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artificialqueens · 4 years

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In the Arms of the Ocean (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: After Vanessa’s ship sinks, she is accidentally rescued by her rival, Brooke Lynn Hytes. The two pirates are forced to work together to find treasure, and they might find something more in each other.

A/N: This is an au for @barbiehytes that’s been living rent-free in my head for a while, and I was finally able to finish it! I really hope you enjoy it! Thank you to Barbie for being so patient and supportive, and to Writ for helping me brainstorm and plot this, for betaing, and for FaceTiming me with your review. Your support means so much to me <3 <3 <3

I hope you enjoy, and I’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you have! Title from Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine.

—

Vanessa is wide awake when lightning strikes the ship.

She sleeps better at sea than on land, the gentle swaying of the boat and soft rush of ocean her favorite lullaby. Sleeping while a storm rages ruins that. It tosses the ship around like a toy, the waves like monsters biting at the wood. She spends nights like these in the comfort of the kitchen, cup of tea warming her.

The teacup in question–white with tiny roses, purchased at a market years ago–flies out of her hands as thunder claps and the boat rattles. It shatters on the floor, pieces like bone against the wood, but that’s the least of her problems. Because she knows the ship has cracked, feels it like a crack in her own heart.

Vanessa runs onto the main deck, struggling to stand as rain beats down and wind howls in her ears. The ship tips forward, and Vanessa gasps when a flash of lightning illuminates the crack running down the ship’s side. Water rushes onto the deck, making her shiver as it hits her legs. She has to get her crew–

Another crackle of lightning flashes, the bolt writhing toward the main mast. It gives with a mighty crack, her entire world splitting in two as the impact sends her flying. Her head smacks against the wood, and darkness takes her like a storm.

—

Vanessa’s pretty sure she’s dead.

She’s floating, but not moving. Everything is silent and dark. She wants to get up, see where she is, but she’s so tired. Her body is made of lead and it’s easier to keep her eyes shut, let the darkness take over.

Pain wakes her the second time, and maybe she’s not dead, because death probably shouldn’t hurt like this. Her head is pounding, her legs burning, and each breath sends shards of glass through her chest. Her ribs must be cracked. Maybe broken.

She can’t sit up, but maybe she can open her eyes—bright, way too bright. She whimpers and curls into herself, riding out the pain until everything stops spinning. Slowly, slowly, she eases open one eye, blinking through the cloud of pain.

By sheer luck, she’s on a piece of driftwood. She doesn’t know how long she’s been drifting, but she’s in the middle of the ocean, nothing in sight. Even if her dry throat could manage a cry for help, no one would hear it.

Her crew is gone. Four people who were her family, who happily lived off ocean air, who played cards with her, all gone. She wants to sob and scream and fight, give them the sorrow they deserve, but her dry eyes can’t even form tears. She lost her crew and—

Oh, God, her ship.

Annabel’s Beauty, named after her mother who wanted to sail her whole life and never got the chance. It wasn’t big, with old wood that creaked all night, but it was her home. The curves of the wood were a blanket around her, safe and warm. She hadn’t gone down with the ship, hadn’t given it a final send-off. She failed her crew, failed her ship, and the ache in her chest has nothing to do with her ribs.

There’s nothing left, just this chunk of wood beneath her and the endless sea ready to swallow her up. It’s only a matter of time. She almost welcomes it. This wood isn’t big enough for her grief, but the sea has centuries of it, lonely sailors and lost lovers and beloved ships in its depths. She’ll be just another speck of the sadness.

She’s grateful when sleep claims her once more.

—

“She’s alive, we have to help her!”

“Nina—“

“We have to.”

Vanessa barely notices that someone’s lifting her. Everything is blurry and far away, like she’s underwater, but she glimpses a ship with Ancer painted on the side and a kind woman laying her down, holding a water jug to her lips.

“Drink, there you go,” the kind woman praises. The water is heaven to Vanessa’s scratchy throat, and her vision clears. She’s on a ship deck with two worried women nearby. The right side of her face is stiff with dried blood and her head throbs. Her mind is too foggy to care where she is, but she seems safe, and that’s enough.

“Nina, she must be really hurt,” one woman says. “All that blood—“

“You can fix her,” the brunette—Nina—says confidently.

“Maybe, but she’ll be pissed.”

Vanessa’s too tired to wonder who this she is, but the answer could be in the sudden click of boots.

“Well, well, well,” a cool voice begins. “What do we have here?” The owner of the voice emerges, and every curse Vanessa knows flies through her hazy brain.

This is bad. This is so bad. It’s not Ancer on the side of the boat. She’s on the Water Dancer.

She’s on Brooke Lynn Hytes’s ship.

