She is eight the first time she sees it.

There were seagulls flying all over the harbour, dozens and dozens of them spread out far and wide for as far as she could see. Resting on wooden shacks, on rails, standing even on the sandy ground, they were everywhere. Her childish hands had gripped the equally small ones of Roderich Edelstein, fellow noble and best friend excitedly, and they had ran about chasing the small noisy birds while their parents took a tour of the place with the Commodore.

Those days, words and concepts like 'betrothed' and 'the estrangement of the Queen in London or Florence or Sweden' meant nothing to her young ignorant ears. As far as eight-year-old her was concerned, those were adult things that only existed in the adult world, nothing she should be worried about. Roderich on the other hand, would come to view them as important necessities to understand and obey. All of these things though, distant yet close, unseeable yet already predicated, are of the future. For now, there is only Elizaveta and Roderich, two children who loved to fence or play the piano and chase birds across the wooden boards down into the sand.

They laugh and weave through crates of packed cargo and busy men, following the frantic flapping of wings and caws until the giant shadows of docked ships enveloped them. When Roderich stops abruptly halfway and tugs her back, she has to take a moment for her euphoria to ebb before asking him (in a manner that she would look back on rather crudely yet nostalgically many, many years later) what was wrong. He points up to the hull of a ship in silent awe, and as Eliza follows his direction her eyes widen in similar astonishment, her mouth unconsciously parting with amazement at the sight of the it.

She was a Spanish Galleon, broad and tall. Her masts were huge and the cream coloured sails that hung proudly beautiful. Her sides and what little she could see of the decks and the inside of the gun ports gleam with a fresh coat of paint under the setting sun. The face of a carved mermaid stares down benevolently down at them, with smiling lips and a creaseless brow. It was a majestic ship, and one that takes her breath away. Later in the carriage home she would come to know that it was called the Black Sheep. A merchant ship she was, manned by one of the county's richest and just about to leave for her maiden voyage.

She is eight when she first starts thinking about the sea, and for a long time after that first glimpse, ships and faraway adventures fill her dreams aplenty.

She is fourteen when she finally comes into terms with her predicament.

In this age where she has grasped terms like 'finesse' and 'dowry', Elizaveta has come to realise that her happy, noble life isn't all that it seems. Politics they say, and although the finer details escape her she understands the severity of the situation. Her parents were in debt. There is a way out of that sticky web fortunately, but it would mean marrying the son of an esteemed noble, the son of a family close to them.

Roderich.

Eliza doesn't mind Roderich, in fact part of her is glad that it was him, for he is her closest friend, and he knows her better than any other stranger. In time, maybe, she thinks she might come to love him.

Walking passed glass doors onto the balcony, she wonders if he feels the same. They haven't been talking to each other lately, each busy with their respective duties. He had been more uptight the last she has seen him, his father wanting him to spend more time on horseback than on the seat of the piano chair. It would be the same for her soon enough. The foreseen talks and lectures on engagement and proper etiquette will come in, and before long they would be barely free to do anything else at all. She would have to give up fencing, and the thought makes her jaw clench as she looks out over her manor to the wooden roofs that stood together by the sea.

So many things all for the sake of marriage. But it was for the good of something bigger, and it wasn't as though she felt caged in. She didn't have a choice in the matter, but even if she did, this was the path she would have chose, wouldn't she?

Clouds in the sky colour pink, and Eliza watches silently as evening rolls in, leaving her perch only at the ring of the supper bell, uncertain on what the future will bring.

She is sixteen when her whole world splits apart.

"Roderich? Are you in there?"

The first thing she notices is the darkness. The curtains were closed and what light from the doorway that illuminated the sea of black showed twisted sheets and tangled pillows. Shapeless shadows lined the edges of the vaguely visible cabinets and the vanity mirror that holds all her powders. Her footsteps were soft and gentle against the cold floor as she moved to open the drapes to the bedroom, keeping quiet to avoid disturbing him.

"Eliza don't-"

Light bathes the bed she shares with her husband, smearing the sheets with colour and highlighting his naked form. His hair was mussed and skin flushed pink, but there was a particular look in his eyes as he gazes at her, stupefied and guilty. He breathed in harsh pants as he lay, askew with glasses missing on his face. Little purple bruises painted his neck, and Eliza spots another form sighing beneath the sheets.

