Raging winds pulled the sails of the massive ship across the sea. The air smelled of salt, the waters carried an occasional dead body or two, and the deck was full of loitering pirates. Their captain was nowhere to be found but that made no difference to the workload. Each man took on their duties as if the 8itch herself was standing right behind them, breathing down their necks. It was a term of endearment, in their own way. While she may have been an iron-fist ruler, she was also fair, and more loyal to her crew than to the Empress herself. That in itself was unsurprising; any troll crazy enough to willingly make himself an outlaw knew he was swearing off all ties to the caste system. This was what made them rebels in the first place, unlike the rebels fighting the system, but moreso rebels who just cared not for it. Neutral rebels. Liquor, sex, and riches. Equality was hardly in their interests so long as they could hold a pint of beer in one hand and grab the ass of a lover in their other.

But trust. Trust.

Now that was a funny word. Hardly associated with pirates, and yet they were the most loyal of men ever to be found on this planet. They've been there for the captain through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, for rich or for poor. If she wasn't such a complete asshat, she might appreciate them more. It's not to be misunderstood that Marquise was an unfit captain, or even ungrateful. She appreciated her crew as much as a mother loves her children (if that mother also drank and fought and sparred with her kids), but she lied to them on a daily basis. Her lies had nothing to do with money or identity or their raids, but about her relationships.

One in particular.

Cronus 'Dualscar' Ampora was feared by many, admired by some, and actually met by few. The man was domineering, powerful, intelligent and clever, with an ego bigger than his ship and arrogance as far as the eye could see. And she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Or rather, they were drawn to each other like the sun and moon. Destined to never meet, and yet somehow they kiss at the end of every night and day. They were destructive towards each other, better off separated.

Somehow, the two kept colliding.

It was no secret that he was redder for the Empress than the second sun. It was also no secret that she used his affections to her advantage, keeping him at her side for use. He was nothing but a pawn to the Queen, a puppet, a toy for her to play with. He did her bidding without a second thought, without even a moment of hesitation. To the pirates, he was a spineless pathetic tool. The conflict between his crew and hers often got deadly, mainly because they couldn't stand the sight of him.

Her crew had no respect for him, mocked him. And if they ever knew she was screwing him, they'd have no respect for her too.

So she kept their relationship a secret.

In truth, they went so far back beyond anyone's knowledge. The two have known each other since they were maybe 3 sweeps old. Before Mindfang was 'Mindfang', she was Aranea.

A noble troll, her caste put her in some wealth and comfort. She attended uncomfortably lavish (and hideously decorated) balls and parties. Her Imperious Condescension was known for keeping her minions in line, often throwing parties for the rich to keep tabs on them. Those of a higher caste knew that while the invitations were 'optional', attendance was actually mandatory. Balls were just her way of keeping them under her thumb, reminding them of who she was and how how insignificant the rest were in comparison.

Everyone dressed up in their best fabrics and jewelries, playing their part for the show. Smile and laugh, have a glass of wine and dance. But not a single person enjoyed themselves. It was only a way to keep Her satisfied.

The Party of Sweep 4 was the turning point in Aranea's life. An hour prior, her home looked like a hurricane had blown through it. Heels and dresses covered every inch of the floor as she picked out one that might keep her from a culling that night. Already on thin ice with the Empress, she couldn't afford another strike. But luck was on her side this night; a cerulean long sleeved gown hung in the very back of her closet. Black roses were faintly sewn onto the skirt while the corset sucked all life out of her and gave her an hourglass figure. Impossibly high heels made her feel like she was walking on stilts, but this was normal. She'd long since grown used to it. Though she was only 7 sweeps, Aranea was a master of hiding her pain in favor of a charming smile. Conceal, don't feel. Troll Elsa taught her that.

When the driver dropped her off, she braced herself for three hours of brief conversations. Thank goodness these parties were only held a few times a year.

Her chest vibrated in tune with the music coming from inside, and as she headed towards the front door, it was clear why. The party was in full swing with trolls dancing on her left and right; she recognized a few of her acquaintances. Kurloz was on the far left of the room, a glass of red wine in his hand. All the way across, Cronus was seated at the same table as HIC. In fact, he was the only one seated at the table. The rest were surrounding them, engaging in chit chat with the Empress, attempting to gain her favor. It was pointless. Her Imperious 8itchiness cared for one thing and one thing only: herself. Every other troll was a toy, and those who didn't realize it were stupid.

