talk about food for so long? Or even care about gossip? She'd heard more rumors in the two days she'd spent on land than in the last five years.
But it was fine. Just a few more days, Yara had said. Go enjoy yourself. There was little to do to entertain her. She did not care to go to a tavern and get hit on by drunk men, so instead, she had spent the last few days sitting near the sea, swimming, and wishing to be far away.
It wasn't that people were mean. Yara Greyjoy was beginning to grow on her, at least she didn't despise anything she said anymore. Deema hadn't seen her father since their one meeting, which she suspected was for the best. There were servants bringing her food and offering to help her wash or dress. She always sent them away.
Millet was another story. He was at taverns most of the time, spending time with new people. Deema pretended to not care, but the lack of attention or permission he was asking annoyed her. The man should still be loyal to her. If he had common sense, he would be.
She tried to keep her faith in the boy and ignore the lack of his presence. That day, she had spent less time outside. The wind was rough and cold, and an endless hunger seemed to be eating her from the inside out. But after a snack, boredom had taken over.
The corridors were cold and damp, but they smelled like seawater and wine, so Deema did not hate it. She'd never been the best at directions, unless she had a compass and an open sea. So she was bound to get lost, which she did not like to admit.
After what seemed like hours but couldn't have been, she recognized the wider hallways and realized she was near the entrance. From there off, she certainly would be able to find her way back to the claustrophobic room she often felt so trapped in.
That was the plan, anyway. There were voices, one dripping with arrogance, the other flat like any guard might have sounded. Deema froze in her tracks, unable to understand the conversation, but close enough to hear what was happening, sort of.
After some back and forth between the voices, she heard the shuffling of metal against metal and a wooden door that was opened. Loud footsteps echoed through the hall, and Deema shot from her spot to get a better look.
It had sounded interesting, but before her stood a man in fancy clothing and gold. Upon seeing her, he stopped. "I've been seeing more beautiful ladies here than I can remember when I was younger."
"Who are you?" Deema asked, not flattered by his light and flirty tone.
"Is that how you speak to the heir of the island you're standing on?" His tone had changed as much as his face, frustration clear upon it.
