A/N: Hi, darlings! I hope you are all doing well. :) Thanks for being patient! It's been a very busy summer for me, but as promised, I've been sticking to my update schedule! Yayayay! :D
Also thank you to everyone who's still reading, but especially to those of you dropping by to say hi or leave feedback. You are all appreciated dearly!
This chapter is a little shorter than my recent monster chapters, but not by much, and if you read it and don't understand it, that's okay, you're not really supposed to, yet! But all will reveal itself in time... hopefully. :B
As usual, this chapter is M rated for violence and stuff. Enjoy!
"So you're... immortal?" Brittany wonders out loud, breaking the stunned, deafening silence in the room.
The Mystic of Cyre, Unique, laughs gently. "No, child. The Spring appeals only to those who fear death. I have no such fear, and no such desire."
"What?" Puck demands, as if the information he just received had personally offended him. "You've been to the Immortal Spring- and didn't take immortality?"
"That is what I just said," Unique says gently.
"Why?"
Unique closes her dark, silver eyes and answers only after taking a long inhale from the pipe in her hands. A wispy, serpentine ribbon of smoke meanders from between her lips as she speaks. "I do not wish to prolong my time on this wretched, spirit-crushing planet- I have already lived far too long. I do not age as you do, and await my turn to be freed from this physical prison. Until that glorious time comes, however, I have work to do, and I will stay alone on my island, spiritually connected to those sensitive to it."
"Like Starchild," Mike points out.
Elliot nods from the doorway. "Like me." He turns to Unique, his tone encouraging. "Tell them your story."
With a heavy sigh, Unique relents. "Very well; if you believe they will understand it..."
As she watches the woman before her close her eyes and draw a deep, calming breath, Santana wonders what could be difficult to understand about a story. The amount of fantastical, unbelievable stories she's heard- told- lived in her lifetime could cause anyone's head to spin, but she doesn't think they were hard to understand. Without preamble, her silent question is answered in Unique's very first sentence:
"In the Before, I was a man."
Unique doesn't wait for her guests to process her words, argue, or ask ignorant questions- she has heard them all, and she's tired. Instead, she charges on ahead with the explanation of her origin- her guests can piece it all together later, without wasting her precious time.
"I was a man," she repeats, "and I struggled- suffered. I knew I was not meant for that form, but I was trapped until I came into my power as a mystic. Many years passed while I searched for my power, and when I finally found my enlightenment, I evolved into my true form- the form you see before you."
As she expected, her audience is quiet. She stares into their confused faces, watching the dots struggle to connect, and disappointment nibbles at her, despite her best attempt to quash it, despite her low expectations. Understanding- true, pure understanding- is rare, after all. Is there not one of them who seems to really hear her story?
She scans the crowd and catches the blue eyes of a woman in her audience- the pirate who'd spoken up first- and pauses. This woman's face does not reflect confusion, her eyebrows do not furrow in thought. Her head nods in acceptance, her lips turn up into a smile of genuine trust, believing... and it's then that Unique decides- they are worthy, after all, of her help.
At last.
Smiling (though the pirates have no idea why), she continues. "It was many years ago when I entered the Dead Gate and encountered the Immortal Spring. I was a Tyro, learning to control my power under Dakota Stanley, one of the greatest Cyrian Mystics of my time. He was obsessed with the F'ui'hg Saa'hk and the idea of immortality... but I was not interested in such frivolousness. You see, once you cross the threshold into the Etherplane, the living world and the spiritual world connect, and all of the celestial energy..." She trails off as she realizes she's lost her audience. Empty, baffled eyes stare back at her, and she clears her throat.
David shakes his head. "How did you find the Dead Gate without the map?"
Unique smiles, amused at the implied limitation. "Everyone knows where the Dragon's Bight is, child."
Santana stares at her. She's reasonably sure that's not true, but...
Puck fumbles to save face. "But- the map tells us-"
"What?" Unique demands softly, interrupting his embarrassing stumble. "What does it tell you?" When she fails to receive an answer, she nods pointedly. "Ah. You do not even know the secrets this map holds."
Mike studies Unique carefully. He's not entirely sure he believes anything that the woman is telling him, but he has to admit- they are here, in an obviously enchanted cottage on an island in the middle of nowhere, so who is he to say what's true and what isn't? "What secrets?"
Unique smiles mysteriously, holding out her palm. "Place trust in me, and find out."
Puck hesitates; on the one hand, he believes Elliot- but on the other hand, he fucking trusts absolutely no one. Nothing about the situation he's in makes sense- he didn't come here for all this magic crap. He just wants to get his fortune and retire... he doesn't need all the extra shit.
But he also didn't travel all this way for nothing, so after overcoming his moment of indecision, he nods to Jake- his unofficial keeper of the document- to present the map. Jake obediently places the rolled canvas in Unique's outstretched hand, and the second it touches her skin, it unrolls itself dramatically, floating as if held up by invisible hands.
"Witchcraft?" David mouths to Santana, and she shakes her head, unsure of the incredulous sight, even though she's witnessing it currently.
"Here," Unique points to the authenticity seal in the upper corner of the map, either oblivious to the obvious astonishment of the pirates, or indifferent to it as she continues. "This is the secret. The Chrysopelea..."
At her emphasis on the flying snake insignia, Santana recalls Joseph's emphasis on the same point from months prior. The Fig Sack reveals the way. She takes a deep, calming breath, trying to untangle her thoughts- is everything actually connected? Could everything they've learned be real?
The thought sends a shiver down her spine as Unique flicks her wrist and a small, thin knife appears in her hand, as if from nowhere. Deftly, she digs the tip of the knife into the seal, applying a narrow cut, and immediately what looks like multi-colored powder pours from the opening and into her cupped palm, which she'd knowingly placed beneath the map to catch.
"This map is not meant to tell you where the Dead Gate is- one needs no map to find it."
Santana manages to shoot a glare at Puck, who grins sheepishly at Unique's words. If what Unique said was true, and they never needed the map to find the blasted Gate, then none of what they endured was necessary- not her torture on Sisyp, not Brittany almost drowning, nothing. She clenches her teeth, feeling rage fill her before she reminds herself that Unique is wrong. They need the map- a fact that proves itself once Unique has collected a tiny pile of the colorful dust in her cupped palm.
Without warning, the mystic flings the powder at the still-floating map. As soon as the dust touches the canvas, a blinding flash of teal light appears, and when Santana can focus on the map again, a dark black, winding line has revealed itself on its surface, transposed over the original. Someone gasps- maybe it's her- and she stares at the impossibly dark, new line on the map. Is this some kind of trick?
"This is the true power of this map," Unique whispers, as if answering her silent question. "To reveal the path through the ruins- through the Spring."
"Through the Spring?" Puck asks dumbly, but Santana can't fault him- isn't that the opposite of what they want?
"You really have no idea what you are dealing with, do you?" Unique asks, pityingly. When her guests once again answer her with silence, her lip curls up in an amused, though haughty, smirk. "Tell me this, then, pirates... You wish to reach the Spring, but what will you do once you have?"
Puck grins at the thought. "We will offer immortality to the highest bidder."
Unique laughs harshly. "And that would be Lycas. Are you content to unleash that plague upon the world?"
"That plague has already been unleashed," David grumbles.
Puck nods in agreement. "And it's not our concern, so long as we're paid. We're pirates, after all."
"Without honor," Unique comments, which makes Santana feel uneasy. "You are at least honest and forthcoming with your narrow-minded, shallow greed. I'll tell you this: many have reached the Spring- perhaps by skill or perhaps by luck- yet only I have returned from it. The Spring, along with the treasures it protects, is not meant to be removed from the Etherplane. It will take enormous power to acquire what you seek."
Puck shakes his head quickly, as if trying to deter flies from landing on it. "I don't understand all this Etherplane shit- but I did hear you say treasures. There's more?"
"Of course." Unique offers a patronizing smile. "A simple fool like you would scoop up a jar full of the Spring and attempt to leave, ignoring the true riches beyond- enabling a tyrant." She sighs, her eyes growing distant as she loses herself in memory. "The F'ui'hg Saa'hk were powerful magic users... Dark! Evil! But powerful. Their magic stems, begins, from a single, cursed talisman- an amulet. They each took power from the amulet through rituals, but when they died, the power they borrowed was returned. To hold such a precious token..."
