Being still was neither of their natural state. In fact they both resented it. The sea would always call him away from her, no matter how much he loved her, and she had her ambitions that kept her moving forward, pushing and never stopping. Stillness would be their death but so would movement. In another life, in one that would not have casted them the slots they had been given, things might have been different. But this life they had had never promised them anything good, and anything they wanted, they had to take with force. What bound them together would ultimately tear them apart and that, now, that truly was their greatest tragedy.
But tragedy is not what those two had in mind during those years they spent together. No, this story, their story was not tragic. No, it was passionate, explosive and all those things in between. It was the few years of bliss to counter the countless years of plaguing loneliness. Alas, those years were coming, but they were not there yet, they were not in the bed between those two. Their warm bed was all that represented their years of bliss, but to them it was also stillness.
Eleanor found she was never at home until she was with him. There was something about loving a person, something about transferring a part of yourself to them, and never feeling entirely complete when they were not there. Charles became that person to her and he would be that person till the end of time. She would never have uttered the word, but in the deepest corners of her mind, she thought of the word soulmates. And that truly was the only word to describe them. They were the definition of that tale in which people had been created in twos and later severed, and then made to look for their soulmate, only feeling complete when they found that person. Because for Eleanor, whenever he was not with her, it felt like an open wound, something that would miraculously heal if he appeared by her side. And she loved him, oh she loved him so much, but she also loved Nassau and she felt the need to make it hers, truly hers. And perhaps it was a coincidence that she and Charles' interests were intertwined. Possibly for the last time in their lives. What she needed was power, power over this place that she had failed to achieve completely. She still lacked the authority, the hint of fear in men's voices when they talked of her. And ruling this place simply could not be done without it. And that is how the stillness came to a halt, by her ambition that she saw benefitting both of them. It was truly the only way, the only possible choice she could have made. It was not one of those things she would ever come to regret, no, she would regret a lot of things, but this was not one of them.
They were in his bed, like they always were, and she rested her head on his chest, like she always did. But instead of their idle talk of things that interested them, she opened her mouth to make a suggestion.
"You should be captain, Charles," she whispered to his chest, almost as if speaking to his heart. He was stunned into silence and she lifted her head and took a seated position to see the look on his face.
"You deserve it, you would make a better captain than Teach has ever been," she said to him, already seeing that image of him as captain in her brain. Such a vivid image it was, that had she believed in anything supernatural she might have thought she willed it into existence. And perhaps somehow she did.
"Eleanor," he started, his voice full of doubt and dismissal but she refused to listen to his protests and she painted him her vision. Nassau without Teach, her at the head of the trade, and him, with his own crew, his own ship. It was everything they wanted. And how she painted it, it became reality to him as well. He would make an excellent captain, he knew. He had longed for it so long, but something had been holding him back, perhaps it was the thought that he would somehow be betraying Teach. And with her plan, he truly would. Of course he did not agree straight away, but she made the thought grow in his head, she fed it, for weeks, until it grew so large it was impossible not to let it seep out of his brain. Someone might have said she had tricked him into it after it was finally done, but who ever said that, did not know Charles Vane. No matter what she would have told him to do, he would have never ever done it unless he saw something in it, something that made sense. And yes, he hated this plan on so many levels, but there was the beauty of logic behind it. The beauty of them both achieving goals they had both been working towards. It was truly the only possible thing to do.
And so it was done. The plan of a seventeen year old girl had knocked a seasoned pirate off his throne. And Nassau was in awe. She climbed on that throne, with all this power in her hands, more than she knew what to do with. From that moment the pirates had no choice but to respect her, give her the authority she was entitled to. It was she they focused on during that take down, but it was Charles whose life seemed most effected. Gone was his mentor, the man who truly showed him what the sea had to offer. But as he stood on the deck of the Ranger, barking orders to his crew, he truly felt this was where he belonged. There was no doubt in his mind about it. And just like Eleanor, he did not feel regret for doing it, not once. But he did feel a tug of guilt as he watched Teach leave and never come back. It was the first time the two of them combined their minds in an effort to achieve something, and it worked perfectly, it truly was a thing of beauty.
Had everything in their lives worked like this particular event worked out, they would have been invincible. But alas, their ambitions would rarely line up with each other, in fact they would most often go strictly against each other. But in the aftermath of banishing Teach, they were invincible, for a year. Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days of bliss is what they had. And for the amount of pain those two would have had to endure, it was truly a time worth focusing on.
That bliss would manifest itself in the form of their passion burning brighter than it ever had before. It was the sort of passion that would make her abandon her work on a whim and run to see him, to push him on his bed and taking her pleasure. It was the kind of passion that would make him lie awake on the Ranger, unable to sleep in the place he had never had trouble sleeping in. It was the sort of passion that she felt like screaming when she had to watch him go. It was the sort of passion he had a scarf of hers with him wherever he went, just to have the smell of her with him.
