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Chapter Text

The wind howled through Andrei’s hair, a breath tickling his ear in a sinful whisper. The rain tapped against the umbrella that was held over his head by his personal maid, a girl no older than twenty years old whose gaze was on her drenched and mud-soaked boots. The King had berated her for daring to cast her peasant eyes on his father’s gravestone for he claimed that it was a sign of disrespect. So, she chose to bow her head low, staying like that until the King deemed it was time to return to the castle grounds. However, they continued to stand there, unmoving. The environment around them ceased to a pause, everything living in absolute stillness. The only thing that moved were Andrei’s eyes as they trailed down line after line of scribbles that were his father’s handwriting on a crumpled piece of parchment, ripped off a longer scroll without so much an effort to trim the jagged end. The further he advanced to the end of the paper, the tighter his grip became, his gloved fingers almost tearing through the aged material. His stupid king of a father… Had that old man been any more of a responsible king, Andrei would not be holding this unnecessarily lengthy letter, filled to the brim with his father’s dying wishes.

He read it over and over again. His cold glare studying the same words for the hundredth time in hopes that they would shift and alter to what he wished. He was king now but here he was trapped within some inked words on parchment. He did not care for the stone that marked the land where his father laid buried beneath his feet. Curse that old man for leaving him with all these stupid tasks and not words of encouragement. It was typical of his father. What was stranger was that the man had the time to spare a thought for his sister, Princess Mary, who had left their family a long time ago for a gang of pirates. She had been a foolish child and it was foolish of their father to even mention that wretched girl’s name in his letter where Andrei’s own name had been written, a letter that was addressed to him.

The letter read:

‘To my oldest son, now King of Polumnyy,

I hope this letter finds you well. By the time you’re reading this, it is likely that I have already moved on to the life after, wherever that is. My son, inheriting the throne comes with great responsibilities that you will have to bear and unfortunately, I am unable to be there to guide you through these beginning steps of your reign. However, this letter includes most of what you need to know and do for our kingdom to continue thriving.

Andrei did not care for the financial state of Polumnyy for he had ministers and lords to handle those issues. What caught his eye were the final paragraphs. The burden that those very words bore came crashing down upon his shoulder and the impact could have sent him six feet under, right beside his father in his grave. Inhaling sharply through his teeth, he ignored the uncomfortable shift from that had come from the corner of his eye and revisited the same lines.

Polumnyy’s fate lies in your hands. You hold the power to unite kingdoms through marriage alone… Were your sister here, we would have already been halfway there to building the empire we planned if she had married that Drubetskoy prince in that other kingdom. I pray you will not commit the same mistakes she made and I hope that you will be wise for I know that you tend to allow your idiocy and irrational thoughts to distort your decisions. I have seen it for myself, my son, so I beseech you to be cautious. Be careful of who you meddle with too. You may hold the kingdom in your hands but would you be able to defend yourself with your hands full? I suppose not…

Now, Andrei… You must have an heir to inherit the throne if you were to meet the same fate as I have otherwise your sister will succeed you as Polumnyy’s new queen, and we both are aware how terribly incapable that girl is. If not, the throne will be bequeathed to your cousins. Keep the Bolkonsky bloodline alive or soon enough, we’ll be wiped off the face of the earth into extinction.

The members of the court will be there to remind you of your duties in case you lose track of your work. Remember, you are the only one who can keep both, Polumnyy and the Bolkonsky bloodline, alive.

Don’t fail your family and, most importantly, yourself.

Your father, Nikolay Bolkonsky

With an agitated huff, he folded the letter and shoved it away into his pocket unceremoniously. The paper tore but he did not care. He did not need it to nag him about his duties. After all, his father had already mentioned in the letter that his entire court would be there to do the job. Snapping his fingers, he motioned for the maid to start walking back to the castle. He turned his eyes away from his father’s gravestone without so much a bow of his head and he trudged his way back to the open castle doors, his maid scurrying quickly in an attempt to keep up with his quick strides through the mud. With her scraps for shoes, they only slowed her down.

“I haven’t got all day, girl. You either hurry up or I’ll leave you in the rain to freeze,” Andrei scolded sternly, and the girl resorted to removing her shoes to move through the muddied trail.

The girl hastened into the castle beside Andrei and he excused her with a single scoff that was enough to send her scampering away from his side. He made his way to his study, his eyes fixated on the long hallway where he could see the polished doors of his private room. He did not care for the world around him nor did he seem to notice the environment that he was in too. The people were nothing but pests, these blurs that he called servants. His father had been one of them. A blur that constantly plagued his mind like an insect buzzing right beside his ear until he shooed it away. Absentmindedly, he walked underneath a ladder where a servant stood on the highest step to polish one of the many family portraits that hung in the hallway, lined in a neat row. The path had been cleared for him, the carpet smoothened out but he did not acknowledge the workers of these alterations.

Servants came from every corner to dry the man and change him out of his ruined boots but he showed no sign that he was going to stop in his trail to let them do their job without any trouble. Once he reached the doors of his study, he was already dried. His hair was combed back neatly and his feet were concealed within a new pair of glossy black boots, polished to perfection. Stepping inside, he closed the doors behind him with a click of a lock.

He tossed the letter into the fire, relishing in the crackling of flames as the heat licked at the paper, eventually burning it into nothing but ash. Sitting in a plush velvet seat behind a shining ebony desk, he propped his legs up on the table and hummed to himself in thought. He would have to begin making plans and hold meetings with his court to settle the first issue his father had decided to prioritize and that was uniting kingdoms to create an empire and a stronger army. Marriage, his father had said. That would mean finding a suitable woman to rule by his side, someone he could consider his equal. Was that possible? He did not know.

His last engagement fell into shambles and it had almost led him to his ruin. He was not going to let himself repeat the same thing. God forbid that he did, or he was certain that his father would return to earth as a ghost to haunt him until the end of his days. He closed his eyes, listened to the rain tap on his window. Or that could have been his father’s spirit arriving to remind him to get a move on before he could delay any moment further. He did not know where to begin nor did he know who to confide in to travel into these new horizons with. He would have to do it all by himself. Whatever it took.

Chapter Text

The rain pattered against the window panes, muffled behind a layer of thick handsewn curtains that blocked out the natural morning light from illuminating the dimmed room. Although the grey clouds were a haze over the little town, it did not stop the sun from shining in all of its glory. It was the wake of dawn, the sun barely peeking beyond the sealine in the distance but the town was awake. The rain slowed to a pleasant drizzle and the droplets drummed against the panes in a soothing rhythm. Soon, the grey washed away into a beautiful blend of blues and the fiery swirls of orange as the sun rose above the sea, settling into the sky. Outside, the sound of chatter among neighbors began to rise along with the chirping of birds that had decide to nest by the windowsill just outside the bedroom of a certain Akhrosimova. The nearby marketplace buzzed into life within a matter of minutes and it announced the start of the day for Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova.

Feeling very much awake, Marya felt reluctant to leave the comfort of the pillows her head rested upon and the blanket that twisted around her body, intertwining her warm body against another warmer one. Blinking through the last hints of sleep, she was met with the sight of a mess of curls resting on her numbed arm; not that she minded. Brushing away a lock of tendrils, Marya gazed upon her sleeping lover with fondness, laughing to herself when the sleeping woman let out an incoherent murmur. Hélène Kuragin laid in the spot beside her own, her face buried against the crook of Marya’s neck comfortably. Her breath tickled Marya’s skin in a gentle caress and each breath reminded her that she was not alone… That she had someone to wake up to every morning, someone to love and someone who loved her back. Marya’s heart fluttered in her chest as it so often did whenever she laid her eyes upon Hélène. The feeling never got old and she could never understand why it happened. They had been together for months, nearly a year now but it all still felt like some sort of blooming romance. She could fall in love with Hélène over and over again.

She bent down to press a kiss to her forehead. Even if Marya wanted to leave, she could not for her lover’s head rested upon her arm and she did not wish to wake her up this early. However, work called. If she was not sailing, Marya would assist the mayor in managing order and discipline in the town since the authorities were not doing the best job. With Marya at her post, no one dared to defy her. Her presence alone was enough to bring peace and prevent mischief. Those who walked past her greeted her politely, no matter their status or family name. It was a routine everyone had learned to adopt; bow their heads low, greet the captain then leave her be. It was never Marya’s doing to implement such a ridiculous thing but if it did the job of maintaining order in the town, and preserving her title as the Terrible Dragon, it would do just fine.

It was quite ironic for a pirate captain to maintain order in a town when their main objective was to bring chaos and loot unsuspecting people. To Marya, being a pirate was just a title she had adopted for she did not know any other better term to define her identity besides a godmother and the Terrible Dragon. The woman held onto her morals for her dear life and going against them would mean killing her true self. Even with the numerous titles that she had, she would always be herself; a simple woman who would do anything for her family and her lover. It was this one identity that branched out to the others, not that she cared for it. If this was the way people saw her, so be it. She was never one for the gossips and crybabies anyway.

In her best attempt, Marya tried to slide her arm away from underneath Hélène’s head, repositioning the mermaid’s head to lay on top of her many pillows. Her curls made the job no easier but with precision, Marya managed to free herself. She got out of bed to prepare herself quietly. Her footsteps made no sound as she marched from her bathroom, to her closet, then back to the bed to sit down as she buttoned up her blouse skillfully with one hand. This skill took some time to develop since she was accustomed to button up her blouse with both her hands but with the events of her previous adventure costing an arm, learning to go about her daily life with a single arm became her newest quest. On the nightstand was the bionic arm she had received from the best doctor in town and so far, it had been quite helpful but she could not depend on it too heavily. There were jobs that required intricate labor that only her normal hands could execute. With a bionic arm in place, it made her jobs tricky but she found her way around them. Picking it up, she strapped it on patiently, cursing every now and then when the buckle would loosen or when the strap would slip off. She stopped when she felt a light tug on her blouse and she craned her head over her shoulder to see Hélène looking at her through narrowed eyes, balancing between wakefulness and sleep.

“Did I wake you…?” Marya murmured softly and Hélène nodded. “I’m sorry, love. You should go back to sleep. You still have time.”

Hélène chuckled in response; her morning voice laced thickly in sleep but it came in a sultry musical tone. “I’ll live. Would you like me to help you with that?”

“Yes, please. I swear, this is the most troublesome thing I’ve ever done,” Marya huffed, sighing when Hélène pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Really?” Hélène questioned with a raise of her brow as she sat behind Marya to fasten the bionic arm in place. “So, sailing the seven seas is simpler?”

“Maybe I should rephrase that,” Marya muttered to herself, raising her head in thought.

Finished with the job, Hélène rested her head on Marya’s shoulder, pressing another tender kiss to her cheek that flushed into a light shade of pink upon the affection. Marya melted into her lover’s arms, and turned her head to face Hélène with a small smile. The mermaid snaked her arms around her captain’s waist to hold her close, unwilling to let her go for she knew that she would have to wait until the end of the day to see her. They had work to do, errands to run, but they wanted nothing more than to spend some quality time with each other. It was true that they lived under the same roof but it never did feel like there was enough time to spend in each other’s company. Ever since Hélène had decided to do volunteer work at the local hospital, she was rarely ever home early but Marya did not mind the wait. As long as she got to hold her in her arms as they fell asleep, it was enough for her.

