Chapter Text
“Abandon ship!” Came a voice over the screams of the raging winds and terrified sailors, followed by the splash of bodies diving overboard.
They were the smart ones.
You could see by the precarious tilt of the ship that she was one good push away from capsizing—and unfortunately that push was inevitable in this storm.
A wave that seemed to tower overheard broke not far from your position, sending a twenty-foot spray frothing over the ship. The seawater was everywhere, in your eyes, your nose, and your mouth. For a moment, you were almost worried you would drown in the spray alone.
The water finally settled on the tilted deck and you spat salty ocean from your mouth and hurriedly tried to rub it from your bloodshot, stinging eyes. The large, heavy cargo your ship had been transporting had been shoved to left side of the ship, causing the already crippled vessel to lilt dangerously. Whoever had cried to abandon ship had it right, you realized.
A gigantic swell rocked the ship, sending you stumbling over the slick, sodden deck as you struggled your way to the railing where the life rafts had been lowered to the water. You reached for the railing when, with a roar like a furious dragon; another wave broke—this time directly on the ship.
You didn’t stand a butterfly’s chance. Your feet were swept out from under you and you went tumbling down the sloped deck, accumulating enough bruises to make you horribly sore in the morning—if you ever saw the morning. With a final tumble, you slammed against the corner of a crate. Something in your left arm suddenly felt inexplicably wrong. Glancing down, you saw your shoulder bone poking out from your shirt at a grotesque angle. You didn’t feel any pain though. The pain would come after, if you managed to survive.
Gritting your teeth and resigning yourself to having to survive this with only one good arm, you struggled to your feet and dashed madly up the deck where the side of the ship beckoned for your escape. You heard the mast groan overhead as the tip of the crows nest entered the raging sea. It was over, you knew. The ship had finally been pushed too far to one side. Capsizing was imminent.
The railing ahead began to slope farther and farther up—like a bad dream where the goal was always tantalizingly out of reach. With a burst of strength born from desperation, you launched yourself to the railing and flew, with all your might, away from the drowning ship into the tumultuous sea.
The world was made of blue.
Swirling blue-green specks of mineral above that glistened in the starlight, and deep blue beneath you so dark it looked to be a yawning pit straight to hell. Violent currents grabbed you and sent you tumbling through the endless blue until direction had no meaning.
Sometimes you were caught for so long you were sure you would die, but somehow you always managed to claw your way back to the surface, gasping for breath. More often than not, you inhaled the briny sea around you and were sent, choking and flailing, back into the damnable blue depths.
Somewhere in the haze of motion, you saw lighting strike in the vast distance, illuminating the sinking hull of your broken vessel. You managed another breath before you were once again shoved under.
How long you struggled in the ocean’s clutches you couldn’t say. The world was just dark, crashing, tumbling, and terrifying. It may have been only minutes but it felt like days. You began to wonder if it was worth surfacing at all, only to be slammed back into this briny hell. But you kept fighting anyway. Nothing, not even exhaustion and fear, were enough to conquer your will to live.
Finally, when all hope seemed lost and you were on the verge of losing consciousness, your head slammed into something. Grasping hands managed to find the edge and you pulled yourself onto a thick slab of wood—a broken part of a crate from your ship. Your upper half clung to the wood like a clam and you gripped the plank with what meager strength you had left. Then the world faded from hellish blue to a peaceful black…
You woke up in horrible pain.
Everything hurt, but nothing could compare to the piercing agony that had once been a functioning shoulder. The storm had passed. Through sodden eyelids, you could see it was day. The waves had gone from vicious to playfully rough, slapping up against your board like spoiled children trying to play.
With every swell, you shoulder throbbed even more. To your horror you found you couldn’t move your left hand, not even to twitch a finger. Then again, you really couldn’t move at all. All you could do was drift on the wood, fading in and out of consciousness, aware only of your horrible pain.
Eventually you became aware of something else too—your thirst. Last night you swallowed what seemed like galleons of seawater. Your lips were puffy and chap, your tongue swollen. You couldn’t even speak; every time you tried your brine-encrusted throat only produced silence.
It was too cruel. You had braved the worst storm of your life, survived through the pain and danger, but now you would die alone and suffering in the endless ocean. Was this your fate? You wondered. Was this fair? What had you done in your life to deserve this? Was the world so cruel?
