Zelink Short Stories - Chapter 20: Chapter 20

I toss to my other side, flipping the pillow in hopes it'll be cooler on my cheek. It warms quickly and I turn to my back instead, staring up at the ceiling. The ship rocks and sways, its lullaby not comforting me tonight. Water laps at the sides as it tries to sing.
Whispers of curses fill my head instead. I've known for days and it hasn't settled in my thoughts that Link is a cursed captain and I know only suspicions about it. There's too many questions I didn't think to ask until they became overwhelming.
Who cursed him? Was it deserved or out of selfishness? Why can't he go on land and why does he need me to break it? And has he tried to break it before? If he had, it obviously failed or else I wouldn't be here.
I close my eyes once again, breathing deep. I focus on the distant hiss of the water, the salt clinging to the air. I lick the tender split in my lip from the wind and I just breathe, waiting for a weight to keep my eyes closed for me.
My thoughts wander to how the sheets touch every bit of my skin and my hair refuses to stay bound in a braid. Or how it clings to my neck and cheek and then my hands when I push it away.
My nightgown is too loose around my legs and too tight around my shoulders. The bed is hot and it doesn't belong to me. Who it does belong to hasn't touched it since he ordered me to sleep in it.
He isn't here now. The room is quiet and dark. The moon gives a pale gray light through the colored panes that seem so dull.
I sit up and tear down my braid. My hair unravels so long it brushes the bed. I push off the sheets and reach for my nightgown next because he has been keeping silent and he won't come in again to see me.
I peel it over my head and toss it aside to sit in his bed bare. The sweat cools the air to a chill and I wrap my arms around as my skin prickles. I stay that way, bumps raising on my arms. A tremble strokes me the same way the waves batter the ship gently, lying about how deep they truly go.
I tug the sheets over me once my teeth begin to chatter. I do away with the pillow, curling my arm beneath my head in place of it. My skin is cold pressed to my cheek and the sheets remain cool, lifting and falling to brush every inch of my body.
The weight in my eyes I had been hoping for finally comes to settle the thoughts of his hurt eyes for a while.
The sun gives its gentle kisses in the morning.
It leaves them on each lid and nuzzles across my uncovered cheek. The bed is nicely warmed beneath me, a stark difference to the heat and sweat of the evening. The ocean continues its hum, the water splashing more excitedly than usual.
Before I can open my eyes to appreciate the morning, it withdraws its kisses. The fresh glow turns to gray subtlety but swiftly.
I crack my lids. The room itself is gray and the ship rocks on a spiteful wave. A low roll of what can only be thunder in the distance sounds and coats the walls in a thick layer of unease.
I keep beneath the sheets. They're cool above me, brushing a pleasant chill along my skin. I may as well stay in bed. There's no reason for me to leave it or get dressed at all. Outside is full of people I don't wish to speak to. Captain Link Farore least of all.
I let my eyes fall back closed, grimacing on the thought. I want to know more until I know it all. There's no reason for it other than curiosity and an explanation for why.
I nestle deeper into the bed. If he weren't already, I would curse him myself. The bed is heavenly and if I were him, I wouldn't be able to sleep in a chair night after night knowing this is here though I appreciate his restraint.
Papers rustle at my back followed by the scratch of a quill. Though I hadn't been cold a moment before, I freeze.
I flip quickly, tucking the sheets around me to cover every bit of flesh and find his desk occupied. He hovers over maps and rolls a quill idly in his left hand.
Heat floods my cheeks. I slept naked in his bed and he sat at his desk to work, seemingly unbothered. What if the covers had slipped down in my sleep?
"Goodmorning," he drawls. It's just as bored as his expression while looking over his maps.
"How long have you been there?"
"A little over an hour I believe."
"Doing what exactly?"
He looks at me. His lips are missing the flicker of his usual pirate cockiness. "I spent a good amount of that time thinking of how I would paint your sleeping state on canvas if I could. Next time you plan on sleeping nude, I'd like a warning so I can plan my work accordingly. I didn't get much done."
I wish to sink into the mattress and become it to escape the shame and humiliation that makes my chest heavy. "That's perverse," I accuse. The noble ladies would die on the spot if they knew I was lying naked in the same room as a man who isn't my husband. I may beat them all to the grave.
"The opposite. I was admiring you. There's a difference."
"There isn't."
"Hmm," he hums. Just that hum forces me to realize he isn't watching my face or listening at all. Rather his eyes trace down the form of my body beneath the covers. A zap of excitement becomes a thrill in my chest as he studies the contours and the soft rises. My heart thumps wildly at the fact that a man-this particular man-has been watching for over an hour and hasn't grown bored.
No. Absolutely not. He's cursed-cursed to love me if he touches me but the condition is that I must love him too. Dragging me down by way of lust is vile.
"Cut that out," I snap.
His eyes laze their way back up to meet mine. "Are you going to come over here and stop me?" I gape, appalled by the notion. He continues. "As I told you before: this is my ship and my quarters and you, Zelda, chose to sleep naked in my bed."
"You weren't in here."
"I'm sorry to have missed it."
I glare at him. A scowl isn't enough and neither is the anger I do my best to muster. My heart continues on its cursed beat, fluttering along with the odd twinges in my belly.
The silence stretches. Where I glare, he begins to look more pleased with himself. I doubt any man wouldn't look pleased if he found himself in this situation.
He lounges back in his chair, arms rested on the wood sides like he's enjoying a view from his throne. His coat is draped over the back and his hat is discarded on his desk. He's much too comfortable sitting in a white shirt similar to the very one he allowed himself to get shot in. The first few strings are untied, leading to a nicely sculpted chest I've already seen and involuntarily admired.
My heart leaps higher and I choke on it. When I finally make it back home, I'll have to lock myself away to cure the promiscuity of my time here. Seeing his naked torso however isn't a worse memory than this one forming.
"Your quarters or not," I say, "I need to dress."
At that, he pushes himself out of his chair where he looked so content and walks to the growing collection of trunks. He flips open the one I bought at port and shuffles some of the gowns around before he pulls a beautiful royal blue one. Thunder rumbles again and my cheeks burn as he collects the proper undergarments as well as carries all over to where I'm huddled in his bed.