Peppering kisses along her cheek to her shoulder, Hélène hummed against Marya’s skin, the spots that she had kissed warming against her lips. Repositioning herself, Marya grasped Hélène’s waist and pulled her in for a gentle kiss, foreheads connecting as they rid of any space in between them. Hélène giggled when Marya leaned in to deepen the kiss, only to send themselves toppling over in bed. Marya landed on top of Hélène, propping herself up on one arm so that she did not crush the smaller woman but with a tug on her shawl, Marya fell flat on Hélène who let out a deflated squeak. Pulling away from her lips, Marya let out a soft chuckle and Hélène stared up at her with a pout at the loss of contact and her arms tighten their hold on the captain to keep her down.

“My dear, I really don’t want to squeeze the life out of you,” Marya whispered but was interrupted by a quick kiss which she returned quite eagerly.

“I’m fine, captain ~ I quite like this,” Hélène teased, earning herself a light snort.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Marya questioned, feeling a little wary.

“I’m certain,” Hélène answered confidently and she craned her head to kiss Marya again.

They shared one kiss after another, holding each other in bed while they ignored the clock ticking in the distance. Marya was going to be late for work but Hélène, who had time to spare, figured that it would do no harm to be just a few minutes late. These extra minutes with her were enough to compensate for the many hours she would be without her and like she rationalized before, it did no harm; unless someone broke the law while Hélène hogged Marya to herself. Marya rolled on her back, pulling Hélène on top of her so that she did not flatten the smaller woman and there they laid lazily without the intention to rise. Unfortunately, their moment was cut short when Natasha burst through the double oaken doors with a dramatic flair, Sonya hot on her heels with a rather awkward frown.

“Good morning, my lovebirds!” Natasha chirped as she waved a letter in the air.

“Good morning, Natalya,” Marya grumbled, sitting up with Hélène’s head still rested on her chest.

“Morning~” Hélène purred.

“Natasha! I said knock on the door, not knock the doors open!” Sonya scolded her as she tugged at her cousin’s arm. “Give them their privacy.”

“But this is urgent because they’re both late for work,” Natasha protested as she held the letter out to Hélène.

“My work doesn’t start until 11. It’s only 8 something,” Hélène mused, climbing off Marya’s lap to take the letter.

“The letter says otherwise,” Natasha informed her. “Also, Sonya, Mary and I will be heading off. We’re going to do some shopping at the market.”

“Be careful, alright? I’m leaving Mary in charge so if anything happens, you are to listen to her,” Marya told her and Natasha groaned like a child.

“You’d trust your scholar over your two lovely goddaughters?” Natasha whined and Sonya shot her a bored look.

Marya simply shrugged. “You won’t listen to Sonya and Sonya might end up listening to you instead if I put her in charge. I certainly cannot trust you with anything because you have no rules and you might just run into trouble. With Mary in charge, I trust Sonya will listen to her and I know that she won’t succumb to your nagging.”

“I told you so,” Sonya whispered to Natasha with a small grin.

“Oh, hush,” Natasha huffed as she turned on her heel. “Well, I won’t waste any more of our time. We have some shopping to do and you have work to attend! Goodbye~”

After a brief hug, Natasha and Sonya were off, Natasha having dragged Sonya before she could even manage a goodbye. Now that they were alone again, Marya’s attention returned to Hélène who was yanking her emerald green prairie skirt over her legs frantically. She tucked her unbuttoned blouse in, only buttoning it up when she realized the unfinished job. The letter was clamped in between her teeth while her hands worked to get herself ready, now twisting her tendrils of hair into a neat bun once her blouse was done with. Marya removed the letter from the mermaid’s teeth to read it and to save her from the pain of clenching her jaw for too long. Settling in an armchair, she read it to herself in a hushed murmur, nodding at every word she processed.

“This is a challenging task, mermaid, and they want you to take it up?” Marya inquired as she placed the letter aside.

“I told my supervisor last month that I’d help if there was a case. It’s always good to have the experience,” Hélène explained.

“I’m not against it. I’m just surprised,” Marya admitted as she stood up to help Hélène smooth out her skirt.

Hélène tugged at the ends of her skirt, raising a brow at Marya. “It’s a complicating procedure. I won’t be directly involved. I’ll be there to take down notes and observe before I actually get to have a piece of the action.”

“Fair warning. There’s going to be a lot of blood. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

“I’m aware. I’ve heard from the other nurses.”

Marya wrapped her arms around Hélène’s waist from behind and rested her head on her shoulder, lips caressing the skin of her neck. Hélène kissed Marya’s hair and leaned into her for the last few moments of comfort and warmth. Minutes later, they bade each other goodbye and Marya saw Hélène off before setting out. Under her arm was her sword and the other her holstered pistol that she had never used. She pocketed it within the hidden pockets of her coat where only its handle was visible and her sword was positioned by her hip where it normally was. As she walked to her post, she dwelled in her own thoughts while absentmindedly nodding at the villagers who greeted her as they passed. Nothing ever happened while she was on duty so the only exciting that awaited her was returning home to have dinner with her goddaughters then wait for her lover to return; And that left a smile on her face as she marched down the cobblestone path.

Hélène, whose working hours ended earlier than she had anticipated, found herself in the marketplace with Mary, Sonya and a very thrilled Natasha. She had been reading her notebook and analyzing the notes she had taken down during the session when she heard Natasha’s squeal travel through the crowd calling her name. It was, to say the least, a very pleasant surprise to bump into the girls in a large marketplace. That meant that she would not have to wonder around looking as though she were lost and she would have some company instead of having to return to their empty home. Although they were together, Hélène had her nose buried in her book while Natasha dragged her to the stalls that appealed to her. She could hear the girls chat and occasionally she would peek from her book to watch them with the same fondness Marya had for them. As they walked, they were unaware of a familiar face in the crowd, a common enemy of the three girls and a stranger to Hélène.

Andrei, concealed within a hooded cloak and cloth mask, walked through the marketplace with two guards who were a fairly safe distance away him to prevent arousing suspicion among the townspeople. He did not wish to sit behind the empty walls of his castle uselessly on a hollow throne that held no more meaning. He wanted to explore his own kingdom and begin his quest to find someone worthy of ruling beside him. It had been a few weeks ever since his father passed and he spent those weeks doing nothing but mourn over the days that he had lost in fruitless attempts to achieve the assigned tasks on his father’s god forsaken letter. Even with his court of the most intelligent men and women, none of them could devise a plan brilliant enough to fulfill the late king’s wishes and this frustrated Andrei.

The fresh air of the marketplace calmed his mind but he was not in complete ease. He searched the many faces of his people, examining them closely and silently judging them based on their appearances. The women, most especially, were the ones he looked out for. He needed a queen by his side and an heir for the throne. He had little time for love and courting, and he concluded that anyone who had the honor of ruling alongside him should be overjoyed to be the chosen one. If they were married, their husbands should be honored. That was the mindset he brought with himself.

Was fate unkind to the girls and Hélène? Perhaps. As the ladies were close to crossing paths with Andrei, Hélène paused when she stepped on a loosened shoelace so the three girls had to stop to wait for her. They took no notice of the hooded figure, too focused on discussing about what to prepare for dinner and what groceries they would have to obtain. As for Hélène, she was focused on her shoelace. She gestured for the girls to continue on without her for it would take her a bit of time to tie a proper knot and they did. She would find them. With Mary’s and Sonya’s nearly identical hairstyles and Natasha’s loud chatter, it would not be too hard to find them in the smaller crowd. Was fate unkind to Hélène? Yes.

As she rose to her feet, she lifted her skirt up to her knees so that the article of clothing did not sweep any dirt off the floor and the sun reflected against the green scales that decorated her legs in a messy scatter. The green glow caught Andrei’s attention who halted in his tracks to stare at the mermaid’s inhuman looking legs and immediately, he knew what she was. It was all thanks to his sister’s notes and encyclopedias that she had left behind in her room after she left to join her pathetic pirate crew. He remembered the detailed sketches he had seen in her room and how they could be distinguished from humans whenever they deceived them by morphing their tail into legs. Now he could see it for himself. A mermaid in his kingdom. This was something he had never expected to see. In his mind, he thanked the Gods for this blessing. What power could he get from uniting two kingdoms when he could reunite two realms instead? The realm of the land and sea.

His hand shot out to grasp Hélène’s arm and the mermaid’s head snapped to stare at the king with wide eyes. Andrei did not speak but he scrutinized Hélène with a critical gaze and he tilted his head as a smirk stretched upon his lips. The mermaid, who once loved the attention of others, found herself in an extremely discomforting position and she tried to pry her arm out of the stranger’s grip.

“Sir, will you, please, let go of my arm?” Hélène asked firmly as she tried to tug herself free again.

“I never thought that I would ever see a mermaid wandering around in my kingdom,” Andrei spoke and his grip tightened on Hélène’s arm. “Yet, here we are.”

“Sir, I will only repeat myself once,” Hélène tried again, stopping herself when Andrei uncloaked himself.

Around them, the stall vendors gasped in bewilderment then bent on one knee to pay their respects to their king. Hélène had never heard of or seen their king but now she had the chance to meet him in close proximity and worse, be manhandled by his very grace. It was not the greatest first impression and this spoke volumes about him. She could see the fear in his people and she wondered if she had to be as fearful as they were. She knew nothing about this man or the power that he possessed but the people around her gave the idea that he was a man one should stay far away from.

“Do you have anything else to say? Any more commands, milady?” Andrei sneered at her and Hélène glared at him.

“I have plenty and the first one is for you to unhand me,” Hélène repeated, angrily this time.

“You humor me,” Andrei laughed. “I don’t think I will.”

“So, what will become of me? Are we just going to stand here for everyone to watch?” Hélène scoffed but Andrei shook his head.

“No. As much as I adore being in the limelight, I have things to do. Things that you have the pleasure of getting involved with,” Andrei answered her casually, motioning to his guards to seize her.

“If you’re going to throw me in a dungeon for being here illegally, I have documents to prove my citizenship,” Hélène sighed in exasperation.

Again, Andrei laughed. “No, no, no. It will be nothing of that sort… I plan to make you a queen, not a prisoner.”

Hélène nearly fainted. “Well, your majesty, I have a lover and I am perfectly contented with the life I live. I do not want to be queen. You’ll have to find another woman.”

“That stung a little but I’m sorry, you have no choice. I’m sure you know that the king has more power than lowly peasants and since you claim to have citizenship, that applies to you too.”

“You sick fool. I said unhand me and leave me alone!”

“Hélène? What’s going on?” Natasha’s voice rang through the crowd as she pushed through the spectators who were witnessing the spectacle between the mermaid and the king.

Mary froze when she caught the sight of her brother and she pulled Natasha back before she could step into the circle the onlookers had formed. Sonya was behind Mary, tiptoeing to have a better view of the fiasco in front of them but decided to cast her eyes to the ground when she noticed that it was the king that was involved. Andrei looked at Natasha, following where her voice had come from and his expression soured at the sight of his former betrothed and runaway sister.

“Andrei…” Mary squeaked.

“Natalya. Sister,” Andrei hissed, ice and scorn in his voice.

“Let go of Hélène!” Natasha commanded as she stormed towards Andrei, unafraid of him. “Or I’ll tell my godmother on you.”

