Obey Your Captain

“You will be safe here,” he whispered down to the day old, if he kept the child any longer, they would morph. Change into its first form.

“Pouco. Please awake.”

She grumbled, the voice tugging her from the depths of darkness that were pleasant, warm and pain-free.

“You can sleep after you’ve had some potion, it must be wearing off.”

“Not today,” she mumbled, shifting on the comfortable surface.

“Yes today, open your mouth.”

She cracked a black eye open before realising where she was. Sitting up sent the room tumbling. Thin spindly fingers gripped her head at the sudden onslaught. She found arms soon around her before she were transferred onto a warm lap. “You have a sarsma, I don’t think it is life-threatening, but you must wake regularly.”

“You’re not a healer.”

“True. Are you in pain?”

“Not too much… just when I moved… the room.”

“I know. I remember when I fell from the mast on your father’s boat when I were a cabin boy. I wasn’t too far up, but my big head caught a barrel. The sea grew rough the next day. I wouldn’t be here if not for your father.”

“Why?” she whispered as he fed her a Grinkgo leaf.

“He personally ensured I ate and drank even when I vomited it on his boots. The crew stated I was a goner, not your father, he kept me from dehydration long enough to make port. I did not realise it until later he paid for the best healer, a mage, to cure the break on my head and cure the infection that had begun. He refused to allow me to repay the debt.”

“He was a good man,” she whispered, leaning into Baron.

With a tender kiss to her temple, he replied, “Indeed, and he produced an incredible daughter. I cannot thank him enough for that treasure.”

Her hair curtained around her while she fiddled with bony fingers. “I’m no treasure. I’m a pain in your rear.”

“True. If I did not enjoy that pain do you think you would be here?”

“I do not know,” she mumbled.

“The answer is, no, Pouco, you would not. I would have tied you to the mast for your insolence then when you refused to obey, sling you overboard.”

Letting out a feeble laugh, she peered up to him. “I suppose. I always wondered why you did not throw me overboard.”

“Because I always wanted you, Kaliyah. I am unashamed to admit I held a liking to you the first moment I saw you.”

“Even like this?”

“Of course. This is you. I want all of you, as my intended.”

“I think asking while I am in the throes of sarsma is unfair.”

“You can sleep now, if you wish. We are setting sail tomorrow morning. Do you still wish passage on another ship?”

She scowled, “You will let me leave?”

“Of course. You have never been a prisoner. If you wish to leave you have every right.” Tucking her obeque hair behind the tiny lip of her ear, he kissed her hollow cheek. “I could only wish you will stay.” He embraced her gently before easing her back onto the cot. “It is your choice. I need to oversee some loading, I will be back with food if you wish for it.”

Nodding, she settled under a blanket he pulled over her, only really one answer on her mind.

“I’ll stay,” she whispered as she drifted back into the peace of sleep.

How could she not accept to stay when he knew her true form and still held her close? Could she expect more from anyone else? She felt so secure, no fear to be caught. She’d not felt this way since she had found out her true race.

She couldn’t deny she liked the half elf… and as she only had the excuse of who she truly was… she didn’t have much of an excuse.

Sleeping more than she had in her life, she only awoke to Baron sliding into the cot next to her, curling his body around her.

She rose again when she felt the boat jostle. Rubbing her head at the dull ache, looking around she saw a cup on the table and the bundle of herbs wrapped in the cloth. She didn’t feel dizzy, and the pain wasn’t bad, therefore she decided to forgo them, smelling the cup, the water was still fresh so she took sips. She could hear yelling on deck, the general bellowed orders and wondered what was happening.

Pushing herself from the cot, she noticed a package on the end of the cot. She was going to ignore it until she saw her name scrawled on the parchment wrappings.

Plucking the twine undone, she unfolded to see clothes neatly folded. A scrap of parchment sat upon the top. A spidery hand read, ’Pouco, these are for you. When you are ready, I’ll be in my office.’ How would he know he’d be in his office? He wasn’t a Captain to stay hidden away.

