The Pirate Queen

Chapter 18

Pre-Chapter Note: I know the timeline between the beginning of the story to now is a little wonky, but everything from here on is written as intended. I will be going back to fix it all when everything is published to keep it all straight. Thank you again for reading (especially the long chapters) and voting! Enjoy!

Later came that night when the crew was gathered on the deck for the evening shennigans and Eric was again perched on the bow, half-hidden by a mast and a rolled-up sail. The sail cushioned his back as he sat there, balanced on the wooden beam to look up at the stars. There were a few more wisps of clouds out tonight, but Eric could have pictured the night sky with his eyes closed.

He let out a long sigh and tilted his head back, closing his eyes as a soft breeze blew gently through his hair. It reminded him of Cordelia running her fingers through his hair at night when she tucked him into the bed, and the thought made his already sore heart ache even more.

Unlike many of the Queen's before her, and countless court ladies, Cordelia never passed Eric off to a nanny or wet nurse to raise her son. She nursed him herself, changed his diapers, stayed up with him late into the night when he couldn't sleep. She taught him to crawl, to walk, to run. She helped him with his school lessons, sat with him while he figured out how to read, and taught him to ride a horse. Queen Cordelia was never afraid of getting her hands or her skirts dirty, and would charge straight into the surf after her son on the beach, laughing and shouting in glee.

Eric learned what happiness and love looked like from his mother. When she'd carry him in her arms to his room, even though he was too big for it but she "just wants to hold her baby boy." Love was the look in her eyes and the smile she'd give him as she ran her fingers through his hair, humming a lullaby to get him to fall asleep. He'd drift briefly out of unconsciousness when she'd kiss his forehead and whisper goodnight, before slipping out from his room.

The last time he'd gotten a full, peaceful night of sleep was when his mother had brushed back his hair, kissed his forehead, and told him she loved him for the last time. The next night she was gone.

A board creaking had Eric opening his eyes to see Flounder walking towards him, alone, an amber bottle in each hand.

"What is that?" he asked suspiciously.

Flounder snorted and set the bottle beside Eric. "Rum from the storeroom, so I hope you didn't spike it."

Eric picked up the bottle and looked back and forth between it and Flounder before taking a long drink. When he went to wipe his mouth he found his cheeks were wet as well. He didn't realize he'd been crying.

Flounder didn't say anything, about Eric's damp cheeks or why he'd sought him out with the rum. He just leaned against the railing, drinking, content to the silence.

After a few minutes, and a few more drags of liquid courage, Eric cleared his throat to get Flounder's attention. "Why are you over here?"

The first mate shrugged, setting his bottle down on the ground next to him. He leaned on his elbows, hands clasped in front of him. Eric noticed him absently twirling a plain gold ring around his left ring finger, then a gold ring on his pinkie, and back to his ring finger. A lot of the crew wore jewelry, especially rings, but Eric couldn't remember ever seeing Flounder with the rings until now. Maybe he just didn't have the opportunity, its not like they were together, alone, very often. Or ever.

The sudden realization of this made him sit up even straighter. Whatever Flounder had for seeking him out alone must be important than. 

"I joined the crew shortly before Jora left the Dauntless," Flounder said. He didn't look at Eric, keeping his eyes firmly on the horizon. "I was the son of a bastard, no family, nothing going for me except my size. Captain Nott caught me trying to pickpocket him and instead of whipping me, put me to work on his ship."