Hytes has been her rival for years, both of them sailing the coast for treasure and stealing from men who hold cities in their hands. Every journey, Hytes was either a few paces behind, or, making Vanessa boil with anger, ahead. Ports and islands became their battleground, each docking a chance at riches for whoever got there first, neither above dirty tricks to succeed. Last she knew Hytes was going after the Charles treasure, which was where Vanessa was heading…

Hytes is every inch a captain as she towers over Vanessa. She’s blanketed in darkness from her slick black boots to her black coat with its re-stitched hem from when Vanessa slashed it during a diamond hunt. A gold medallion dangles from her neck, shining against her milky skin. Brooke’s cool hand gently cups Vanessa’s chin and tips her head up, forcing her to meet Brooke’s eyes, misty as the sea. Vanessa shivers under Brooke’s gaze, suddenly self-conscious of her raggedy, blood-stained shirt and shredded black pants. She looks like a drowned rat next to Hytes’s grandeur, and that won’t do. She knocks Brooke’s hand away and staggers to her feet even as Nina tells her to stay down.

“Mateo,” Brooke says with a wicked grin.

“Hytes,” Vanessa croaks.

She stalks around Vanessa in a circle, a tiger watching its prey. Vanessa burns where Brooke’s eyes bear into her, like she can see Vanessa’s soul. “Mateo, shipwrecked like a little rat. Not so tough now, are we?”

Vanessa says nothing even as her heart races.

Brooke rubs her hands in thought, still smiling. “Now, what should I do with you? Maybe–”

“We have to help her, Brooke,” Nina interrupts.

Brooke sighs. “Nina, we barely have enough rations already. You want another mouth to feed?” There’s real concern for her crew in Brooke’s words, not that Vanessa cares when her life is at stake. “Not to mention a mouth that’s cheated us out of who knows how much gold—“

“If you’re sick of bein’ beat, move those stupid legs faster.” Vanessa can’t stay quiet anymore. If she didn’t lose her sword in the shipwreck, she’d be at Brooke’s throat.

Brooke flushes, and Vanessa surges with pride at finally getting to her. “You come on my ship—”

“I didn’t want to come here, believe me. I don’t have a choice.”

Brooke glows with evil glee. “No, you don’t have a choice.”

Vanessa gulps, because the murderous gleam in Brooke’s eyes can’t be good. She has to do something, something big enough to stay alive. She frantically looks around, getting her bearings like she always can at sea. The Jewel Cliffs are behind them, and it hits her–

“Wait!” Vanessa screams. “I know you’re going after the Charles treasure.”

Brooke freezes.

“And you’re going the wrong way.”

Nina gasps and Brooke pales, forehead creasing in worry before smoothing out. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” Vanessa stands straighter, wincing as pain shoots through her ribs. “You think I’m bluffing, then kill me. Sure would suck if you can’t find it, though. All that searching for nothing.” Vanessa leans in. “I can get us there in a few weeks.”

Brooke clenches her fists. Vanessa keeps standing tall, expression blank. She has Brooke. No way will she risk losing the gold.

“Fine,” Brooke snaps. “You stay alive, you get me the treasure, and I dump you at the nearest town.”

“You dump me home,” Vanessa insists, “or I won’t find it.”

Brooke nods.

“How do I know you’re not bluffing?” Vanessa asks. “You could kill me after you get your treasure.” Brooke plays just as dirty as Vanessa, and she’d be a fool to agree blindly.

Brooke sighs like that was her plan, but then she flips her left hand over and points to the thick white scar slicing across her palm. Vanessa recognizes a promise scar when she sees one.

“You see this?” Brooke asks, finger running across the line breaking her skin. “It means I keep my word. I’ll get your mouth back home, if you get me the treasure.”

Up close, Vanessa sees it’s so thick because it’s not just one scar. There are two others underneath, faded into her pale skin. Brooke made three promises to people that she intended to keep forever. Three times she had cut her palm open and watched it bleed, healing into a scar to remind her of her promise. They aren’t taken lightly among pirates, and Vanessa has to admit it makes her want to trust Brooke.

“Fine,” Vanessa spits.

“Don’t think this is kindness, Mateo. If you lied, the sea can have you.” She turns to the other woman. “A’keria, fix her up,” she says before retreating.

Vanessa limps forward on legs stinging with cuts from the shipwreck, refusing to be weak in front of her enemies. But A’keria’s hands find her, keeping her upright as she’s helped into a small room, and Vanessa doesn’t have the strength to refuse.

A wet cloth works through the blood on her face, and A’keria’s gentle, Vanessa gives her that. Not that it matters when her face is one giant bruise.

A’keria pours whiskey over another cloth. “This’ll sting,” she says, sounding truly sorry.

Vanessa bites out curse after curse as her cuts burn, because no way is it getting back to Hytes that she screamed.

A’keria pulls out a needle and thread, and Vanessa snatches the whiskey and takes a long gulp.