She refocuses on them. "And now you know the price of my assistance. Bring me the amulet, so that I may destroy the Dead Gate, erase the memory of the F'ui'hg Saa'hk from the mortal world, and stop any rich fool of Lycas you may empower with immortality."
"Treasures implies more than one," Brittany points out quietly, her mind spinning with the amount of unbelievable information it's been given in the past half hour. "What else is there?"
Unique smiles fondly. "Finally someone who thinks Beyond! The amulet is power in the world of mystics, but in the world of men, there is another power."
"Gold."
"Correct," she nods. "Hidden through the Spring, there is a ring which will grant the wearer unmeasurable wealth."
"How?" Sugar wonders.
"By turning anything the wearer touches into gold."
"No way!" David gasps.
"Is that even possible?"
"It's possible," Unique says firmly. "But you will need my help. You will never leave the Spring- as yourselves- without protection, and power to counteract the dark curses at work."
"Curses," Santana repeats to David, shaking her head.
"Sure as hell don't like the sound of that," he agrees.
"What do you mean?" Kitty asks suspiciously.
Unique studies them for a moment before deciding to explain- she's so very tired, but she has hope- real hope- this time. "To put it simply, you will be trapped in the Etherplane without my help, just as every other being who has gone through seeking destiny. You know this to be true- how many have found the Spring? How many have returned? You have no knowledge, for it does not exist! But I have been there!" She pauses, allowing them time to process her words. When their blank, weary faces stare back at her, she knows she will get nothing out of them before morning. She sighs, resigning. "Your journey has been arduous, and you need time to rest. You cannot stay here for long- you will draw too much attention to my fragile, peaceful existence. Take three days to think carefully on your decision, pirates. In the morning I will answer more of your questions, if you wish."
Grateful for the break to allow her time to think, Santana begins to climb to her feet when she hears Puck counter, "Answer me this before you go: why should we believe a word you've said?"
Unique regards him slowly. "The better question is, why should you not? Can you afford to be wrong?"
"She has a point," Santana admits once Unique has left them to the large, empty room. Their hostess didn't exactly run an inn or a barracks, so the pirates are forced to stake out different corners of the room to sleep in.
"So what if she does?" Puck scoffs, crossing his arms defiantly. Santana rolls her eyes at the posturing- she knows Puck does it to seem intimidating, but she's known him so long that, to her, he just looks pathetic.
"More importantly, what do we stand to lose by getting her the amulet?" Mike wonders, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip in thought.
David chuckles nervously. "You mean, other than putting unfathomable power in the hands of someone who's clearly mad as hops?"
"Mad as hops, but at least not evil," Brittany clarifies with a smile. David grins and pats her shoulder at the statement.
"We stand everything to gain by accepting her help," Santana reasons. "If it's a trap, it's a very elaborate one."
"True- but I know I ain't the only one who noticed she spoke perfect Dlobrohin," David mutters. He looks nervously over his shoulder, despite the fact that there's nothing there, then continues, "It's unnatural."
"I didn't know you knew what perfect Dlobrohin sounds like," Santana teases, and David sticks his tongue out at her, causing Brittany to giggle. They really need to rest- they're starting to become delirious.
Puck sighs heavily. "Yer all right, of course- we don't really lose in this deal. Our biggest inconvenience is snatching a damn necklace off a pedestal... But it does seem like there's something else going on, here."
"It doesn't feel right making this decision with only half our officers," Mike admits.
"How did the Fig Sack get all these astounding treasures, anyway?" Sugar wonders out loud, speaking up for the first time from her spot beside Jake, who remains silent.
David chews his lip, ignoring her. "I just- I dunno. I can't shake this bad feeling about the whole Dead Gate thing- especially when I think about how many times the word cursed has been used."
"Which is why we can't go in without help," Santana reassures. "But that doesn't mean we stop being careful."
Brittany places her hand atop David's to comfort him, and he forces a smile. "I guess you're right," he mumbles.
"So do we accept?" Jake asks eagerly, happy to be included.
"Should we sleep on it?" Mike wonders.
"I doubt we are going to dream up any reasons not to," Puck laughs. "But fine."
After their talk, the pirates retreat to their various niches and corners to hunker down and rest. Brittany falls asleep against Santana's side, head pillowed against her shoulder, feeling safe with Santana's arm wrapped protectively around her. At least the room is comfortable and quiet.
When morning arrives mere hours later, they rise, feeling well-rested despite their lack of a proper bed or a full night's sleep. Puck is still passed out in the corner, his chin resting in a tiny puddle of drool, an empty mug clenched weakly in his hand; the sight lets Santana know that they will not be bringing Unique their decision anytime soon, so she slips her hand into Brittany's hand and leads her silently from the room.
As they move into the rest of the cozy, warm cottage, Brittany smells the delicious aroma of coffee floating from the kitchen, and automatically pulls Santana in that direction.
"Good morning," Elliot greets from behind the prep counter when they arrive. Next to him stands a small black-haired girl wearing big, blocky spectacles. "Would you like some coffee?"
"We would love some," Brittany answers, accepting two mugs from the girl next to Elliot and walking to the pot on the stove to fill them with the fragrant brown liquid. She hands one cup of steaming coffee to Santana without hesitation, knowing the woman prefers it plain, but pauses to pour some cream and sugar into her own cup before taking a cautious sip.
Instantly she feels calm and awake, the warmth spreading through her body and invigorating her senses. She turns to Elliot in gratitude, watching him cut a slab of pork belly into thin slices for a moment as she sips from her cup. "Thank you for the coffee. Would you like some help?"
Elliot waves them away without looking up from his knife. "I have Dottie here. We're just preparing a simple breakfast." After a moment, he finishes slicing the slab of meat and sets his knife down, finally looking up as he wipes his strong hands on his waist apron. "You have done enough to help me."
"You helped get Sugar and the others out of hell," Santana points out, her voice hoarse since it's the first words she's spoken since waking. The roughness of it sends a shiver down Brittany's spine. "A deed not soon forgotten, nor easily repaid."
"I consider it as such, many times over," Elliot insists. Then, he smiles, his eyes growing softer. "If you walk behind the cottage and travel straight forward, the beach is only a few paces through the forest. It's lovely this time of morning."
Brittany returns his smile gratefully. "Thank you."
He nods in acknowledgment, then picks up his knife again, reaching for another slab of pig belly. "Refill your coffee before you go."
They leave their boots and empty coffee mugs near a piece of driftwood- which they use as a marker for where they'd come from- and walk, barefoot, along the cool, soft sand, which is just starting to warm as the sun rises higher in the sky. The waves crash roughly on the shore, revealing that they are on the windward side of the mysterious island, and a glance out in the direction of the surf reveals many jagged, jutting rocks- a feature that would deter smart ships from getting too close. Far in the distance, Brittany can make out what looks like pieces of wreckage- perhaps from ships that foolishly tried to approach the beach, anyway. Not for the first time, she's glad they had Elliot to escort them in- she doesn't want to believe their ship might have suffered a similar fate, absent his guidance. Her captain is not that foolish, is he?
Beside her, Santana closes her eyes, enjoying the whipping of the salty wind against her face and the warm, morning sun on her skin. It feels good to once again stretch her legs after being on the ship for such a long journey, and the way her toes sink deeply into the sand works the muscles in her ankles and calves in ways they haven't been tested for a long time.
When their bare feet touch the frigid ocean water, Brittany hops back onto the cool- but considerably warmer- wet section of sand, shivering.
"Too cold?" Santana teases as the surf engulfs her ankles.
"Will I ever get used to it?"
Santana shrugs. "It takes many years, and lots of exposure."
"I guess I don't go in the water enough."
"That's a good thing, Britt. We live on a ship- we aren't supposed to end up in the water."
Brittany laughs. "I suppose not. But then how will I ever get accustomed to it, as you are?"
Santana smirks playfully. "You could get exposed now…"
Brittany eyes her suspiciously. She starts with, "What do you-" but her sentence is cut off with a surprised yelp as Santana tugs her, suddenly and without warning, into the water. She shrieks as first her feet, then her lower legs are submerged in the frigid, foamy lap of the waves.
"How dare you!" she shouts in mostly-feigned outrage as she struggles against Santana's hold, trying to prevent her from submerging her completely in the water. They wrestle playfully for a few long moments, grappling for control- Brittany is always surprised by how strong Santana is, belying her smaller frame- until finally Santana gets the upper hand and she ends up exactly where she was trying to avoid: completely under the freezing surf.
