She flinched beneath the blindfold as the executioner tied her skirt closed at the bottom. How very polite of him. After all, it might upset the delicate sensibilities of the colonial government should her skirt be blown up by the wind as her corpse dangled above the ground.
"Katniss Everdeen has been found guilty of piracy. On this, the third day of June, in the year of our Lord 1736, we gather…" The man, the judge from her trial, continued his speech, but Katniss felt no need to listen. She had considered her own impending death a great many times over the past few weeks; hearing another speak on it would bring no new revelations.
Rough hands pushed her, and she stumbled forward, her movement impeded by her bonds. Katniss silently prayed that should some almighty God exist, He would allow these last few moments to be spent not aware of the pain, but remembering life's happier moments.
The sea had been her first love, and the only one she dared maintain. The spray of the ocean against her cheek, the soft ebb and flow of the tides, it connected her to Father, wherever he might be, for he loved the ocean just as she did.
The sea must have loved him in return, for one day, she took him in an embrace and never let go. He left her a compass that rarely pointed north but led her in the right direction all the same. Naturally, she kept it close to her heart from that day forward.
Legitimate enterprise had little use for women, but others were far more liberal. She encountered him on one of her earliest raids. Like her, he was hardly more than a child, but even then, his skill with a sword was worthy of the tales swapped in Tortuga's taverns. The young sailor had cut down ten of their men before he had ended up, as much through luck as skill, with her blade to his throat.
She considered making the cut, finishing him off and rejoining the fight, but something in his eyes stopped her. They were a lovely blue, a shade she had never seen before or since. He longed to rejoin the fight, that much she could tell, but yet he made no attempt to escape her.
"Join or die." It was not an offer they gave to members of the Royal Navy, and she hardly realized what she was saying until the words were out. Still, that remained the single brash decision she had never regretted.
"I don't want it to change me."
She turned away from the night sky to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"Piracy. I don't want it to make me someone I'm not." Moonlight reflected off his suntanned skin, but as she found happening more and more often, it was his eyes she was drawn to, those eyes that could hide nothing from her. Tonight, they were earnest.
Katniss studied the stars for a long moment, thinking, before she again looked to him. "I don't think it will," she said, reaching out to take his hand.
"Peeta, go! Go!" Her cutlass slapped against her thigh as she sprinted towards the river. A dozen of His Majesty's troops followed close behind, and more than once, she winced and waited for death at the sound of a musket firing. Perhaps, if the king cared so much for his treasures, His Majesty might invest in better marksmen.
That would not change the fact that Peeta, stubborn mule he was, still had not left. "Peeta, get out of here!"
"I'm not leaving without you!"
She ran, cursing him all the way. Finally, she jumped into the canoe. "Row!"
"Already working on it, love." And he was, already having put a fair bit of distance between them and the soldiers.
Between them, they rowed for three hours down that winding river, stopping only when neither could summon the strength to go further. They collapsed together by the bank, deciding they would plot their escape from the island tomorrow.
They hadn't meant to kill the child. That was little comfort to the mother who held her child's corpse to her chest as she bled, only inches from death herself. Peeta held her during those last minutes, telling her in soft tones of marvels he had seen, of Peru and Mexico and the stars at midnight. He continued stroking her hair long after she had passed, and it was then that Katniss knew.
"We could go to England. Nobody knows us there. We could be married, start a new life together."
She shook her head. "I can't."
"Katniss, it would be simple. We would book passage under false names. I'm strong. I could work as a laborer, perhaps find a baker willing to take me on."
"No, Peeta."
"I can't stay here, not with what happened to that woman and her child. I can't do that again. Can you?" He studied her face for a long moment. "Please, Katniss. Please come with me."
To a fool, the ocean was a kind mistress, sweet and beckoning. A wise man knew her for what she was: a siren, for once one heard her song, her spell on them could never be broken. "I'm sorry, Peeta, I can't. I wish I could."
"Katniss, please –"
She shushed him by putting a finger to his lips. Katniss slipped off the leather cord she wore around her neck and placed it around his. "I can't go with you, but you will always be able to find your way back to me."
Her father's compass came to rest against his breastbone, and he offered no further argument. With a final kiss, Peeta was gone.
This time, the hands that take hold of her waist are gentle. The burn of rope against her neck disappears, and a familiar voice whispers softly against her ear, "Don't worry, I'll always find you."
A/N: Inspired by Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean franchise.