—

Brooke paces her captain’s office, shuffling maps in fury. “I don’t believe this. She’s on my ship, and now I have to feed her and keep her alive to get my damn treasure!”

“Brooke,” Nina says quietly, more patient than one person should be.

“What?” Brooke demands.

“Vanessa’s hurt, and she lost her boat and her crew. That can’t be easy,” Nina says and Brooke thinks of what a good person Nina is. Better than her, for sure.

Brooke stops pacing. She can’t imagine losing her crew. Nina and A’keria and Yvie are the best family she’s ever had, and the ship is the only true home she’s known. But Mateo?

Mateo’s just a scoundrel, beating Brooke out of treasure by sheer luck, swooping in and stealing it after Brooke did the work of finding it. Just last month Mateo set off some explosion that reeked of rotten eggs to steal the Cain rubies from Brooke’s hands. But she did survive the shipwreck, had enough strength in her to hang on, and Brooke’s reluctantly impressed.

“If she does her part, I’ll do mine. I keep my word.”

“I know.” Nina glances at Brooke’s palm. The promise she made to Nina is the oldest scar there, a thin white line Brooke hopes she fulfills every day.

“It doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. Have Yvie scout the new course.”

Nina leaves and Brooke drops into her desk chair, fixing maps. How could she have the Charles treasure route wrong? She’s been searching for years, sketching and re-sketching paths, calculating distances, poring over maps until candles burned down to the nub. She finally had it this time—or she thought she did.

What makes Mateo so sure she’s right? The idea of her having knowledge Brooke doesn’t have makes her blood boil. Brooke’s the captain; she takes pride in knowing everything she needs to, in protecting her crew and never leading them astray. But Mateo does have a knack for beating the odds, showing up places she shouldn’t, and if there’s any chance she’s right, Brooke has to keep her alive. She won’t lose her treasure.

It’s not ideal, and though Mateo supposedly has the knowledge, Brooke has the upper hand. She’s still the captain, her chest warm with the comfort of control. She sets her black hat on her head and goes to the main deck to reset their course.

—

Vanessa is led to dinner by Yvie, the sailing master who spends most of the day perched up on the top mast. A’keria bandaged Vanessa and gave her fresh clothes and tea to help the pain, and it’s the best she’s felt since her ship sank. She even cleaned Vanessa’s favorite black vest, and it’s a piece of home hugging her.

The kitchen is smaller than the one on Vanessa’s ship, with a battered wooden table in the center. Vanessa wonders if this table has seen the life hers did, card games and arm-wrestling and food spills all fair game on its surface.

Nina ladles out stew, and Brooke is first in line, of course. The bowl Nina gives her is filled to the brim, and when Brooke thinks no one is looking, she tips some stew back in the pot. Vanessa realizes that she’s taking less so her crew can have more, and it changes something in her perception of Brooke just a bit, knowing she’s capable of kindness, however rarely. Vanessa files it away for future use.

“It’s really good, Yvie,” Nina says as everyone slurps stew.

“Thanks. Not as good as yours, though,” Yvie says.

“You all cook?” Vanessa asks. She misses dinner conversations with her crew, and though Brooke is silent at the head of the table, the rest are friendly.

A’keria nods. “We share it. Except Brooke. One time she made chicken and we gave it to stray dogs at a dock and–”

Brooke’s warning glare cuts her off.

“–And even they wouldn’t eat it,” A’keria whispers to Vanessa. They smile and talk through dinner, and Vanessa thinks she’s found a friend.

Brooke tells Vanessa to scrub the dishes, and Vanessa sighs. On her ship, they alternated cleaning duties, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Brooke sticks her with dishes every night. It could be worse, though. And besides, she has the knowledge here. If she ever wants out, she’ll just threaten not to tell Brooke where the treasure is. She’s outsmarted Brooke before, and she can do it again.

“Let me help. You’re hurt.”

Vanessa turns to see Nina, cloth in hand.

“Thank you.” Vanessa’s too weary to do anything but accept.

Nina nods. “Don’t let Brooke scare you. She’s just mad we had to change course. She likes to keep on schedule.”

Vanessa snorts. “I’m not scared of her. She should be scared of me.”

With that, Vanessa dries her last dish and goes to bed, wrapping herself in a warm blanket and melting into the pillows. She’s seconds from sleep when a lion roars near her.

“What the hell?” She mutters.

She realizes she’s next to Brooke’s cabin, and of course Brooke snores like a damn animal. Cursing Brooke, Vanessa buries her head in the pillow and drifts off.

—

Brooke rises before sunrise, stretching her long limbs and continuing her routine in the kitchen. She fixes tea with one spoonful of sugar from their supply sack, the cup stinging her hands as she walks across the deck. The captain is always up first, and before Brooke starts preparing for the day, she watches the sunrise light up the worn deck and twinkle off the deep blue water. It’s her favorite part of the day, everything still and quiet, just her and the ocean without a care in the world.