She breaks the surface with a loud gasp; the water isn't deep, just turbulent, and she glares at Santana, who stands a few feet away, smirking in challenge.
"Used to it now?"
Brittany wipes large drips of saltwater off her cheek, climbing to her feet hotly as she contemplates the question, and she has to admit... though she is cold, the exertion of their scuffle had warmed her considerably- the water doesn't seem nearly quite as icy as it had initially.
She's still drenched, however.
"And how am I to dry?"
Santana shrugs, that playful smile on her lips which Brittany finds irresistible. "I can think of a few ways."
Brittany raises her eyebrow in question, and Santana's teasing grin grows wider before she spins and takes off down the beach at a moderate pace- grateful, once again, for the ability to stretch her legs. Behind her in the distance, she can hear Brittany splashing clumsily out of the water after her, and she redoubles her speed, knowing that the challenge of catching up with her is impossible for Brittany to ignore, but also knowing that Brittany is fast.
The sun rises ever higher in the sky, and after several minutes of being chased relentlessly down the beach, Santana's pace slows and she allows Brittany to catch her and tackle her to the sand.
"Your ground-fighting is much improved," Santana comments with a sly smirk from where Brittany has her pinned on her back.
"And how will you escape now, Quartermaster?" Brittany demands with a triumphant grin.
Santana's voice lowers to a sexy purr. "Who said I wanted to?"
Taken slightly aback, Brittany gazes down into brown eyes that sparkle with amusement and burn with desire, and she can't help lowering her head to bring their lips together. The sensation makes her stomach tighten and a moan escapes from deep in her throat- it hadn't been that long since their lips had met, but even a few days feels like an eternity when all she wants to do is kiss Santana constantly.
They lose themselves for long moments, and finally, Santana pulls away, breathless, heart pounding. "The sun is high- we should head back. Captain Idiot will be awake soon, if he isn't already- and Unique will be expecting us shortly after."
Brittany reluctantly rises, offering Santana a hand up that she gladly accepts. She brushes sand from her knees and wonders, "Will we accept her help?"
Santana shakes out her hair. "Mmhm. Unless Puck changed his mind in his sleep- but I don't think he's that dumb."
When they arrive back at the cottage, they are greeted with the smell of breakfast. Puck had risen moments before, just as Santana had predicted (she had known him for most of their lives, after all) and they are all seated at a great, unusually-shaped table to eat as soon as he is ready.
The spread of food isn't anything extravagant, but it's far better than what they had been eating for the past few days aboard the Tide Ripper. Brittany's not impressed with the bread, convinced that her own bread is better- but she isn't going to be the one to tell Elliot that. The boiled eggs are all of different sizes, and she vaguely wonders what types of birds had given up their hard work to supply her breakfast as she spreads marmalade on her toast.
Unique, seated on the left side of the long oval table, waits patiently for her guests to gather their food and begin eating before she commands Puck's attention. "You have been granted rest. Have any questions surfaced that you would like to know the answers to?"
"Yes," Puck starts nonchalantly, arranging some bacon slices onto a roll. "You said you could offer us aid, to counteract these supposed curses..."
Across the table from Puck, Santana rolls her eyes. Of course Puck doesn't believe there's any danger. Idiot.
"What kind of aid, exactly? How will you get us out of the Dead Gate?"
Unique smiles patiently. "I will use my power to invoke a Mark of Horus, among other protections. Under my aegis, you may return through the Gate and keep your true form."
"True form?" David repeats, his voice hollow with fear. "Just what in the fuck are we gettin' into, here?"
"I have said that the Dead Gate is-"
"Cursed, we know," Puck interrupts with an eye roll, tearing into a bite of his bread. The rest of his crew glare at him for his rudeness, and he pauses. "What?" he demands, miffed at their stares. "We keep hearing the same thing, but I want to know what she can actually do for us."
"Does it matter?" Santana sneers. "We can't afford to be wrong. You said yourself-"
"I know what I said," Puck growls. "But getting that amulet might be more trouble than it's worth." He regards Unique with sudden interest. "Why don't you just come with us?"
"Go with you?" Unique balks, silver eyes widening in shock at the suggestion.
"Uh-huh. If you really want that amulet, you should be willing to come along. After all, you've been there before- what better way to ensure our success?"
"She's already doing that by helping us," Mike sighs, covering his eyes in embarrassment.
Unique narrows her eyes, studying Puck and his smug expression. She wonders how to make someone with such little intellect understand what she must tell him. After a moment of consideration, she speaks slowly. "I cannot enter the Dead Gate again- and even if I could, the Mark of Horus is tethered to a soul on this side of the celestial realm; it's powerless without an anchor."
With an expression that clearly reveals that he understood little to none of what Unique just said, Puck suggests, "Tether it to someone else."
Unique reaches up to rub her temple slowly, closing her eyes. "My child..."
"Unique must stay here to act as a spiritual guide," Elliot interjects around a forkful of fruit. "Just trust me when I say- it's better that way. "
"I grow weary of this impotent prattle. Have you made your decision?" Unique asks, a feeling of fatigue beginning to settle over her.
Puck glances at his crew, who all nod fervently at him, for support. It's just for show, however- his mind was already made up the night before; after all, he'll be damned if he walks away from here with nothing. "We will accept your assistance... and in return, we will fetch you the talisman you desire."
Unique smiles icily. "Betraying me is not an option, Pirate Captain."
"Wasn't planning on it," Puck shoots back, taking a long drink of his beer.
She studies his face; she knows he is absent honor, but in this, she must risk placing her faith in him, for she is absent choice- she is so very tired.
Slowly, she rises to her feet. "Time grows shorter. I will prepare the ritual for tonight. It will begin once the sun has set completely on the horizon. Use this time to restock your ship, for once the ritual is complete, you must leave immediately. Dottie," she calls, and the small girl scampers to her side. Then, without any formalities, she turns and exits through a door in the back of the room into darkness, with Dottie close behind her.
Elliot stands next. "If you're to leave tonight, you'll need more to eat than gruel." He frowns at the thought.
"Is there a market nearby?" Jake asks.
Elliot shakes his head. "No- but there's plenty of game in the forest."
"You want us to hunt?" Kitty demands, shocked by the idea. With Quinn, she would have never-
Santana rises to her feet, automatically taking charge. "Easy, Kitten," she teases. "David and I will handle the hunting." She shoots Elliot a questioning look. "What about fishing?"
"There's an inlet not far from here, teeming with fish. I can offer poles."
Mike volunteers himself for the task by standing, and Kitty and Marley move to flank him. "I could use a nice, relaxing day fishing," he grins. He motions to the two women to follow him, and Elliot, out the door.
Santana turns her gaze to Sugar and Jake. "I don't suppose you would mind foraging?"
"Not at all, Master," Sugar nods. Jake shrugs reluctantly- Santana's reasonably sure he's never foraged in his life, but she trusts Sugar to know what to do.
She offers them an encouraging smile. "Happy hunting." Once Sugar and Jake leave, she turns, finally, to Brittany. "Are you ready?"
After David rows them easily out to the Tide Ripper, Santana finds Matt and Arty on the main deck and updates them on the situation, apologizing for not including them sooner.
"The ritual will take place tonight, after which we will set sail immediately."
"Quartermaster, we have no food," Arty reminds.
"I'm aware. We are working on that now; there's no market, so we are reduced to hunting and foraging. It won't be much, but it should sustain us until we can port again."
Matt frowns. "The nearest port is Orias. Even if we drop our Lycan flag, I doubt we will be welcomed there. Is that really wise?"
"I will consult with the mystic on the safest course of action. It may require us to change course temporarily, but-"
"That's better than starving," Arty agrees. "I'll chart all the nearest ports. Once this mystic gives recommendation, we can head there straight away."
"We will send back our catch tonight," Santana promises. She waves David, who had been holding a large canvas sack filled with the leftover food from breakfast, forward. "For now, distribute these rations."
Arty accepts the sack, then peeks inside to confirm its contents before sighing with relief at the sight of food. "Aye, Quartermaster."
Santana parts from Arty and Matt, who immediately get to work distributing the food, and waves Brittany to follow her to her cabin, while David heads down to the armory to gather hunting supplies. Once inside her cabin, Santana walks to a section of her wall, reaching to pull down a beautiful wooden bow. Brittany had noticed it on the wall before, but assumed it was only a decorative piece. As she watches Santana string it and pull it back to test its weight, she feels her heart skip a beat with intense admiration.