"I would stay in here today," he says as he lays the gown near my feet. "It's going to be a nasty storm. I can send Medoh in occasionally to check on you."
"I appreciate your concern," I say, my words clipped. A long roll of thunder follows. "But I don't need to be checked on. I tend to like storms."
His eyes flick over. Lovely and blue and they seem to churn as the sea must be, rocking the ship beneath us. "I can assure you storms at sea are much different."
"I'll manage."
A smile flickers at the corners of his lips. "I'm sure." He turns on his heel and returns to his desk. His back turned, I snatch up the slip he brought and tug it on quickly. Relief for no longer being naked lightens my mood. I shouldn't even be interested in that kind of excitement.
He fixes his belt of weapons slung around his narrow waist and collects his jacket as well. "I'm serious about you staying here," he says, picking up his hat. "I'm not familiar with the waters we're sailing through."
Exhilaration rather than fear beats through my chest. Forgetting to be worried of his uncertainty, I grow curious over what might be here. Perhaps pirating offers more than just stolen jewels.
"Where are we going?"
"Just following some rumors."
"To?" I urge.
"Gold preferably."
"Is this all you do? It seems pointless."
Once again, his eyes flick to mine. "What do you mean?"
"With your curse." My mouth dries bringing up his curse. Perhaps I should be more sensitive except he wasn't when he had Revali steal me from my bed. "What's the point of gold if you can't go on land to spend it?"
As if sensing my effort to fish for answers regarding his curse, he smiles, filling it with his pirate cockiness. "It's quite fun to look at." Of course. Pirate.
He scoops something off his desk and walks back to the bed. I gather up the sheets to cover my slip like he hasn't already seen more.
My heart drops to my feet for an entirely different reason when he flips open the compass in his hand. My compass that was under my pillow all night. Granted my head wasn't rested on it but that doesn't excuse how close he was while I slept to retrieve it.
And when he turns it to me, I see with not much surprise that it's pointing at me in his possession. I swallow though my mouth is dry and he shakes his hand gently for me to take it.
Of course I'm what he desires most at this moment. What's the pretty gold compared to stepping foot on land to spend it all?
"Your compass is broken."
"It's not." I take it quickly and close it just as fast so neither of us will see where it lands once in my palm. "Don't touch my things."
"I apologize, love. I was simply curious why you looked at it so often."
My face burning, I shove back the sheets to escape him. My situation is damning enough. He was the one to bring my gown and undergarments after all.
"Why does anyone look at a compass?" I snap. His eyes are heavy even as I turn away carrying my gown. Light flashes through the stained glass panes and thunder cracks to chase it. The wind howls beyond and the familiar patter of rain reaches my ears. If it really is a bad storm, it's only giving its warnings.
"Normally to find something. Something you want." I refuse to slow my movements as I stuff myself into the gown. He's exactly right-even more right than he may think. One doesn't have to know the direction before the compass gives it.
"Hmm," he hums once more. My skin flushes at the deep sound, wondering how it might feel against my lips or neck. I wanted to know so badly when he was close enough to kiss me. His curse must dangle want in front of the noses of any woman before him as well. There's no other explanation for my rather lewd thoughts of sharing kisses with this pirate.
I turn to face him and I slip the compass into the pocket tucked nicely between the folds of the skirt. "I'll stay inside," I promise. Away from him and the reaches of whatever cursed magic that draws me to him and him to me.
"Thank you," he says, the blue skimming down my dress quickly before reaching my face. "You look lovely, Zelda."
I offer a quick smile before realizing such a thing isn't necessary. This isn't home and he isn't a gentleman. He won't be kissing my hand in the name of being polite because he can't. His compliment wasn't adoration of an expensive gown but out of want for me to fall for him as he's forced to fall for me. But it's just that: forced to be because of magic. Those feelings aren't real just as his love wouldn't be if he did touch me.
He returns the smile, softer now than his smirk and he leaves without another word. My chest remains tight even after the door closes, cutting off the brief wind that forces its way in to whip my hair.
I grab my compass and flick it open, trailing the needle to the door. Steady and unmoving besides the sway from the ship, I don't bother to pretend it's not pointing to the man beyond it.
"I win again."
The first mate lets loose a filthy string of curses I wish I couldn't translate. His hair damp and the ends dripping water from the rain, he slams down his losing hand of cards.
I hold my hand out expectantly, waiting for him to drop coins into my palm since no more sit in the center of our game.
"You have no use for money," he spits next. He crosses his arms over his chest. His jacket was laid out to dry along with his vest, leaving him in his undershirt. Handsome as he is, my mind never abandons the image of the captain in favor of Revali Medoh.
"A gamble is a gamble." I give a flutter to the tips of my fingers. "Gold please. Unless you're cleaned out."
"I am not! I am richer than anyone can imagine!"
"Doesn't seem that way," I taunt, smiling. Perhaps being checked on amidst the raging typhoon outside wasn't so bad after all. And neither is Revali. He may be my favorite foreigner after all.
He swears once more and digs into his pocket to produce more coins. Reluctantly, he shoves them into my palm and collects the cards to shuffle. "I no longer want to play."
"Don't be sour. Would you rather be in the rain?"
"At least I would have my money."
"Perhaps play better." His scowl is more a threat but as we both know, his threats do little. "Or we could wager something other than gold?"
He quirks a brow. A drop of water falls from his hair made stringy by the downpour. "Like?"
"Truths."
"I am not interested in your truths."
"You haven't been winning, I'll remind you."
While his expression curdles and he looks as though he wants to murder me, he can't argue it. Four rounds we've played and his gold sits on my side.
"I win and you answer my questions, and if you win, I'll give you back your gold."
His eyes narrow further. Such a suspicious man. "What kinds of questions, mademoiselle?"
Thunder cracks, loud and jarring, and I try to stiffen my jolt. He laughs, shuffling the deck between his hands. I can ignore him taking humor in it so long as he doesn't report it to Link to ruin my claim of being unbothered by storms.
I straighten myself, though it's quickly ruined when I throw my hands out to keep the coins from hurling themselves off Link's desk. I cleared it out of boredom and curiosity, looking over everything I could get my hands on. It became the surface for our card games when Revali came to make sure I wasn't hiding out of fright for the violent storm outside.