You swallowed, wincing in pain, and laid your head on the plank of wood, feeling bitter. What a way to go… was the last coherent thought you had for a long time.
“Is she okay? She doesn’t look like she’s breathing…”
“Turn her on her side, maybe she’ll cough it out…”
Voices? No, that couldn’t be right. You were alone, dying in the sea. There weren’t any people besides you to speak. Maybe you should just go back, you thought dreamily. Go back to the nice, cool place where there was no pain or suffering, only peace…
“We’re losing her! Hey, you! Hey! Stay awake! Stay with me!”
Someone was slapping your sodden skin, forcing you back to consciousness. Why wouldn’t these people let you go? You thought with irritation. Couldn’t they see you were tired?
“Hey! Stay awake! I know you’re tired, but you have to stay awake! Are you just going to give up like this? Don’t you want to live?”
The last words pierced you like a red-hot poker, sending shudders down your spine. Yes! Yes, you wanted to live! You hadn’t struggled so hard for so long, ending up on a disastrous voyage as you tried to escape a nation that hated you just to die now. Faces flashed through you mind, the faces of friends and foes alike. You wouldn’t die here. Not here.
Forcing your eyes open then was probably the single most difficult thing you had ever had to do. But you managed to do it, causing dried bits of brine to crumble from your eyelashes down your face when you blinked. You were on your side, on what appeared to be the swaying deck of a ship. Looming over you was the face of a boy, handsome enough to make you wonder if you were delusional. Another face entered your vision, a different boy, with shock white hair.
“Here, Sin, give her some water.”
The handsome boy with long purple hair placed a bottle at your lips and poured in fresh, cool water. You were too weak to swallow; instead it just ran on the deck. Opening your eyes had taken a burst of maniacal energy that had now abandoned you, leaving you with only a fading desire to live.
I’m too exhausted, you realized. These boys are too late. I can’t live anymore. Coming to this conclusion, you slowly began to allow you eyes to shut.
“Don’t give up!” The voice pierced the fog of your mind and you opened your eyes to find the purple haired boy yelling at you, “don’t you dare give up!”
No, you struggled with yourself, forcing your bruised and beaten body to breathe. You couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up here. You wouldn’t let the bastards that wanted you dead get rid of you so easily. The bottle re-entered your vision and this time you managed to drink.
The water went down your swollen throat, but as if this were a signal, the massive amounts of seawater you had consumed came up. You vomited water all over the deck, somewhat glad there had been no food to come up with it. You saw specks of blood mixed in from where your dry throat had cracked.
Eventually you managed to swallow some water. It felt good, running through you body and revitalizing your limbs—though not enough to be able to move from the deck.
With the revitalization of your body, however, came the pain. Suddenly it was crashing down on you like the waves you had barely survived, causing you to grit your teeth.
“What’s wrong?” Calloused hands gripped your face and you looked up into the features of the purple haired boy.
“Shoulder…” You managed to gasp out.
The boy frowned before gently flipping you over face up on the deck. Even just that movement caused you to scream in pain, breaking the dried skin in your throat and causing you to cough on your own blood.
“She’s choking, what do we do?” Came a panicked voice. Your head lolled to the side and a bit of blood trickled down the corner of your mouth, but you could breathe again.
“She’ll be fine, but we need to get this shoulder back in!” Came the purple haired boy’s voice. “Mystras, you hold her here and I’ll pull her wrist. Ready? On my count! One, two, THREE!” Hands tugged at your arm, causing you pain like you had never experienced before. Over your screams you heard loud swearing followed by, “Once more! Hold her tight; we can’t relocate it if she keeps moving. Ready? One, two, THREE!”
Thankfully, you blacked out.
When you woke up, for a moment you were tense, prepared for the horrible, hellish pain you had experienced before. To your surprise, however, you felt nothing. You shoulder was slightly sore and your body stiff, but otherwise you were fine.
Opening your eyes, you saw a lantern swinging on a chain overhead. You raised you head off a soft pillow to glance around. You were in a small room, barely more than a closet, with only a hammock, pillow, table, and chair for company.
You were also very confused.
For a moment you couldn’t remember where you were or why you were even still alive. Then you remembered the hands, voices, and blurry faces vague enough to have come from a dream.