"Is there any skill you are not proficient in?" Brittany wonders as Santana digs into her giant trunk for her quiver and finger tab.
Santana grins. "Well, we've already established that I cannot cook." Brittany returns the smile, watching fondly as Santana straps her quiver on and shoulders her bow.
"David told me you excelled with the bow during your training," Santana continues once she's geared up, and she moves to the door of her cabin.
Brittany follows her out to the main deck. "I enjoyed it, yes."
Outside, David is already waiting for them, along with Kurt, who'd decided to ride back with them to aid in the collection of food. David holds a long, barbed throwing spear in one hand and an unstrung bow and quiver in the other, and once they reach him, he grins and hands Brittany the bow, causing Santana to smirk.
"Show me."
Emboldened, Brittany accepts the familiar bow from the armory and the four of them climb the rope ladder down into the rowboat, making their way back to shore. During the ride, Santana describes directions to Unique's cottage to Kurt, who isn't going hunting with them, but will help transport the food back to the ship once its caught.
When they enter the woods, Santana and David seem to transform from pirates into expert hunters. Brittany has many questions about what they are doing and how such knowledge came to them, but she knows speaking would scare away potential game, so she holds them in and makes herself a mental note to address them later.
They set off on foot, tracking- Brittany doesn't know what. Santana and David move effortlessly, communicating silently as they examine hoof prints in the muddy ground and scratches on trees, pausing to listen for any noise that would give their prey away.
Brittany remembers Elliot telling them that the woods were home to wild pigs as they'd gathered the leftovers from breakfast, and she wonders if that's what they are tracking. Silently, she studies her hunting partners' movements and does her best to absorb the knowledge and skill she's witnessing on display.
Finally after a short time, they come upon a small clearing and spot the prey they'd been following, and Brittany notes that it is, in fact, a wild pig. Its fur is a reddish-brown hue, and it doesn't seem like an unmanageable size, nor does it seem interested in them as it sniffs around at the base of a nearby tree.
David readies his spear, and Santana effortlessly knocks an arrow, taking aim. Brittany can't help but notice her perfect form, can't help but trace her eyes over the taut, defined muscles in her arms as she draws the bow back with unbridled power, and she barely notices when the arrow releases and finds its mark.
So true is Santana's aim that the animal doesn't have time to cry out; immediately, David rushes in to ensure a swift death with his spear, and Brittany's left standing in awe as Santana shoulders her bow. Once David declares the pig deceased, they move in to help him prepare the pig for transport and to retrieve Santana's arrow.
It's a slow return back to Unique's cottage, especially when Santana pauses along the way to shoot several large game birds. Brittany's not sure what they are- perhaps the same birds that had given up their eggs for her breakfast, and her stomach growls in response, prompting a feeling of guilt to rise. She had just eaten a hearty meal that morning, with coffee, of all things, while her fellow pirates aboard the Tide Ripper are literally surviving on scraps. As someone who prepares their meals, it doesn't sit right with her.
Once they reach the cottage, Kurt meets them outside to help butcher the pig and birds, and Santana smiles at Brittany.
"Are you ready to try?"
Her heartbeat quickens- she's never hunted before, and the thought of killing an animal doesn't exactly sound like a grand time- but she's reminded, again, that her crew is starving, and it's that sentiment that drives her to nod and follow Santana back into the woods.
By the time the sun sets, they manage to hunt down three wild pigs, a small deer, and a plethora of birds and waterfowl. Mike, Kitty and Marley had returned with four stringers of fish, and Sugar and Jake filled two giant baskets with eggs, mushrooms, and herbs.
Elliot and Kurt had collected Unique's offering from her garden, which held a variety of different herbs and vegetables, some of which Brittany was certain shouldn't be growing during this time of year- but who was she to argue with a mystic's garden?
David and Kurt had their hands busy with butchering the kills and packing the different cuts of meat for transport back to the ship, and later, for preparation and storage. Brittany already knew her next several nights would consist of preserving the meat for their journey, but she was not upset. She knew her crew depended on her work for survival, and it made her feel needed and meaningful.
As she washes the blood from her hands in the rainwater collection basin outside, Santana smiles proudly at her.
"You were excellent out there, Britt- as I expected."
Brittany returns the smile, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. "As were you… though, slightly unexpected." She finishes rinsing her hands and turns to Santana. "Where did you learn to hunt?"
Santana laughs a little. "I had a feeling you'd ask." She gazes out into the dark forest absently. "We were once marooned on an island for a month." At Brittany's gasp of disbelief, she smiles wryly. "Right when we mutinied and took the Hellish Scream… the ship was too damaged to continue, which is how we survived."
"What happened?" Brittany prompts softly, belying her burning interest, but Santana knows her better than that, and she laughs again before taking a few steps toward the fire pit, which crackles as fat from the spit drips onto it. She sits on an old log worn smooth with time, patting the spot beside her invitingly, and Brittany's heart leaps in her chest as she moves to occupy it.
"There was a great battle," Santana begins once they're settled, and Brittany's leaning into her arm. "With the rozzers," she adds before Brittany can ask. "Our Captain- The Terror of the Seas," she pauses to chuckle, "was highly Wanted, and nowhere near as careful as we are. The rozzers finally came for him- and they won. The few of us who were left alive- Arty, Mike, Puck and myself- overthrew the quartermaster and took control of the ship, but it was so badly damaged that we couldn't sail it; we ended up shipwrecked on an island."
"How did you escape?"
"It was thanks to Kurt's father," Santana admits. "We were all so young, then… Burt had left the Hellish Scream to join the Perdician Flotilla many years prior, but when we crashed, Mike took Arty and the spare rowboat to the nearest port and managed to get a message out to him. He showed up to rescue those of us who were left. When we got to port, we had to start over; we managed to do a few errands with a smaller, loaner ship to earn money, found Quinn, and once we had enough, we bought the Tide Ripper and began pirating again."
"And Burt was onboard with Kurt," Brittany recalls. "He told me he grew up on the ship."
"He was only a few years younger than the rest of us," Santana confirms.
"What about David? When did he join the crew?"
Santana smiles at the memory. "We were pulled into port... I was at a bar as usual. He was drunk, and he couldn't afford to close out his tab. For some unknown reason, I felt sorry for him, so I paid it- and he swore to repay me somehow, you know how he is."
Brittany giggles behind her hand. "I do."
"Anyways, we were pulling out the next day, and a rival pirate crew met us on the pier- they've since disbanded, though. It was the Twelve Steps."
"Twelve Steps?" Brittany clarifies in disbelief.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Mmhm- it had something to do with how long their execution plank was. They were fond of that method- it's probably what made it so popular."
Brittany laughs nervously at the thought. She had definitely imagined herself walking a plank to her death in the early days of her captivity. "Of course."
"So- they met us on the pier, and there was, obviously, a fight. I was dueling someone- maybe their quartermaster, who knows? Their structure was very disorganized, which is probably why they aren't around anymore- and they pulled a dirty trick," her voice grows heated at the memory, "they had two guys jump me from behind."
Brittany gasps, even though she knows Santana survived the encounter, and Santana smiles softly at her reaction. "Rude, right? Well, David had woken up in an alley nearby or something," she rolls her eyes again, "and he saw me not fighting at my absolute best."
"So he jumped in," Brittany finishes.
Santana nods. "Saved me from taking a much worse beating. Those assholes had no honor whatsoever."
"Is there honor among pirates?"
Santana looks at her seriously. "Of course. We live by a code, which you know. We break a lot of laws, but even we have lines that shouldn't be crossed. Not only does it keep us mostly off the top of the rozzers' list, but it keeps us human. Our honor, our code, is sometimes all we have- which makes it that much more shocking when someone breaks it."
Brittany nods slowly, her anger spiking slightly at the memory of Quinn betraying them. She hadn't forgotten, but allowing it to consume her thoughts when she was not soon to extract her revenge was of little use. She shakes herself out of her anger and turns back to Santana, who's staring into the fire, lost in her own thoughts of revenge.
"So David saved you, and then what?"
"And then she offered me a job," David adds from behind them. When Santana grins at him, he sighs. "Not this old drivel again, San…"
"I hadn't heard it," Brittany defends.
David cocks a disbelieving eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe."