“As naïve as always, I see,” Andrei growled through gritted teeth but he did not let go of Hélène. “What do you suppose she’ll do with me, hm? Have my own guards arrest me and bring me to the dungeons of my castle? You really are a child, Natalya.”

“You aren’t any better, Andrei,” Natasha berated him. “What happened to you? You were never this cruel or stubborn.”

“You happened. Then my sister and my father.” Andrei pushed Hélène towards his guards and they captured her by the arms. “It was you that caused my misery, caused these problems.”

“I was ill when I refused you. I could not risk spreading my disease to you, Andrei, and what good would a dead wife be to you?” Natasha cried out.

“You would just be as useless alive,” Andrei spat and Natasha chewed on the inside of her cheeks as she took a step back. “Sister. You have the audacity to show your face to me after what you’ve done. You abandoned me with father to care for and lived a free life. How did that taste?”

“Andrei, I”-

“Luxurious, I’m sure. You’ve left me alone for years and I did the same to you. I expect you will continue to do so and leave me to my own business,” Andrei said coolly as he turned to Hélène who was struggling to free herself from the guards.

“I will interfere when I want to because Hélène is my responsibility so this business concerns me,” Mary retorted as she stepped forward.

“And why is she your responsibility, sister? Is she your pet to care for?” Andrei chortled.

“It’s because she is my lover,” Marya announced as she made her way to the debacle, the crowd diffusing to create a pathway for her. “And Mary takes charge whenever I am not around, your majesty.”

Marya shot the guards a piercing glare and they released Hélène who rushed over to the woman, as far away from Andrei. Marya held Hélène protectively to her side as she walked over to her goddaughters and scholar who looked beyond relief that the redheaded woman had arrived before anything took a drastic turn. The audience’s chatter rose into whispered gossips and pointing fingers, and children squeezed in between their parents to see how the tension thickened between the pirate captain and the king. Everyone knew the two opponents, both well known in their own way but equally feared. Both were powerful but with their titles, each were entitled to their own privileges, Marya’s only slightly lesser than Andrei’s. The individuals stared each other down with scowls, heads held high to show no sign of respect for the other and to display their pride.

“Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova.”

“Andrei Nikolayevich Bolkonsky.”

Andrei tutted. “I did not expect you to find love. You never appeared to be the sort.”

“We’re strangers, your majesty, you and I. It may not have occurred to you that I am just as much of a human as your people. I, too, was bound to find someone to love. I see that you have not,” Marya responded, a bold jab at the king.

“It isn’t my job to find somebody to love but to build this kingdom and strengthen it. Love cannot do anything of such,” Andrei storied as he began to pace.

“You believe that taking my girlfriend’s hand in marriage to be your queen will help you achieve this dream of yours?” Marya almost laughed but she choked it down with a cough.

“We will be uniting two realms, Akhrosimova. The land and sea together. We will gain more power than any other kingdom in existence and they’ll be forced to submit. That’s my plan for us. But alas, you do not understand just how brilliant this is because you’re blinded by your love for her. It’s pathetic.”

“The only person who’s pathetic is you. You’re alone and power hungry. It’s a relief that Natasha refused you.”

“You haven’t won yet, Marya. Why don’t we settle this with a duel? The old-fashioned way,” Andrei proposed and everyone around them fell silent. “Not now but tomorrow in the castle courtyard at dusk.”

“It’s a deal,” Marya answered too confidently and she shook his hand to seal the deal.

“Perfect. I will see you then. I bid you good luck.”

Andrei saluted then waved the crowd away as he exited the scene with his two guards. He folded his cloak up to hold in his arms, finding no use in it now that his cover was blown. As he skipped home to his castle, he smiled to himself. Marya was foolish and it was obvious that love was making her reckless. He was aware of how much the woman loved to bathe in her pride and dignity, and if she had to defend her family, she would drown herself in her confidence without a thought to spare. This was the perfect example of it. You saw how rapidly she responded to Andrei’s deal, how quickly she made up her mind to gamble Hélène’s fate in a duel if it meant having the speck of a chance to keep her safe from Andrei’s clutches. She did not consider the many possible consequences if she lost. She did not consider everything that she would be losing as well as what Hélène would be losing again. Her freedom. This had been Andrei’s intention. Marya had splendid timing and all Andrei had to do was find the right time to strike. With the duel scheduled, he already had a few tricks up his sleeve to ensure that he won and that Marya would not. He could laugh to himself like a maniac, relish in his victory already even before the duel happened. Gods, everything was falling into place! Fate was kind to him and he would make his father proud. It was all in a matter of time.

Chapter Text

“Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova! Will you just listen to your favorite goddaughter for once?”

“Continue this and Sonya will be my new favorite.”

The doors flung open unceremoniously, colliding against the walls with a horrible crash. In strode Marya whose face was as red as her crimson coat and Natasha rushed in after her to take her side, furious admonishments pouring out of her mouth that Marya could not decipher. The captain could hear her goddaughter’s voice becoming more distraught and her hands flying in all directions to emphasize the severity of the situation but she refused to listen to her. Like Andrei had predicted, Marya was now drowning in her own pride, too ignorant to understand the selfishness of the decision that she thought was best for everyone, of how she had just foolishly placed a bet on Hélène who had not spoken to her ever since their encounter with the king. Natasha had chased Marya all the way home, shoulder to shoulder and her mouth to ear as she cried to her godmother about this stupidity. No one had ever seen Natasha so eager and helpless all at once as she stood up to Marya who refused to even spare a glance at her. To no avail, Marya buffered out every word and Natasha eventually gave up. She could not last a second longer wasting her breath if her words were going to fall on deaf ears so she trudged up the staircase in defeat. Hélène followed behind Natasha up the stairs but went her separate way to hide in her room. She could not even find it in her to speak up since everything had been decided for her. To minimize that feeling of redundance, she resorted to isolating herself for a while. She would only come out when she felt like it but for now, she could not bear hearing them converse any more.

Mary and Sonya whispered among themselves, stopping when they could hear their voices as clear as day now that the room was barren of anyone but themselves and Marya. With Natasha and Hélène gone, it became strangely quiet. Marya stood at the foot of the stairs and she stared off into the direction where Hélène had disappeared off to, but she did not say anything. Her stubbornness prevented her from abandoning her thoughts to run after her lover. Instead, it glued her feet to the floor like an adhesive with her eyes to stare at the hallway uselessly. Mary and Sonya proceeded with their whispers but it was cut short. Mary leaned in to say something to Sonya and the girl nodded obediently. Giving Mary a kiss on the cheek, Sonya scurried off to her room, sparing a moment to offer a small bow her head in Marya’s direction. Mary stayed. Standing beside Marya, Mary placed a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention.

“What were you thinking?” Mary questioned softly and furrowed her brows.

“I know what I’m doing, Mary. I’m not an idiot,” Marya hissed through gritted teeth, tearing her shoulder away from Mary’s hand to walk to the parlor.

Mary followed beside her. “I didn’t say that you’re an idiot.”

“You implied it.”

“Now you’re just being childish!” Mary scoffed.

“And you’re the one stirring up the argument.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “You’re endangering Hélène and do you even realize that you might lose her again?”

“I won’t. Not to an oaf like your brother,” Marya argued.

“You don’t know him like I do!” Mary protested as she slid in front of Marya with a pleading look. “Please, just think about it.”

“I am capable of handling a man who only knows how to sit on a throne and command. I’ve had enough of Natasha’s jabbering and I barely have any patience left to listen to yours,” Marya huffed angrily as she brushed past Mary who proceeded to follow her.

“Think of Hélène, at least. Have you even thought about how she feels about this? About being the reward of the duel?” At that, Marya froze and Mary continued. “You’ve always condemned people for objectifying others but now you’re doing it. What does this say about you?”

Spinning on her heel, Marya raised a finger at Mary. “I am doing what I can to protect Hélène. If I hadn’t accepted that duel, he would have taken her away from me because of the power he has. This is the only way that’ll make things fair because I have a chance to use my own power against him.”

“You’re not broadening your perspective enough to see the idiocy of your decision!” Mary cried out.

“Why should I? All I have to focus on is on winning and if I broaden it out too much, I’ll get lost and that will be the path to my failure,” Marya retorted, and straightened her back. “Go back to your books. I don’t need any more people pestering me!”

Mary stiffened up at the way Marya loomed over her as she spoke, shrinking into her meek self once more. She found herself at a loss for words and decided not to persist this quarrel. Everyone else in the house had given up on talking some sense into Marya and it was now Mary’s turn to join them in defeat. It sparked just a little hope in Mary that Marya would bring the same fire to the duel, the fire that managed to silence four people who knew Marya better than anyone. What chance did Andrei have against a stranger whose skills were unknown to him? It was something to hold onto, Mary thought to herself, but she reminded herself that she knew both parties; though, she did not know the person that Andrei was now. Even as the brightest scholar in town, no amount of mathematical calculations could predict the outcome of the duel. There was hardly a probability to begin with and it frightened her. She could not do anything to prevent the duel from happening so the only person she could turn to was their loving God. If He was witnessing this, he was most certainly shaking his head in disappointment.

The air in the parlor went rigid as the only two figures who occupied the room went silent. With the curtains drawn over windows that were sealed shut, the silence became dense and it was slowly weighing on Mary’s shoulders. Her posture slackened and she picked on her cuticles to distract herself from the intensity of the moment. Marya had not moved at all after her little outburst but her chest heaved as she steadied her breathing. Mary did not need Marya’s command to know that it was time to take her leave so she stepped away from the woman’s side to walk towards the hallway that they had come from. Standing at the mouth, the scholar stopped and she looked at her feet in contemplation.

Craning her head, she spoke. “I know who Andrei was… But I’m afraid you’re facing a man I’ve never known. I’m sorry… I can’t help you out of this one.”

“I don’t need to know who I’m fighting. I’ve fought more strangers than acquaintances,” Marya spoke coldly.

“You’re wrong,” Mary disagreed plainly. “Approaching the unknown is always dangerous and you of all people should know that. The Asian Seas, Dolokhov and his poisoned bullet, losing your arm when you got the ZhiYu and, let us not forget, the fact that you actually died.”

“And?”

“You almost killed Hélène when we didn’t know any better. Don’t you see the recurring pattern or is denial blinding you?”

Marya did not respond. It was not because she was at a loss but because she was aware that if she spoke anymore, the argument would prolong. She should be training but Mary was wasting her time away with a pathetic quarrel that was leading to a dead end. Why the scholar persisted or even how she did it were mysteries to her. Mary could be a stubborn one like Marya and sometimes she forgot that her own scholar, the incredibly timid Mary Bolkonsky, was capable of standing up to her. Marya was skilled at the articulation of vocabulary and so was Mary, so there was no determined winner in their fight. Concluding a draw in a fight, a silly verbal one, before her duel was not the encouragement that Marya needed and with that Mary’s lecture about facing the unknown may became more factual than opinionated.

Footsteps made their way out of the room and soon, Marya was alone to dwell on Mary’s words and her own mind that challenged against them as she, in her best attempts, tried to find rationality. As her thoughts plagued her, her feet moved in coordination with them. The more she pondered, the quicker she strode through the hallway to her destination: the training room. Initially, she did not think to train for she had believed that she was capable of beating Andrei with the tricks that always earned her the title of a winner. With Andrei, a soldier who fought his way to the top, he could be better than she was. How could she forget that he was a man of war? Being the king of Polumnyy would also mean that he could possess the sufficient skills to protect their kingdom. He could squish Marya like an insect under his boot and call it a day, then he would take Hélène for his keeping as his prize. Her dread morphed into anger, and Marya forced the doors open with a kick.