Someone must have saved you, you realized.
After a moment, you gathered your strength and sat up, muscles screaming in protest. You looked down and saw you were wearing what must have been someone else’s shirt because it was far too big and ballooned down to your knees. Your left arm was tightly bound from elbow to shoulder and suspended in a sling across your chest. Your legs were bare, but after glancing around, you saw your pants folded on the chair.
It took you longer than you would have liked to change into your pants, partly because you were still on a swaying ship but also because you couldn’t use your left arm to change. You finally managed to pry on your pants after an awkward dance around the cabin and a few stubbed toes.
Taking a deep breath, you pushed open your cabin door and wandered out into the sunlight, curious to met your mysterious saviors.
What you saw, after your eyes adjusted, were four men playing cards on the deck of the ship. After a second of studying them, you revised your initial impression to a man and three boys. Glancing around you saw no crew but instead a…was that a dragon steering the ship?
You blinked again, wondering if you were hallucinating. No, that was definitely a dragon, standing on two legs and using his reptilian arms to steer the ship. Further thoughts were stalled when the purple haired boy glanced up from his cards and spotted you. For a moment he didn’t move. Then he grinned—a wide, huge, cocky grin—and threw down his cards as he stood up.
“Look who’s awake,” He called as he strode towards you, “how do you feel?”
“I—” you started to say before your voice broke and you started coughing. Whether it was just the sudden coughing fit, the lack of food and water, the sudden exposure to sun, the rocking of the ship, or a combination thereof, you felt your balance give and you started to fall. He caught you before you hit the deck, gently holding your good arm and supporting you with his shoulder.
“Are you alright?” He asked once the coughing died down. You nodded and tried to speak, only to find no words came out.
“Here,” a red haired boy with a turban handed you a skein of water and you gulped it down greedily, not caring that some of it trickled down the side of your face.
“Careful with that, take it slow,” the purple haired boy warned. “Too much at once and you’ll feel sick again.”
You nodded, stoppered the bottle and handed it back to the red haired boy. “Thanks.” You smiled slightly, glad your voice was back. “Thank you,” you directed your comment to the purple haired boy, who was still supporting you. “I feel fine now.” You politely disengaged yourself from the boy—who looked put out—and then bowed low to the other people who had gathered in a semi circle around you, curiosity staining their faces. “Thank you, all of you, for saving my life. I owe you an irreparable debt.” You bowed again.
“There’s no need to push yourself to thank us,” the purple haired boy replied easily, still hovering nearby in case you started to collapse again, “We only did what any self-respecting human would do. I’m Sinbad, by the way. What’s your name?”
“I’m…” you went to respond before suddenly hesitating, the question finally hitting you. You weren’t the average sailor. You were a fugitive from a nation that hated you and would stop at nothing to kill you. You suddenly viewed the people around you wearily, aware of your vulnerable state. You had no idea who these people were, or what side they may be on, if they were on a side. Giving your name to them could be a stupid and lethal mistake. But the question wasn’t the kind of question that was easily avoided, moreover, the purple haired boy, Sinbad, was beginning to look at you strangely. You hastily decided to give only your first name, reasoning that it would be unlikely to give you away.
“It’s a pleasure to met you, Sinbad,” You said after giving your name.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Sinbad replied with such a flirtatious smile it would have a made a frailer maiden blush. You just cocked an eyebrow and smiled back, restraining any comments. He had saved your life, after all.
You soon learned the names of the small crew onboard: the white haired boy, Ja’far, the red head, Mystras, the gigantic blue haired man Hinahoho, and the dragonish helmsman, Drakon.
“It’s a pleasure to met you,” you told Drakon, who was introduced last, and extended your hand to shake. He looked surprised but shook your hand.
Sinbad and the others looked on in vague surprise. You realized that acting unsurprised despite Drakon’s odd appearance might have been far more attention-worthy than your slight hesitation at giving your name.
“You don’t seem surprised by my appearance, have you met someone like me before?” You glanced up at Drakon quickly and then shook your head.
“No,” you lied smoothly, “but you will have to excuse me for my lack of reaction. I was just on a sinking ship and spent days adrift in a stormy sea with a dislocated shoulder. I still feel a bit… disconnected at the moment. I’m not entirely sure if I’m truly alive or if this is all a dream.”