It lurches the ship mercilessly, threatening to toss me from my chair at any moment. Revali doesn't seem to be struggling nearly as much as me.
"I want to know about the captain," I finally say, choosing to pile my won coins in my lap.
Medoh's laughter dies quickly. "Want to know what?" He doesn't look at the lamp that begins to slide before he catches it. The light flickers across his face, accentuating every feature. The rest of the room around us is dark and creaking from the blowing wind.
"I want to know about his curse." When he doesn't say anything and just stares dumbfounded, I begin to panic. "Y-you know of it surely?"
"Of course I know of it, you meddlesome girl! I am shocked as to how you know about it!" he bursts. "That captain is a fool. I told him to-" He shakes his head and places the cards neatly on the desk despite the rock of the ship. "Never mind. Forget about it, mademoiselle. He should have never mentioned a thing. Keep your gold."
"I can't just forget about it," I argue. "You all stole me to break this curse of his."
"It is not my place-"
"When do you ever mind your place?" He opens his beak to argue then snaps it shut just as promptly. He can't argue it; he always has something to add.
The ship gives another particularly violent jerk and while I strain to keep myself upright, he remains unfazed. He wags his finger. "I told that fool to never mention it. It only makes it worse."
"Then why did he?"
"Because he does not think. He claims he can't help it-something about the curse making him"-he waves a hand, looking for a word- "eager," he says in French. "He has done it each time and it never goes in his favor."
Each time. I catch on the words while he mutters about how he should have kept a closer eye on his captain. Each time means I'm not the first. Each time means there's been others.
"So he has tried to break it before." It's not a question and I don't intend for it to be. "And it didn't work."
Revali presses his lips together in a grimace. Light much brighter than the lamp's warm glow washes over his face and thunder follows, louder than the constant rumble it's given.
"No."
"Why?"
"Why do you think?"
"I don't-"
He pushes out of his chair which goes sliding the moment his weight no longer keeps it in place. "To break it, a woman he touches must love him too. If not, his heart will break over and over and it will get worse each time. You, mademoiselle, will be the third and he was warned he likely would not live past three."
"What does that mean?" I pile the coins onto the desk, less worried about them scattering on the floor. They do just that the moment I move around to try to keep Revali from donning his vest. "What happens after three? Is that his limit?"
"There is no limit, only a promise that a heart breaks for good eventually."
"Then what will happen to him if...if he-"
He pulls his damp coat up his arms, snapping it into place. "Do you love him, miss Zelda?" he asks, lacking any emotion besides the truth.
"No," I burst. "Of course not." He's a pirate and I'm meant to marry a self-respecting man who holds a true rank.
He gives two swift kisses to either cheek. "Then do not let him touch you. No matter what."
"But-"
"No more questions," he snaps sternly. "Stay inside. I will check on you later."
"You don't get to order me around. If I wish to be your shadow and pester you with questions, I will."
He plunges a hand into his pocket to pinch the small bit of silver between his fingers when he holds it between us. He wags the key to the room in front of my nose. "Do not make me lock you in here."
"You wouldn't," I dare. Answers most often lead to more questions and he can't leave before answering. He especially can't keep me from my only route to answering them.
Without another word, he hurtles to the door. Too quick before I chase after him, he's already pulling the door closed. I grapple for the handle, yanking in an attempt to escape.
It slams shut and I hear that thump of the lock sliding into place. "Bloody pirate!" I shout, hitting my palm on the wood. From the outside, it must sound like a juvenile tantrum. That is if anyone can hear me over the thunder.
I rattle the handle a few more times to no avail. The floor tilts and sways beneath me, throwing off my balance. I give up on the door and work my way to where the coins are. I should toss them overboard at the earliest convenience out of spite. I'll be sure he's around to witness it.
The warm light from the lamp glints off them. Lovely round and gold. I pick them up and stuff them into a pocket. It grows heavy, quickly surpassing the weight of my compass in the opposite pocket. I've banished it there for the time being. Until it decides to behave, it'll remain out of sight where I can't give in to its temptations. I want to go home and it shows me everything but.
It has no business showing me nothing but the captain. Least of all after learning the answers to those few questions. Other women have had the chance to love him before and they didn't. That being true, there's no reason to fall for his traps. All those things he said about praying at my feet. It isn't real. It was conjured up by the curse to urge him to touch me and for me to fall for him. No doubt if I did, all those feelings would melt away as if they never existed.
I climb beneath the desk to collect a coin hiding in the dust there. The floor hitches to the side and I barely have time to gasp let alone grapple for support when my head thuds into the hard wood.
Temple aching, I almost let loose a string of curses I've learned from Revali. I swallow them down. I'm still a lady. A lady trapped on a damned pirate ship in the middle of an unknown sea, being tossed around in a storm.
In a quick spit of anger, I tumble back and yank open the nearest drawer to hurl all the gold into. Their clink is dulled by whatever contents are in the drawer. I snap it closed and pout on the rocking floor in a skirt not made for such a situation.
I must look ridiculous with my slippers peeking from beneath the layers. It's all entirely ridiculous. This is the sort of thing written in books. A lady whisked away by a cursed pirate captain. She'd no doubt be ravished by said pirate as the story continued.
My cheeks begin to burn furiously. There will be absolutely no ravishing and I won't remind myself of the state I was in seeing him this morning.
Bracing myself with my hands, I glance at the drawer I tossed Revali's gold into. I'll return it of course; what will I use it for? And what a waste it would be to toss it to the fishes. It's the rest of what might be inside that lights my curiosity like kindling. I only touched what was on top of his desk before out of integrity. Staring at that drawer may make me break it.
No, I can't do that. He may collect things for me but he's never dug through anything that's mine now.
I suck my lip between my teeth. The door is locked and by the muffled shouts and the constant thunder and rain, he'll be much too occupied to come see what I'm doing.
Oh, what else do I have to do besides snooping in his personals?
I open the drawer with an overwhelming curiosity over my captor that Revali can't sate. What would he do even if he knew I stepped into his business? Toss me overboard? Stuff me into the brig? That wouldn't bode well for his love story.