Silence rose between them, and for once Elizaveta has nothing to say as a lump rises within her throat. The pain and anger does not register first, as the disbelief and wanting to know why floods her. How could he?

(It makes her feel even more pathetic when the next question that comes to her mind was Am I not good enough?)

Roderich tries to explain as he always does, but even he can find no excuse save for temptation for a night of unbridled passion in his otherwise stagnant and closeted life. It hurt, far more than Eliza could ever say, because from the moment they exchanged vows and started living as husband and wife a small part of her had thought that perhaps, maybe, she was falling for him. They were best friends, still best friends, but if he would not even trust her with his problems to solve together then what were they? What was she to him anymore?

"I didn't want to burden you." He had answered back after she had shouted at him with ache and tears in her eyes, hours later after the damsel had left, the shameful act concealed from all but the two of them.

"And so you thought to shame and hurt me instead?" Her retort was hurl back painfully and he had kept silent, similar frustration and tiredness in his stance. They both knew the fault was solely his, but yet she could not find it in her to blame him as the pieces and bonds that held them together start to splinter, cutting them apart.

Pirates stream into their town two days later, plundering goods and ravaging citizens as they set fire and destruction their way. Their ship was a familiar one, reset and refitted for thieves of their calibre. As Eliza flees pass burning houses and the sound of clashing metal, she spies the Black Sheep docked over the horizon, finally having returned home after eight years. All at once the childish wants and memories of a younger self flood her mind, and she slows, a bout of madness overtaking her rationality. But could it be considered that? All her life she had been taught things she had no want for and the few wants and loves she had, she had been forced to lock away to lead the life expected of her.

But there was nothing holding her back anymore. She was free from her parents, her best friend had forsaken her years ago, and her husband.. her husband did not need her. She could be free.

It was surprisingly easy, snatching the sword of her guard and fending him off, throwing off her shoes and the heavy layers of cloth that hindered her body as she ran. She does not see Roderich as she escapes the shocked cries of horror, but she imagines he would hold no surprise for her. After all, he knew her best.

Two hours later, and the Black Sheep sails back into blue waters before the arrival of the navy, with loot aplenty and a man extra who has proven her worth.

She is eighteen when Magus Bastion becomes Captain.

He was a big man, twice her age with Nordic blood in his veins that burned with passion for the ocean. Bluff, tall and experienced, he held just the right amount of aura that made men lowered their heads in admiration as he walked and bantered among them. A strong hearted pirate, and one worthy of being captain. In the two years that she will come to be on the galleon he would become the closest she would ever have to a friend and partner.

The first month she spent on board the Tainted Star -for that was her name now- , he had been the first to approach her, not to talked against and condemn her for being a female as she had dreaded, but to ask very frankly, if she could and would fight against the enemies that would come their way, if she would kill to ensure the safety of the Captain and their ship. His brutal bluntness had disoriented her, but he had been kind; callousness was something a pirate needed to survive the toughness and cruelty of the seas.

(Women, he told her, were a rare commodity to this crew, but not at all unwelcome regardless of what naysayers and believers think. His mother had been a prime example.)

In many ways, Magus Bastion had been a lot of her firsts in her new life. He was the one who taught her how to fight dirty, laughing in her face and calling her fencing moves poppycock before showing her how to slash and whip a man properly in seven different ways with just a swing of his cutlass and limbs, kicking and punching and dodging before downing the final blow. He was the one that got her accepted with the rest of the men, whom she realised were actually aptly polite men with a perchance for riches, freedom, or the sea. Sometimes even all three. After the initial suspicion and indignation of her presence had faded, the crew treated her different from no other, and many days were spent with them in lively merrymaking, drinking and playing cards to their hearts' content.

Under his watchful gaze, none of them dared to make trouble or pull advances on her, something she did not feel quite as thankful for, the lingering suspicion that he wanted something similar in return haunting her thoughts. Fortunately, no matter how much she waited and opened herself on purpose, he never did pull anything, only laughing gruffly once after she had taunted him, playfully mocking her with her train of thoughts and asking with false pretence if she would come to warm his bed. That very night she had proceeded to beat him flat in cards and drinking, humiliating him with faux cruelty in front of their crewmates. None dared to bother her after the incident, and it is one event that both parties still laugh and poke fun at sometimes.