But today, someone’s beaten her to it.

Vanessa stands in Brooke’s spot along the ship’s side, eyes fixed on the sea like she’s searching for something. What she’s searching for, Brooke doesn’t know or care–she only cares that Vanessa is up before her, that she’s done who knows what in that time.

“What are you doing?” Brooke demands, standing next to Vanessa. “Are you snooping around on my ship?”

“Just looking at the sea. Not a crime, is it?” She snaps.

“No, but it’s suspicious. Especially this early.”

“Captain’s always up first,” Vanessa says. She turns back to the ocean, and her eyes seem sad.

“Oh, when did I die and make you captain?” Brooke asks in mock confusion.

“I–”

“You need a ship to be a captain.” Brooke doesn’t know why she’s being so mean. Maybe because waking before the world and watching the sunrise has been hers alone since she started sailing, something sacred to her.

Vanessa’s shoulders slump and she sighs. “I always watched the sunrise on my ship. Thought it’d be nice to do it here.” She blinks quickly, and Brooke steps back in alarm at the dampness pooling in her eyes.

Vanessa is the only person who could keep up with Brooke, her only real opponent. It’s kept Brooke on her toes over the years, made her smarter, stealthier. Through sword fights and chases Vanessa never lost heart, coming back just as fierce after defeat. To see her this upset, this defeated, is… strange. Like something too personal for Brooke to witness. Though she doesn’t know how to handle it, she understands, because Brooke wouldn’t wish what happened to her on anyone.

Brooke clears her throat. “You can stay, all right?” She retreats, and keeps glancing at Vanessa while she ties knots.

Vanessa’s eyes never leave the water.

—

Every morning, Vanessa stares at the water, wondering if she could have done more to save her crew. Brooke stands with her in silence. She knows Brooke does it to keep an eye on her rather than keep her company, and though Vanessa would rather spend time with a slug than Brooke, it is nice to have someone there; the mere presence of another person helps Vanessa feel like more than just the lone survivor, helps her feel human.

Vanessa ties on her red bandanna and throws herself into every task Brooke gives her. Her years of experience shine, and Brooke can’t find a flaw in her work. She tries, sure–hovering behind Vanessa as she secures ropes and pulleys, eyes alert for any mistake–but Vanessa’s skills meet Brooke’s standards, and Brooke moves onto her own work, scanning maps and fiddling with her compass.

Vanessa could protest about Brooke watching her like some lowly cabin boy, could complain that Brooke works her too hard, but in a way, she’s grateful to have a purpose. Grateful for the distraction from the lingering pain in her head, from the fierce pain in her heart over losing her crew and ship. When she’s working, nothing else matters. Getting lost in the familiarity of her hands tying knots and adjusting sails helps her forget the shipwreck, even for just a few minutes. She whistles to herself, and sometimes A’keria hums along while Yvie conducts from the top mast, and it’s like she’s back home, on her ship.

But the next second that pain is back, and she burns with shame over pretending this ship is her home, over forgetting her crew and how they’d constantly catch fresh fish for Vanessa’s favorite dinner. This ship isn’t her home, won’t ever be her home, and she can’t forget her crew.

She does her work, and the cuts on her legs hurt less every day, fading into her scar collection. Even breathing gets easier as her ribs mend. Her ship may have cracked, but she won’t, taking everything the ocean threw at her and growing stronger from it. Even without a ship, her heart is still a captain’s heart.

—

“This is right?” Brooke stares at the path Vanessa drew on the map. “Past Nautilus Bay, through the Sparrow Strait, and into Cayo Cove?” The Sparrow Strait is a mess of sharp rocks and jagged cliffs that claims more ships than anywhere in the ocean, and Brooke knows they’ll need all her skills to get through.

“Why, having doubts about sailing there? You should be able to, being a captain and all,” Vanessa says, smiling cheekily at Brooke. The grin lights up her face and Brooke’s stomach twists. Brooke’s always seen Vanessa during fights or chases, when everything was sweaty and breathless and frantic. She’s never seen Vanessa this close for this long before, and Brooke finds that she’s sort of pretty when she’s not covered in blood and fighting to stay alive. This Vanessa happily whistles off-key while she ties knots with care, excitedly pointing out birds that fly by, her necklaces–one gold, one beaded–swinging merrily while she works. The clothes A’keria gave her are a little too big, and Brooke can’t stop staring at the tattooed bit of Vanessa’s chest that the loose white shirt exposes.

Brooke clenches her fist, vowing not to give in. “I’m not worried. I’m a captain, like you said.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, Captain Hytes. How’d you become captain, anyway? You steal a ship?”

Brooke considers telling Vanessa it’s none of her business, but Vanessa’s raising her eyebrow mischievously, and what would shut her up better than the truth?