Inside is a leather bound journal crowning a stack of parchment. Tucked beside it all is a holster still containing a pistol. An expensive, luxurious one by the look of it.
Ignoring it, I wedge my fingers beneath the thick stack and haul it all out. The uneven edges and mismatched colors add fuel to my curiosity. While the journal draws me in the most, I set it aside for later.
I bring the lamp down to the floor and hold an envelope to the light. In handwriting I've learned to be Link's, he's written To Mother.
Though I've just begun, my stomach sinks. It's difficult to imagine him having a mother being how he is. Assuming she's a decent lady, I doubt she would approve of his crimes, more specifically in kidnapping.
But this is quite personal. I flip it over, finding an unbroken seal containing a wolf's head. It would be beneath me to break it.
I set it aside and continue, opening up a large map. The detail is incredible. Every coast and island and port is drawn to the last minute stroke. They're named with places I've never heard or seen. The pirate port we docked at felt like the edge of the world and yet there's more. Link said himself he doesn't know these waters.
Unable to control my smile, I sift through the pile, coming across crude drawings as well as detailed ones. There are instructions and entries, quick sketches of caves and shipwrecks on beaches. A medallion is shaded on a small, jagged square of paper, keeping its true whereabouts or story hidden by lack of words.
There's so much, proving how little I've seen. How it can all fit in one world-in one stack of paper-is a wonder.
My eyes skim page after page, taking in the aged ink. Too aged, I realize, and I search for dates. I shuffle through more worn pages and find one written in the corner. I'm not sure of Link's age but he isn't this old. No, he's somewhere between twenty and thirty unless his curse gifted him with eternal youth which I doubt.
And looking closer, I realize it's not his handwriting. While it's close, the curves of the letters aren't the same. They share the smear of a left hand yet this is more delicate. It's more intentional. Something you would find of a scholar or an artist and he's neither.
I pull a page heavier than the rest, finding a long cracked wax seal at the bottom. The ink is faded terribly but I make it out to be some sort of agreement. I hold the signature and seal to the lamp, holding myself steady to the raging sea beneath the ship.
On the seal isn't the wolf I expected but a lion. A lion like the name of the ship. And the signature...
I squint to make out the letters. Longer than Link's in the handwriting that isn't his, I read it as Captain Banzetta. The previous captain no doubt. The only question is his connection to the ship's current captain. While I know how commodores and captains come into command in the navy, I'm not sure how lawless ships take on new heads. It could have been a mutiny but why then keep all the records? He doesn't strike me as one to mutiny. He's a pirate but he's more honorable than that.
I search the rest of the stack for more evidence. All I find are lion wax seals and the name Banzetta on a few. I uncover more sketches, varying in their level of detail. There's clasped hands-one obviously belonging to a man and the other a woman. Then I find her.
Her eyes, her hair, her face. All sketches of a beautiful woman staring back intently, a soft smile on her lips and love in her features. I flip each sketch over, finding the same prayer written over and over. My wife, my love, my woman.
Medilia, Medilia, Medilia.
Sitting past the page, her love coats me too. I can smell her fragrance and imagine how her hair might feel. She's achingly beautiful and the skill to trap her on a page is unfair. If I were told she was a goddess, I'd never question it.
Clutching the memories of Medilia, my gaze jumps to the journal. It must belong to Banzetta as well. A mystery captain who kept his wife in sketches.
I pick up the worn leather and untie the strings keeping it closed. A paper slides into my lap upon opening it. On it is another drawing of Medilia, her belly swollen. And beneath it written in the same handwriting as all the rest is My Medilia, my Link, my Aryll.
A breath catches in my throat. I couldn't have read it wrong, and reading it again, my answered question leads to more.
Because Captain Banzetta was Link's father, making the beautiful Medilia his mother. Aryll has to be a sister. He's a pirate and he has a family.
A violent thrash of thunder sounds outside and hail joins the constant stream of rain on the stained glass behind me. He's has a family yet he's cursed to never touch land. Assuming they're all living, he can't meet them on land and I would know if someone like Medilia was on board.
Remembering the letter, I snatch it up, ready to tear the seal. There are plenty here to deliver it if he wished to. Revali must be willing to pass on a letter if he was so willing to snatch women.
My hand stills. There's no letter to his father or sister and lack of want isn't the only reason to not send a letter.
I let it drift aside while I take up the journal once more. The first logs are uneventful. He stuffed drawn maps inside the pages, circling where his adventures occurred. My chest aches at it all, reading of places I'll never see or go. The maps only give so much but I won't know the feel of the beaches and brittle wood of other ships.
I flip to another page, reading it as if it's a story. The way he wrote it, it is. It's a collection of him and his ship, put together to become a novel. Each log is its own chapter, each sentence its own scene playing in my head.
I begin another dated eighteen years ago and the pictures his words paint fade away to someone I am familiar with. Link.
I took him with me. Medilia begged me not to and I wish I could have let her keep her boy. But he would have left her one day and he has to learn it from me. I will not be the father to let him drown in what he does not know.
She promised to hate me forever. Link promised me the same if I left him there. They are the same and different and impossible to please both. She will forgive me. He would not. I would not.
Her boy will come back home. He will be different by then. He will be a man after the sea is done with him but he will come back home.
And me. She will forgive me.
Oh, my Medilia, I will always come back home to you.
My chest grows heavier. This isn't meant for my eyes yet I can't stop. To love someone that much is something I've never felt. I can feel it here in the pages, wondering what that letter means if his father promised Link would go back home. He can't go back.
I read through the following entries, all of Banzetta teaching Link about the ship. He taught him how to fight, how to shoot. How to steal. Everything Link is and what I've seen him do are here.
His father taught it all. He took him to the places I wish I could see, had him learn his command. I continue, coming across sketches of him as a boy when his cheeks were round and his hair was a bit longer. His father was the artist, drawing everything he loved.
I turn to another page and find a face I wasn't expecting. He's drawn right below the log, his face young but scowl familiar. My brows furrowing, I focus on the entry dated just over a year after Link joined his father.
We left port today with the most unusual addition. A French boy about Link's age. His English is broken and rough and the most I've learned is that he'll stay on the ship no matter what he is told. He also claims I'm his father.