Her change from poise to rough hadn't been gradual, but a lot can change within two years. Eliza knows she is no longer the naive girl who wanted to see the world. She was but a jaded woman, and many things she has done she has regretted. Killing had been hard, but watching the slavery of younger orphans even harder. Bastion had always tried to steer her away from the more brutal natures of piracy, unfavourable of them himself, but even he cannot hide her from the muffled screams and cries of slaves trapped within cargo beneath the deck for nights on end. When he had become Captain after the untimely demise of the former, slave trading and mindless plundering had dwindled and stopped, and that was something she had been eternally grateful for.

She does not regret becoming a pirate, for the freedom she gets when she looks upon the blue horizon and smells the salty breeze every sunrise was something she would not trade for anything. Sometimes she finds herself missing the colours and sights of the land and home, but then she remembers the cage, and thinks otherwise. With every passing day the ache within her heart dims while her feet grows more used to the steady rocking of the Tainted Star. This was her home now, and there was no turning back.

She is twenty two when he first sees her.

The years passed quickly, and along with it came the rise of the British Navy, who strove to take back and calm the waters where bandits and thieves had roamed free for so many years. Pirates had not taken too kindly to their actions, and as the days past the skirmishes and fights between both sides occur more often, brimming with more and more violence.

Magus Bastion had not been an exception; he had grown particularly fond of attacking ships and stealing from the rich of British occupied harbours and towns before raiding their property. Eliza supposed there was nothing wrong with that. The rich did not deserve that wealth anyway, most of it having been stolen from taxes of the common folk. The Navy though had thought otherwise, and this had spark a months-long chase between the pirates and a British convoy through all ends of the oceans.

The crew had relished in the fights that had taken place, throwing swords and cannons and sometimes reckless abandon into the wind, and they never failed to sail free from sinking wreckage each time a confrontation occurred. They had however, raised a protest at the mention of a surprise parley from the Captain himself.

It had been a last minute decision, but this was no unconditional surrender, of this the crew was certain. There was an odd look in the Captain's eyes as he spoke and rallied them together, one that the oldest pirates recognised and immediately made no further objection to. It was a tense silence on the Tainted Star as the portholes remain closed and the men gathered to watch the single distant brig sail closer to their galleon. Eliza slips up the stairs to join Bastion on the forecastle, an arm hung loosely over the side where her cutlass sat. For once there was no odd comment or snarky remark on lips besides the soft mutter of 'Captain'. The look Bastion had was too serious and intense for her to say anything else, but he had nodded in acknowledgement, and that was enough.

The navy ship stops only when metres of sea separate them from the pirates, and the crew sucks in curses when the Governor of the last major harbour they had attacked emerges from the sea of rigid soldiers to bid a greeting to them. In seconds the scruffy men had brandished their swords and guns threateningly, leading the soldiers to reciprocate. A wave and shout from both captain and governor however, made both sides lower their weapons grudgingly.

Eliza does not notice any of that, her eyes having caught something striking. It is in the sea of curled wigs and uniformed men that she sees him, a flash of wild blonde climbing the deck and squeezing through the formation to stand in front. As both men of authority begin to talk onboard her eyes follow him. He was young, still a boy in the world of men, but he stood among the soldiers with an aura that boasted confidence. He wore none of the fancy coats and wigs that the others did - though he was still elegantly dressed in a coat with a cutlass by his side. All in all, a strange lad, who stood out from the ranks of the enemy.

Movement rocks the ships as the conversation grows harsher. Bastion's fingers curled up tightly by his side, his face streaked with slight annoyance. Soldiers and pirates both turn at the sound of a shout, including the blonde. It is at this moment when their eyes meet, bright cerulean to jaded emerald, and Eliza sees his own widen at the sight of her.

Interesting.

She was twenty five when he finally admits that he loves her.

It happens in the middle of a battle between pirate and navy, and Eliza cannot help but curse at his impeccable timing. How unfortunate, to be the apple of an enemy's eyes, an enemy who won't even take his own post seriously. He was lucky that he had the connections. She wouldn't expect anything less for the Governor's nephew though she still didn't understand who in their right mind would allow an esteemed one such as he to travel the seas. They exchanged blows on the quarter deck of the British brig, and for the thirty-eighth time in two years she bats away his incessant attempts to flirt with her.