Sinbad laughed, flashing a pearly white grin, “You’re alive. I promise,” he smiled at you and you smiled back sincerely this time, admiring his golden eyes.
You’d never seen a person with eyes or hair like his before.
The red haired boy with the turban, Mystras, came up from below deck during this exchange holding plates of steaming food. Your mouth watered and you realized how hungry you were.
“I think we should feed her before we interrogate her,” Mystras said with a slight blush in your direction. You mentally blessed him in all three languages you knew. Sinbad scowled at Mystras before proffering you a chair. You thanked him and sat while Ja’far cleaned off the remainder of the card game from the table.
Sinbad called after him, “Don’t loose the score sheet! We can continue playing after dinner.”
Hinahoho snorted. “You can. I’m tired of loosing all of my money to you.”
“Come on, don’t be like that,” Sinbad teased him, “I wasn’t even trying that hard.” He sent a mischievous wink in your direction.
You munched contentedly on a brightly colored fruit, leaning back in your chair. The meal of seared fish and vegetables, while simple, had been delicious. Food and water had never tasted so good. Your recent death defying experience had certainly cast a new appreciation on the simple pleasures in life.
“So where are you from?” Asked Ja’far, breaking the content silence. You smiled disarmingly, already prepared with your lie.
“I’m from the Se’ean Empire out west,” you lied. “But I don’t stay home much. I like to travel and I like the sea—although I can’t say if the sea likes me,” you added wryly, earning a small chuckle from around the table. “But recently I’ve been getting into the trading business. I was with a new company transporting cargo between Reim and the Adraine Kingdom when the storm hit us. The ship capsized and I ended up alone in the waves. I came across a broken piece of cargo and climbed onto it before passing out. That’s about all I can remember—I don’t know if the rest of the crew survived or not.” You were proud that only half of your story was a lie. In your experience, truth mixed in with lies usually made the lies more convincing.
“I see,” Sinbad said with a slight frown, looking a little less convinced than you would have hoped. “It’s been a rough journey for you then.”
“Undoubtedly,” you sighed, picking up another fruit and rolling it around in your palms. “I never expected this to happen.”
At least that was totally honest.
You went to bed early. Your hosts didn’t seem to mind; they wished you good night and promised to try to find you a better fitting shirt the next day so you didn’t have to keep borrowing Sinbad’s spare one (apparently your own shirt had been cut off you when you were rescued in order to fix your shoulder.) You doubted they would find a shirt that fit much better, however. Sinbad was probably the closest to your size.
Before retiring to bed, you managed to learn a bit more about your hosts. They were merchants with a new company you hadn’t heard of, the Sindria Trading Company, and they all seemed to be kind, welcoming, if slightly flirtatious people. Capable though, if you were any judge of people. They all looked like they knew how to handle themselves in a fight.
You also managed to get a time frame for yourself. You learned that you had been found two days after the storm and had been unconscious for a week after that. Nine days in total, since your escape from the Adraine Kingdom. You wondered if any would-be assassins had found the ruins of your old ship and were scouring the sea for your corpse right now. It amused you think of your enemies wasting their time in such a fruitless endeavor, but you doubted that they would bother. Once the wreckage or survivors of the ship were found and the Adraine government had confirmed your presence onboard the doomed vessel, you would be declared dead.
It seemed that the storm that should have been your undoing was instead your salvation.
You glanced up at the lantern above you, watching the mesmerizing flame as it danced in sync with the rise and fall of the swells beneath the ship. You had collapsed in your bed not long after dinner and slept for what you guessed had been a few hours, so you assumed it was late at night. You could hear someone snoring in the cabin next to yours, which made you suppress a smile.
Suddenly the cabin seemed too small. You tossed and turned in the hammock, unable to find a comfortable position for your shoulder. Rolling off your hammock, you slipped out for some air. You couldn’t stay in that cramped room any longer.
You made your way over to the railing and leaned against it, breathing in the moist evening air. Looking up, you saw a big and bright moon that turned the whispering waves liquid silver. As you admired the view, a voice spoke up behind you, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
You turned, startled, wondering just who managed to sneak up on you. The grinning face of Sinbad greeted you.