I have never been to France nor have I ever lain with another woman. We share no resemblance in face or attitude. His hair is dark and his height is unnatural for the age he must be, and he most often wears a scowl. Still he claims we share blood.
He writes better English than he can speak. After learning what I could, I found his mother told him stories of his father. She was unwed and claimed his father was a pirate. A great one. She gave stories of what rumors called a pirate king. A lion in the sea. Whoever his father was, he lied to her.
I pity the boy. Revali Medoh I learned was his name. His mother is dead and he went in search of me. If I were cruel, I would send him away but he has no part in his father's lies and I would be leaden with guilt if I left him at that rotten port. It was fate that he was picking pockets there when I arrived.
He has a place here. I will raise him as I raise Link and when I return home, my Medilia will have two sons instead of one.
My eyes widen as I read, my senses ignoring the storm that grows worse. But there's more and more and more.
My boys live in a constant state of competition. They call each other only by last names, arguing in either language where neither understands. I'm forced to separate them most times. Soon they will get along, I'm sure of it.
Revali's English has improved but in the meantime, I've learned some of his French to speak with him better. Perhaps he will pull back on his confrontation if he feels less alone. I'll have to speak with Link so he might learn as well. They should treat each other as brothers, not rivals. If nothing else, my Medilia will put them on the right path.
I skim to the next logs speaking of the captain and his first mate. It's almost three years after the last, several entries taking up space within the same page. His ink is smeared but the words are legible and carefully written just as the rest.
Link has proven to be a prodigy of the sword. He'll be better than I ever was. He's quick and strikes hard. He nearly relieved a member of the crew of his hand today but took a few fingers. He may be too quick. Soon, my hand will be the one in danger if I underestimate his swings.
Revali has shown skill with aim. The next we dock at port, I'll get him his own pistols. Twin ones, I believe. They will do him well and I'll appreciate never missing my guns. I may offer him a crossbow soon to see how his skill translates.
My boys have given me so much to be proud of. Soon, we'll go home. My Medilia will be thrilled once she sees. Our Aryll will have grown too. I miss her with all my aching heart.
Soon. We will be together soon.
My eyes sting before I realize my lip has been trembling because of people I've never met and versions of brothers I don't know.
They were raised as brothers. It explains it all. Their bickering and arguments. It explains why one claims to hate the other yet they command a ship together. It explains why Revali shot Link and he wasn't cast into the blue oblivion for treason.
My lip still trembles for another reason. In almost every entry, he thinks of Medilia. My Medilia, my Medilia, my Medilia. He finds a way to fit her into his stories even as the time drags on and he never returns home. He promised he would go home.
With the next page, parchment not belonging to the journal slides a little from its place. The handwriting is different though. It's not Link's. The curves are much too precise, even for his father. The ink lacks that familiar smear of their left hands and with an anxious plummet of my stomach, I realize it's from Medilia.
A letter addressed to her love. My hopes rise. Perhaps their story will have a happy ending.
That all falls away as I begin to read. The entire page is only one sentence, written over and over in a plea. Old rounded wrinkles ruin the ink in places, interrupting all she begs for.
Come back to me.
Panicked shouts cut through the wood as if it came from the same room. The ship throws me in the same moment. It thrashes to the side then pitches forward. A sickening scrape and a crunch comes too, the sound of wood splintering filling my ears. I forget about the tears brimming over my eyes.
The furniture in his quarters slide about, his chair tipping right for me. I yelp, throwing myself away from it. The floor pitches and I crash into the chair instead.
Aching pain scatters across my limbs and head but I'm not left in a heap for long. The shouts outside turn to fear and I'm thrown forward at the sudden crash and slow of momentum.
Though it feels like we've stopped, the sea never halts. It continues to buck beneath the ship, eager for more.
Wincing, I push myself up. Blood coats my tongue where I bit the inside of my cheek when I was flung forward. Lying on my belly now, I see all the papers have been thrown too. The journal slid across the floor and the lamp snuffed itself out. The flashes of lightning boasting its thunder give the intermittent light.
The lock on the door slides free and a rush of cold wind and drops of rain spray my face. My eyes sting from the sea mixed with the downpour.
Footsteps rush to me as I push myself up. I'm hauled to my feet next, less than gracefully. Before me is none other than the captain, entirely drenched. Water spills from the brimmed edges of his hat and his hair beneath is limp. The tie has fallen free, leaving the untamed length of it to brush his shoulders.
"I need your compass," he demands breathlessly.
Instinctively, my hand creeps to my pocket. "You have a compass-"
"I need yours. I know what it is, Zelda, and I need it." He holds his hand out expectantly. Gloved just as the one holding my wrist. "Please."
The panic in his eyes sends fear coursing through me and in that moment, I give up all my questions. I place the compass in his palm. His gloved fingers brush mine as they close around it.
Nodding his thanks, he turns heel and sweeps out of the room. I tell myself I'm fearing for the safety of my compass as I grip my skirts and race after him.
The rain drenches me in seconds, the chill searing through my flesh to my bones. The entire ship is cast in gray and the clouds give no offer of what time it may be.
The wood groans and men rush about, pulling ropes and anchoring supplies. A rail on starboard is in splinters and my heart plummets. Following the gash leads to a giant looming shadow. A shipwreck. We're stuck in it, the rotting wood refusing to let go.
I turn in place, finding more. Surrounding us. Ghosts of ships, all jagged and torn, reaching to drag us down too. They lurk in a thick fog like bones planted in the ground.
There's damage to the masts and sails and squinting through the rain, I see Revali up there, shouting orders to the rest below. He's mad.
I rush up the steps to follow Link to the helm. He flips open the compass and I get close enough to watch it spin. And spin, and spin, until it begins to sway near me.
Instead of looking my way, he squeezes his eyes shut and turns away, muttering a curse to himself. He knows what it shows and even here, the magic refuses to lie.
The compass finally stops and he grips the spindles of the wheel. He looks to the rest of his crew scattered through chaos. "Now!" he shouts, his order echoing through the eerie quiet stretching across the graveyard.
Cannons fire from below, shattering the wood holding the ship. The ship crashes back into the sea. I grab Link's arm to keep steady as the deck pitches forward.