A cloud of dust greeted her as the doors swung open. The training room had been unused for a great deal of time, time enough to create a cake of dust over the straw training dummies and the floors. Marya was grateful for the fact that she preserved the dummies for the occasion for it saved her the energy of crafting one to take the place of the stumps the straw figures were erected upon. In the room were four dummies but one was already worn in aged slashes and stabs. Scattered by the destroyed mannequin were the remnants of a shattered sword. The pieces that formed the blade were jagged and cracked from overuse; or perhaps from the rage of a dragon. Some were even coated in dark brown patches of dried blood that trailed to the hilt that had been discarded in the corner of the room. Above the hilt was a dent in the wall which indicated that it had been thrown with an excessive amount of strength. This was a story Marya would never revisit but the corpse of the sword was always there to remind her that the story still existed.

Marya made sure to close the door behind her so that no one would come sticking their nose into her business. She did not need another soul nagging her about the rashness of her decision. Tightening the glove of her right hand, she unholstered her sword and drew closer to a standing mannequin. Then, she raised her weapon and dealt the first strike. One strike after another, the dragon began to emerge; the same monstrous creature that had managed to destroy a steel sword and part of the wall. Icy cold eyes flared with anger and the clanging of metal against wood and straw echoed through the room. She did not know how long she was going to train but she knew that she could not overwork herself. Most importantly, she had to make time to see Hélène and speak to her. Hélène had not spoken since the commotion in the market nor did she spare Marya a glance. If, and it was a massive if, she lost Hélène to Andrei, she would not want them to be left on silent terms. It was a selfish thought after what she had done but Marya could not bear living in Hélène’s hatred. She wanted to show her that she cared, that she wanted to protect her and that she would do anything to win this for her rather than brag. She would show it.

Hélène sank further into the tub, her head barely above the water as she tried to relax in the place where she could calm herself down. The water dimmed the lighting into a soothing navy blue that reflected from the walls with specks of metallic green that shone from her tail that failed to fit in the tub. Despite how her fins rested lazily on the edge of the tub, she felt at ease. The blurry scenery reminded her of home, the ocean. Even through closed eyes, she could make out the rays of sunlight that penetrated through the water from a window high above the tub. The colors swirled as the water moved but they did not blend. The colors were their own individual identities, mixing but never cohesively, and they created the landscape that she was so familiar with. However, unlike the ocean, the water had no current for her to flow with but where was she supposed to go when she was now in the safety of her home? Well, for now…

She tried to focus on the way the water gurgled in her ears as she breathed, bubbles floating from her parted lips and to the surface with every exhale. Counting her breaths helped as a brilliant distraction. She emptied her mind and kept herself from wringing her hands together nervously. Instead, she let them float by her sides. The water carried her body carefully, like hands handling a delicate antique. If there was no one to care for her fragile frame, she would turn to the water. The warmth of Marya’s hold were always lulling but with what had ensued, the warmth was replaced by insecurity. Those same hands that held her molded her into a trophy for a game she chose to play with a man who she did not even know. Like her father had done to her from her childhood to her adulthood, she was being carved and shaped into what others wanted her to be. It never bothered her before for it aided her in adapting to newer surroundings. But Marya? Hélène once believed that she would be enough for her; and disbelief had never pained her more.

She floated away from her state of trance and intrusive voices interrupted her peace. Her focus had returned to the memory of the fight in the market. She could hear Marya’s and Andrei’s arrogant voices as they played their gamble and she could remember the terror of being labelled as the champion’s price. With a choked gasp, she ripped through the surface, startling poor Svob who had been lounging in a smaller tub beside Hélène’s. The octopus had leapt out of the water in alarm but then quickly made his way up the side of the tub to attend to Hélène who was coughing water out of her lungs. He grasped her shoulder and pulled himself up to nuzzle himself against the mermaid’s neck in a manner of comfort, and this was enough to elicit a small laugh. She held Svob in her hand against her neck and gave him a small kiss on the head.

“I’m okay. I just scared myself,” Hélène murmured but Svob still clung onto her. Peeling the little creature off her neck, she cradled him in her hands. “Why don’t you go back to your tub and relax, hm? I promise it won’t happen again.”

Just after Hélène said that, there was a knock on the door and her heart skipped a beat. The red locks of hair against the bathroom’s complementary colors of blue and green was enough to give away her visitor’s identity but she did not greet her. Hélène returned Svob to his designated spot and the octopus looked in between his two mothers in confusion. The air thickened with an intensity that discomforted Svob and he slid out of his spot to slide into his tank where he could hide away. Marya had not moved from the door and Hélène had turned her back to Marya, finding the walls more fascinating to acknowledge. Making the first bold move, Marya entered. She sat herself upon the wet floor beside the tub but made sure that there was some respectable space between her and her lover. From where she sat, she could hear Hélène’s ragged breaths and she lowered her head to look at her boots.

“Can we talk?” Marya began quietly.

“I don’t suppose I have a choice,” Hélène muttered.

Marya understood what she meant. “I won’t pressure you into listening. If you want me to give you some space, I will. I won’t be stubborn.”

“Just talk.”

“Oh- Um…” Where was she supposed to start? “I know that I made a really stupid mistake. I made a decision that was meant to be yours and I interfered because I wanted to protect you. I wanted to show you what I was capable of and that you would always be safe with me.”

“Did you want to show the king or me?”

“You.”

“Be honest with me, Marya.”

“… Both of you.”

Hélène nodded, much to her dismay, and she kept her gaze trained on the wall. “Why do you always feel the need to be proud? What is it that you’re trying to prove? This isn’t anything like you.”

“I was always a prideful woman, Hélène.”

“No, you’re not.” And Hélène finally looked at her, stone-faced. “Not to me. You were arrogant when we first met but I understood why you had to play that act. When we were strangers, you had to show me who was in charge. You had to show your crew and your enemies who was the woman of the ship, and you did a wonderful job with that. But now, you’re trying to prove to a man that I am in your possession. I am not your ship, Marya. I’m not some jewel for you to gamble off!”

Marya was tongue-tied. The heroic intentions that she had convinced herself she was working for fell into bitter ire. What she had hypothesized about her rash decision-making for the greater good came to bite her back for it was not the same that Hélène saw. While Marya saw this to be an act of defending her loved one, Hélène saw it as a show for Marya to graciously flaunt her sword in front of an audience that was her and Andrei. Her illusion of invulnerability had diffused upon others, and she had been too confident that they were indomitable. Hélène could have said something to break the argument before it all led down to the duel but Marya could have just stayed out of it. Were it not for Marya's intervention, none of this would have happened and Hélène might have simply excused the whole situation by using her own voice. Now, she could not even conjure her own voice to speak, to admit her errors and seek forgiveness. It was too much damage on her pride but it was nothing compared to what she had already inflicted on Hélène.

“I didn’t mean to objectify you like that”-

“But you did!” A tear rolled down her cheek but her stare hardened into a glare. “You turned me into a prize. A damsel in distress to be picked up by the strongest contestant of your big duel.”

“I just wanted to protect you,” Marya debated.

“I’m not as useless as I appear to be! I can defend myself and I can be more than just a disposable accessory by your side.” Hélène sucked in a deep breath. “Am I just not enough for you?”

Marya was taken aback, and she heard herself gasp aloud. “Hélène… You’ve always been enough and you still are. I just… I was worried that if I couldn’t defend you, you’d leave me or find me unfit to be your lover. I stepped into the situation and I couldn’t back down knowing that you were in danger.”

“I’m sick of being turned into what people want me to be and I need to know that being myself is enough for someone,” Hélène sniffled, her glare breaking into frown.

Crying in front of Marya was nothing something Hélène was afraid of but she blinked back her tears. It did not do much to hide the cracks along her façade from Marya. If there was anyone who knew her inside out, it was the redheaded woman sitting beside her. She had seen every flaw that Hélène spent decades concealing, all within a matter of months. It was sometimes shocking how easily Marya could unfold her secrets. And it occurred to Hélène how none of these flaws stopped Marya from loving her. What her own father had fashioned her to be was not what Marya fell in love with but the person behind the cracks. Oh, it was all too much for her to bear. Her thoughts were in conflict with each other in a hideous war zone that reduced her into sobs and she could not identify the reason for her tears. Maybe each tear had its own reason of falling, far too many to count as they continued to pour down her flushed cheeks and into the water.

Wordlessly, Marya enveloped Hélène in her arms and pulled her close. The mermaid was torn in between jerking away from her arms or leaning into her but it the latter was decided when Marya kissed her tears away. Hélène’s arms snaked around Marya’s neck and she burrowed her face into her lover’s chest. Red locks had fallen out of its intricate hairstyle as Hélène clutched Marya’s blouse, fingers accidentally yanking on loose strands of hair. Her sobs died down into nothing and it was silence, something that the both of them needed. After the yelling and fighting, the air felt lighter as some sort of resolution had been found. Draping a towel over Hélène, Marya carried her out of the chilly bath and into their bedroom which was a more comfortable substitute to alleviate their stresses. With a free hand, she managed to grasp the handle of Svob's miniature tank and brought him out with them. 

Marya waited until Hélène transformed her tail back into legs but she had no plans to leave her freezing in a towel. While Helene took her time to muster the energy to morph, Marya dressed her up in her nightgown. Neither spoke for they allowed their actions to do most of the conversing. Hélène rested herself against Marya once she was decently clothed and her arms locked themselves around her lover's waist. Pulling Hélène into her lap, Marya peppered kisses along her cheeks then pressed one to her lips where it lingered. If this might be their last, Marya would make it worth it. 

Whatever it was that was coming for them tomorrow would be problems reserved for that day alone. For now, they could only wait in each other’s arms for the day to arrive, and in Marya’s case, she could only pray to her God to guide her through, if he was kind enough to do so after being witness of Marya’s mistakes. Otherwise, she would lose the one she loved to a man incapable of loving.

Chapter Text

Laying in bed, Sonya balanced a book on her stomach with a hand pinching the spine but her attention was elsewhere. Whenever she tried to read through a sentence, above the cover of the book, she would see Mary’s ghostly silhouette pacing the room in circles in the middle of the room. Sonya had lost count of the number of times she went through the same sentence. Mary’s worry radiated into a dense membrane that coated the room and Sonya was, unfortunately, caught in it. She felt worried whenever Mary was fretting about over unsaid problems. She wished that the scholar could be as wordy in expressing herself as she was whenever she spoke about history or astrology. It was upsetting to see the woman so troubled and Sonya hoped that Mary was aware that she had someone to share with. It appeared that she did not. No matter how much Sonya stared at Mary she gave no reaction for of help. She only dove deeper into her problems.

Placing her book aside, Sonya decided to focus on Mary in case matters got out of hand. Mary was readable, at least to Sonya for she had taken care of her numerous times. So, she watched and studied her body language, scrunching her nose in thought. Mary paced rapidly with her feet padding along the floorboard, the tapping sounding in a consistent beat.  Her hands were clasped over her lips, knuckles rubbing against her bottom lip until they were dangerously red and her eyes focused on her footsteps. These were the behaviors Sonya observed.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor soon.”

