Chapter one

Yall just pull through this sucks

                 

They play all alone Until they're grown The longing brings Until it sings The ship is sunk Like an old drunk                  

Poems. I’ve always liked them to calm me down, and I’ve taken to making my own, but I’d never tell anyone but Remy, and only if he asked. I’m not very good at them, but I’m improving. I write them down sometimes.

I sigh as I watch him walk up to the ship through the rusty frame of a porthole. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the type of sigh to be falling for someone. I’ve never really understood that.

It’s the fact that there hasn’t been a new crewmate here for years.

Not since they found me.

And this man doesn’t exactly look friendly, the way he walks reminds me of the royals. 

I’ve never trusted them.

Maybe it’s the fact that I grew up a pirate, but something else was always nagging at the back of my mind, like a deeper instinctive distrust. Royals have always meant danger.

I glance in the mirror.

I should cut my hair. It’s almost waist length in a braid which I haven’t needed to undo for months. The salt spray and wild winds from the sea made braids practical, if a bit boring.
Nothing ever changes. I thought as I was fidgeting with my braid. I scowled at my reflection in the gaudy, gilt-framed mirror fastened to the wall of my cabin.

I don’t like thinking about my appearance very much, I have freckles splattered across my face haphazardly and gray hazel eyes, one more thing that my appearance has in common with that of a siren. Most people consider it beautiful.

Sometimes I do too, I suppose it is, but not in a way I want to be, so I sort of consider it annoying.

I’ve never liked the standards for girls(the ones I know of, growing up on a pirate ship and all), to not run around and stab people, and ‘sit straight’, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like dresses or feeling beautiful, putting my hair up, and wearing necklaces.

I’m shaken out of my thoughts by Maurice saying, “Lass? The…newcomer has asked that you show him the ship. Will ye come, Amara?”

I nod. “Yes. I’ll come. But I don’t trust him. Please keep watch, Maurice.”

The brown-bearded man nods, and says, “Aye, lass, but just don’t give him any of yer threatening, that was practically enough to scare me out of my skin and I know ye.”

I smile at this, and say, “Maurice, I only do that when I feel seriously threatened, not intellectually or status-wise and such.”

Maurice smiles, and says, “Well, he’s on the main deck, if ye’re wanting to find him.”

Only now do I realize how tense I am, knowing about the arrival of somebody new.

I nod, and say, “Thank you, Maurice.” I walk out of my cabin.

It only takes me a few short minutes to get to the deck where he’s waiting. I've lived here all 17 years of my life, so that figures.

“Hello sir, you wanted me to show you the ship?”

He nods. The man is wearing a sailor’s clothes, but the way he holds himself is enough to know he’s one of the royals, and he says, “Yes, but I would like to know, how does a female fare well as a pirate?”

Anger flashes through my heart haphazardly, but I’ve learned to control my temper and facial expressions by now from not being listened to if I act animatedly to state something.

I take a deep breath, and smile pleasantly, despite that taking huge effort, climbing up onto the side of the ship’s…railings, and say, “Well sir, respect, and experience.” I shoot him a look at that, then say, “The same goes for men. Being male doesn’t give you the right to talk to your superiors as if you had more experience than them.” I pull out my knife and cut a rope which I was told to do away with.

The man nods, seemingly frustrated at my being slightly eloquent, matching him but in a less rude tone despite his efforts to aggravate me, and says, “So, would you show me the ship cabins? I would like to know where I’m staying if I’m allowed by you and the fine sirs.”

I sigh, slightly annoyed, and, half muttering at the start, say, “I know you’re a royal. Just the way you walk, much less how formal you are tells me in an instant. Royals have a bit of a bad reputation here, so maybe drop the formality. Just a tip if you don’t want to be the victim of some terrible manslaughter years later.”

He nods, looking slightly disconcerted as we walk down, closer to the cabins. I open the door of a cabin made for newcomers. The handle is slightly rusty as I open it, the reddish, tarnished metal scraping against my hand unpleasantly as I pull it open, and there’s no porthole, but it’s nice enough.

“Here. This is where you’d be staying.”

He picks up a rusty gilt-framed hand mirror, and I can see slight, but veiled disappointment on his face, as he says, “I didn’t quite expect there to be a mirror.”

I look him straight in the eyes, and say, “If you work hard for long enough, you can get a better cabin, but for now you’ll have to deal with it. The newcomers' cabins are much better than last time, the better ones are for the people who prove they are of good use. And, as for if you’re allowed to stay, you’ll have a week to prove you’re a hard worker. If you’re not, well, the captain will have his way with you.”

At this, the man looks slightly stricken. He’s already almost as small as me, though years older, but the captain is a very sizable and intimidating man, even if you know him. 

Scratch that, especially if you know him.