Link spins the wheel to port, ensuring we don't get stuck on the splintery fingers once more. He looks to the compass and follows its next direction, weaving through the dead ships. It flickers towards me and I loosen my hold around his arm. The needle returns to its course.
It's giving him a path, I realize, and he's forcing it to be what he wants most. I watch him rather than the needle. He ignores me completely, only watching my compass and his ocean.
A cannon echoes, ringing through the mist, sending a nasty chill through me that has nothing to do with the drenching rain. Link's attention snaps to it though mine goes the other way. It echoes once more, sounding from behind rather than the sides.
"What is that?" I whisper. My voice feels dampened here like something is muffling it. There's the rain of course and the thunder but this is heavy. Heavy like dread.
"We're being followed."
The chill worsens as my mind conjures up the worst of what it could be. I should've stayed in his quarters, hidden away from this and the storm.
"By what?" I look to the looming shipwrecks and jutting rocks he's carving a path through, expecting to see a drowned sailor covered in bloated, wet flesh. Horror at the image stabs into my chest. The rotted skin sloughing off in chunks and eyes eaten by the fish. An arm of bones crusted in barnacles.
"Not ghosts," he says, easing nothing by the smile flickering on his lips. "At least I hope not."
"Don't joke," I scold.
He opens his mouth, likely to give a snobby reply. It's cut short by a shout made in French from above and a cannon firing too close.
It slams into the ship, turning wood into shards. The crew erupts into panic, rushing to their posts. More explosions sound, echoing across the water until they tear into the ship.
Gripping Link's arm, I look to where it's all coming from and through the ships and rocks and mist, the familiar paint of ships at Port Royal glint back at me.
It disappears into the fog before Link can order his men to fire the port side cannons. A ghost ship itself, hiding among wreckage to hunt.
And that's what he's doing. The Commodore did come. I gave him what directions I could and now he's come to rescue me. Captain Impa Kakariko kept her promise. I hope it didn't cost more than her time.
Except it isn't relief that's floods me. My eyes inch away from that phantom and settle on Link where he's already watching me. He'll hang if the Commodore succeeds. Him and Revali and the rest of the crew. They'll put them in a line and each of their necks will break and I'll be there to watch.
It's the fate of pirates.
"I'm getting tired of your commodore. He got himself a new ship."
"Give me up," I say. It startles me despite how desperate I've been to return. "Maybe we can reach an agreement." One that doesn't end in his neck breaking.
"No," he says simply. My throat begins to ache as if my neck will be the one to break.
The Commodore is close just as he was before. He didn't die then but he may now. It's him or Link. They're between everything I want to return to. Home and Father and Paya. I need it to go back to how it was. Before I fainted during his proposal and before I was stolen from my bed. I don't wish to live in the middle of curses.
"What do you mean no?"
"I don't believe I'm in the mood for negotiating how I'll die with your intended." Jealousy carves its way into his face, molding his features into disgust for any possibility that involves losing me. Because that's the curse he's forced to live but I'm not the one meant to break it.
He could still have a chance. Just as long as he doesn't touch me. Another woman may find him easier to love, even if the thought makes my stomach sour.
"Don't be foolish," I plead. "Your ships will join the wrecks if you fight here."
"I'm not going to fight, I'm going to lose him." As he says it, his eyes move to the compass and my gaze follows, the realization settling deep. Skyloft doesn't have this to tell him where to go. His cannons fire, searching for what he knows is here. He's just more lost.
He follows the turns it gives, now leading him away from the Commodore. His hand and eyes remain steady as he says, "Do you take me for a fool, dear?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," I snip. "Every pirate is a fool and you fall into that well easily."
"Learning from Medoh, are we?"
"He is our favorite foreigner after all. Though he could be considered a brother to some."
I'm not sure why I said it or at least why I chose now. Now when Skyloft is hunting us down through a cemetery of wreckage. His cannons continue to boom and challenge the thunder as he no doubt is firing on ships he thinks may be us through the fog. Link hadn't missed the chance to fire, he withheld it to keep us hidden. We'll abandon him here and then it'll be my fault he remains stranded.
Link stiffens to stone, his shoulders rigid. His gloves strain as his fingers tighten around my compass. I worry he may break it just as he seeks to break his curse.
"Go back to your quarters and put my father's things away when you're there. I expect you to be in bed with a book when I join you."
"You didn't have to be a pirate, did you?" I ask. "You were just following him."
His attention snaps to me, his eyes hard and striking enough to make me jump. "Why would I need to answer when it seems you've found it all out on your own?"
"Because you expect me to fall in love with a mystery. I know you're a cursed man and a fool but nothing else."
His jealousy has grown familiar and I see it slither onto his face as easily as the tide rises. "I'm sure now you'll tell of how much you know of your commodore," he spits, "since finding my father's ghost wasn't enough."
"I know enough of him-"
"There it is, love. You think I know any more or less than you do about me or you about him? But that's just the issue because I'll love you anyway. That's not something he can promise you."
"That isn't fair."
"Isn't it. Go back to your quarters. We can talk more when I get us out of this mess."
"Make me," I challenge bitterly. "Or will you not because that may involve touching me and you've gathered yourself in enough messes, haven't you, Captain?"
The sea in his eyes churn and his jaw sets harshly. I aim to torment him. To what end, I'm not sure, though it's what he deserves.
He steers the ship in accordance to my compass, attempting to ignore me completely. The ship sways and I be sure to hold him tightly as it does, squeezing his arm.
With something that sounds like a growl, he shakes the compass as its needle spins wildly, giving him no true course. I grow comfortable in my macabre satisfaction as I could kill us all playing this game.
Cannons continue to echo from my intended's ship, searching for us. He likely wouldn't wait for the gallows to kill this heap of pirates. He'd be all too eager to run his sword through Link's gut.
Sparking a memory of when he cheated death before, I ignore the swooping of my own gut and bring my hand to the soaked lapels of his coat. His body remains as stiff as the boards of the deck. I move aside his coat and run my hand over the undershirt made sheer from the rain. His heart pounds beneath my palm and my own races to match its pace.
"Go back inside," he grits out.
"It doesn't count unless our skin touches, right? Maybe I should get my own pair of gloves."
"You grow less ladylike each day."
"I thought that's what you wanted."