“I’m worried, Sonya…”

Sonya glowered. “Wow, I couldn’t tell.”

Mary paused in her tracks to frown at Sonya. Her hands fell to her sides and her head tipped to the side, letting a few stands of hair obstruct her vision. Guilt flooded Sonya. She was being insensitive and this could be one of the reasons why Mary was always unwilling to share her issues. Giving an apologetic look, Sonya held her arms out to Mary who abandoned her pacing to melt into her embrace. Mary laid across Sonya’s lap and buried her face into her abdomen, seeking the pleasure of warmth in her moment of panic. Sonya combed her hand through Mary’s hair then gave her a kiss on the head. She could not be of much help in this since she was in no way involved directly but if she could help Mary during these dire situations, it was enough. Lifting her head slightly by the chin, Sonya brushed Mary’s out of her face then cupped her cheeks carefully within her hands. Mary gazed at her with a half-smile then leaned in to steal a kiss.

“I’m sorry…” Mary mumbled against Sonya’s lips, and her frown returned.

“Mary, I should be the one apologizing…” Sonya interrupted but Mary shook her head.

“I’m making such a big deal out of this,” Mary sighed.

“But it’s not wrong to be worried. Marya can be quite… impulsive and it’s concerning,” Sonya drawled.

“I tried to talk her out of it but she wouldn’t even listen. She argues and scolds. How do you live with her?” Mary whined, burying herself deeper into Sonya’s stomach.

Sonya laughed dryly. “Once you decipher her character, you can tackle her effortlessly.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Sonya said no more. Mary only had the mental strength to tolerate one argument a day; another one was not what she needed to soothe her anxiety. Encasing Mary in a tighter hug, Sonya planted a litter of kisses on her forehead. The scholar had gone quiet as she proceeded to dissolve into Sonya’s embrace, allowing her distress to dissipate into mellow thoughts. It did not take long for Sonya to cool Mary down and thankfully, Mary fully settled into a state of relaxation. She repositioned her head to rest on Sonya’s chest and counted every heartbeat in breathy whispers while Sonya braided her hair as she hummed to the rhythm of Mary’s counting. When Mary’s counting faded, Sonya knew that she had done her job taking care of her lover. She would do this numerous times for Mary and it did not matter how much of time it took. Mary was her top priority, besides her dear cousin, Natasha, and whatever cost came with taking care of Mary, she would pay for it. It was always on Sonya but she never minded the extra responsibility.

“Sonya?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve told you about my brother before… right?”

“You have. Why do you ask?”

“I fear for Marya… He will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

Sonya raised a brow. “Isn’t that what every ambitious person does?”

“My father corrupted him. He will go to unspeakable extents to win this and- Oh, heavens above, he might kill Marya for his own gain.” Mary did not sound panicked but disturbed by the possibility, and her face bore little emotions for Sonya to tell.

“You’re thinking too far ahead. That’s the worst of things that could happen,” Sonya opined wearily.

Mary squirmed. “It’s always better to expect the worst than convince yourself of the better. You don’t know Andrei and neither do I. I don’t know my own brother!”

“He’s still not a complete stranger to you.”

“He could be.”

“And why is this a problem?”

“It’s not a problem to me but… for Marya. If I knew him, I could tell her his weaknesses and fighting strategies. Information that could lead her to victory. But I know none of that. I might know one thing.”

“What is it?”

Looking up at Sonya, Mary lifted herself slightly and her eyes bore straight into Sonya’s. “The look in his eyes. When he made that deal with Marya, I saw my father’s malice. I’ve seen that very expression many times when I used to live with them. There could be more behind this deal, Sonya.”

Sonya gaped at Mary. “But that’s just cheating.”

“Not when the King writes his own contracts,” Mary said dangerously.

“Then what can we do?”

There was only one answer that would twist their fate. No one had hands powerful enough to meddle with destiny unless they were Andrei’s whose hands could modify the conditions on the contract that had sealed the deal. A lack of honor could save Marya if she was willing to play as dirty as Andrei did but she would never stoop so low to claim the win, not even if it meant instantly saving Hélène. Marya was a woman of prestige, honor and respect while Andrei stood beside her as her polar opposite. It was a clash between personalities and equal levels off determination. Mary did not have much time left to sought help from her books and on her plate were these findings to work with.

Falling onto Sonya, Mary clenched her jaw and exhaled forcibly. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

Marya inspected her sword as she waited for her opponent to arrive at their designated place for the duel, the palace courtyard. It was astounding, Marya thought, how someone could be late to an event conducted at their own home and also very improper of the king to display such an atrocious behavior. With this lack of punctuality, he was beyond unfit to be royalty. His own father showed more appropriate behavior despite being a fussy old relic back when he sat upon the throne. Marya had expected better of Andrei but she was not willing to take up the part of a tutor, scolding the man as though he were a child. Mary offered to take care of Marya’s prized weapon and being relieved of the labor, Marya went to attend to Hélène who was squatting by the castle walls, picking at her scales. Beside her were Natasha and Sonya who were inspecting the castle grounds, gaping at the sight of an abundance of luxury around them.

Hélène could see Marya approaching out of the corner of her eye so she began to fidget with the hem of her dress instead. The captain knelt down beside Hélène, taking her hands in hers to kiss her knuckles gently. Hélène took upon leaning into Marya’s side, pulling a hand away from Marya’s to wrap an arm around her neck loosely in a hug. She could hear Marya’s unsteady breathing, a bad sign. The woman was never nervous.

“Are you alright?”

Marya lifted her head. “I’ve seen better days. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know…”

The pained look in Hélène’s eyes revealed enough. Marya did not wish to prod at the emotions that were bottled up. If they were accumulated into silence, acknowledging them would only make things worse. Hélène could combust on the spot, explode into a storm of tears and screams like she had the day before. The possibility that Marya might lose was peeking just around the corner and having Hélène in distress was not the last thing that she wanted to see. The captain needed her mermaid to smile, to laugh it off as if it was another silly issue and to assure her that she was going to walk away a winner. Those lies only fed her false hopes and she did not think that she would be able to bear the crash if losing was going to send her toppling over.

The gates shuttered open with a noisy clutter and Andrei entered without much grandeur. By his side were two maids, heads kept low to look at the cobbled floor as they trotted. One of them, a young dirty blonde girl, presented Andrei his sword who appeared to have a more striking entrance than the king himself. It was arranged to sit nearly on a currant velvet pillow, unnecessarily rimmed in the finest gold trimming that shone just as bright as the sword. Picking the weapon up, Andrei swung it around childishly with a foolish grin on his lips. He approached the opposing party with his arms outstretched to welcome them but no one stood up to greet him except Marya. Natasha retreated from her corner to help Hélène up from the floor, guiding her as well as Sonya and Mary towards the bleachers that had been set up for spectators. There sat a few members of the royal court, none who took the courtesy to greet their guests politely.

On their makeshift battlefield, Marya and Andrei took their time to prepare themselves with the assistance of the two maids. They removed unauthorized equipment, surrendered any accessory that might misspend their chances of winning and made sure that they were wearing protective gear to prevent any fatalities. Once they were done, their hands locked in a firm handshake and they exchanged a meaningless greeting. Andrei could feel the tension within Marya from the way her hand trembled as it closed around his gloved one. If Marya was frightened, her steel expression did not show it.

“May the best fighter win, Akhrosimova. You know the rules. Blades only…”

“I mean no offense but I believe I am a more lawful individual than you are, your majesty.” The first strike.

Andrei clenched his teeth. “I hope you are just as skillful in sword fighting as you are when you run your mouth.”

“If you duel as clumsily as you talk, we can just call this off.”

“May we begin?”

“Gladly…”

Hélène had already lowered her head in hands to avoid the sight of two complete idiots; hopeless. The immature bicker between the king and her captain did nothing to ease her stresses and she wanted to flee. Hands clasped together, she brought her knuckles to her lips to utter a short prayer for luck, for sense and for her fate. She felt a hand on her shoulder, a squeeze then a flash of smile. Mary had been sent from the bleachers to regulate the duel and having one less person by her side made Hélène felt uneasy. Sonya and Natasha sat on either of Hélène’s sides. While Sonya was more subtle with her comfort, Natasha had her arms thrown around the woman with her head rested on her shoulder. A whistle was blown and all eyes moved to watch the duel commence.

Mary stood in the middle of the adversaries, a red flag in hand that was raised in the air. It trembled in Mary’s grasp, much like how her own meek voice as she spoke. “Positions.” Both Marya and Andrei stood in their places. “D-draw your swords…” They obeyed, and with a deep breath, “May the duel commence.”

Mary stumbled out of the frame and Andrei did not waste a second. Once his sister was out of his way, Andrei launched himself at Marya who remained in her spot. The sole of his boot left a dark track on the stone floor followed by another as he sped towards the woman who waited for him so calmly. If one were familiar with her combat techniques, they would know that Marya was barely a mover. Patience and composure were her strengths against aggression but she knew that her greatest weakness was someone discovering her tactics. Andrei was somewhat intelligent man and if he knew even just a smidge of her methods, she was one step closer to losing Hélène.

He swung his sword and it met the force of Marya’s blade in defense before he was sent hobbling backwards from an elbow to the ribs. As a decoy, Marya stepped out of her space to thrust her sword at Andrei which he failed to parry. What saved him from losing the ability to walk was retreating an arm’s length away where Marya’s sword could reach him and he was back on his feet with the cuff of his pants ripped. The taste of metal on his clothes provoked him as well as the smirk that Marya wore. It was too early for her to celebrate; far too early. Once again, he struck. With both hands on the handle, he slashed at the woman violently. In her newfound spot, Marya defended herself, parrying and evading the blade that came to cut the space where she last was. Andrei was a ferocious fighter, she observed. From how swiftly he strode on his feet to the way he swung his sword effortlessly, Marya’s strategy was at a loss and Andrei knew that.

No man would ever enter a battle without doing research on their opponent. Only a fool would do such a thing and Andrei Bolkonsky was certainly no fool. He had obtained intel from the onlookers of Marya’s previous duels, commoners who would do anything for a generous reward. With enough, he had also compiled every piece of information into a book of notes which he studied very diligently before walking to the battlefield. It explained his atrocious sense of timing but he was not going to reveal his secret any time soon. As for now, he aimed to make Marya move out of her space to lower her guard down.

Leaping into the air, he swung a leg upwards before bringing it down on Marya in a smooth high kick. It collided with her arms that were raised in defense, her sword dangling in her loosened fist after the impact. Now that Marya was focused on channeling her energy into her arms, every other part of her body had to surrender their excess energy which gave Andrei an open opportunity to take her down. Sliding backwards, he brought himself forward again, slamming him body against hers with all him might and Marya was sent to the ground with a pained grunt. The captain had barely managed to process what Andrei was doing until she was lying on her back and staring at the sky. She was out of her space.

“Surprised, Akhrosimova? That you’re losing?”

“Quite the opposite, actually.”