Alfred F. Jones, a name she has come to regret knowing as any mention of it would lead to merciless teasing by her fellow crewmates, merely ducks his blonde head in embarrassment before defending his position against the rail, the spark returning to his eyes as quick as it had burn out. It almost makes her smile in exasperation. Four years younger, and still very much a boy in her own eyes.

Ever since he had laid eyes on her, he had, in his own words, "started to feel an indescribable feeling". His heart had begin to pound quickly, his throat had gone dry, and then he had proceed to describe every symptom of lovesickness there was. He had gotten so into it that he scarcely notice how close a few cutlasses had come to cutting off his ears. It would have been endearing, Eliza thinks, if the object of his attentions had been someone else.

Puppy love was not something she wanted to bother with, especially not with the enemy, where many of her friends had died at the hands of. Unfortunately the topic had become such a running joke of sorts within the crew even in the midst of all the tensions, that after every battle the same teases and question would come without fail, and Eliza has to bark and return the playful jabs tenfold before they would leave her at peace. He was too young anyway, and it would be too ironic and sad if he were to really fall for her; a jaded, older, married woman who might as well be a widow.

Yet regardless of what she thought, he stuck relentlessly to his pursuit - three years spent chasing the Tainted Star with the royal navy, sacrificing his youth for life-endangering acts - . She admired him for it, his youth and his vibrancy, and most of all, (they exchange banter and the clashing metal of swords, and she sees the glow of excitement in his eyes, the tousle of wind in his wild hair, one that mirrors hers in tandem) the shared love of being free. But no matter how pure his intentions were she knows she cannot return his feelings.

A strong kick against chest to loosen his hold, a swift slash of rope, and she is in the air, adjusting her stance as she lands gracefully next to her Captain on the deck of a more familiar ship. Cannons fire, and Eliza locks eyes with heated blue as the Tainted Star travels away victorious, leaving behind a smoking carrier.

She is twenty six in the present and exasperated with anything to do concerning her current situation. Fate must really hate her.

...

"On guard! In the name of th-"

With a roll of her eyes Elizaveta swings her cutlass underneath the offending aristocrat before he could finish, drawing blood and a pained shout as the man staggered back and toppled into the rolling waves below. The deck creaks as the Spanish galleon lurches forward, her hull slipping narrowly out of harm's way from the body of the single British brig.

Shouts and movement sound across all decks, curses ridden with slangs and instruction following the deafening sound of boots cluttering over gangplanks and anchored ropes that separate the Tainted Star from her freedom. Cannon fire booms, and Eliza winces as she grasps the hilt of her blade and hacks at another advancing uniformed man. The salty breeze tousles her unruly hair as she grunts, dodging and thrusting her cutlass forward, sword meeting sword as pirate and soldier tussle in a battle of strength for an opening.

The ship makes a shaky jolt, sending jets of water up in the air as it rocked dangerously from side to side. The sudden force sends every men onto the floor of the deck, and Eliza grunts painfully as her ankle lands awkwardly on the soaked wooden planks, her free hand grappling for something to hold on. The soldier was not so lucky; with flailing arms he falls backwards and down the stairs onto the main deck, landing on top another of his comrade, their swords clattering onto the floor as they lay disoriented and knocked out.

"Shake them foul dogs off, give no quarter!"

"She's lost control Captain! The Tainted Star-"

"Then give her leeway you ninny! The Navy won't be getting any of us old seadogs today, they will not have my ship!"

The galleon groans, and vaguely Eliza can hear someone shouting for all hands to get on deck. A fellow pirate was pushing against the careering steering wheel, his feet scrabbling backwards as the stubborn mechanism continued to swing right, driving the ship closer to the carrier. Hurriedly she stands up, ignoring the sting of her ankle as she stumbled to help him. A navy soldier jumps down from a swinging rope and lands in front of her before she makes it, lifting both his sword and his hat at her as he smiles.

"If it isn't my favourite lady," blue eyes glint playfully under the sun and Eliza scowls, "how was your day?"

"It was going rather well until your party showed up, Alfred F. Jones." A lock of stray hairs brush passed her face. She really should consider chopping her hair off since her braids and ponytail wasn't helping any.

