around my bones {h.s. au}

in the dark, i can hear your heartbeat

"and the grace of the gods (i'm pretty sure) is a grace that comes by violence."

- aeschlyus, agamemnon (tr. anne carson)

1721 A.D.

Beneath her, waves rock the ship back and forth. Slowly pulling her from dreams as gently as a mother rubbing their child's back. Salt is the first thing Lena is aware of. Nose wrinkling at its harsh sting. The smell lingers in everything. Wooden planks swollen and curved by the sea. Wool blankets draped across her bed, slightly stiff from the last storm. Woven into every thread of her clothes she has carelessly piled on the back of a chair.

Sunlight breaks through the small port window. Beams of light peaking over the horizon. Lena lays there, listening to the calls of the gulls outside, the waves sloshing against the side of the ship. She breaths through her nose, inhale and exhale, attempting to quiet her dreams of blood and death.

Often Lena wonders if the dreams will ever stop. Most likely not. Because they are not dreams. They are memories. Her memories.

She catches a glimpse of herself in the salt crusted and cracked mirror. Dark hair and dark eyes and skin kissed by days in the sun. Timeless. Ageless. Exactly as she looked over a thousand years ago.

Except Lena is not that girl anymore. No longer filled with the frivolous tendacies of youth. Now, she was a woman. Hardened by the cruelty of the world. Once smooth lines were now jagged tears. And anything that had been soft about her had long turned into stone. She would raze the world to nothing and stay to watch the ashes smolder. But -and there is always a but.

Faintly, the softest touch brushes against her thigh. The blanket she had wrapped around her waist is gently tugged away. Small acts, but a smile is on her lips before Lena even glances down.

Because every person in this world has something, someone, who softens all their edges. Leaving Lena nothing to sharpen her blades on.

And he was hers.

One look. One touch. And suddenly Lena was that silly, love struck girl. Waiting for the ships to return while she laid in the tall grass. Yellow flowers braided in her hair.

Sleep is heavy in his eyes as his hands roam the curve of Lena's hip. Shifting his body closer to her own. Reaching for her. Needing her. Loving her.

In this life, they are equals. War does not rip them apart. Society does not invade their lives with its arbitrary rules. There is only them. Side by side, hand in hand. Together under the same sky. Together sailing the same seas.

Months have passed since Lena found Harry. Her ship had overtaken his under the dark of night as Lena's crew always did. Nothing but the light of the moon and the stars to guide them through the black waters. Lena had walked through the rows of men on their knees. Relished their wide eyes as they realized it had been a woman who captured them. Some whispered to each other. Stories they had heard while at port. Tales passed around over several pints of ale.

They went like this:

Some say she is a siren. Or maybe Calypso herself. Something from a world long forgotten. Motherless and molded by an old god and the waves of the deepest sea. Left on the rocky shores on night. Alone. Sailing the seas to find the waves of her home so she could finally return.

Others say she was once a lady. Married to a cruel captain of the navy. She died at sea during a storm and hell spat her back out. Vengeful. Searching the seas, killing sailor after sailor until she found the captain.

Lena had always loved a good story.

As she had walked through the men of the captured ship. One at the end caught her eye. Something familiar in the slope of her shoulders. He had not looked up to her until Lena's boots were before him and her blade under his chin. It had taken everything in her to not allow the blade to fall to the ground.