The WindFlyer

Chapter 13

Captain Astoria's PoV

Something like understanding flickers in Draen's eyes for the briefest moment before it is cut off and the look of hatred for me returns. I don't blame him, I don't think, for hating me. I am everything he was raised to hate: a pirate and criminal. I am the thing that mothers warn their children about, what fathers pray they never encounter. Funnily, I almost feel sorry for the prince. He will never know the joy of life, he will never know the freedom of the unbound world before him, he will never know the peace and laughter here. And I pity him for his title. I know the weight of the shackles he wears and will wear for the rest of his life. I know the pressure and weight of the crown he will wear, I pity him because I understand him. I know what it is like to feel that and be that. And maybe some small part of him understands me too.

"Is this city not enough?" I mutter under my breath not really planning on having him hear it or answer my question, but he does catch what I've said.

"What?"

"I said, is this city not enough? Is it not enough to have this one place where joy and laughter and light can bloom?" I say, gaining force now. The prince seems taken aback by what I ask. But I don't speak again, deciding that now I want an answer. My silence is my prompt for him to respond.

"It... this city is... unimaginable. It's like nothing I know and it is incredible," Draen says. I blink in shock, but he is not done yet. "This city is what I wish my kingdom, what I wish every kingdom in the whole damn archipelago, could be like." Similar. I decide that the prince and I are far more similar than I had thought.

"Then why," I say with clenched teeth, "does it bother you so much that I left the poison that is my kingdom and every other kingdom?"

"Because of what you became for this city," he says softly.

"What I became? You mean a pirate?" I scoff slightly at that.

"That you had to become so cold and cruel to protect this place. That you had to run away from your home at, what 14? and become a pirate because it was the only way for you to be free," he says and I swear I can almost hear sadness in his voice.

I straighten my spine and stare at him, "I do not regret anything I've ever done." I do not need his pity, there is nothing to pity. Look at where I am, look at where I started. I have done the impossible, I have given people who were hopeless a life. I have created a space of healing and art and life against all odds. I have become strong, if anything.

The prince cocks his head and looks at me with a strange glint in his eyes. "I know," is all he says before tipping his glass back and drinking the rest of the whisky. He gets up without another word and leaves me. I blink in surprise, surely that cannot be all his questions, I voice my thought to him and he chuckles, maybe a good sign. "There will be other nights," he replies and I shake my head at him in confusion. He was so angry when he stormed onto my roof tonight. Surly he hasn't gotten over his rage. For the first time in a long time, I do not understand.

I stay on my roof for a while longer, not wanting to go in and not wanting to sleep, lest I miss some of the nights greatest treasure. The silence and stillness of the night bring me joy. It is a rare moment when I don't have to be someone or put on a face for people to see. Sitting here, alone, it's like I finally don't have to be what the world expects. And maybe it is only for a moment that I can drop the mask, and maybe no one ever sees that part of me. The part that loves so fiercely and hurts so strongly. Maybe I don't want anyone to see that part of me, either.

I lean back on the slope of my roof and stare at the sky, the stars and moon greeting me with open arms. I smile at them, my guide through many nights, my anchor through many storms. I know they are only stars, but I see a smile and joy in every one of them. I push myself up from my prone position and stand, taking one last look out over the city before I turn to go back inside. I look to the harbor and beyond that, the sea. I look at my ship, WindFlyer, alone in the harbor, her three masts like spears to the sky. The only ship in the harbor. Some people say the ship reflects the captain, I like to think it goes both ways. As I look lovingly at my ship, all I can think is that she looks rather lonely all alone in the harbor.

I pad softly over the roof in my bare feet, not wanting to wake any of my houses sleeping occupants who may hear my steps above them. A cool breeze caresses my hair before I descend the makeshift ladder I designed for my house. The roof has always been a sanctuary for me, few know how to get up to it and fewer dare disturb me while I'm up here. I land inside my home and walk to my bedroom, the door clicking shut behind me. I fall into bed, exhausted from months at sea. I close my eyes and steady my breathing, feeling the calm slip in as sleep takes me.

<•>

I am in a stone room, it looks... familiar to me somehow. I glance around at dozens of faceless people surrounding me. Confusion floods my senses. Where am I? Why do I know this place?

Light streams in from several long windows throughout the room, bathing it in a golden light. The stones beneath my feet are made of sandstone, as are the columns that hold up the ceiling of this room. There is a mosaic upon the ceiling of a great olive tree. I scowl to myself and begin walking in the room, trying to find something else to remind me where I am. As I pass, a hushed whisper seems to fall over the crowd in the room, as if everyone is watching me. The flowing skirts of the dress I am wearing swish oddly against the ground. Strange, I rarely wear dresses these days.

I round a bend and stop abruptly. Now I know where I am. Now I remember. This place... I called this place my home at one point. My father is standing at the end of the room just as I remember him from the last time I saw him. My mother stands slightly behind him, eyes cast downward in a show of her submission to the king and her husband. To his right, my younger brother stands grinning like the devil and behind him, standing with my mother is my younger sister, her hands clasped in front of her and her head down.

My father beckons me forward, ordering me to walk down the aisle but I refuse, remaining glued to my spot. I try and turn around, try to flee but strong hands grasp my arms. I root myself to my spot, trying to dig my heels into the stone but it is no use. The guards drag me forward as I shake my head. No. No. I do not want this. I look to the people on the room, begging someone to help me but no one moves.

I begin to scream as I am forcibly shoved down on the throne. My father violent grabs my wrist and clamps a heavy iron chain around it, smiling as he does so. He moved to my next hand. The weight of the chains, the feel of them sends my stomach rolling. My protests become louder, I scream for help. Somebody, anybody, please! But no one moves. No one dares to aid me as I pull on the chains roughly rooted into the throne. I try and launch out of the seat only to be met with chains on my feet.

My father wraps a chain around my body, forcing my back against the chair. I continue to thrash and fight until something wet touches my brow. I look up to see my father's smiles as he holds the crown above my head, it is slick and dripping with red liquid: blood. I can do nothing but sit as my father places it on my head from behind the throne. The minute it touches my head, I hear the screaming of slaves begging for death as their masters beat them. I hear the sobs of mothers whose children were ripped from their arms. I hear the sound of endless graves being dug. I try and scream with them, to let them know that someone cares, but I find a white clothe tied around my mouth. The only act of defiance left for me to offer now are my tears, which stream down my face as the sounds get louder...

And louder...

And louder.