“I ran away from home after my father arranged my marriage without telling me. I stole some of his gold to get by. I earned the ship myself and found my crew. They elected me.”

This ship was the first thing that was truly hers, not given by her father so she could boost his image. It was her first taste of independence and freedom, hair whipping in the wind, released from pins that gave her a headache, sea rippling beneath her. She was free, and no one could take it from her.

Vanessa’s mouth hangs open, and Brooke grins.

“Sounds like your father would get along with mine.” Vanessa recovers quickly. “He kept trying to set me up too. My mother always stopped him. Then she passed, and I ran before he could marry me off.”

It doesn’t surprise Brooke, but it’s unnerving to have another similarity with Vanessa, to have this glimpse into her life. Brooke doesn’t know what to do with it, and she wishes she never shared her story.

“Sorry about your mother,” Brooke says quietly. She catches herself, though, coughing away the sudden pang of sympathy in her chest as she adds gruffly, “Don’t forget to check the cables.”

“Done,” Vanessa says smugly.

Brooke falters. Vanessa’s good, she has to admit. “Well, find something to do,” she says, marching across the deck to Nina.

“Adjust the sails,” Brooke commands, “we have our heading.”

—

Vanessa is staring at the water one morning when Brooke arrives, her frown likely because Vanessa was up first. It’s a point of pride for Vanessa, that even when she can’t captain her own ship, she’s still awake first, fulfilling her role in that tiny way. It gives her the same glee she gets doing things before Brooke commands her to, flaunting her experience as captain.

Brooke sips tea with one hand and clutches her brass telescope with the other.

“We just passed the Salt Coast,” Brooke informs her.

The name stirs something in Vanessa’s mind. “Isn’t that where you stole those jewels from me?”

Brooke grins smugly. “I didn’t steal them. You and I were fighting, and Yvie took them while you were distracted.”

“That’s stealing!”

“We’re pirates, Mateo. Stealing’s what we do.”

“I like to call it ‘finding and keeping,’” Vanessa says sheepishly.

Brooke snorts, a real snort that makes Vanessa smile at how loud it is. The sunrise hits Brooke at the same time, and suddenly she’s bathed in warm golden light that dulls the sharpness in her face, softens her a little. She really is pretty like this, her coat rippling in the wind, her eyes shining, and Vanessa’s heart skips a beat.

“Besides, you’ve stolen from me several times, as I recall,” Brooke says. “There was Turtle Isle–”

Vanessa laughs, because Turtle Isle was one of her biggest finds. She had docked far away from Brooke and crept through the dense, muggy grass, dodging frogs and bugs, emerging from the trees and stealing the chest of silver just when Brooke uncovered it.

“I got a lot of money for those cups, thanks for that,” Vanessa says with a smile.

“Guess you’ll make up for it soon.”

“Since I’m making up for it, maybe I don’t have to do dishes tonight?” Her hands are raw from scrubbing, and she might as well try when Brooke’s in a good mood.

After a beat of silence, Brooke nods.

Vanessa smiles. “While we’re at it, can we have fish for dinner?”

“If you catch them.” Brooke pauses. “There’s extra water in the kettle, if you want tea.”

Vanessa can’t hide her surprise. Maybe talking like this, sharing memories only they have, has brought out some kindness from deep inside Brooke. Vanessa fills a teacup, and they drink together.

Later, Vanessa loses herself in fishing, preparing the traps and mustering up all her patience, removing the bones and rubbing in salt and pepper, and when everyone digs in, Brooke says it’s the best fish she’s had.

—

The Water Dancer sails on, and the excitement–the frantic shuffling of maps as they get closer, outlines of land popping up after days of blue ocean, the promise of treasure making the boat fly across the water—rubs off on everyone. They help each other scrub the deck and monitor supplies, breathless with how close they are. Vanessa’s trying to convince herself that they’ll make it, that the storm won’t come for her this time.

Brooke encourages her crew with restraint, careful not to get overexcited or make foolish mistakes, soothing the crew’s worries about the dangers of the strait while pacing a hole in the deck worrying about it herself. It’s just what Vanessa would do, and she’s not sure what to do with the similarity, another thing marking Brooke as her equal. Because Brooke is her only equal, the only one who’s competed with her over the years. Even if it was annoying as hell, Brooke like a bad scent you couldn’t shake, Vanessa enjoyed the challenge, and Brooke is the only one who can challenge her.

“Morning,” Vanessa greets Brooke cautiously as the sun rises.

Brooke chews her lip. “Sky’s awful red.”

Vanessa understands at once. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning, goes the old saying, and they’re set to reach the strait tonight.

“Looks pink to me.”

“Mateo–”

“Hey.” Vanessa’s surprised at how gentle her voice is, how much she wants it to calm Brooke. “We’ll be fine, Br–Hytes. You’re the second best captain in the sea.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Second best?”