Aranea sauntered over to the purpleblood, wanting nothing to do with the fish queen. As long as Serket showed face, she was in the clear. If she could avoid contact, this night just might be bearable.

As she approached him, a waiter offered her alcohol. Like any sensible woman, she accepted.

"Your hair is shorter than I last remember," Makara murmured as she stood by his side. He easilt towered over her.

"I cut it again. It's always been short, you know that." She retorted.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you with long hair."

"That's correct."

A few moments passed while they both observed the room. Every party was like the last, nothing ever changed. The obnoxious, rich, and arrogant all gathered at the beck and call of HIC. When she said 'jump', they asked 'how high'. No questions asked. That's how it's always been. And Aranea was just starting to realize just how much she loathed it.

Kurloz merely glanced at her from the corner of his eyes and blew out a sigh.

"Is there any particular reason you're on probation, right now?" He was referring to the Empress's careful watch on her. If Aranea had refused to come, she'd probably be dead by midnight. But if she told anyone why she's missed the last two parties, then she'd also be dead. The rich know nothing of loyalty, and the Empress has spies in every corner.

Why did she avoid every ball? Because she was planning to leave, for good. Seven sweeps old was so young to make such an impulsive decision, so she waited to make sure this was what exactly what she wanted. And it was. But she chose to lie to save her ass in the long run.

"I've been sick." She smiled.

Kurloz narrowed his eyes but said nothing else. He didn't believe her, but he also couldn't tell what she was planning. No one could have predicted what she was about to do.

Two hours into the party and she couldn't take it anymore. The music was getting louder by the minute and everyone's breath reeked of liquor. She figured her presence has been known long enough that she could make her escape, and so she did. Or rather, she tried. But he stopped her. Cronus spotted her from across the room, watching her every movement. Just as she was out the front door, he excused himself from the table and caught up to her.

"Leaving so soon?"

She paused at hearing his voice. Her heels clacked against the front steps and echoed in the silence when she ceased to continue. Without turning around, her lips pulled into a tight smile.

"I've been here for quite a while; I do believe it's time to make my departure. My apologies," She hesitated, "..I figured this would be easier without saying goodbye."

Cronus felt a hidden meaning in her words, as he should. This might be the very last time he saw her. After tonight, Aranea would die. Metaphorically.

His fingers circled around her wrist and spun her around to face him, the other arm snaking around her waist to pull her close. Instinctively, her hand came up to his shoulder.

He smirked.

"Then may I have this last dance?"

"I suppose." And just like that, they were waltzing without music. It felt natural to her, after all; she knew all sorts of formal dances as was custom for nobles. Social gatherings like these required it. But after today, that knowledge may as well be tossed to the sea, which was incidentally exactly where she planned to be.

Their breathing was in tuned with each other as the silently counted off their waltz.

1 2 3, 1 2 3.

Cronus glanced at her with an unfathomable look in his eyes.

"Do you remember when we were wrigglers?"

Of course he would go down memory lane on this day.

Aranea tightened her fingers on his shoulder and quirked an eyebrow.

"We were inseparable. And then you went off, got gooey eyed over the Empress, and here we are. What's your point?"

He scowled.

"Always the pessimist. I'm trying to focus on the good memories, Aranea."

There were plenty, if she was being honest. As children, they played a lot together. Took baths together, had sleepovers. She gave him girl advice on his crushes and he painted her nails for her. At heart, Cronus was a softie. And her best friend.

But once he took on his caste's traditional role, he forgot all about her. His infatuation with the empress blinded him. Changed him. Sometimes, she saw a glimmer of the guy she once knew, but that was gone.

Perhaps that's why she was less reluctant to leave. There was nothing and no one here holding her back.

The sound of her ride arriving pulled her back to the present. Stepping away, his arms dropped from her body, silence filling the air between them.

"We were kids, Cro," She spoke softly as he knelt down and kissed her hand. If only things had gone differently.

"..Goodbye." Their voices overlapped the other's.

The next day, her hive was burned to the ground and everything inside was burnt to a crisp.