DREAMS

It was a calm night at sea; the ocean still, rippling waves unbroken. Above them the moonless sky blanketed the ship's bow in darkness, hiding the wooden deck from view. Alone on the bridge, Krolia stood at the helm staring up at the twinkling stars. Without the pollution of a hundred oil lamps illuminating the harbour or bustling city streets, the full splendor of the heavens could be seen; so vivid this far out.

As beautiful as it all was, nights like these made Krolia uncomfortable. Calm waves might fail to announce approaching ships and the lack of a strong wind would make any escape difficult. Her Majesty's forces had been increasing steadily as of late and the Crown's fleets were a near constant presence the closer one ventured to port. But out this far, with not a spec of land to be seen for days, out in the middle of the open water, they were safe.

A strong hand grasped her shoulder, giving a tight squeeze and sending warmth rolling across her back and down her arm. It was a comforting feeling, grounding in its security and affection. She didn't even need to turn her head to know who it was and she rested her cool cheek against her husband's rough hand; calloused from years of hard work and harsh sea water.

"He's stirrin' again." He whispered quietly into her ear, placing a soft kiss in the tender dip of her neck. Krolia hummed in understanding and resigned herself to stepping out of his warm embrace as she switched from fearless First Mate to soothing mother.

The door creaked loudly as she slid it open, spilling a sliver of golden light from her lamp into the small cabin. "Mommy?" A tiny voice sniffled from somewhere in the dark. Pulling the oil lamp above her head Krolia watched as the flickering light chased away the shadows from his face.

"Shhh it's okay, Keith. Mommy's here." She soothed, making her way over to his bed and taking a seat at the edge. Immediately the young boy crawled up into her lap, wrapping his little arms around her waist, and clinging tightly to the back of her shirt. She rubbed soothing circles and rocked him back and forth as she hummed a tune her mother had once sang to her. Slowly his eyes began to close once again and before long his breathing had evened out. She lay him back down, pulled the blankets up to tuck him in, and placed a light kiss to his forehead before heading back to the bridge.

An unsettling feeling prickled at the back of her mind as she stared out at the strange cloud formation looming on the horizon. With no moonlight to assist, it was hard to discern what the odd shape could be. It could be nothing, a trick of the horizon meeting an oddly shaped cloud. It could be a rival pirate crew, sailing by them towards the nearest port. It could be a ship from Her Majesty's fleet, approaching in a vain attempt to intercept them and commandeer their ship. Or it could be a commissioned vessel of bounty hunters and pirate chasers sent by Her Majesty to capture and take prisoner those deemed "undesirable".

Honestly the latter would be the worst case scenario. A ship unencumbered by the laws of the crown, free to pillage or murder as they see fit, all while flying the royal flags; safe from the very gallows to which they condemn their fellow pirates.

Krolia closed the bridge door behind her, walking across the small room to stand behind her husband. She wrapped her arms around his waist, bringing them to rest against his strong chest as she pressed herself against his back. She let out a hum as she kissed between his shoulder blades.

"Where were we?" Keeping her voice low she kissed her way across his broad shoulders and slid her hands lower though he didn't react. Krolia paused in her ministrations, leaving a final kiss to his upper arm as she removed herself from his person. "Everything alright?" She asked, stepping around him and finding her answer.

Everything was most certainly not alright. His frame had been propped up against the wheel of the ship, one of the spokes having been bent at an angle and now penetrating into his lower abdomen. It held him firmly in place as the blood streamed down his leg and ran off with the slope of the ship, unable to pool below him. Krolia gasped in horror, her hands flying to cover her mouth from the unbelievable sight before her. His body had still been warm, warm enough that she hadn't even noticed something was amiss. Whoever had done this, they must still be on the ship.

KEITH!

She tore her way back down the narrow passages of the cabins. Her mind was running a mile a minute but she didn't have the luxury of time and she couldn't allow herself to panic. Later, later when she and Keith were safely rowing away on a lifeboat, then and only then would she take the time to process what she couldn't begin to believe.

She rounded a corner and found the body of their cook splayed across the aisle with his own knives protruding from his back. Krolia stepped over him, careful to avoid the slippery patch of blood, but otherwise paid him no mind as she continued on her way. She became more desperate with each fallen crew member she came across until she arrived back at that familiar door only to find it ajar.

Her heart plummeted to the depths of the ocean at the sight of his empty bed. "Keith?" She whispered into the dark room, desperately praying he'd hidden himself. "Keith, it's mommy!" She called again, adding a pleading "Please baby, answer me!" on the third time. At the lack of response she felt the crushing loss threaten to drop her to her knees.

What had happened here? Her crew members lay dead in the halls, her husband's body propped up for show on the bridge, and her innocent son taken from his bed. Who could have done this? Who could have been so quiet that not a soul put up a fight? She just didn't know. But one thing she did know was that sitting here, kneeling in front of her son's cabin as she fell apart would solve nothing. It wouldn't bring him back, it wouldn't find his captors, and it wouldn't do either of them any good.

Krolia took a deep breath and pushed herself to her feet. She was the highest skilled member of this crew, spending decades fighting men twice her size as their equal. Now was the time for action, now was the time to show these sons of bitches the terrible mistake they made by coming onto this ship. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Oh, Krolia was going to unleash more than hell had to offer.