Vanessa grins. “You didn’t think I’d put you above me, did ya?”

Brooke laughs then, the worries melting off her face. “Mateo?”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me with a constrictor knot for the sails? My fingers keep getting stuck, and you–you’re better at knots than I am.”

Vanessa flushes at the praise. She knows she’s a master at knots, but to hear it from Brooke–an equally skilled sailor who doesn’t give compliments–makes it all the better. It’s recognition she never thought she’d get from Brooke, and she knows it took guts for Brooke to say it.

From Brooke’s hesitant face, it’s like she expects Vanessa to say no, but it won’t do her any good if the knots aren’t secure, and for some reason, she wants to help Brooke, match her kindness.

“Of course I’ll help.”

Brooke’s shoulders loosen in relief, and she directs Vanessa to the sails.

Vanessa slips her hands around the rope, looping and knotting and twisting. The constrictor knot is one of the hardest knots, something Vanessa’s slim fingers are well-suited for. She notices Brooke marveling at her hands, and Vanessa pulls the rope with a flourish, unable to resist showing off a little. Finally, Brooke takes a turn, Vanessa slipping in now and then to guide her fingers, the touches like lightning on Vanessa’s skin. Brooke’s hands are captain’s hands, strong and sturdy and a little rough, especially the raised lines of her promise scars. They’re gentle though, ghosting over Vanessa’s like she’s afraid of hurting her. When the last knot is secured, Brooke smiles in triumph, and Vanessa smiles with her.

“Tea?” Vanessa offers, figuring it might help the haze in her mind after touching Brooke’s hands.

They drink together, red sky forgotten.

—

Brooke is still thinking about Vanessa’s hands that night, a welcome distraction from the chilly waters of the approaching Sparrow Strait. How they weaved in and out the rope so quickly, so delicately. How the tiny calluses on her fingers contrast the softness of her wrists and palms. How they warmed Brooke’s whole body every time they brushed. She pictures Vanessa’s hand in hers, and then the ship’s bell rings, jolting her out of the fantasy.

The Sparrow Strait looms before them, and Brooke’s stomach jumps in anticipation. If she can get through this, the treasure is theirs.

The crew stands around her in worry, and Brooke can’t blame them. Tendrils of fog swirl around the jagged rocks they have to sail through, sky as dark as a bruise.

“We can do this,” Brooke says confidently. “I want everyone below deck. I’ll sail us through it.”

Nina immediately shakes her head. “Brooke, you shouldn’t stay alone–”

“Nina,” Brooke begins softly, “You’re my second in command. If anything happens to me, you’re captain. Stay inside, please. Be safe. All of you,” she adds, cutting off A’keria and Yvie’s protests.

Nina grips her wrist, eyes teary, and Brooke knows Nina will listen even though every ounce of her wants to stay. She grabs Nina’s arm, nods that she’ll be all right.

“I’ll stay,” Vanessa says.

Everyone gapes at her.

Vanessa shrugs. “I’ll make sure we’re on the right track. Besides, any pirate worth their salt knows you shouldn’t sail alone at night.”

Brooke could protest, insist she’s perfectly capable of doing this, but she doesn’t. Sailing alone at night is always scary, but in the Sparrow Strait, it’s worse than anywhere. In this kind of water, you never know if the shadows swirling around the boat are fish or much worse, and that fear will only worsen as the night goes on. She’s better off having someone with her, even if it’s Vanessa, and Brooke agrees, still in disbelief over Vanessa’s bravery.

It’s just Brooke and Vanessa and a lantern to ward off the dark, unseen birds piercing the night with ghostly screeches. But Brooke thinks she’d take the birds when Vanessa starts singing.

“Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest!”

“Mateo.”

“Yo-ho-ho and a bottle o’ rum!”

“Mateo, I swear I’ll feed you to the sharks.” There’s no real malice in Brooke’s voice. Truthfully, she’s grateful for something to break the tension, to make those shadows creeping below look more like fish than monsters. She decides to ask Vanessa the question that’s been bothering her.

“How’d you know where the treasure is? No one even knows it exists.”

Vanessa sighs. “Because I was looking for it too. I finally had the right way, and I was so close.” She screws her eyes shut. “Then the storm came outta nowhere. Destroyed my ship and almost killed me.” She rolls up her pant legs, revealing several fresh pink scars. They’re probably from sharp edges of ship debris cutting her, and Brooke winces in sympathy. She peers closer, frowning in confusion. A long scar runs the length of Vanessa’s right leg, too faded to be from her shipwreck.

“What about that one?” Brooke asks. “It looks old.”

Vanessa fixes her pants and nods. “It’s from a few years ago. These pirates ambushed us. I was taking on three of ‘em, and one got me with his sword.”

“Shit.” Brooke whistles, slightly impressed over Vanessa taking on three men at once.