A small package stood atop a clear bundle of clothing, unwrapping, she found a soap bar, smelling it was pure delight. She couldn’t even fully distinguish the smells, apart from fruity. Maybe citrus? Pulling two cream shirts, these a little thicker, clearly holding linen within the strands, however, it were softer than linen, much like the Captain’s shirts. However these, were clearly her size. Behind these, she pulled a soft indigo shirt from the package, it were too soft to be linen. Stroking the soft silken fabric, she knew it were a colour shirt she wore before she began sailing. It was beautiful, a fabric she never felt she’d wear again after her father’s death. She had sold her clothes to keep her mother and sister fed and for necessities.

Under the beautiful shirt, she found deep ink coloured breaches, the finest dye must have been used to create the colour on the cloth.

Seeing she were still in her true form… and only in one of the captain’s shirts, she stripped it off, concentrating on the form she had chosen five years before, it was a relief to see her skin the hue of her father. Donning the breeches and a cream shirt. Forgoing the indigo shirt for it was surely for dress, not daily life.

Particularly on a boat.

With a gingerly hesitant touch, she felt the wound on the back of her head. A chicken egg size lump met her fingers. Running her hands through her loose hair, smoothing it, she stepped out of the sleeping quarters.

“Pouco, you should still be sleeping,” his voice rumbled with both scold and care.

“I’m well now, Captain. Thank you.”

“Did you take the herbs?”

“I have no need of them.”

With a tremendous sigh, Captain heaved to his feet, slipping past her before returning with the cloth bundle. “I will not insist on the pain relief tonic, but I will on these until you are better.”

Looking at her bare toes, she let out a heavy breath through her nose. “Thank you for the clothes.”

“It was my pleasure. Here.” He cupped her hand and deposited the necessary amount of herbs into her palm.

She glanced up when he did not move away, “I feel it is unnecc…” her protest died with the hardened look he pinned her with. “Just because you went to market on my behalf, which I will compensate you for, doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.” She gave him an equally hardened look back. She would not back down. She did not have need of the medicine.

She felt fine.

Well… better.

“Kaliyah, I will not have you injured. The herbs will support you to get back fighting fit. It will also heal any injury we cannot see. Please.” He pressed her hand closer to her body. “There is no harm in taking them.”

She scowled, but placed them in her mouth, chewing thoroughly. “I will still not accept your orders,” she stated petulantly once she had swallowed.

With a thumb ghosting the edge of her lips, he leant in closer than was decent, “We’ll see, Pouco, we’ll see.” Trailing his nose down her cheek she was at war with herself whether to slap him away, or lean in.

Both options held appeal.

Holding herself stiffly, she did neither. His spiced scent wrapped around her in comfort and warmth. He was a fire on a cold day. A fire she felt she could not relish in.

“I am grateful for your care and consideration,” she wished her voice came with more authority… yet it came out as a mouse.

“I have stocked my personal stash, would you like fruit? I have cured meat.”

“Meat?” She hadn’t had meat in months… she barely remembered the taste.

“I have boar, buffalo, venison or smoked sausage.” He moved to a cupboard and opened it to display cloth and waxed wrapped parcels. “Oh, and cheese! How could I forget the cheese?”

“It’s your personal stock. I can’t-”

“You were injured before you were able to make it to market. You were unable to stock your own.”

She didn’t want to admit she wouldn’t have done that. Food, even if it were bland and repetitive, was provided for for all crew. It was enough to survive off even when sometimes it was days upon days of grain mash and fish.

It kept her full, and alive. She couldn’t ask for much else. It was a far cry to how she’d been raised.

When she stayed silent, he began pulling bundles from the cupboard, unwrapping to display the array of meats. Taking a dagger, he sliced a piece off each, placing them on a tin plate before pushing it in her direction. “Eat. I have plenty for the both of us.”

She had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about food as she nibbled on the strip of venison. The smoked gamey taste exploded on her tongue and it was delicious. “Help yourself whenever you desire. It is unfortunate you did not have a chance to eat at a tavern.”

“I usually don’t while we dock. Kendrick’s cooking is more than enough.”

Captain’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing, going back to his maps.