When Andrei advanced towards her, Marya pushed herself up on her feet with her arms, kicking Andrei’s sword out of his hand before thrusting his sword at him again. His sword flew to the side, clanging loudly as it fell and skidded along the ground at Mary’s feet where she stood stiffly. She reacted with a terrified squeak then fled to the bleachers and into Hélène’s outstretched arms where she was sure that she would be safe. Her brother was disarmed which should be a victory of some sort but Mary felt that it was still too early to celebrate yet. Something was wrong. She could feel it nagging at the back of her mind but she did not know why. Weaponless, Andrei did not falter. He circled the field and Marya mirrored him, except for the way he removed his gloves to air his hands that were cautiously flexed. No one would suspect that his crammed and sweaty hands were a masterminded plan to finish the duel, not when his sleeves covered his knuckles. He needed a blind spot and he found the perfect one.

Without warning, he bolted towards Marya’s direction with his back hunched over and his arms swinging by his side dramatically but his hands were not fisted. Marya was slightly taken aback but was ready, nonetheless. In retaliation, she ran towards him too with her sword ready to slice through the man’s torse but her blade never reached his person. He had dropped to his knees as the blade struck the air, sliding past Marya with an outstretched hand flexed outward to its maximum potential. Marya was stupefied. Her sword fell from her hands and she collapsed to the floor with a hand clutching her bleeding thigh. A pathetic cut never brought her down but there had been something laced in the knife that was now in her bloodstream, and it was travelling fast. She felt cold sweat drip down her forehead and onto the pavement, and her body burnt with a stinging pain.

Relaxing his hand, a small blade disappeared behind Andrei’s sleeve where it supposedly never existed and behind the shine of the weapon, Marya could see his sinister smirk. Marya rolled on her back, groaning as the pain worsened with every inch she moved. She could not lay there vulnerably with her back exposed; it made her feel slightly better to see what Andrei was about to do. At the corner of her eye, she caught Andrei picking up her sword like it was a trophy, twirling it and brandishing it in the air but there was nothing cheerfully celebratory about the gesture. Staggering over to the fallen woman, Andrei climbed on top of her to pin her down before she could push herself up against the agony. A hand rested passively on her wound and the brush of his fingertips made her leg jolt in pain.

“A drop of a gorgon’s blood was all it took.”

“You cheat-!”

"I won, Akhrosimova.”

“Not yet- I haven’t surrendered,” Marya hissed, whimpering when his hand tightened around her leg.

“Look, I’m making it easy for you. You either surrender or I’ll draw more blood. Hm?”

She spat at him. “Over my dead”-

Andrei dug his fingers into her wound and Marya interrupted herself when a scream tore from her throat. Marya forced her hands against Andrei’s throat, squeezing as hard as she could but with the poison-laced blood inside of her, she could barely bend a finger. When her fingers twitch around his neck, his fingers agitated the wound even more and she could feel her blood drenching her pants. Another cry sounded from her lips and it alarmed a very distraught Hélène who was fighting her way off the bleachers in her own battle with Andrei’s guards. The mermaid kept calling out to Marya until her voice cracked, threw punches at the guards who blocked her path and she pleaded for Andrei to stop. Hearing Hélène’s distressed cries broke Marya’s heart but it fueled Andrei’s drive towards victory.

Leaning in, he pressed the tip off the blade underneath Marya’s chin as a final resort. If pain was not going to make her give in, then death could be an eye-opener. The look in her eyes told him that he had already won but she was not willing to admit it verbally to seal the confirmation. He was having fun but he would lose his patience soon if Marya only planned to misspend his time.

“Surrender. Say it, Akhrosimova!” Andrei commanded as he inched the sword closer.

“No”- His knuckles slammed into her jaw and he heard a scream from Hélène.

Huffing, he shook his head in disappointment. “Must I repeat myself?”

“I…”

“Say it!” Andrei weighed down a knee on Marya’s wounded leg, hands flying up to her neck to choke her.

“I surrender!” Marya gasped, and Andrei released his grip. “I surrender…”

Chapter Text

She lost… Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova lost a duel for the first time in so many years, and worst of all, she lost Hélène. How was she going to face her goddaughters who had tried to persuade her that this was a horrible idea or Hélène who had spent the night before weeping in her arms upon the arrival of this dreaded day? She had prayed to God each morning and night, pleaded for the strength that she needed but those prayers had gone unheard. Had God decided to abandon her during her most dire time? This must have been a sin, then. A punishment for letting her pride manipulate her decisions for the worse. Marya could feel Mary glaring at her with utmost disappointment from the bleachers and her goddaughters were trying their very best to calm a very anguished Hélène.

The Kuragina had fallen to her knees and her face was buried in her hands to collect the tears that flowed down her cheeks into a pool of sorrow. Natasha and Sonya knelt beside the mermaid and drew her in their arms, murmuring empty words of assurance that Hélène simply refused to listen to. She had held on to false hope. She knew from the very beginning that the man would cheat his way to victory, and so did Mary. Mary predicted it all before it even happened and all fingers pointed to Marya for this failure. Hélène had a finger raised, metaphorically, at Marya for she could barely gather the strength to berate her lover, to scold her, to blame her for what had happened. But how could she when all Marya was trying to do was protect her.

Andrei still had not released Marya. The woman laid on the floor, vulnerable on her back with the king looming over her with her prized sword. He spun the blade as he stood up, removing her knee from where it pressed down on Marya’s chest, and she gasped painfully for the air she had been deprived of. She could not get up for the searing pain had stretched to her fingertips and the sole of her feet. One twitch sent a flaming sensation down her limb. She could not do anything about it which turned her into the subject of scorn. Worthless, senseless idiot! Andrei raised the sword with both hands, claiming the weapon as if it was his own. He commended the weapon. Truly, it was made fit for the best sword wielders but now that the captain had lost their duel, he deemed that she was not worthy of even owning such a priceless weapon.

“Captain, captain, captain… I did think you were a brilliant opponent. That’s the highest praise I can give you. A shame you won’t be around for another round,” Andrei effused, his tone clearly mismatched. “It’s been pleasant dueling with you.”

Hélène did not like what she heard. She had only known this man for less than a day and whatever the undertone was that he concealed along the lines of his words, she had to act. Abandoning her tears, she clambered to her feet and pushed Natasha and Sonya away to liberate herself from that suffocating hug. She was swift as she swerved past the guards that tried to catch her, slipping through their grasp as a fish would from a poacher’s slippery hands. Her hands found the hilt of a sword from a guard’s unsupervised side and with one quick snatch unsheathed it from its holster. She raced towards Andrei whose blade came swing down towards Marya’s neck without warning. Her senses never proved her wrong. Hélène slid across the floor on her knees and with an uppercut, she parried the blow before it took a life. The swords clashed with a loud shriek and Andrei stumbled back from the impact that urticated his arm. He dropped the sword which Hélène took to kicking away so that it was out of his grip and she got up to point the sword at the man with tearstained cheeks.

“You made a deal. I expect you to stick to it,” Hélène hissed.

“Scolding me again, mermaid? You never learn, do you?” Andrei sighed as he placed his hands on his hips. “Give me the sword.” He reached out for it but Hélène smacked his hand away with the flat end of her weapon.

“Not until you assure Marya’s safety. I’m won’t be listening to you.”

Andrei glared at her then at Marya who looked terribly alarmed. “Fine then. I won’t harm her and neither will the guards.” He looked at the troop that surrounded the ring. “I promise.”

“Thank you…”

Hélène lowered her weapon and Marya’s hand shot out to grasp her leg. Hélène let her guard down, and it was already a big mistake. Andrei swiped the sword out of her hands and tapped the tip against the floor before bringing it up to lie against his shoulder. There was something eerie in the way he circled them slowly, like a shark waiting for its prey to move. To trigger the strike, Hélène made a move to kneel down beside Marya; her next mistake. She took Marya’s face in her hands and she began to cry again. The anger had diffused into grief and she could not stand the thought of leaving Marya like this. Marya, through her pain, held Hélène’s hand against her cheek and murmured a very quiet ‘I’m sorry’ which sent Hélène into another fit of tears. Cowardice led Marya to turn away from Hélène; she could not bear to see her cry.

At the center of courtyard, Andrei clanged the sword twice against the ground for attention, prepared to make his announcement. All heads turned to look at him, except his own sister, who chose to watch over her captain and the mermaid just in case the guards tried to do anything stupid. They were on edge, Mary observed, crouching on the ball of their feet as if they were ready to pounce.

“Marya Dmitrievna Akrhosimova. Your end of the deal has been sealed and your foolish actions are worthy are worthy of death but… I am a fair King. On this day onward, you are banished from Polumnyy in this life or another. No one is to ever speak a word to you and you will not show your face here ever again.” He smiled as he turned to Hélène. “That way I can assure you, Elena, I will not lay a finger on her unless she ever dares to step foot in this kingdom against my orders. Is that understood?”

“But y-you said-!”

“Is that understood!?” Andrei bellowed.

“Y-yes…” Hélène tremored.

Andrei rolled his eyes, tossed the sword aside for his guard to pick up and made his way back to the castle doors. “Take the mermaid. And please, discard the captain and her minks.”

The guards were complied with little delay. Two of them went to pluck Hélène away from Marya, grabbing the poor woman by the underarms and forcing her up on her feet when she would not listen to their command. Marya’s hand remained where it last was, upon the ghost of the hand that had been on her cheek. It had gone cold, the warmth stolen away from her and she failed to suppress the shudder that travelled through her frame. She still could not face Hélène as her lover cried out to her, told her stubborn captain that no matter what she would always love her. But Marya did not reply. Foolishly, her persistence was solely committed on training her eyes on the gate that was her escape from this misery. Hélène’s cries faded away as she disappeared pass the wooden doors but Andrei remained to indulge in Marya’s suffering. But there was someone else that caught his attention which made him stay.

The pain returned as another two guards came to retrieve Marya, picking her with surprising caution that she had not expected, though the position was uncomfortable. They picked her up like a rag doll but her limbs and she laid limp in as they walked her out of the castle gates. Her goddaughters jogged to their godmother, Natasha with Marya’s holstered sword, but Sonya did not proceed any further when she realized that Mary was not beside her. When Natasha stopped for her cousin, so did the guards and they settled Marya on the floor as they waited for the girls.

“Mary? We have to go,” Sonya spoke up but Mary did not budge.

“I have to stay, Sonya,” Mary confessed as she fumbled with her sleeves. “I have to make sure Andrei is in control of himself. I don’t want anything bad to happen to Hélène or the kingdom.”

“But it’s not safe. We- We broke you out of there for a reason,” Sonya debated. “You can’t just go back.”

“It’s a selfish decision but it’s also a selfish one to leave Hélène by herself,” Mary reasoned.

“Mary.”

“Please, Sonyushka?” Mary pleaded as she held her hands out to Sonya which Sonya took.

Sonya pondered. “Stay safe…”

“I will. He’s my brother,” Mary reminded Sonya who pulled her into a hug.

“Staying, sister? After betraying your own family?” Andrei called out as pushed himself off the wall to descend the flight of stairs. “Why would I take you back in?”

With a huff, Mary retracted from Sonya to face her brother. “Because you need me and my knowledge. You need that Church Mouse you always made fun of for reading her books. Don’t forget that you came to me for help everyday before I left!”

“That was years ago. I’ve grown out of my immaturity, sister. I don’t need you,” Andrei growled as he stormed up to Mary who kept her head up.

“You need me to take care of Hélène. You haven’t got a clue about mermaids and you might just end up killing her. What would happen then?” Mary challenged.