"Ah,... didn't you miss me? Just a little bit?" The soldier grins as he lowered his head and hat slightly towards her in mock reverence. There was genuine gentleness and actual curiosity in them, and Eliza sighs inwardly. Here they go again.

"Go back to Kirkland, Jones. I'm not in the mood for any of your games today." Like clockwork she brandished her cutlass threateningly and lifted it until it was level with his own.

"Not without you I wo-"

"Are you two lovebirds really going to flirt in front of me, or are you going to help me lassie?" A moment passed as the two stared at the struggling pirate with his grip on the steering wheel, the latter looking back at them with annoyance and faint amusement on his strained face. As one, two swords clash against the other, and the pirate goes back to pushing the stuck wheel as the two begin duelling around him.

Their sparring attracts the attention of more soldiers, and before long Eliza has to turn around to bat away unwanted thrusts and intruding weapons. It is a sudden moment when Alfred grabs her hand and twirls her around swiftly. Her feet hit the deck, and she finds her cutlass hitting the back of a fellow pirate's instead of the supposed British soldier. Both of them exchanged surprised looks before she is spun back into a firm chest, moving back to her original position as her cutlass knocks the sabre out of the hands of the first British soldier. Alfred does the same to the pirate that was now behind her, and with instinct both of their legs reach out to swipe their respective enemies off their feet. The ship hurls unsteadily again, and the movement sends both men flying away towards the mast.

Their hands disconnect, and with a spinning motion both of them spun around to meet swords again, the clinging metal sharp as they held their stares. "I wish they wouldn't come and bother us." His shoulder's were heaving from their little dance, soft pants escaping his mouth as he looked down at her. Eliza has to gaze up at him when she fixes him an annoyed look, but her eyes betray her surprise even as she scoffs. He had never initiated physical contact before.

"That's not a nice thing to say about your comrades. Kirkland would flog you." Her cutlass trembles with exertion as she uses her body weight to push him away. His arm wraps around her waist before she could do otherwise, while the other twists their outstretched arms until both cutlasses become locked above their heads. She clicks her tongue in irritation, squirming as Alfred shrugs and brings them closer, the hand around her waist resting firmly.

"What are you doing?" She was breathless , panting heavily as she was pushed to lean onto his frame. Alfred does not reply, moving nearer to her face with a look she couldn't quite decipher in his eyes. Their hips bump and something within her starts to panic. This was new territory, and the close proximity was making her nervous. She had never been this close to anyone before, never been this intimate since- "Jones, let go of me you stinking idiot!" Her free hand fists the cloth of his jacket harshly, trying to pull him away. He was too close. Their noses bump, and Eliza swallows harshly as she was forced to watch the blues in his eye.

There were little flecks of shining colours in his irises, like the millions of stars that had lit up the dark sky while the Tainted Star had been drifting through the sea one night. They looked to be beautiful treasures, and she scoffs at the idea of such poetic musings in her head. This trail of thought lead to memories of the only man that she had ever allowed to do her wrong, and this was something she rather not remember, scorned as she was. Perhaps on a day of drinking and dealing with the boys, but today is not that day.

"Swine." She tries to mouth hatefully, but Alfred merely smiles, the skin close to his eyelids crinkling as he bends down. "A selfish swine, but one that has become enamoured with a lady of the sea." The sounds of battle fade as the insult catches in the back of her throat. Her heart was beating erratically but she did not know why. She could smell him, his sweat and scent, taste the sea in his breath, one that mirrors her own. Alfred lean forwards, and her eyes squeezed shut, feeling so vulnerable all of a sudden. How unbecoming of her.

Something soft touches the tip of her nose, and Eliza inhales sharply as he pulls away, eyes fluttering open as she shook her cutlass free. She frowns when Alfred chuckles, but makes no move towards him, the blade having fallen to her side limply.

"By the ends of my arse, you guys really are flirting." The pirate shakes his head, wonderment in his beady eyes. "Captain's coming lassie, you better finish him!"

Cannon shots sound, and with that cue both of them pick up swords again. This time Eliza thrusts first, but Alfred dodges with ease, moving closer to the bars and railings of the deck. A gold-trimmed sword slashes a centimetre where his nose was a moment before, and Eliza turns towards the top of the stairs to the sight of her Captain.

"Who do we have here? A wee lad harassing a member of my crew."