His gaze snaps up from the compass that has abandoned him completely. "You know what I want."
He doesn't wait for me to answer before his focus returns to the shipwrecks and steer us away from them. The compass only shows me now. His want. His want just so happens to be a need.
I tug aside the undershirt, careful not to brush his skin even as his breath hitches. His rounded scar stares back, flesh colored and fully healed despite its mottled appearance.
"Where Revali shot you," I say, "does it still ache?"
"No." My game shatters just like that. "I hardly even felt it the moment it happened. Why?"
I pull my hands away, leaving his clothes mussed. "Nothing."
"Afraid you'll hurt me?" This time when he turns, he dares to come closer, his breath smelling faintly of rum warming my skin. "No injury, old and new, will keep me from taking you to places you've never seen. Gloves or not."
Even in the chill the rain carries, I can't hide the heat in my cheeks. "I'm still a lady," I hiss.
He gives a mock frown laced with his jealousy that hasn't yet left. "I meant oceans and islands, love, as I'm sure you saw the maps my father drew. Any other meaning came from your own head."
I sputter for something to spit back at him. "Pirate." A filthy one, twisting his words to filthy things to make me seem like the unruly one. A filthy, filthy pirate.
Though he could take me to all those places I would never see. Assuming it's the truth, no one else ever would. I had no desire before and now that there's such an opportunity-
No. I stop my thoughts abruptly. It's not an opportunity; he kidnapped me. His curse is no excuse and his offer doesn't mend anything.
"Does that fact still scare you or does saying it excite you now?"
My face grows hotter and the urge to knee his most precious treasure becomes overwhelming. I'm not scared of him and he certainly doesn't excite me in whichever manner he's speaking of. "It should make you ashamed."
"Medoh may shoot me again the day I become ashamed."
"I will be looking forward to that day."
I startle at the burst of French and the towering man it came from when he appears beside the helm. It doesn't bother Link at all and I suppose it wouldn't when they've been pirating together for so many years.
"We are almost out of it," he says, continuing in his language. "I saw the best path." His eyes flick to mine, narrowing like he means to accuse me of something while still speaking to his captain. "And you are distracted."
"Then take the helm."
He steps aside, allowing his first mate to take over. It's so routine that it takes me a moment to realize the captain had not only understood his French second but also responded in kind.
"You can speak French," I blurt, even as he already begins to walk away. I take fistfuls of my sopping skirt and drag myself behind him as the deck sways and the rain pours in heaps on my head.
"Is that so odd?" he asks, hardly turning his head as he moves down the steps. "I thought you read my father's logs."
A pang of guilt twists my gut when guilt shouldn't be had over a thieving pirate. "Yes, but-"
"Then you'll know that my father picked up a very determined yet confused French boy at port and made us brothers. He's been in my ear since then so of course I can speak it."
"You never mentioned it before."
"You didn't ask."
"I didn't think to."
"Just as you didn't think to ask before snooping in my past."
He throws orders to his crew before I can defend myself. His first mate locked me in the quarters with nothing better to do than discover more about the captain. It isn't my fault he leaves me in the same place as his personal effects and assumes I won't grow curious. No one here will tell me anything.
He descends the stairs leading beneath the deck which is normally covered by a grate. The steps are slick following him and the air grows humid and stale below. I've never been and had never planned to but he gives me no choice as he tries to escape the conversation and leave me as some sort of villain.
"I didn't make it very far," I huff. I cringe at the grime on the floors which look all the more dirty in the poor light. The room houses hammocks for the crew as well as all sizes of crates and barrels. Cannons line the wall, all tied down with worn rope. They all shift against the binds in the storm. The open hatches they're placed in front of let in the wind and strong scent of brine.
"Then I'm very happy that you believe not reading very much excuses the fact that you read it at all-"
"Alright!" Several from the crew pause their tasks following my outburst. It takes a quick look from their captain to scurry on their way to tend to the artillery and keep the powder dry in case Skyloft comes back around and finds us.
He gives me his full attention, his eyebrows raised, arm braced on a stack of crates and ropes. "Yes?"
My teeth scrape together-chew the inside of my cheek until the healing bite is once again raw. "I apologize for going through your things."
His lips twitch but he doesn't allow it to become a grin. "I accept your apology. Now will you go back to your quarters? You shouldn't be down here."
I step forward, holding my hand out expectantly. "I'd like my compass back-"
Just as before, the ship lurches on a violent wave, throwing me sideways. He catches my wrist and twists my back to his front before he goes crashing into the crates. He grunts and strains to stay on his feet when the ship falls back into the sea.
His arm tightens around my middle, trapping mine along with it where he hasn't let go. "I'd like to hold on to it for a bit longer if you don't mind."
"Why?" I twist enough to look at him and he leans his head as far from me as possible, exposing the entirety of his throat. "How did you know about the compass in the first place?"
"I take it you didn't reach the part where my father went mad looking for it, then."
I turn fully though his hand remains splayed at my waist, keeping me steady. "What?"
"A story for another time. Go back to your quarters-"
My frustrations rise quickly along with my voice. "So now you won't answer my questions and you wonder why I go searching to piece them together on my own! What is it you want me to do?"
"I want you to go back to your quarters! You don't listen-"
"If you want me to listen, then promise to take me home!"
"I'd rather go to hell!"
"Isn't that sweet," I seethe. "You can join me since I'm already there!"
"Perfect."
He moves too quickly for me to object or escape. He hauls me onto his shoulder, tipping the world upside down. I pound my fist into his back over and over. I've had quite enough of being hauled around like an angry sack of potatoes.
"Put me down!" I screech.
He only adjusts his grip, his fingers digging through my corset. "No."
"PUT ME DOWN!"
I attempt to kick his face and his arm clamps around my legs, pinning them with a hand placed too high on my thigh for my claims of being a lady. I swallow my scream of frustration, watching the stairs beneath us. Rain pours onto my back, adding a fresh chill to the fabric of my dress.
He barks at his crew to go about their business, his tone nothing close to what he uses with me even if he had just been shouting. He reminds them they'll lose bodily privileges as he hauls me through the storm. Lifting my head, the shipwrecks have thinned past the fog and the rocks are less jagged and proud. The ship sways on the water but we're past the ghosts within it.