I laugh a bit, seeing him slightly intimidated, and say, “Don’t worry about it. At worst you’ll have to walk the plank, or Remy will do away with you.”

He gulps minorly and says, “Remy?” in a questioning tone.

“Yes, Remy..? Oh right, you don’t know him. He’s my friend. He’s quite good at swordplay, if you could imagine. He’s actually very friendly, but mostly if you know him well.”

The man nods, and says, “Would you go? You’re making me very nervous.”

At this, I smile fakely. “Ha. Hope so, because I don't exactly trust you very much.” I walk out of the room, and sigh in relief. I get a little squirming feeling in my stomach, then I see Remy waiting outside, leaning against the wall, and smiling in a slightly asymmetrical fashion, which, he apparently, does by accident. It always calms me down to see him, my childhood best friend.

“Hey, Rem.”

“Hey, Amara.”

I sigh in relief, knowing the door to the cabin is shut and we’re almost out of that stranger’s earshot. “Can we go a little farther from this cabin?”

Remy nods,giving a slightly knowing smile, then said, “We can sit around in my cabin and talk.”

I nod in reply gratefully.

When we reach his cabin, I sit down on the floor and take a deep breath, trying for the life of me to relax,not wanting to think about that man in the ship. The thought of him almost makes me twitch.

He’s so strange that it seems unnatural. I think, giving a small shudder.

I usually feel completely at ease on the ship, but I just don’t trust the stranger. 

Remy sits next to me,and says, “Amara, you okay? I know that he was bothering you.”

I smile a bit, laughing slightly, loosening up, and say, “Ah, yes. He was bothering me a lot. Mainly the fact that I don’t trust him, but also the fact that he was arrogant to the bone. Sort of wish he’d leave, huh?” I loosened up a great bit. With Remy was the place I felt most comfortable and myself, we’d been raised together, my entire life.

Remy laughs, and says, “Sounds better than a royal joining out of the blue, ey?”

I smile and say, “The royals are always strange. What do they mean they hate sailing?”

He shrugs, and says, “They probably mean they hate sailing.”

Remy is so understanding in a way that kind of makes me want to cover my ears and scream, an immature but common desire.

He, on the other hand, is calm and collected, with short, fluffy, raven hair framing his face and then his watercolor evergreen lace eyes sticking out but blending in, always rushing with a torrent of emotion only I seem to notice.

And he’s so infuriatingly nice sometimes.

I don’t know why this bothers me, even in the slightest, but…

Remy’s an amazing friend.

I look out the porthole briefly. The sky is a bright, forget-me-not blue, and the ocean a deep, dark greenish sort of color. I suddenly want to touch the water, to feel the sea-spray on my bare feet. Remy notices the look that’s passed over my eyes, and, knowing me as well as he does, says, “We could go and put up the sails? That hasn’t been done yet, and it needs to be.”

I nod eagerly, wanting to feel the water splash against my bare arms and lower thighs.

When we walk out, Maurice waves to me,and says, “Lass, did the fella bother you too much? I’d be happy to pound ‘is skull in for you.”

I smile at Maurice, and say, “No, he was arrogant at first, but I certainly gave him a harder time than he gave me.”

Maurice grins, and says, “Ay, that’s my lass!” 

Remy and I laugh as we walk onto the deck. I climb up to the side of the ship, tie a rope around my waist, help Remy up, his hand clasping in mine and filling me with warmth from my head to the tips of my toes for a split second and then I shake myself from my thoughts and swing across to the other ropes. I get up onto the other side of the ship, and tie the ropes together. The wind in my hair,the salty smell of the ocean spray.

It feels wonderful.

I take a deep breath of the fresh ocean air. Most people don’t like the salty air, but I love the simple and unextraordinary.

Remy looks at me with mirth in his eyes, and says, “Want me to push you in?”

He wouldn’t dare. I think.

I gasp in mock hurt. “You would never!”

He pulls his knife, smirking. “I might, someday, Amara, I might.”

I pull my knife and do a mock slash at him. “Maybe…”

Remy slashes at my shoulder, tearing my sleeve slightly. I laugh, happy to be doing this again, jumping down from the side of the boat, and tear the side of his shirt with my knife.

He grins and tries to hold his knife to my throat but I twist it from his hands and pin him down.

“Or maybe not.”

Ha. Too easy.

I hold my knife to his throat, smirking. “I win, Rem.”

Remy smiles, and says, “I yield.” He’s never been a sore loser, which I like, because I used to be but his kind personality just squished that out of me.

I stand, helping him up. “So, up for lunch, Remy?

He smiles at me in his weird, quiet way which I’ve come to find sort of nice and nods. “Of course.”

Author's Note

FIRST DRAFT, HAVE MERCY.