“Yes, it is,” You agreed shortly before turning back around, not feeling like talking and hoping he would take the hint to walk away. What was he doing up so late at night anyway?
“Why didn’t you tell us your last name?” The question came so suddenly that you nearly gave a reply you would have regretted.
“I-I don’t have one,” you stuttered your way through the first lie you thought of, and then winced. The lie sounded obvious even to you.
“Really.” Sinbad voiced a sarcastic reply. You sighed.
“What’s it matter anyway? Why should you care about my last name?”
“No reason actually,” came Sinbad’s answer. He faced you, staring you dead in the eyes with his brilliant gold gaze. “I don’t care about your last name. I’m more curious as to why you felt the need to hide it in the first place.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” you denied coolly. If he wanted to fish for information, you weren’t going to rise to his bait. Anything he got from you would have to be hard won.
‘So your story about being a traveling merchant from Se’ean is all true then?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” You countered.
He glared at you, exasperated, “Do you always answer a question with a question?” He demanded. You just grinned.
“Don’t you do that too?”
Before he could reply, you bowed to him slightly and tore yourself away from the railing. “Good night, Sinbad.” It was only a temporary retreat and you both knew it. There weren’t very many placed you could avoid interrogation on a ship. Eventually these were questions you would have to answer. But you would rather deal with that later rather than sooner. Sinbad caught your arm, slid his grip down to your wrist, and leaned down slightly to brush his lips against the back of your hand.
“Good night.”
A blush rose on your cheeks and you had to resist the urge to smack him before you stomped over to your cabin. Apparently he didn’t view you as enough of a threat to stop teasing you. As you climbed into your hammock, you swore you could hear him softly laughing at you over the sound of the restless sea.
EXTRA: On the Ship To Reim
You were sulking in your cabin. Of course, you preferred to think of it with a more dignified term than sulking; you told yourself you were pondering angry thoughts in solitude. Another acceptable word to describe your situation would be hiding. After Sinbad’s behavior last night, you had holed yourself up in your cabin and silently vowed to never come out while he was on deck. Only three hours after you woke up in the morning, you were already starting to feel stir crazy.
The worst part was that there was nothing to do. You had no paper or pencils to draw with, no books to read, not even cards to play with. The only entertainment available was the other passengers and they were out of the question.
A knock sounded at your door. You glanced up, surprised. “Come in,” you spoke before reconsidering. What if it was Sinbad? The door opened and you breathed a mental sigh of relief when you saw red hair instead of purple. You smiled at the boy politely, sitting up straight on your bed. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I brought you breakfast,” the boy told you, a slight red blush on his face. He held out a tray of food like a peace offering. You stomach growled and you suddenly realized how hungry you were.
“Thank you, uh…” you trailed off, unable to remember his name. Yesterday had been so hectic, you had failed to recall the name of anyone onboard besides Sinbad. Then you felt guilty. Why was it you could remember the name of that purple haired flirt but you couldn’t remember this boy’s name?
“Mystras,” he didn’t seem to hold it against you, instead giving you a warm smile, clutching at a bag around his shoulder. “My name’s Mystras. It’s nice to meet you. Could you repeat your name?” He blushed again, scratching the back of his head ashamedly. “I can’t quite remember…”
You took the tray from him and smiled back, glad you weren’t the only one who had trouble with names. You gave your name and began to inhale your food. It was a simple meal: oatmeal, bread, eggs, and fruit which you occasionally washed down with fresh water.
Mystras watched you with a concerned expression on his face. “If you eat it that fast you’re going to cho—”
As if his words were a signal, you suddenly began to choke on your bread, tears popping into your eyes. He hurriedly slapped you on the back, making your shoulder groan in pain, until you managed to swallow the piece of bread.
“Thanks,” You whispered hoarsely between coughs. He just shook his head, looking torn between amusement and concern.
“The food isn’t going to grow legs and run,” he teased you gently, “so you can take your time.”
You took another bite of your eggs, eating carefully now. You had no desire to kill yourself because you were too greedy to chew on your food. You swallowed, sighing in delight as you finished the last bite.
“That was delicious,” you praised the unknown cook before setting the tray off to the side.