Andrei scowled in immediate defeat, grimacing at the offense. “Try anything funny and I will not hesitate to banish you. You have a minute to say your goodbyes. I will not accept a second more.” He trudged off grumpily back to the doors.

The man succumbed too easily to defeat, all going accordingly to her plans. It proved that she still knew her brother which guaranteed her safety. After being in Marya’s crew for so long, Mary had grown out of the church mouse of a child that she used to be and evolved into something as witty and sharp as a hawk. She carried this with great pride and gratefulness for the captain who raised her up when her father had been unable to. She could do this on her own. She was finally able to step up and face the fears of her past by returning to the place she once called home. It was a great leap that she never would have dared to take had this occurred a few years back, but here she was. She was ready.

Hers and Sonya’s farewell was spent on a long hug and a kiss on the lips. Sonya did not want to think that this might be their last giving of affection. She did not think of this as a goodbye, more of a ‘see you later’. She could read Mary like an open book and she knew that she had more plans than just providing care for Hélène but she did not respond any differently to the tearful parting. Hope was something they had to depend on heavily now even as their faith in it depleted. It was all they had and they would have to make do of their available sources. Whatever it was they had.

The chime of the last second on Andrei’s watch was accompanied by the slam of the grand doors and Mary was gone. Picking up her skirts, Sonya jogged back to the castle gate to rejoin Natasha and her now unconscious godmother. The guards lifted her back up in their arms and they set off to return to the Akhrosimova estate to pack their things before their departure from Polumnyy.

The house felt so big but Sonya felt so small within its walls. Without Mary and Hélène, it was like the old times when it was just Marya, Natasha and herself. Sonya wondered how Marya managed to stay in a house so empty when Natasha and her returned to the mainland. The girl could not even imagine the house without Marya and Natasha presently for she always had them by her side, mostly Natasha. Dear Natasha, her cousin and her closest friend. Before Mary stepped into her life, Natasha had always been there for her whenever she was alone for she was aware of her fear of being alone. The light chatter between Natasha and her godmother behind the doors reminded her that she still had company but at the same time showed her how Mary was important to her. The vacant study made her feel just as lonely as she had always felt when she had no one for her and the books that surrounded her brought no joy. Like Mary, Sonya loved books especially the ones that Mary would read to her at night when she could not sleep. Without their master reader, they became blocks of pages to her.

She slid a notebook out of a shelf where it sat with its identical siblings and flipped through the wrinkled pages. Mary had a way of writing that would always make the pages crinkle up, probably from pressing down on her pen too hard to the point Sonya could feel the writing on opposite side of the written page and pages after. She ran her fingers along the creases, feeling each bend of the page and the bumps of the intense writing. Years of knowledge spewed onto these pages, all put in the words of a single Bolkonsky princess who chose to explore the world instead of staying in luxury behind great castle walls. This why Sonya fell for her. Mary came out into the world of books, willing to face the terrors of the world that no lesson as a royal has ever taught her. She came out with etiquette, manners and decorum, none of which were useful in the pirate world Marya introduced her to but she blossomed into something so much more. Mary had the decision when they broke into the castle to save her; to stay a princess or leave the title behind for something that could have been less but she took the leap.

Sonya’s melancholic soliloquy came to an end with an epiphany striking her. They had broken in before! How could she have forgotten that vital detail? Saving Hélène and Mary was possible but their chances of success might be much lower than the previous heist. There were two people who needed saving instead of one, two itineraries to find so that the crew would know the location of the two women during certain days and they needed one perfect day and time to get them both. It could not be one without the other as the one left behind would be at risk to Andrei’s wrath. Breaking Mary out had gone smoothly with thorough that came from within the castle and externally. Sonya could recall the notes and maps Mary drew out herself to sneak into her letters that were delivered to her personally by an ally who worked within. On top of that, Sonya remembered keeping the letters.

Sonya scoured through every bookshelf and it found them in an instant thanks to Mary’s knack for cleanliness and organization. The letters had been stashed in notebooks with additional notes and they bore individual labels designed by Sonya herself; she felt very accomplished because of them. She slipped every relevant title off the shelf and slotted them into the remaining space of her bag that contained her clothes. She got an extra rucksack to stuff more of those notebooks for titles related to what they might face just in case as well as the journal Mary kept during her wait for rescue. A knock on the door rang in the silence but Sonya was too busy to notice.

“Sonya, we leave in 30 minutes!” Natasha reported then dashed away with pattering footsteps to find her godmother.

Finished with her stocking, Sonya slung the backs over her shoulders and exited the room by slipping through a small crack in the door. She closed the door behind her and locked it up for safekeeping. Certain with the items she had brought, she made her way to the parlor where she found Natasha and Marya in silence with their bags in hand. Like she had told herself before, Sonya knew that this was not a goodbye forever. They would return to Polumnyy safe and sound, and back to the Akhrosimova estate that awaited their victorious presence once they saved Mary and Hélène. It may take weeks, or in the worst-case scenario: months. Good things came to those who waited patiently and taking time to figure their way through this one may allow them to create something fool-proof. Well, Sonya prayed that they would be so lucky.

Natasha and Sonya bade their home goodbye temporarily but Marya left without sparing the house another look. She walked with her head low and her back slouched. Her eyes fell in a gloom and her once bright grey hues counted the cobblestones that traced their path to the docks to put her mind elsewhere that was not the present. Her posture hung in shame; her efforts drained. She was a completely different person in the eyes of her goddaughters, and they were almost sure that there was no consoling their mourning godmother.

It was humorous how this mission was similar to Marya’s previous voyage out at sea, when put in simple words: ‘Stepping onto forbidden ground to save the one that she loved’. Only this time, this voyage might be tougher. Tales told that humans were worst than the creatures Marya faced out there in the depths of the ocean. After her encounter with Andrei, the tales concluded an established fact and Marya had never feared more for Hélène and Mary who were in the hands of the worst of mankind.

‘Fellow members of the Moscow,

I hope this letter reaches you on time (and in good health) for we have an urgent matter. I come bearing awful news that Marya has been banished from Polumnyy forever while Hélène and I have been taken into the King’s court. I urge you to find our captain at the docks at 6 in the evening which her time of the departure. It is up to you to make the call, of course. Spread this to the others if you can in case their letters have not arrived.

That is all

Signed,

Mary B.’

Chapter Text

With the help of her goddaughters, the Moscow was ready to set sail as were their sorrows with them. Their luggage was not as heavy as their hearts were as they trudged through the streets and to the docks, the weight featherlight in their numbed arms that hung by her sides. Marya had not spoken to her goddaughters and they to her. Natasha, who was commonly known for her optimism, had none to provide to either women who had lost their lovers to her former fiancé. A false hopeful delusion was not any useful now that reality had knocked them off their feet and landed them in a ditch too far down to climb out of. They dug the hole themselves, and Marya had most of the blame held to her head that tipped to stare at the ground.

News had spread rapidly in the town and as they departed, the villagers spectated the solemn affair. Some children Marya had met during her duties rushed up to her with parting gifts, trinkets to remember them by and for good luck. Could the charms she received accumulate enough luck to grant them a happier ending? She could only wish and pray for it. She thanked them with silent nods and patted their backs when they embraced her legs, and their parents would call out to the captain to tell her that their prayers were with them. Merchants and shopkeepers would sneak a good or two into their baggage as they shimmied through the crowd to tell her the same. May God be with you. She trusted them. Then, they would slot miniature bags into her pockets or the residual space of her bag as well as Natasha’s and Sonya’s. They did not know what were in the bags but based on the faces they could recognize they had an idea of the contents each individual bag.

It was a blessing that the people still pledged their allegiance to her. A captain in tatters, a failure of a godmother and a treacherous lover. She wanted to ask them why but her voice had died in her throat and she thought wiser of asking such a stupid question. She should be grateful, not skeptical.

The cobbled path ended and the wooden planks of the docks became their guide to their destination. In the late hours of the evening, it was devoid of people. They were most likely at home with their families after a day at sea fishing for their life’s expenses. The idea abashed Marya who gritted her teeth hard enough for Natasha and Sonya to hear her jaw clack, and they exchanged mortified winces. They did not need to be telepathically talented to see what was crossing Marya’s mind and they trotted up to her sides to wrap their arms around either of Marya’s own. Svob, who was in his own tank underneath Marya’s underarm, stretched a slender tentacle out to rest on her shoulder, mimicking the young girls.

Marya was on the verge crying but she bit back her tears. What did make her cry was the sight she was welcomed with at her ship. The crew of the Moscow were gathered in a circle, sitting upon their rectangular bags on the deck of the ship in hushed conversation as they waited for their captain. The lanterns were already alight for the night, the whitewashed sails fresh and ready to take them places and the bridge was extended for the main guests to board. A crewmember leapt to their feet when they noticed their captain below soaking her tears into her sleeve and everyone else followed suit. The party scrambled across the deck and down the bridge in an orderly fashion, red bandanas flapping in the wind, and received their captain with tearful smiles.

“What are you all doing here?” Marya choked out as she embraced the dear cartographer who had been Mary’s right hand.

“We heard what happened!” one chimed in.

“Mary wrote to us and we came as soon as we could,” one answered as they stole a spot to hug Marya.

Marya gave a tight smile. “You guys didn’t have to.”

“But we do! You’re our captain and you’re not going to get rid of us any time soon.”

“I could never bring myself to do that, Leenie,” Marya sighed.

“Good!”

“Thank you for being here… I couldn’t imagine doing this on our own.” She looked towards Sonya and Natasha who shuffled bashfully.

One gestured to the ship, at the work that the gang had put into the beauty. “We have everything set up so you needn’t worry. You’ve worried enough.”

A hand clasped Marya’s chest, over her heart. “Again, thank you. I don’t think I could ever find anything to repay my debts to each of you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, captain!”

Chatter drowned into giggles and jokes to lighten the mood. They laughed it off playfully to excuse their captain’s claims, interrupting one another and even bickering with Marya when she denied them taking their bags. They nabbed their belongings and reboarded the vessel, back to their chatter, and those whose hands were unoccupied ushered the trio aboard. Marya was coddled by the soldiers of her crew, their deadly weapons of choice sticking out of their holsters menacingly, but they only radiated repose.

Natasha was exhilarated to see that they would have more company and Sonya had never been more touched to see that Marya had another family who would go through thick and thin with her. From their last excursion on the Moscow, they knew how tightly-knitted the lot was and this surpassed all else. They gazed meaningfully at their godmother whose spirits were slightly rejuvenated and took note of the topic that was never touched on. Hélène. Nobody raised the name and made sure to swerve away from anything related to mermaids. A smart choice. They would give her some time to settle down with her crew as it was much needed. It was obvious that their companionship did not improve her mood from their extensively excruciating walk through the town.

The cartographer, who informed them that their name was Marta, shepherded them to the captain’s quarters where there were three beds prepared for them. Their belongings had been arranged neatly by their designated beds, half of what they had brought were stored away below deck, stocks for mindless wallowing along the open seas. Their clothes were stacked in tidy piles on top of their bags, trinkets from the merchants lain within the baggage where they would be safe. It was homely enough and the girls were grateful for what they had. The situation could have been worse than it was but as long as they had a roof over their head and (almost) everyone together, alive and healthy, all was not lost. Hope peeked around the corner.