Magnus Bastion points his sword at the lone soldier before tilting his head to look at her, raising an eyebrow in question. When she grimaces and shrugs helplessly, he shakes his head, the cigar in his mouth sparking as he turns to observe the still soldier. That is the last that Eliza sees of Alfred before she turns her head abruptly to help the struggling pirate push against the jammed wheel, ignoring his offhand mentions of her red face and the sounds of clashing metal behind her.

Damn Jones. She knows she hasn't seen the last of him yet. When the Tainted Star finally pulls free of the damaged carrier and moves away towards port, the thin swishing of a rope catches her ears. Eliza watches as Alfred drops onto the deck British ship, his back sprouting a large cut and seeping blood. On the deck of the galleon, Captain Bastion wipes the back of his sword on the clothes of a dead soldier before taking over the wheel from his man, locking eyes with her as he did.

"It be bad to trifle with a boy like him, Héderváry."

"I didn't ask for him to like me." The words were muttered softly in the wind as they both watched the rest of the crew secure the masts and sails while others finished off leftover stragglers or bounded them in chains. It had always been a cycle for them, they meet, they fight, he flirts, she rebuffs, somehow they never did managed to kill the other, they leave, and they meet again, weeks or months later for the whole cycle to start anew. Something had changed today, and Eliza isn't sure she likes it.

"Aye, you didn't." Bastion's broad arms steer the Tainted Star further away from the smoking ship towards the safety of vast waters. "But all the same, he is your responsibility now."

The next time they meet is on the Tainted Star's deck. He bounded in chains, and she dismayed when Magus Bastion puts her in charge of his wellbeing, all the while watching her with a strange twinkle in his eye. Eliza has no idea how the navy soldier had managed to wound his way onto the Tainted Star alone, but judging by the exhausted wince on his face and his sullen complexion, she would be better off not knowing.

The catcalls and mostly loud teasing threatened to burst through the mouths of the men, but she merely pursed her lips thinly as she pulled him down hatch to the hold of the ship, keeping silent throughout. It is only when he is behind a locked cell does she turn to look at him, disapproval evident on her face. She doesn't quite think to leave yet despite the dank and slimy conditions of the place, weighing her words carefully as she observes how Alfred sinks to the floor with a drawn-out sigh.

"Well, aren't you foolish."

She pretends not to notice how his face lights up when the words leave her mouth. Despite his circumstances a sheepish grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he lets loose a strangled laugh. "Hey, you don't have to add more wood to the fire, you know?"

"If you were trying to get into good graces with Kirkland by doing this, at least bring a couple of men along and put up a fight." It felt strange; talking to him without the sounds of battle around them.

"I wasn't trying to take over your ship, Eliza."

"Really?" Her tone was humouring, and it showed in the way she looked over him dubiously.

"Yes." His reply was as candid as he could muster. "I wanted to see you."

She half-expects him to flush with a bashful duck of his head, reminiscent of the young eighteen year old she had first saw. He doesn't, looking at her instead with earnest, a determined, almost challenging gaze. She does not return it. Silence reins back into the room, broken only by the rattling of chains as the soldier shift to find a more comfortable position, suddenly finding the atmosphere stifling.

"You are a boy obsessed, Jones." The pirate's footsteps echo almost harshly against the rotting floor towards the exit. Eliza stops and angles her head back once so that Alfred can glimpse the furrow of her brows and the sharpness of her eyes. "Nothing worthwhile will come of you chasing me. So stop running."

If she could have her way, she would never step foot into the hold to see him again. But Captain's orders were word on the Tainted Star, so it isn't long before she returns, bearing a bowl of food and an apple that she was sure would be a mark improvement from the scraps some of the men had thrown him for the past three days.

"You are lucky the Captain didn't make you walk the plank." She says as she watched him wolf down the apple greedily. Just what have they been giving him?

"The Captain." Alfred finishes his apple almost regretfully, licking the precious juice that trickle down his lips with his tongue. There were dark bags under his eyes, and he talked with a slight rasp. "Why is it always about him around you?"

"You have a problem with who I talk about?"

If she didn't know better, she would think he looked almost annoyed. "Well no, it's just that I'm starting to get the impression you two are-" He doesn't finish, his mouth shutting abruptly as he resumed looking at the floor with tightened lips.