“Yes,” Vanessa agrees. “I couldn’t walk for a week. Had to just give out commands.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t hard for you, with that mouth,” Brooke mutters.

Vanessa elbows her playfully. Her face turns serious again as she rolls up her sleeve, and Brooke gasps at the P branded into her forearm, skin around the edges puckered and pink, a mark of punishment captors gave to pirates. Brooke can’t imagine how much it hurt, can’t believe Vanessa is trusting her like this.

“I got caught once,” Vanessa says darkly. “I was just looking at stuff in a market, but this governor said he knew I was a pirate. He threw me in a cell, and then I smelled the branding iron. I tried to fight him…” She sighs, and Brooke knows Vanessa didn’t go quietly. “Took three of his men to hold me down for it. It hurt like a bitch.”

Anger rises in Brooke’s chest, burning with the urge to find the man who did this and make him hurt like he hurt Vanessa.

“How’d you get away?”

“My crew snuck inside and stole the key. Otherwise…” She trails off and Brooke understands that she wouldn’t be here without them.

“Well, I’m glad they got you out,” Brooke says. “To find my treasure and all.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes, losing the sadness that makes Brooke’s heart hurt. “Sure, Hytes.”

Vanessa goes quiet and Brooke figures it’s her turn. Vanessa’s shown hers, and Brooke can trade scar stories all day. There’s some sort of connection, some agreement that this is all right. The ship is their circle of protection from sharp rocks and ghostly moonlight, and Brooke doesn’t mind sharing. Brooke carefully shifts her shirt, revealing white lines creeping over her shoulders like tendrils. Vanessa’s mouth drops open.

“Brooke, that looks like it’s from–”

“A whip,” Brooke finishes grimly. “From the owner of that tavern in White Point. He was stealing from customers and I was ready to expose him, but he caught me, tied me up in his cellar. Got my shoulder and some of my back with his whip. Took A’keria hours to fix me up.” She grins. “I got him, though. Took him out with my hands tied behind my back.”

Brooke still remembers that night–the itchy rope cutting into her wrists, the discomfort nothing once the searing pain of the whip hit her; how she knocked the man out with a strong kick and satisfying crunch before staggering back to Nina, half-conscious and soaked with blood.

Vanessa returns the smile. Beneath the fear and pain of captures and fights, there’s a certain thrill and glory in it, which they both know well. It’s something Brooke can’t share with anyone else, and it’s nice to have someone who understands, who won’t judge her.

Brooke lifts her shirt, showing off the scar above her hip. “From a duel,” she explains. “Someone went after Yvie and I told him to back off, so he challenged me.” She smiles again, giddy with the memory. “Idiot. He lasted five seconds.”

“What about…” Vanessa gestures to Brooke’s hand. Brooke turns her palm to Vanessa, like she’s baring her soul. The scars were painless compared to her others, but they’re her most important ones.

“My promise scars. One for Nina, one for A’keria, one for Yvie.”

“What did you promise?”

“I promised that they’d always have a home on my ship, and that I’d always protect them.”

Vanessa’s shoulders scrunch up, and by the time another heartbeat passes, her face is soaked with tears. Brooke desperately wants to hold her, rub her back, soothe those tears away. She can’t imagine how bad the wreck was to take Vanessa’s smile from her, and she wants to put it back, put Vanessa’s teasing and confidence back too, because it hurts to see her unravel like this. “I just…I miss my crew,” Vanessa says through breathy sobs. “I should’ve got to them in time–”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“But–”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Brooke repeats firmly. She hands Vanessa a handkerchief from her coat pocket. She wracks her brain for the right words, and this time, she has them. She knows how Vanessa feels, knows how much a captain wants to protect their crew, how they want to find control and blame in things that don’t have either. “You’re a good captain, Mateo. Almost as good as me,” she says, heart lightening when Vanessa cracks a smile. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

Vanessa sniffles and nods, extending the handkerchief to Brooke.

“Keep it.”

Vanessa nods again, blushing as her eyes meet Brooke’s. “Thank you.” Brooke knows she means it for everything.

“You’re welcome.”

Vanessa steps closer, just a foot away. Brooke’s heart is racing, wondering why Vanessa has crept so close, wondering what would happen if she reaches out for her–

Vanessa’s shout tears through the night, and Brooke jumps back, instantly alert. She turns and gasps as the fog clears.

They’re heading straight toward a giant rock.

—

Vanessa’s brain is still fogged with everything that’s happened tonight–Brooke’s softness, the stories they shared, the handkerchief tucked neatly inside Vanessa’s pocket–when Brooke barks out commands to pull them away from the approaching rock.

“Lower the anchor!” Brooke radiates sheer strength and confidence, so sure of what needs to be done, so sure she can do it.

