Nothing but thieves

4. Blood in the water

Thunk. Another arrow hit the mast, bullseye as she'd expected.

Months had passed and she was still stuck in the hellhole that was the isle of the lost.
Uma had found nothing. Surprise, surprise.

Months of research and effort had ended in exactly zero results and Maeve wasn't the only one that was pissed off.

Uma had been in a foul mood, and had decieded to take it out on anyone that committed even the slightest inconvenience towards her.

Maeve scowled, it wasn't as if it was their fault. After all only her and Uma knew about their efforts. But she wasn't going to judge her for it. Her and Uma felt the same anger, the same disappointment, she knew that much.

Even if they had decieded to take out their frustrations out in different ways.
Why else would Maeve be standing on the ships deck in the middle of the night?

She'd come here after a particularly petty argument with Hook. He'd tried to humiliate her in front of the crew again, tried to show them that he alone should be first mate not the both of them. It hadn't worked, she wasn't stupid but it had sent her blood boiling enough to call him out on it.

Which then led to a fight. Which then led to Uma screaming at them that she 'wasn't in the fucking mood' for their games.

"bastard" she muttered to herself, releasing another arrow into the night, imagining it was his face instead of the lousy target she'd drawn.

Gil was behind her babbling some irritating story about his father, how strong, how brave , how perfect he was.

It was enough for Maeve to feel like throwing up her empty stomach.

Gil had sat down awhile ago and hadn't stopped talking since despite Maeves lack of reactions or interest to his story.
Maybe he hadnt noticed, maybe he didn't care, maybe he just wanted to talk to someone but Maeve just kept with her routine, load, release, fire.

She didn't blame him though. Most of the isle kids were in awe of their parents.
They relished the tales of glory, real or not, and to be honest that's all they had from them, hand me down stories of another time, one where things weren't so depressing. Maybe she'd feel the same way if her mother was still around.

Maeve bit back a snarl at the thought.

Sierra Castilia was a sore subject for, well anybody on the isle.

Her attempts to find out about her mother had often been met with tight lipped silence or a nasty warning to stay away from those stories.

Because the people of the isle were scared, scared of her mother and by extension her.

She was thankful for that at least. But there was a reason her mother was feared. Villains like maleficent were often told as the most feared villain but Sierra Castila invoked terror in even the residents of the isle.

Because Sierra Castilia had killed.

When you looked at the tales told through Auradon and the isle it was easy to note the lack of lives lost. But Sierra's tale was different, it had set her apart, made her feared.

Maeve didn't see the problem.

But she had killed as well so perhaps she thought differently.
The thought of that night made bile rise in her throat once again, the terror she'd had felt, that mans hands all over her, the coppery scent of his blood that lingered so long she swore she could smell it even now... No.

She would not let the weakness show. She had done what was necessary and there would be no more time to dwell on it.

However she gripped the bow tighter and the face of her target became him, replacing her thoughts of mal and the king.