“It was okay,” Mystras said with a humble shrug, coloring up a little, “I only have a few ingredients.” You suddenly realized that you had eaten your food without offering him any. Mystras read the guilty look on your face and shook his head slightly, “Sinbad, Ja’far, Hinahoho, Drakon, and I ate in the mess,” he explained. “When you didn’t show up I decided to take a plate to you.”
“Thanks,” you replied automatically, your thoughts drifting back to the night before. “At least someone on this ship is a gentleman,” you muttered under your breath.
Mystras laughed and you flushed, realizing he must have heard you. “Are you talking about Sinbad? You know,” he mused, looking at you intently, “you two are a lot alike.”
You stared at him, flabbergasted. “What?!” You demanded in a harsher tone than you had expected. Mystras winced and raised his hands as if to ward off your scorn.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I only meant that you two are both stubborn and prideful and smart. And you both,” here he gave you a meaningful look, “dislike asking people for help.”
You sighed, shifting uncomfortably on your hammock. You liked Mystras a lot more than you liked Sinbad, but you still didn’t want to tell him the truth. You had lived with lies for so long that they had become second nature to you; you could barely remember a time when you had been honest and upfront about everything. Besides that, you couldn’t trust these people yet. You barely knew each other.
“Look, Mystras—” You began, trying to let him down gently. He raised a hand, cutting you off.
“You don’t need to tell me now,” he said with a smile, “but when you do need to tell someone and if there’s no one else around…” he cleared his throat, looking away in embarrassment, “I’ll be happy to listen.”
If it had been Sinbad or anyone else, you probably would have gotten angry. You would have told them if was none of their business and that they should stay out of your life. But Mystras sounded so sincere and genuine, like a true knight, and you found your heart melting despite yourself.
“Thank you, Mystras,” you gave him a tender smile, wondering why he made you feel like such a softie, “I really appreciate it.”
“Well,” he scratched his head again, which made you smile. It was such an adorable habit. “This is a small ship and all, so I’d like to get along.” He grinned at you—a wide, innocent grin that practically had you swooning.
Damn it. He was too adorable.
“By the way,” he pulled a book out from his bag and offered it to you. “it gets kinda boring around here so I brought you a book.”
“That’s so sweet!” You gushed, taking the book with eager fingers. It had been such a long time since you had read something, you were brimming with scholarly excitement. “Thanks Mystras!”
You examined the title and then blinked. You re-read it, just to be sure. No, you weren’t wrong. It definitely said The Adventures of Sinbad. “Uh…”
“Sorry,” he sighed, “it was the only book we had on board. Sinbad published some of his adventures to make money for the company a while back, although he exaggerated a few bits. We still had this copy onboard.”
“What a narcissist.”
Mystras laughed again. “Maybe. But it made him famous and it kept the company from going bankrupt. Anyway,” he blushed again, gesturing to the door. “I’ll be on deck playing poker with Drakon, Ja’far and Hinahoho if you want to join us.”
“I don’t play cards very well,” you said apologetically. Then you frowned and tapped the name written on the cover of the book, “Wait, what about Sinbad? Doesn’t he like playing cards?”
Mystras snorted, “We don’t let him play anything involving money anymore,” he explained with a wry grin, “it completely unfair for the rest of us.”
“Why? Does he cheat?”
“No,” Mystras denied, vehemently shaking his head back and forth, “he just has a ridiculous amount of good luck. I’ll leave you with your book now,” he gave you one last smile before picking up the empty tray and heading toward the door. You felt a sudden desire to pull him back and ask him to stay. After days spent alone in the ocean and then sequestered in your cabin, you were feeling starved for human contact. Besides which, Mystras was friendly and companionable and you had a soft spot for people like him. But you pulled yourself back because you had already caused him enough trouble.
“Oh yeah,” he turned in the doorway, “lunch is at noon, if you want to eat with the rest of us.”
He didn’t say it in a nasty way but you felt guilty all the same. You shouldn’t force your hosts to bring you meals like they were servants. “I’d like that,” you replied, somewhat surprised to realize you meant it.
After Mystras left, you sunk back into your hammock, flipping to a random page in Sinbad’s book. “…then Ja’far grew horns and breathed fire, killing the guardian and mercilessly melting the dungeon door at the same time,” you read aloud. You stared at the sentence. “I think this qualifies as more than just a bit of exaggeration, Mystras,” you muttered.