In the aftermath of their success they were on the top of the world. It truly was the very best time in both of their lives. And those best moments deserve to be seen, they deserve to be lifted up from the shadows of all the bad moments. For beginnings truly are more intriguing than endings. The world was theirs and they were each other's world. There was nothing more to it.
The most memorable moments of that year of bliss were memories that would never be erased from their minds. They were the type of things that would always bring smiles on their faces when they thought of them, and isn't that what life is about, really? Looking back at your life and thinking how great things were. And for them, things truly were great. Had either of them been really religious, they might have thought that they had been blessed by god. But they were not religious people, however, they did know how to squeeze everything out of those good moments, for there was always that looming thought in the back of their minds that all that was good might be yanked away in a blink of an eye.
The morning sun woke her, warming her naked flesh. It was one of those mornings when you wake up feeling happy and like nothing could go wrong that day. It was his presence as always, just the feel of him right there next to her, it made her smile. She turned to find him already wake. He was always awake before she was. He did not sleep much, that much she had learned of him. And he was a light sleeper, usually. He smiled at her and took her reaching hand to his and brought it to his lips, kissing it ever so lightly. It was those kinds of things he did that made her almost lose her mind, for it was still beyond her comprehension she had a man like him with her, loving her.
To him those moments were the most treasured ones. He liked watching her sleep. She was so peaceful, nothing was bothering her, the frown so often found on her face eased and she seemed happy. And the mornings of her waking up with the sun, her finding his face immediately, and if she could not find it where she expected, the look of distress in her eyes, which would ease when she found him. She might have seemed like a person who was independent and did not need people around her, but he knew better. She hated being alone, and what she feared most was people leaving her. It was clear as day on her face whenever he got on the Ranger and sailed away. She hated every second of it, and his homecoming was always an event that would require him to clear his schedule for the day. She wanted him all to herself, wanted to feel his hands again, to just feel his presence. And he did not mind. Something about the fact that he was needed and wanted just made him feel better than he had ever felt in his life. So he would disregard any other plans, for her. There was not much he wouldn't have done for her.
This was one of those mornings, when he had arrived to the port with his recently acquired cargo around midday, and she was there waiting for him. She had snatched him for herself, and together they spent a night full of worshipping each other's bodies. And this was the morning after, where she was in bed, spent yet content. It was the best kind of day.
"I missed you," she said with sleep still weighing her voice. He gently stroke her cheek and smiled. It was not often he would get to hear that from her. And he cherished all of the times he did get to hear it.
"And I fucking couldn't sleep without you," he said, making a similar smile surface on her lips.
"I'm hungry," she groaned and got up from the bed. She walked around his tent in search of her clothes, finding a garment here and there, giving him a very fine view of her backside.
"Stop ogling at me," she said without looking at him. He shifted his position and reached to slap her ass. She was predictable in her reactions, turning around to face him, allowing him to wrap his fingers around her wrist and yank her on top of him. He pressed kisses from her jaw and making his way down between her breasts. Small moans escaped her mouth. It was that type of moans he had long before come to recognize as a request to keep going and never stop until she was finished. So that's what he did, lifting her up to switch their positions and trailing those kisses so far down that the small moans turned into loud cries of pleasure.
"I fucking love that," she sighed, her breathing still heavy, her eyes sleepy.
"I know you do," he agreed. She turned to look at him with a grin on her face.
"And I know what you will love," she said with the wickedest look. Breakfast had long been forgotten, but who could ever feel hungry when you had the chance to make love to the person you loved the most.
And as they lay there, nothing could have hurt them. For the only person who could do that was lying right next to them, and in that moment, they couldn't have dremed of hurting each other.
"I love you, Eleanor," he whispered.
"I love you too," she answered. And that was all that was needed. Love could not right all the wrongs they would do, but right then, it was everything they needed.
That was what their days of bliss were like. Not all of them for sure, but what really mattered was them in the same place, in the same state of mind, just loving each other. All they needed then was just each other, the presence of the love of their lives. They were soulmates, finally united. What would follow would not be beautiful, it would be the ugliest of ugly. But Charles Vane and Eleanor were people who knew, there was no way of recognizing beauty if you did not see the ugliness. There was no way recognizing love if you knew no hatred. And it was no coincidence that they were both those things to each other. That was what they were like. There was no denying it. But it was a fact that they loved each other. But sometimes love is not enough, but there is no fault in that. For they still would always have that love. And as they lay in the bed, their bodies tangled with each other, that was what they had. Love.