"Together?" Eliza completes, and revels in amusement at the sight of how he tried not to let the tension get to him. There was another emotion in her mind she could not place, but she pushes it away in favour of standing up, an almost, strangely sad smile on her lips as she takes the finished bowl of food away.

"You have more important things to be worrying about, Jones."

The sun was setting, haloing the sky with shades of orange and pink. The Tainted Star drifted lazily through the water, set for no particular course of direction as hearty laughter and the beginnings of drunken rambling wafted from all corners of the ship. Alone, Eliza rests her hands against the side of the deck, watching the darkening waters sparkle with reflections. Just like the stars, but there was something missing. The blues were incorrect; they lack the gentleness, the rhythmic, the sincerity-

"Thought I'd find you here Héderváry." Wood creaks beneath feet as a pair of new arrivals join her by the rails.

"Captain." She lets out a soft snigger. "Not joining the boys today?"

"Nay, let them have some time to themselves. Not every day they can relax on their own." Magus Bastion lets out a long and drawn-out sigh as he looks out at the ocean, his eyes blinking with sudden exhaustion. For the first time Eliza notices the strands of white scattered between his sandy blonde hair. Concern ebbs through her, and she sobers minutely, the smile leaving her face.

"Bastion? You alright?"

"Aye." For a while there was nothing but the sloshing of water against the hull as the two watched the sun slip further down below the waves. "The Governor has sent word. They come within a week." The low murmur reaches her ears softly, and Eliza breaks her stare to focus on her Captain instead.

"About time. Good riddance to him."

"Is that what you really mean?"

"You think I'm in love with him." Just like the others! The hinted-accusation burns, and she narrows her eyes as her grip on wood tightens.

"I know you feel strongly for him." Bastion's sharp eyes meets hers with equal ferocity, and with reluctance Eliza backs down, annoyance and unhappiness smeared across her face as emotions and turmoil simmered through her body.

"Time's running Héderváry." The bigger man stretched as he pushed himself up from the rails, eyeing her with a serious look before he turned towards his cabin. "Do what you think is best."

The sun was almost gone when Eliza turns back to the view. The winking sparkles on the surface of the waves had disappeared along with it, and Eliza tries not to miss it too much as she rested her chin on the wood, feeling unsatisfied as she waited for the stars to appear.

She brings a satchel filled generously with water for him when she visits, watching silently as he grappled and down the liquid life desperately. His skin was pallid, and Eliza wonders if he misses seeing the sun and smelling the fresh breeze without the feel of chains bounding his feet.

She knows she would.

His back was toward her, pressed against the bars of the cell as he rested with soft breaths. The raggedness in him had abided once she started to sneak him better food and water, but there was still a tiredness in him caused by the two weeks that he had spent locked in. She squats, shifting until her back pressed the cold metal separating her from Alfred's back. Her head goes limp, resting on rusty bars and warmness as she closes her eyes, mouth twitching when she hears the sharp intake of breath from behind her. The action had been on a whim, but she finds her body heavy and unwilling to move as the seconds tick by. In response, Alfred presses his back until it was almost straining against the poking metal. She can feel his heat, though the no matter how much she fidgeted uncomfortably on the damp floor and how much he strained they could not touch.

"Eliza?" His voice comes with no more rasp, albeit uncertain, as though testing new waters. "Remember the time I kissed you?"

So he was breaching this topic today. How fitting. She does not give him a signal that counted for him to stop, but neither did she asked him to continue. He does so anyway, his next words finally coaxing a reaction out of her.

"I'm sorry for that. I really am."

Her head almost lifts from the prison bars as she involuntarily jerks.

"I didn't think." He ploughed on, knowing that he had caught her full attention. A weary laugh leaves his mouth. "I guess that was why you were angry at me."

"Angry?"

"Back when I first got caught." Was that why he had not tried anything with her lately? "It was on impulse. I should not have taken advantage of you like that, even if you are a pirate."

A pirate,.. something she would forever be for the rest of her days. Yes, that was what she would be and always be. Eliza moves, breaking away from her position as she twists her body to face him. Alfred stiffens from the lack of her presence, turning over slowly. His eyes reflect surprise when he notices she hasn't pulled away completely to stand or move away.

"It's alright."

"Aren't you mad?" The surprise on his features kept growing bigger. It was endearing to watch.