"I think what David meant to say is that he begged me to come with us on the ship, and since I felt sorry for him, I allowed him to join our crew."
"Oh, really?" Brittany laughs.
David glares, crossing his arms. "I actually didn't mean to say that, thanks. I came to fetch you- Unique's ready to begin her ritual."
With a slight groan of protest, Santana rises to her feet. She offers Brittany a hand up, which Brittany doesn't need, but accepts anyway, glad for the excuse to hold Santana's hand, however briefly. Once Brittany's on her feet, however, Santana doesn't let go, instead lacing her fingers together with hers and sending Brittany's heart racing.
If David notices the intimate gesture, he doesn't comment on it, instead turning and leading the way back inside quietly, to where the entirety of the crew who had come onto the island stand outside a door, waiting. When they reach the group, Brittany expects Santana to release her hand, but she doesn't, and Brittany can think of little else but the feeling of their fingers entwined, wondering if the rest of the crew notices.
"Well? What're we waiting for?" Santana demands.
"We were waiting on you," Mike says quietly with a lopsided grin. "But now that you're here, we can enter."
Elliot pushes the door open, and the pirates make their way inside the familiar, large, open room, though it's transformed. Small metal bowls of burning cinders light the four corners of the room, which is hazy with sweet-smelling incense smoke, the surrounding air thick and heavy with something intangible that Brittany cannot describe.
In the center of the room, cross-legged and perched delicately on her pillow, Unique sits unmoving, her eyes closed, her expression neutral. Dottie greets them instead, guiding them to sit in a half-circle before Unique, who doesn't stir as they shuffle in and sprawl onto the clean, polished floor.
Once Brittany is seated beside Santana, their thighs brushing, she takes in the rest of her surroundings through the haze. Before Unique, on a separate, smaller pillow, sits a hand-jug with a large wooden stopper in its top and a small handle on its right side. Decorating the outside of the jug are a number of intricate, colorful designs and patterns, many of which seem as if they might be symbols of a language Brittany doesn't understand, and she wonders if they are purely for aesthetic or if they serve some other purpose.
After several moments of silent anticipation, Puck is once again the first idiot to open his mouth. "Well, we're all here- so what is it you need from us?"
Unique's eyebrows twitch, and Brittany can tell it's in exasperation. When her blazing silver eyes open, she fixes them intently on Puck.
"Where is the Dead Gate?" Unique demands.
Puck doesn't falter. "Between the Three Points."
"And when will it appear?"
On this, Puck is less confident. "I'm not-"
"I do not need you," Unique says, her voice loud and commanding. "It is you who needs me. Do you understand what the map is telling you?"
"Uh- which one?" Puck stammers. "The secret one, or-"
"Either of them."
Puck swallows. He scratches his head. He bites his lip. It's all the answer Unique needs.
"You still believe you do not need aid?" Her expression softens. "Do not insult me, Pirate Captain. I am here to help you, but I am not here to be bullied or belittled."
"Aye," Puck mumbles, blushing. "Apologies."
Unique smiles. "No need. Just show some humility- this is a huge undertaking." At his nod, Unique continues. "They have whispered to me the way forward."
"They?" Kitty whispers, panicked.
"It's obvious that the map is unfamiliar territory to you; you do not recognize the terrain because it is an island that exists in the Etherplane."
"There's a whole ass island?" David groans. "Why is nothing about this ever simple?"
Unique ignores David's complaint, cocking her head to the side. "The second map- the secret one, as your captain named it- is the route through the maze to reach the island."
"There's a maze, too?" David whispers to himself hopelessly. Santana punches him in the shoulder to silence him. "Ugh."
"Once you enter the Gate, you must navigate your ship through the water maze. The secret map will show you the way. When you reach the island, you will follow the main map."
Mike shakes his head in confusion, overwhelmed with the enormity of the task before them. "All of that after a fifty day journey to the Dragon's Bight," he breathes.
"It is difficult," Unique agrees. "If it were easy, we would all already be immortal." She pauses for a moment to let the pirates process the information she has shared- she knows it is overwhelming, and that they are not the brightest to begin with. When she feels they have grasped the basic concept of their task, she clears her throat. "There is more."
"Of course there is," Sugar mumbles from somewhere to Brittany's left.
"Once you reach the Spring, you must beware of the Cleanse. As I have said, the F'ui'hg Saa'hk did not intend for the treasure to ever leave the Etherplane- that is why I have prepared this ritual."
Before the pirates can ask the several questions that have populated in their minds from what Unique has told them, she holds her hands out to indicate the hand-jug. "This jar will contain the Mark of Horus until you reach the Dead Gate. Once released, it will not last longer than a few days, which is why you must carry it with you until you are ready to use it." She swirls her hands in a slow, patterned motion above the enchanted pottery, and thin trails of silver light materialize, following their movements. Brittany watches, mesmerized, as the lights grow bigger, stronger, as Unique continues to move her hands.
"I cannot directly contain the Mark," Unique explains. "It must be channeled through a vessel and into this jar. Then that person must remain tethered to it until the time has come to release it."
"Why can't it be you?" Puck shoots.
"Because I must perform the ritual," Unique shoots back. "Someone else must be the vessel on behalf of the jar."
"Your assistant then, or Elliot," Mike suggests.
"The vessel must stay with the container, or risk the Mark escaping- and I need Dottie and Elliot here. I am already giving you much more than you have earned."
"I'll do it," Brittany blurts.
"Britt-" Santana protests automatically. "You-"
"Someone has to," Brittany argues, trying to convince herself as well as her crew. "Why not me?" She turns to Unique. "It's safe, right?"
"So long as you do not break the jar, yes."
"What happens if the jar breaks?" David demands.
Unique studies him. "Well, I imagine that without a mystic to guide the Mark out, it will burst from the jar and consume everything around it." At their wide-eyed silence, she laughs. "I'm kidding. If the jar breaks, you will simply be trapped on the Etherplane, and only the tethered soul will die."
Brittany swallows. "See? Completely safe."
"That's... not better," Mike frowns.
Santana wants to argue against the whole idea, to take the jar herself, but she knows she will never be able to keep the ship- and Brittany- alive if she's burdened with keeping a jar by her side. Still- she's not sure she can agree to endanger Brittany- or any of her crew, really- for something so risky. She looks at Puck, waiting for him to volunteer; after all, there's no reason why he can't hold onto the jar, since she handles most of the running of the ship, anyway, but he remains tight-lipped, and disgust fills her. He's willing to sacrifice anyone else, but refuses to put himself at risk- a trait that lacks honor.
"I'll do it," Sugar says from her left, snapping Santana out of her thoughts. The woman rises to her feet; Jake grabs her arm to prevent her from volunteering, but she shrugs him off gently.
Brittany protests, but Sugar cuts her off with, "You said yourself- it's completely safe." She gazes softly at Brittany, taking her hand. "You always put yourself in danger, my friend- but you are more valuable to the future of this mission than you realize. Let me be the one to sacrifice, for once."
Brittany wants to snap, How?, to grab Sugar and snatch her back where she can keep her safe, but Sugar has already made the decision for her, and it would be shameful to take that from her. Besides, Sugar is already moving forward to where Unique perches silently, her hands continuing their slow, swirling motion surrounded by glowing silver ribbons of light.
"I will do this," Sugar reassures, confident. "It's all that I can do."
"Then come forward, Royal of Callast," Unique murmurs. "And receive the Mark of Horus."
Sugar moves to the jar, kneeling before it at Unique's instruction. She presses her palms to the sides tightly, wrapping her fingers around the smooth, curved edges.
"Do not let go," Unique instructs softly, but firmly. She swirls her hands faster, faster. "Now close your eyes, open your mind… sense my presence there, and allow me in…."
Brittany can only watch, guilty and on edge, as the silver ribbons of light grow larger, and Unique begins to direct and channel them into Sugar's body.
Sugar does not move, nor flinch, nor tremble. She kneels before the jug, her posture calm, her hands steady, with the only evidence of the light passing through her being a soft, gentle warmth on her skin. As more light channels into the jar, it shines brighter and brighter, until, with all the light dispersed into it, it dims completely.
After a moment, Unique prompts Sugar to let go, offering her words of encouragement, and Brittany scans her body, searching for injury, for pain, for anything different.
Then, Sugar opens her eyes, and Brittany gasps at the sight of bright silver.