Something about her hands gripping the wheel, her steady shoulders rippling, makes warmth pool in Vanessa’s stomach. She can’t take her eyes away, and it’s not until Brooke shouts her name that she remembers to drop the anchor.

Vanessa isn’t sure of this, doesn’t know if the anchor will give enough leverage to swing them around, but she can’t think of another option, and she’s in awe of how quickly Brooke’s mind came up with it. Vanessa holds her breath as Brooke turns the wheel, using the anchor to propel the ship’s trajectory around the rock. It works, the ship passing by so closely Vanessa could reach out and touch the slimy rock, but they make it. They make it and around the turn is a cave where the treasure awaits.

“We did it.” Brooke collapses onto the deck in relief, and Vanessa’s wobbly legs join her.

“We did it,” Vanessa repeats, giggling as the ship nears the cave. Brooke giggles with her, more carefree and happy than Vanessa ever thought she’d be. “You’re a damn good captain,” Vanessa says. Everything she’s learned about Brooke tonight swims in her mind, from her promise to protect her crew, to the way she helped Vanessa, to the cool confidence that just saved them. Her heart is racing, and she knows it’s not just because of the excitement. It’s because Brooke, soft and laughing with her hair messy, makes her heart flutter.

Brooke’s hat has fallen on the deck and Vanessa gently places it back on her head. She can’t resist tucking a stray piece of Brooke’s hair behind her ear, freezing when she meets Brooke’s eyes. She backs away but Brooke is tugging her closer, and then their lips meet, and Vanessa explodes with the same rush she had sailing the first time: standing on the deck of her ship like she was on top of the world, her heart swelling with joy as the ship moved through the bright sea, the entire world ahead of her.

For all her steel, all Vanessa has to do is grip Brooke’s shoulder and the woman is melting in her hands, her chest rising gently as her hands roam Vanessa’s back, holding her close. They pull apart once the ship slams into the shoreline, and Vanessa doubts the treasure in the cave will be as good as the one she just got.

—

“Sure is dark in here,” Vanessa mumbles as they twist through cool cave walls. She stays close to Brooke and her lantern, needing the security not only of the light, but of Brooke herself.

“That’s because we’re in a cave,” Brooke deadpans, and Yvie snorts behind them.

Vanessa lets the kiss keep her warm as they twist and turn further into the cave and the temperature drops until they’re all shivering.

A’keria is complaining that she should’ve worn her winter coat when a room of glittering gold opens before them. Jewels and cups and coins spill over bumpy rocks, and in the center lies an ornate chest, the wood old but the gold still gleaming under the lantern light. It’s not even locked, like the owner left it here just for them.

Brooke jumps up beside her, the crew clapping and grabbing jewels as they traipse toward the chest.

“Open it, Brooke!” Nina yells.

Brooke stares at the chest longingly, then shakes her head.

She turns to Vanessa, her eyes brighter than any jewel.

“Vanessa, we wouldn’t have found this without you. Will you open it with me?”

It’s the first time Brooke has called her Vanessa instead of Mateo, and Vanessa knows she’s pulled back all the layers hiding Brooke’s heart and brought it out now. Vanessa’s own heart warms at the musical sound of her name on Brooke’s lips, at Brooke fully recognizing her as an equal. This is Brooke declaring her love, and Vanessa runs to the chest with her.

It’s taken Vanessa years of sailing and a shipwreck to get here, and though she never pictured it like this, it seems right somehow, having Brooke by her side. Their hands brush over the clasp and they unlatch it with a mighty tug, lifting the lid and gasping at the sheer amount of gold before them–coins and cups and rings and necklaces, more than either of them has ever found.

“Everyone gets a share,” Brooke says over the cheers of her crew. “You too,” she whispers to Vanessa.

Vanessa kisses her cheek, and they haul the chest back onto the ship, giddy and laughing over how much money it will get them, how they’ll have enough rations and be able to keep sailing.

Brooke pulls her to the side of the ship where they watch the sun each morning, holding Vanessa’s hands tightly.

Brooke keeps opening and closing her mouth like she’s afraid of what she has to say, and Vanessa squeezes her hands, nods that it’s all right, and Brooke smiles at her.

“Vanessa, I know I said I’d drop you home, and I will.” She takes a breath. “But if you’d like to stay and sail with me–”

“I do,” Vanessa interrupts. Maybe this ship could become her home too, and these people her family. She knows she won’t forget her own crew, or her ship; they’ll always be part of her, running through her veins like the sea.

Brooke grins, pulling her into another hug. “Well, then,” she says, “where to?”

Vanessa doesn’t answer, but just holds Brooke tighter. With the wind in her hair and Brooke by her side, Vanessa will go anywhere.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #akeria davenport #yvie oddly #branjie #lesbian au #pirate au #angst #hurt/comfort #athena2 #s11 #tw blood #tw injury #tw mentioned violence #concrit welcome #submission

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