"Not anymore." And she knows it as the truth. Her eyes close and blink open. "Kirkland is coming." She thinks he should be relieved, yet all she sees is alarm and a begging in his eyes as he shakes his head slowly from side to side.

"I, I don't want to talk about him. Not here, not now. Please."

"Alfred," she hovers hesitantly when he snaps his gaze back to her, eyes wide with shock. "It's okay."

"I don't want to leave you."

"You rather stay in the hold?"

The words shut him up. Alfred gives her a frustrated look as his hand reaches out of the bars and clambers for her. His touch was light, loose, as though he had thought she would pull back. He would have let her then, but she doesn't. His fingers do not stray from her cheek, nor do they stroke or press or grasp as she expects. They only touch, and somehow that moment was much more intimate than anything else she had ever experienced during her married days with her best friend.

It would have been easy; the words You can come with me both at the tip of their tongues. But they don't say it because as free as they were, they understood. And those words, those words would bound and trap the other and take away what they craved and loved the most.

They know, so they won't.

"I love you." He says for the fortieth time, eyes lidded with sorrow and dancing stars as he stares into swaying green. Just like grass, like the land.

"I know." She whispers back with a smile -still sad, still knowing, but nevertheless a smile- , deepening it when she sees a grin form on his face, finally having been granted an answer after so long.

In the end she is the one that leans forward, and the pads of his fingertips contract in air when her lips touch his. They don't move for a long time, noses breathing shallowly in tandem, but eventually the digging of the metal bars and the stiffness of her awkward position forces her to part her mouth for air. The slightest brush of her upper lip against him in accident, and he retaliates, mouth chasing hers as they engaged in gentle, timid kissing as comfortably as they can.

Eliza moves away soon enough with an embarrassed laugh and starry eyes. Alfred too laughs with an even redder face, before retracting his hand back to his lap.

Both sides were silent as they watched the British soldier return to his comrade's side, walking across the plank that separated ship from ship. Governor Kirkland's face was positively storming, but a deal was a deal, and Eliza hoots along proudly as her fellow mates cheered jubilantly when their Captain tells them that their enemy had been publicly humiliated, the chest full of precious gems sitting by his side littering under the sun. The crew watches victoriously as the British carrier slinks sullenly back towards land, but none of them have any doubt that they would clash again someday.

And they very much look forward to it.

"Well lass?" Someone shouts from the back, attracting the attention of every crew member onboard and distracting them from the prospect of good rum and celebratory liquor. The crowd parts for him, and Eliza recognises the same pirate she had helped before at the steering wheel. "Ya miss the prisoner yet?"

A few good-natured chuckles and eager looks between the crew were exchanged and shot at her, but Eliza merely grins as she brushed the looks away.

"You could say that." Out of the corner of her eyes she sees Magus Bastion looking at her with a curious twist of his lips. "I look forward to giving him a good thrashing the next time I see him."

They had exchanged glances before he had left, glinting blue and gleaming green. Her heart still speeds up when she thinks back to how he had smiled crookedly at her before he had disappeared beneath the ranks of soldiers. How unlike her.

"And then kiss him?" The pirate waggles an eyebrow suggestively as a few men attempted to contain their sniggers.

This time her laughter comes out full blown and genuine.

"Perhaps."

A/N

Listening to POTC 3's ost does things to me.

This story was a drabble turned full-fledged fic from a kiss fic challenge on tumblr. This proves I cannot write short things. Nevertheless, I hoped you enjoyed reading this. This was a very impromptu piece of work but I liked writing it. The pairing is strange and dynamic enough and I think they would work well together in canon. (Kinda like PruHun in a way.)

I originally had 3 endings for this story. The Happy-slightly-harder-to-write End where Alfred gets trained in the way of the pirate instead (and they lived happily ever after ahaha pssh no they don't but it's probably the closest to it). The Neutral End where things go back the way they were but not really (which is this one), or the Bad End, where someone gets killed in a fight. Probably the most realistic end, but its angst and I need to take a break from writing those. ...Then again every end has angst so it's give and take I suppose.

Scottish accent pirate is best character.

School and projects are really zapping my time away but I will try my best to do more stuff! My multi chaptered fic is coming along slowly. Just gotta polish up and add stuff in.