At Unique's insistence, they set sail almost immediately following the completion of the ritual, having sent their supplies and food, along with Kurt, to the ship prior in preparation for a speedy departure. Brittany is, as she expected, instantly tasked with manning the galley to preserve their newly-acquired meats, which she does without complaint as the ship speeds steadily away from the island. Without Elliot, she knows she will have to split the time with Kurt only, which means more time spent in the galley and less time to herself, but she doesn't mind- she only hopes that she and Santana share similar shifts.
She takes short naps throughout the first night, waking up every so often to poke the fire and ensure a steady supply of smoke. When Kurt arrives in the morning, they prepare breakfast before he relieves her of fire-tending duties, and Brittany grabs up two servings of fruit- a snack, really- before she departs, eager to visit the two people who have been on her mind all night.
Her first stop is down to the cargo hold where she lives; she still hadn't been assigned a proper berth, but she enjoys the privacy and quiet down in the bowels of the ship, anyway. She finds Sugar, who had been relieved of any duties onboard due to the burden she was forced to carry, sitting on her mat, the small, enchanted jar tucked against her side securely. Brittany had spent most of the night worrying about her, and is instantly relieved to see that at first glance, Sugar at least seems like her usual self. She approaches the woman guardedly, clutching the bowl of fruit in her hands and searching for any sign that Sugar is not long for the world.
"Hi, Britt," Sugar greets cheerfully, without looking up from her lap where Brittany sees she is meticulously braiding small lines of hemp together to form a small net.
"Hi," Brittany returns, smiling hesitantly. She offers Sugar the bowl of food, and after a moment of silence, Sugar stops braiding to accept it. When she looks up, Brittany's reminded of the shocking sight of her blazing silver eyes, and she nearly jumps, causing the woman before her to grin in amusement. Sugar thanks her before she digs in to the bowl, and Brittany watches her silently, her thoughts racing as she observes her acting absolutely normal.
When it becomes apparent that the only irregular thing about Sugar is her eyes, Brittany allows herself to plop down on the mat beside her, opposite the jar. "How do you feel?"
Sugar looks up again, pausing in her bite of citrus. "Powerful. It feels like I have steam simmering under my skin." She finishes her bite and adds, "But it is equally disappointing- I don't actually have any power."
Brittany's eyes widen, and she wonders what that must feel like. She rubs the tops of her thighs anxiously. "Your eyes look intimidating. Are you sure this isn't too much?"
"It's all I have wanted," Sugar admits. "To feel powerful. I only wish I had actual power to match the feeling."
Brittany can only nod slowly, unsure how to respond. She stays with Sugar until she finishes her meal, conversing about their recent stay with Unique, her relationship with Jake, and other trivial things they typically discuss. Brittany spends the time silently reassuring herself that Sugar's not suffering and is, in fact, doing just fine. Convinced that the woman is not about to randomly die without warning, she collects Sugar's empty bowl and moves to search for the second person on her mind, finding her standing on the main deck with Puck and the rest of the officers.
"According to Matt, sails are in peak condition," Arty reports, reading from his notes. "All lines are in good repair with back-ups available. Water tightness is at ninety-three percent. The ship's rudder-"
"Get to the point, Specs- is anything out of the ordinary?" Puck interrupts in a bored tone, cutting Arty off and annoying Santana, who'd been filing the information away in case of an emergency. The report is for her, after all, not for Puck- but after all these years, it's infuriating that she still can't expect him to understand that.
Arty scans quickly down the rest of his page of notes, then closes the small, leather-bound book before staring hard into Puck's eyes. "We need supplies, Sir- or we will never survive the near two-month journey."
"Two months," Jake repeats in a groan from his spot tending a sailing line. "Is it too late to back out?"
Puck scratches his chin, ignoring him. "Orias is far out of the way, now."
"But would be worth the extra time to ensure-"
"No," Puck decides firmly. "We're pirates. I think it's time we did some pirating."
"Here?" Santana hisses, appalled. "We are still in Lycan waters! Are you insane?"
"You're the one who gave me the idea," Puck accuses. "You complained, less than a fortnight ago, that I didn't let us pirate. Well, now I'm letting us."
"I meant once we were away from the threat of Lycas blasting our ship from known memory!"
Puck scoffs. "We pirate Lycan-controlled waters all the time, Dia-"
"Not while trapped inside them by a blockade!" Santana glares at him, choosing to ignore the nickname, because if she doesn't, she's sure she will absolutely lose her shit.
"We can sail swiftly away," Puck insists, fully committing to the idea in his mind, "and be through the blockade before they even realize what's happened. No quarter. No one left to speak of our minor slight against Lycas. We're fast enough." He shrugs, casual, careless, maddening. Santana wishes she could strangle the life out of him for his idiocy.
"Captain," Brittany interrupts slowly, respectfully, speaking up for the first time by Santana's side. "I gave my brother my word..."
Puck brushes her off, dismissive. "And we are pirates. What meaning does our word hold?"
"'What meaning'?" Mike echoes, offended.
David, Matt, and Arty look just as shocked by their captain's words, and as she scans their indignant expressions, Brittany recalls her talk with Santana by the fire on Unique's island, feeling the unease within herself, as well, at the dismissal. They may be pirates, but they are not without integrity, without loyalty- not without honor. Does Puck really know so little about his crew?
As if confirming Brittany's thoughts, Puck does not seem to notice the anger and wounded outrage his words cause in his surrounding officers as he turns to walk back to his cabin. "Arty," he calls without bothering to look the man in the eye, "the very next ship we see- be it Lycan or otherwise- sink it."
Arty hesitates, his eyes finding Santana's for approval, for assistance, and in that moment, Santana realizes that her crew is all waiting for her to say something, to do something to heal their damaged pride; it's the trust they place in her that drives her to take confident, incensed steps, bringing her around to block Puck's retreat.
"No," she says coolly, her eyes narrowed into deadly pools of dark brown.
"What?" To his credit, Puck looks genuinely surprised. Brittany bites her lip- he can't really be so naive, can he?
Her shoulders squared, her stance firm, Santana tilts her chin up in challenge. "Stand down, Arty."
Arty releases a nervous sigh of relief, but is just as quickly drawing in a suspenseful breath as the air around them grows thick with tension and electric energy. The surrounding pirates stop whatever they are doing to watch; Matt quietly gives his sailing team the command to halt the ship.
Puck straightens up, studying Santana's body language, suddenly hyper aware of the movement around him. "What is this, Dia?" he asks, his informal words belying the hard edge in his tone and expression.
"First- don't call me that. And second? I veto."
"You…. veto?" Puck barks out a laugh, but at the very real gasps emitted from the surrounding pirates, and the fierce hostility in Santana's posture, he sobers quickly, accepting the seriousness of the situation.
Santana has only ever used her power to veto twice in the past- both times to prevent the ship from falling to certain doom, and both times proving her right in her decision. It's one of the many factors that allow them to function so efficiently and smoothly- they trust each other to check each other, to keep each other focused, and to always put the ship first.
But lately, Santana doesn't feel that Puck's priorities align with hers.
She stands taller, setting her jaw, her burning, steady gaze meeting Puck's in confidence. "I do. You take unnecessary risk to save time, of all things. Lycas will annihilate us if they catch us-"
Puck rolls his eyes. "If they catch us."
"-and I can't let you put us in that danger."
"It's just one ship!" Puck bursts in anger. "What is wrong with you? Have you really gone this soft?"
"It's not just one ship, idiot! If you attack Lycas here, they will come down on us with their entire fleet. It will absolutely be our undoing."
Puck stares hard at her for a moment, considering.
"Just modify the order to attack only non-Lycan ships," Arty mutters to him, trying to offer him a compromise. Under normal circumstances, he would reconsider, discover that Santana is right, and back down, saving face.
But these are not normal circumstances. They are in open water, far from the blockade. They are most likely to run into a Lycan ship sooner than any other, saving them time. Lycan ships are always more well-stocked than other ships, which will provide for them longer. If they show no quarter, they can sink the ship and be long gone before anyone figures out it was them- if they ever even figure it out. With one Lycan ship, they will have pirated enough supplies to get them to their next destination outside of the blockade and within their route, saving them time and money. So while he usually trusts his quartermaster's judgment, she is wrong in this- and clearly swayed by her fraternization with Brittany. He shakes his head in bitter disbelief. The old Santana wouldn't hesitate... perhaps he needs to remind her of who she really is.