The boat rocked over the waves and the ladies were nearly thrown off their feet as they set off unexpectedly. They did not hear the clank and hiss of rope of metal or the rustle of the sails that caught the wind. But they were moving away from their home. The dock became a speck through the circular window, and soon the speck became Polumnyy, out of reach then out of sight, swallowed by the vast ocean blue.

Sonya was engulfed in an embrace momentarily then her hands were clasped with a warmer pair. Her hands tremored and she could hardly meet her cousin’s gaze that looked upon her with certitude. There was that optimism of hers. Natasha, who was as human as Sonya was, honed the ability to see the light in the dark, find the cure in poison and bring a smile to faces whose features were carved in a permanent frown or scowl. She may be a year or two older than her but it appeared that Natasha was always the Rostova who could brave a storm and emerge unscathed. Sonya yearned to learn her ways.

Natasha touched Sonya’s cheek as their godmother would, knuckles brushing against freckled skin. “We’re going to be okay.”

“How are you so sure of yourself?” Sonya asked, taking Natasha’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Gut feeling?” Natasha tried to joke but Sonya’s face fell. “Hey, look. We have more family with us. They’re here to help and keeping our spirits up is the least we can do for Marya.”

“I can’t just wear a smile and act like everything is alright,” Sonya muttered.

“I’m not asking you to do that… Yes, we went through some tough events but we have to move on. Take steps forward and towards a solution.” Motivational talk was not Natasha’s strong suit but in dire times like this, she spouted out what her mind spoke. “Marya needs us more than ever. She may have her crew but she also needs us.”

Sonya knew there was nothing they could to contribute directly. Not from her, especially. They were not trained combaters or sailors. Their delicate hands were not made to wield steel or man the rigging of the sails, but they had their wit. Natasha was gifted with the piquant methods of solving trouble, and Sonya had her diffident musings that often took time to develop. It was up to Marya to decide their roles on the ship but the chances that they would play the doting goddaughters were higher than anything else. It was better than being sent back to the parents and having them forbid ever visiting Marya again. Sonya prayed the day would never arrive, and to do that, she would have to do as Natasha said. Take steps forward and towards a solution.

“Yeah… I’ll- I’ll do my best.”

Natasha hugged Sonya once more. “That’s more than enough.” Giving her cousin a kiss on the cheek, she skipped over to her clothes and plucked a shawl from stash. “Get some rest while I go find Marya. She could… use a hug or two.”

“Or a long one,” Sonya added as she sank into her bed.

“That works too,” Natasha chuckled. “Take care, okay? And if you need anything, just yell.”

“Will do… Thank you, Natasha.”

“Of course.”

Blanketing herself with the shawl, Natasha exited the chambers and onto the deck where the crew had scattered to tend to their stations. Some of the members who had lesser tasks responsibilities spared a second to give Natasha a greeting while some only nodded in her direction. She was disappointed when she did not find Marya piloting the wheel but it was not difficult finding her red-loving godmother. The staple color of the woman. Her ginger hair shone underneath a lantern’s fire, a black coat, that did not belong to her, over her slouching frame instead of the usual burgundy. She rested against the side of the ship, forehead on her clench fists and unseen tears dribbling down the shadows of her cheeks. She saw the green scale that hung from braided thread in her grasp, swaying in the wind as Marya cried against it. They were not the same tears she had shed when the crew surprised her.

The shattered sword, the broken dummy, the forsaken training room. The images flashed through Natasha’s head. They had been the shards left by Marya’s rage, like the skeleton of a village after a dragon’s flaming rage, but the same indignation was nowhere to be found. Not an ounce of it was left. Mourning. That was where Marya’s state of mind was. There was nothing in front of her to burn down. Not Polumnyy or that wretched man who called himself a king. She gawped at a graveyard and Natasha did not want to discover what was buried in their tombstones.

Svob was her only companion for the night and Natasha was going to add herself to the list, invited or not. She marched over to her godmother’s side and propped her head on her hands. A respectful distance remained in between them where Svob sat and the octopus had taken to climbing up her arm for something more pleasant than damp wood to hug. Marya did not look up to face Natasha but her eyes had snapped open, a ragged breath drawn into her lungs in a scratchy rasp.

“Natalya, if you’re here to scold me, you’re wasting your time,” Marya growled.

Natasha sniffled, a gentle excusing, and she draped her arms over her godmother in a loose hug. Marya stilled. “How could I scold you?”

“Because I deserve it,” Marya forced out.

“What kind of goddaughter am I to scold you?” Natasha insisted and she plopped her head on Marya’s shoulder.

“A better person than I’ll ever be.”

“Marya! Don’t spout that nonsense!” Marya side-eyed her but Natasha did not shrink. “Something wrong happens and you yap about how awful you are. Don’t you think you’re going a bit too far?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll pull you back into your spot because I won’t tolerate any self-deprecation.”

Marya stood up straighter, stringing the necklace around her neck then tucking it beneath her blouse. Dark markings streaked down her cheeks where her tears had fallen but she did nothing to wipe them off. The scale felt warm against her chest, the sensation burning into her flesh. It was the only piece of Hélène she had left. She never got to say goodbye. Did not reach out to hold her one last time, did not look at her when she pleaded her name. She had turned away instead and the guilt of availing herself to ignorance caused her to weep again. Natasha, who conveniently had a napkin with her, did her the favor of cleaning up her misery-sodden face, dabbing the stains away then clearing away the tears before they could dribble.

Natasha, the ingenue, taking up the duty to ease her godmother of problems that she was lucky enough to never understand. Marya had played her part of shielding her and Sonya from the demons of the world, why could she not do it for her in return? It was about time they stepped out from their shelter and paid their due. Though, Sonya was in dire need of rest. She too had lost someone today and Natasha did not want to add to her pile.

The napkin became Marya’s to use, relieving Natasha of her labors. Her arm had been tremoring to keep up and Marya would have laughed had her nose not been suffocated her sobs. What came out was a muffle ‘thank you’.

“We’re going to get her back. I swear to you,” Natasha stated as she crossed the spot where her heart was.

Marya scoffed and a harsh laugh sounded. “Delusional. The child in you has to grow up, Natalya. I hate to break it to you but life isn’t a fairy tale. Happy endings do not exist.”

Natasha fought the urge to burst. All the soothing for this! “But, this is not an ending! There is always more than one path. It’s a matter of choosing which one you want to follow.”

“Correct but did it occur to you that the endings might all be bad? Either I die or… or she dies. One of us is bound to lose the other.”

“No, no. That’s false.”

“Let me explain why”- Marya was always the calculative one. Whatever she said had reason and when she fretted, there was always reason to and terrifying the woman was unfeasible. Waving a finger, she pointed to the ocean. “The lengths I’ve sailed and the creatures we’ve slayed won’t have a bounty on my head. I’m free to do what I wish without punishment. On land, with a King who curses my name, sooner or later the other kingdoms will here of me and do the same. I’m not safe and neither are you. None of us are.” She had dragged them all into this, she realized not long ago when her tears of gratitude dissipated into regret. “We could be killed as soon as we dock. Maybe at sea, when an enemy’s ship finds us, we’ll be shipwrecked.”

“Marya, stop”-

Marya wrung Natasha’s forearms. “For the protection of a future queen, the bond that ties two worlds, land and sea, they will stop at nothing.”

The reality sank into Natasha but it did not make her waver. It was not that she could not accept it. It was because she had seen her own godmother perform miracles. What was a king and his army compared to a nine-headed phoenix? What was battalion of swords to a hundred sea creatures making feed of your flesh? The bond that the kingdom should protect was the one that Marya had built with Hélène, a truer connection than one forced by marriage . Hélène ’s father would be thrilled to hear of his daughter’s bounds to a king but the rest of the mermaid population might riot against the unjust union of their own kind to the beastly race. The greedy would see that this union was necessary but the sensible would see the wrong. The indifferent would not care, and that was the category Marya had fallen under.

Natasha the sensible. It had a nice ring to it.

Wriggling free of Marya’s grip, she spoke. “You died for a vial of medicine. For me.”

Marya scowled. “And I came back to life.”

“Exactly! You’re proving my point! The impossible turned possible. You beat death but what’s more incredible is that you were willing to face it in the first place. What do you have to say about that?”

“It… It’s crazy.”

Natasha smacked the wooden railing. “Right. Do not tell me that you can’t do anything because of possibility. Death was the limit and you broke right through it. You’d do the same for Hélène, wouldn’t you? Go through these crazy lengths.”

“Without a doubt…”

“Don’t lie.”

Gritting her teeth, Marya slammed a hand on the railing. “For God’s sake, I’d do anything for her.”

Natasha threw her hands in the air dramatically. “Then stop mooning and moaning! It’s barely the first day and you know things take time. A voyage across the seven seas took months. A break-in should take weeks so you aren’t going to lose much time.”

“A break-in?” Marya blubbered.

“You heard me. ” Exhaustion welled up inside of her but she was not backing down. She had already settled dear Sonya and now she had to make sure her godmother was getting rest. “Now, please, go get some sleep. The rims under your eyes have become unforgiving, you’ve cried your eyes out enough.”

“Natalya”-

“I’m not asking.” Natasha withdrew, recollecting herself but as she was about to speak, Marya embraced her and kissed her forehead. Smiling weakly, Natasha patted the small of her back and nuzzled into her Marya’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, alright? We’ll plan as soon as we’re ready.”

“I will, I will... Later.”

Natasha took her for her word. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“I love you too, my dear.”

Natasha stalked off with Svob on her arm and the little creature waved goodnight to his pirate mother. She could not keep the octopus by her side all night. Everyone was exhausted and even though she was not fluent in fish language like Hélène was, she was sure Svob dozed off all the while Natasha lectured her. Being alone, the air hung thick over her and it compressed her into a corner so compact, she was nearly suffocating. Her tear ducts were drained, her legs were weary and her good arm quivered as she steadied herself against the ship’s walls.

She yearned for sleep but her mind was at unrest. Natasha’s voice rang in her head, the voice of reason that she needed to shake her out of her mourning, but another voice detested. Two voices, in fact, in conflict with each other over Natasha’s testimony that there was hope waiting on them to reach out and seize it. Rationalization was the voice that told her to trust the process and the other was shrieking like a banshee, hollering that time would not be enough for trust to take control of the process. The voices eroded into a sickening headache and another voice joined the choir demanding for sleep. One would shut themselves up if she obeyed so she heeded the newest addition and started to walk to her chambers.

The dark waves below toiled and thundered, rocking the Moscow as though it were a cradle, and the darkness called a halt to her journeying. The ship around her went dark while the lanterns were still lit, the void of the ocean stretching its blank slate of darkness around her. It was all she could see and now she understood what Hélène meant all those months ago (Maybe years. Time was a strange construct). In the vast oceans, she still felt trapped, engulfed in the dark and cold. She could go anywhere in the world that her ship would take her to but her heart was set on returning to one person.

She had not meant to defy Natasha’s demands but she could not tear away from the ocean. It called to her, spoke to her. When the waves roared, they whispered to her that everything would be okay. It was the power of the mermaid scale on her neck that bestowed the blessing of being connected to the ocean. The tides sung her a lullaby in splashes and patters against the ship’s hull, tipping her into drowsiness. She succumbed to slumber on a stool that had been brought to her when her knees buckled and the sea lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

So, this was peace…