She crossed the threshold into the small room taking the duo swords off the wall from where they hung. Rage boiled her blood as she stepped out of the cabin, stalking her way through the halls she had just travelled, narrowing her version and numbing her pain. Krolia's breath was coming in deep and calm, her mission giving her focus as she watched the shadows dance around corners, listened to the hushed voices of their intruders, and calculated her best course of action. Her husband may have been a hot head but she'd always remained cool under pressure and this clarity allowed her to outperform her opponents.

She slid around the final corner, listening intently to the voices trickling down the hall. They were on the main deck now, loading up their small boats with the loot taken from the hull of her ship.

"Krolia." A familiar voice whispered from behind her and she whipped her head around to find herself face to face with her Captain. He placed a finger to his lips, beckoning her not to respond, and she gave a curt nod of understanding. The halls were dark but his face was dusted with light from the oil lamps hanging along the walls. As she looked she noticed more of their crew had gathered behind him, ready to follow his commands and defend their vessel.

"At my signal." He said and she nodded once again, waiting for his next order as her grip tightened painfully on the handles of her blades. Kolivan turned to speak with the men behind him and his voice was lost to the night once more. She kept a watchful eye on the shadows dancing along the wall across from her, seeing them lift box after box into their boats, and over hearing the occasional command being called.

When one of the shadows grew steadily larger she turned to warn the others before sliding into a nook to hide. With Kolivan's orders in mind Krolia waited for her first target to pass by and, silent as the night itself, she sprang from her position and slit his throat. Catching the body, she slowly lowered him to the floor, avoiding any loud noises that could alert the rest of his crew. Kolivan and the others would attack once she had taken out the scouts. It was her job to ensure they met as little resistance as possible.

She rounded the corner and slit the throats of two guards simultaneously, resting their bodies against one another, then creeping along the edges of the ship. She stuck to the shadows, using her slight frame to stay hidden as she made her way closer to the boats. Another watchman stood in her way and Krolia wrapped her hand around his mouth as she drove one of her swords into the curve of his lower back, giving it a twist to ensure his demise. Her sharp blade met no resistance from his spine and she quickly moved on to the next obstacle.

It didn't take long before she had reached the place where they'd docked. She could see the royal flag flying in the distance but these men were no soldiers. She had been right, her worst fears realized as she stared at the insignia carved into the small boats. Pirates who flew the Crown's flag. The rest of the crew be damned, she needed to find Keith before it was too late.

~ 15 Years Later ~

He sat up in bed abruptly, gasping for air as the flames faded from his vision. It was only a dream. He told himself for the thousandth time, maybe one day he could believe it.

A body shifted beside him and Keith winced as he realized he'd woken him up. "Sorry" he whispered into the dark and received a mumbled, incoherent response as a hand grabbed at his shirt and pulled him down.

"Youalright?" his bed partner slurred. "Youhaveabaddream?" Keith nodded in return, his head rubbing against the other's shoulder and the young man patted his chest with an affirmative "good" before immediately falling back asleep.

Though he'd be loath to admit it, nights like these made Keith glad that Lance sometimes fell asleep before leaving his bed. Sure it caused the rest of the crew to whisper about them and they may have their suspicions but, unless Keith or Lance caused any real trouble, no one would bother raising a fuss. That was the whole appeal of becoming pirates in the first place. Or at least, the most rewarding part of it. Sure there were other aspects that Keith loved, such as all the treasure and the general lack of consequences when he got frustrated and fell back on his old "stab first, ask questions later" habit. But mostly Keith appreciated the freedom to just exist, a luxury he never had in the navy.

The Crown didn't just frown upon his "lifestyle" like the pirates, instead it was deemed an "undesirable trait" and was punishable by death. And, while he was fully aware that being a pirate was a one way ticket to the gallows, he'd rather be hung for murder or theft rather than choosing to fall in love with the wrong person.

And yeah, he'd gone and fallen in love with his idiot friend. It had been several months already since the two of them had consumed far too much rum and decided to embark on a friends with benefits arrangement. One that had seemed like a great idea at the time. That is, until Keith realized that Lance was not only incredibly hot but also a really great kisser and the best big spoon he'd ever come across. He was kind and sweet and gentle and loving and not at all meant to be a pirate. He should be showing off at some royal ball, wowing the ladies with his striking blue eyes and easy charm. Not slumming it with Keith in a dirty cabin wearing clothes they'd quite literally taken off a dead man.

Unlike Keith, Lance hadn't chosen to become a pirate. He'd been taken from his family home back in Cuba during a raid several years back. The pirates that took him had intended to sell the young boy off into slavery but were raided by the Galra ships instead. The crew had all been executed by the vicious and unforgiving pirates, but the captives had been set adrift in a lifeboat with a small amount of supplies. Lance was one of three who survived living in the boat long enough to be pulled from the sea by this crew. He'd been a part of their merry band ever since.

"Keith, dude. Go the fuck to sleep." Lance murmured into his pillow with a half hearted swat at the older boy. Keith chuckled and rolled over, feeling a warm body press against his own and relaxing into the comfort it provided. He should probably tell Lance how he felt, and someday he would - just, not yet.

Slowly, the darkness claimed him once more and, with strong arms grounding him, Keith was able to avoid the fire depths of his own memories.