His mind made up, Puck reaches for the handle of his cutlass and draws it deftly in response.
Santana swallows, steeling herself. She hadn't expected him to respond with his sword; his extreme answer rattles her slightly, for she hadn't prepared herself for the possibility that he would choose to duel her rather than submit. The thoughtless action only confirms that she's right to challenge his insane decision, for he can't be of sound mind if he chooses a fight over an easy compromise.
Despite her chaotic thoughts, it only takes a split second for her to draw her sword in answer. "Fine," she breathes, resigning to the path Puck has chosen for them.
As if prompted, the pirates in closest proximity to them back away, creating an open space around them. Mike pulls Brittany, who stands wide-eyed and mouth agape at the sudden and drastic turn of events, aside.
"What's happening?" she demands in a whisper as the captain and his quartermaster circle each other slowly, sizing each other up.
"According to pirate law, they will now duel to determine who wins the decision making."
"D-Duel?" Brittany stammers. "To the death?"
Mike stares hard at the event unfolding before them. "No- just until one of them yields."
"If one of them yields," David corrects darkly, sidling up beside her.
Knowing how stubborn the both of them are, Brittany covers her mouth in horror. "Oh, gods-"
"This has never happened before," he says roughly.
Brittany swallows her fear. "What do we do?"
"Wait it out," Mike mutters, his expression grim. "And be ready to offer medical assistance when it's over."
No sooner had his words finished when Puck takes the opportunity to lunge first, stabbing swiftly and viciously- a move that Santana barely dodges. It's her first real fight with someone who is, in most ways, her equal. Sparring with Brittany had kept her skills sharp, but the newest pirate still had a lot to learn. Puck is a seasoned fighter, with as many victories as she under his obnoxiously gaudy belt- a fact she is reminded of when he lands a moderately deep cut to the outside of her right calf. It tears through her pants- a thing she is most angry about- and blood seeps down her leg immediately. She can feel the warm trickle of fluid, feel it soaking her pants, and she clenches her teeth in anger over the highly unnecessary fight they are engaged in.
Did they really need to do this? Is this the hill Puck has chosen to die on?
Is she really ready to die on that hill with him?
She avoids another low stab at her other calf- which tells her that he's not aiming to kill, but to seriously injure her and force her into yielding- and kicks hard at his sword hand. He yelps in pain as her heel slams into his fingers, and he nearly loses his grip, but he quickly recovers, staggering back and glaring daggers at her, a small smile gracing his lips.
She knows in the past she could easily beat him, but after such a recovery as she'd had to make? A recovery he put her through with his foolish, past actions?
Her right hand throbs in pain from the memory, driving her on.
She will not lose.
She swings, he blocks, throws off her advance, evades, stabs, and she parries, catching him off balance. Her sword grazes his rib, cuts his shirt, which begins to turn red as blood seeps into it.
His eyes look nervous, now. She presses her advance.
The metallic ringing of their swords repeatedly meeting and sliding off each other echoes in the vastness of the empty ocean they are slowly coasting in. The ship rocks in the choppiness of the waves, but no one seems to notice, their eyes glued to the intense, mostly evenly-matched battle before them.
Puck's fist finds her stomach, her heel finds the side of his thigh, their swords clang sharply against finger guards; the ship is afraid to breathe, awaiting the inevitable outcome as the heavy pants of exertion from their two highest authorities fill the space around them.
Brittany's stomach drops every time Puck makes a critical blow, then twists tightly when Santana manages to counter it or evade. She forces herself not to think of the what ifs of the fight unveiling before her very eyes; what if Puck lands that hit? What if Santana does? What if-
The deafening BOOM of a warning cannon shot catches everyone by surprise.
Puck and Santana, breathing heavily and covered in blood, pause in their annihilation of each other. Their angry eyes meet, and at once, they both sheathe their swords- an unspoken truce.
Brittany chews her lip at the significant amount of red patches covering Santana's body as Puck calls hoarsely up to Brett for identifying information. He moves to the edge of the railing, pulling his spyglass from his pocket with a hand stained red and slick with his own blood, and if Santana was absent honor, she would use the moment to cement her victory.
She turns away, and Brittany's immediately by her side, grasping her forearms to steady her. It hurts to put pressure on her calf.
After a moment of bewildered, tense silence due to, once again, another wild turn of events, Brett calls down,
"Orian Navy! They're threatening us, Cap'n!"
"Why in the Great Ocean would they do that?" David complains, glaring up at the sky in exasperation. As if they don't have enough to worry about!
Brittany absently follows his gaze, and her eyes are drawn to her brother's pennant flapping in the wind. Suddenly, it all becomes clear- "Because they think we are of Lycas!"
"Well, they're about to have their fucking eyes blasted open," Puck growls. "Fire when ready!"
"Aw, fuck- I completely forgot they even had a navy," David mutters to himself. He hesitates on deck, waiting for Santana to release him to his post, waiting for her to indicate that she doesn't need him to toss his captain overboard. After all, he is not here for Puck; he obeys, he respects, but when the dice fall, he will always align with Santana.
He searches her eyes, anger filling him at the sight of her current state, and finds her calm and collected. Santana disagrees with Puck in most things, but not in this. With nothing yet decided concerning their duel, she knows a united front is important to maintain order on the ship and among their crew. She cannot let feelings disrupt her duty; she's certain Puck's priorities are backwards, but not hers.
In answer to the silent question in his stare, she nods to David, reassuring him with a small smile. "Get to your post, idiot."
Relaxing, David forces a grin. "Aye, Quartermaster."
Once able to return fire, the Tide Ripper overtakes the Orian Naval ship- the Explosion Soleil- with ease. Brittany wonders how her brother can be losing this war as they gather and prepare to board the crippled ship, trying to distract her mind from the knowledge that Santana is boarding the ship beside her, despite her injured state.
When they are securely moored to the other ship, Puck crosses the plank bridge, flanked by his usual boarding party. Waiting on the main deck of the Orian ship is a tall man with short black hair. In his hands, he holds a piece of the artillery that had shredded his sails, destroyed his mast, and rendered his ship useless. David grins smugly at the sight.
The man looks nervous as he greets Puck. "I am Jean Baptiste, Explosion Soleil Captain." He indicates the links of chain in his hands and struggles to explain in his limited knowledge of their language. "This- does not look like Lycas."
"That's because it isn't," David answers in a pleasant, giddy tone, satisfied that his choice of artillery made such a devastating impact.
Jean looks from him, to Puck, to Santana, as if recognizing that they are not dressed like Lycan sailors. "I see. If not Lycas, then who?"
"Captain TigerShark, Tide Ripper," Puck greets. At his words, Jean's eyes widen in recognition. "I see you've heard of me."
"Pirates?" he asks, his face turning, if possible, even paler. When Puck nods, Jean drops what he's holding.
"Ah, we are fucked."
After seeing the supplies from the Explosion Soleil quickly brought aboard the Tide Ripper and safely stored, Santana's nearly spent. She hadn't the time to pause to care for her many wounds, and the loss of blood, though mostly stemmed, had taken its toll on her energy. They'd decided to grant quarter to the Explosion Soleil- either because of the ship's cooperation or because Puck was just as drained as she, did it matter?
When Arty reports that they have acquired enough supplies to supplement their journey to the small island of Klu- just west of Lycan-controlled waters and twelve days' sailing time from their current location- Santana waits, stomach tense with anxiety, for Puck to make his next move.
Their eyes meet, and he offers her a reluctant smile before passing control of the ship to Matt- since it's his shift- and limping slowly to his cabin.
Santana releases the tense breath she'd been holding. She barely hears Arty comment on her leg, but the mention of it reminds her that she needs to pay it some attention, so after Matt assures her that he needs nothing from her, she heads to her own cabin to begin the task of cleaning herself up.
Once she's out of sight, Matt calls for Jake to mop up the bloody footprints left in her wake.
She'd only just lowered herself into the chair by her desk to address her calf- which was still slowly oozing blood- when a soft knock on her door announces what can only be Brittany's presence. She doesn't bother to answer as the door opens slowly, for she knew the knock was more for show than anything else- the woman has had unrestricted access to her cabin- and to her- for weeks.
Brittany slips inside, her arms laden with first aid supplies pilfered from the infirmary and a bottle of hot water from the galley, then closes the door behind her with her foot. Concerned blue eyes scan Santana's bleeding form, and Santana feels suddenly ashamed that so many wounds were able to find her, especially since they still lack a meaningful purpose. She swallows the bitter taste in her mouth as Brittany releases a controlled breath through her nose, her lips pressed together.