The rain dulls immediately entering the captain's quarters. He kicks the door closed behind him and my heart lurches at the view of it. So utterly feral and masculine that I have no business enjoying it. The world rights itself in the next moment and it becomes his face. As handsome as it is, I send my foot hurling towards his shin since slapping him will result in catastrophe.
He doesn't so much as stumble. I fling my hair from my face, not caring to think of how horrendous I must look. "Are you going to lock me in here again? That's no way to win the heart of a lady!"
"My mother tried to kill my father an unnatural number of times. I don't think you know how many ways a woman's heart can be won."
"Whatever method you are using doesn't work on me!"
"I wouldn't put it off yet. No other man has managed to make you fall in love."
I snap my jaw closed and my body goes unbearably warm under his blue stare. How dare he suggest I'm falling in love with him due to his antics. It's so ridiculous that it's foul. Yet when he quirks a knowing brow, that heat rises to my cheeks.
"Just because you wish it, doesn't make it true," I say, my voice low with as much disdain as I can muster. It's not as much as I would like but I can't find any more.
"Then stop wishing your commodore will come to save you."
I send my foot into his leg once more and this time he winces. "He is coming to save me, you filthy pirate."
"He failed twice now and he'll fail if he marries you too." He steps away from my third kick, holding my arms in place when I attempt to shove him too. "You're very set on becoming some sort of pet when I can take you anywhere to see anything."
Surprise widens my eyes. Surprise and shock for the very thing I heard from witches on a land he hasn't touched in what must be years. But it isn't possible. The Commodore doesn't even have me. How could he be the one to keep me?
"You are the one who locks me in here. You stole me from my home and put me in the middle of the sea with no choice to leave," I remind him. "You are the one keeping me as a pet, not the Commodore."
"That isn't my intention." He brings his hands to cup my cheeks. He gives soft strokes of his thumbs, the wet leather of his gloves dragging along my skin. "I won't lock you in here anymore, you have my word," he promises. "Just stay inside until the storm passes. Change out of those clothes before you catch a cold and I'll join you later to answer your questions. Is that agreeable with you?"
I twist my lips considering him. He remains steady watching my eyes. Any heat in my chest has been doused to nothing. Tiny drops of rain sit in his lashes from the spray that managed its way beneath his hat. It extends the illusion of the sea in his gaze. He watches me so intently that I begin to wonder if he sees something in the green of mine.
I wouldn't dare to ask it. Voicing that question would make him think I thought more of him than I really do.
"It is," I finally say.
His mouth tugs into a faint smile lacking his arrogance. "Then we have an accord."
He steps away. My cheeks go cold losing his hands holding them. "My father left dozens of maps and notes if you wish to look through those."
"I saw a few."
"Then there's plenty more." He moves to his desk and opens the drawer I had emptied and he clicks a hidden button, opening a drawer I had thought was simply a panel of wood. He pulls out scrolls and loose papers, more journals and letters, setting them on the top of the desk.
"These are his more personal notes and drawings. Keep to the maps and their notes." He glances at me through his lashes. "Any letters from my mother and the drawings Father made of her are far from appropriate."
My cheeks warm but a smile grows too-one that he matches. "Is that why they're in a hidden drawer?"
"You can imagine my horror thinking I would find sweet remnants of their marriage and rather found how I was conceived. I normally pretend they don't exist."
"But you kept them."
"I hoped I'd return them to his Medilia one day." His smile vanishes as quickly as it had appeared. He gathers up the letters and folded papers that must be drawings, separating them from the maps and long pages of notes. "My father died when I was sixteen," he mutters. "I spent two years heading his ship without returning home and I've been cursed for another ten. My mother and sister don't know he's dead. They don't even know my face anymore."
He stuffs the handful of letters and drawings into the hidden drawer. I jolt as he slams it closed, the mechanism keeping it locked and hidden clicking into place.
He braces his hands on the desk, no longer looking at me. It's regret and shame he claimed he didn't feel though it's not for what he's done but for what he failed to do.
He's a pirate, fitting into his role so thoroughly I believe he was made for it. All that adventure and the maps showing what no one has seen before. He's meant to be an unruly hellion of the sea, to go anywhere and conquer what he wishes. Yet he wants to return home. He has a family and a knot he hasn't untangled.
It's not so different that Father has no knowledge of my whereabouts just as his mother doesn't for her family. It's never really fair, is it?
"Why was your father searching for the compass?" I ask it carefully, daring a small step closer. He loves more deeply than what his curse creates. It may even be real and not just cruel magic.
"He heard rumors of something that could lead you to your deepest desires. He convinced himself it would take him to the perfect place for his wife and children that had everything we would ever want. He got himself killed while looking for it and almost sank this entire ship in the process."
"How?" I ask, moving to stand beside him.
He watches me come closer, eyes tired but no less raging. The sea spills from them, trickling into me, carrying a chill that only he will be able to warm. My fingers curl around his gloves, tightening so that the touch might feel real.
The leather pulls taut beneath my palm and he lifts my hand as if weighing it. He turns it over in his hand, studying the skin he can't touch. His thumb roves over it, rubbing warmth into the cold. I crave more of his touch, already mourning the end of it.
"Another pirate who I won't hesitate to kill if I ever come across him again." I open my mouth but never get to ask more. "I'll answer it all later just as I promised," he interrupts in a whisper. He looks up as he fixes my sleeve over that small space on the back of my hand.
Bending like he might pray as he promised before, he presses a kiss to my hand covered by my sleeve. His eyes finally close as he lingers, his breath warming me through the cloth. Prickling bumps rise along my arms as I imagine what his lips might feel like on my mouth. He'd drag them along my jaw down to my neck, whispering his promises of how thoroughly he would love me. All I have to do is love him back.
"You look lovely, Zelda," he whispers. The same words as before only now he means to devour me.
He'll steal the air from my lungs and fill them with water if it means keeping me. I'll drown in him and he will trick me into thinking I'm still breathing.
As much as I try to fight it, I crave his touch as it falls away and moves too far. Watching him go, I sway on the edge. It's become unsteady without my realizing and the bottom grows enticing. So deep and endless that when he comes to pull me down, I may go willingly.