After a beat, where she considers her plan of attack, she moves closer, crouching next to Santana's chair and depositing the supplies on the deck beside her.
"Does it hurt much?" Brittany murmurs as she reaches to undo the laces on Santana's boots.
Santana bites her lip at the familiar question. "Only my pride."
Pausing to offer Santana a supportive grin, Brittany gently guides Santana's boots off, then reaches for her belt. Santana swallows again, the intimacy not lost on her, but the heaviness of the circumstance overrides her desire. She grasps Brittany's hands to still them.
"I can do it," she insists.
"I know you can," Brittany breathes. "But I want to."
Santana's heart flutters at the admission, and she releases Brittany's hands to continue their work undressing her. Sitting in just her short black undershorts once Brittany's finished, Santana watches as Brittany uses a washcloth and the hot water to carefully and gently clean the bleeding wound on her calf. At Brittany's touch, Santana's instantly aware that the cut is deeper than she originally thought, and probably could use sutures. The knowledge angers her, and she recalls that she and Puck fought for nothing. No decision was made, nothing was proved, nor gained- only needless wounds and her favorite pants destroyed.
Brittany frowns as she examines the clean, though still oozing, cut. "This is more than superficial. It needs-"
"I know," Santana murmurs. "I can do it. I have-" she gestures to the huge, black trunk at the foot of her bed, and Brittany moves to open it, kneeling to peer inside the monstrosity. She spots a small sewing kit inside and hands it to Santana, who gets to work sterilizing the needle in the tiny flame from the lantern on her desk and sewing up her calf without any preamble.
"You've done this a lot," Brittany comments, amazed and sad as she witnesses the common ritual for the first time.
Santana only nods as she works. "Mike usually has more vital patients to attend to after a battle, so I learned to care for myself."
Brittany places a hand on her good knee. "You don't have to anymore."
Pausing at her words, Santana looks up from her calf, which is mostly sewn closed. "Don't I?"
Brittany smiles. "You have me to care for you."
Santana returns it, her eyes soft. "Then you'd better learn to sew, Britt."
Once cleaned, stitched back together and bandaged, Santana falls into bed, exhausted. Brittany kneels beside her, stroking tender fingers through her hair as Santana's eyes fight to stay open.
"Won't you lie with me?"
"I have kitchen duty soon."
Santana squeezes her hand. "After?"
Brittany presses a kiss to her forehead. "Of course."
Santana smiles, but doesn't answer, and moments later, she's sound asleep. Brittany sees herself out, closing the door softly behind her, then heads down to her own quarters to clean herself up. Sugar, who's nearly finished crafting the netted sling bag for the jar she must carry and protect, immediately demands to know what's going on, and Brittany explains to her the best she can as she splashes water from her ration on her face before heading off to the galley.
When Brittany arrives, she finds David, Kurt and Mike all waiting anxiously for her. They jump when she enters, nearly bombarding her in their haste.
"Is she-"
"How is-"
Brittany laughs, placing a comforting hand on Mike's shoulder and taking David's hand to calm them down. "She's fine- she's resting now."
David breathes an audible sigh of relief, and she turns to Mike. "Thanks for the supplies."
Mike nods, his expression shifting to one of annoyance. "I would've tended to her myself but I was summoned by our captain."
"I'm sure he needed it more, anyway," Kurt stabs with a roll of his eyes. Brittany's thoughts wander as her friends continue to make light of a situation that, to her, seemed highly serious.
Mike laughs. "He will never admit it, but she nearly had him."
David shakes his head. "She don't like the infirmary- same as me."
"Well, with all the damn trouble you two get yourself in-"
"What would've happened?" Brittany wonders suddenly. "If she'd won?"
Her friends pause.
"Well… she'd be Captain," Kurt says quietly.
"Which she also don't want," David adds with a heavy sigh.
"And then she would decide what to do with Noah."
"What to do?" Brittany prompts.
"If he would be granted quarter or executed," Mike elaborates.
Brittany considers that for a moment. "And if he had won?"
"Then Noah would decide the same."
"So- if Santana had lost…"
The answering silence, the look in her friends' eyes, is all the confirmation Brittany needs to know the truth- if Santana had lost, that would be the end of everything she knew.
Kurt breaks the uncomfortable silence by clearing his throat. "Well, thankfully, that's over." He reaches for a cabinet door, opening it to distract his uneasy thoughts, and changes the subject. "Britt- we didn't glean much from that Orian ship, but at least it's all been cured. We've gotten loads of flour, so we have bread to last us until our next destination."
David seems to shake himself out of his dark thoughts, too, at Kurt's words. "I'll leave you to it," he says, leaning in to plant a rough kiss to Kurt's cheek before shuffling to the door.
"Yeah, I've got to go update my supply list, now that our captain has used about half of it," Mike forces a smile. "See ya, Green Bean." He musses Brittany's hair a little on the way out, eliciting a playfully annoyed smile from her.
Once alone, Kurt stands, unmoving, before the cabinet he'd opened. He turns slowly to look at Brittany. "I know that Santana and I have often been at odds with each other over you," he begins, his tone serious. "But she is the one sensible person holding this ship together. If she had lost…" He stares into the distance for a moment, lost in the idea, and then blinks rapidly and turns back to her. "I honestly believe that at least half of this crew would have gone with her." He sighs heavily, then reaches for the large mixing bowl he'd been searching for, which he places on the counter. Brittany waits obediently for instruction, surprised when Kurt doesn't immediately move.
"It's mutiny to admit this," he says finally, his voice so soft Brittany strains to hear, "but I wish she had won."
It's four days more to the edge of the blockade, and another six days after until they reach Klu, which is, according to Unique, safe for them to port in. They manage to sail past the blockade without issue, and once through, they lower all Lycan flags and pennants. Klu is not Lycan-friendly, which makes it the perfect place for them to gather supplies without being recognized or reported.
Making their supplies last the journey is a challenging task, one that at least ends in satisfaction, and they thankfully are not too worse off as they pull up to the modest pier. Once the ship is moored and the gangplank is down, Puck disappears into town in predictable Puck fashion, leaving an irritated Santana to ensure that the ship is secured.
As she's inspecting the anchor chain, she spots Brittany with Kurt, Jake and Henry, preparing to head into town to sell the considerable amount of tradable goods pirated from the Explosion Soleil. She's standing patiently, waiting for Kurt to finish taking inventory, and Santana moves to intercept her.
"Hi," Brittany smiles, her eyes lighting once she sees her.
"Hey," Santana returns. "Off to restock?"
Brittany nods. "As is my duty. Kurt says I've gotten better at bartering." She smiles wider. "No Wanted posters spotted so far, though."
Santana's heartbeat races, both at the thought of Wanted posters existing and not existing. If she can truly be anonymous, then perhaps she can finally spend time with Brittany as she wishes. She gathers her courage. "Then- would you want to share a room with me tonight?"
Brittany's smile turns sad, and she takes Santana's hand. "I would love to… but regrettably, it's my turn to stand ship watch tonight."
Santana forces her expression to remain neutral and not reveal her utter disappointment. "Understood."
Brittany glances over her shoulder, and, with Kurt still preoccupied with double-checking his grocery list, she turns back to Santana. "I never thanked you for standing up for me."
"What do you mean?"
"With the captain. I didn't realize how hard that must've been for you, and how much was at stake- I'm sorry."
"Britt," Santana mutters, her cheeks coloring slightly from what she feels is undeserved praise. "I'm glad that you think so, but- that's not what it was. I didn't do it for you, I- did it for the ship."
Brittany smiles patiently. "Am I not part of the ship?"
"You- are," Santana admits, realizing what Brittany actually meant and blushing harder at her incorrect assumption.
"Then you should accept my gratitude," she teases, nudging her playfully and causing Santana to give in and smile.
"You're welcome," she says finally, and Brittany smirks. "I did it because of what Puck said- and what we talked about. We are pirates, not savages. We carry honor, and we live by a code- something our captain seems to forget more often, recently. I just worry- I don't know how this insane journey is going to end."
Brittany doesn't know what to say, or how to respond to reassure her, but when Kurt calls her name, she leans forward and kisses Santana, squeezing the hand she's still holding. When she pulls back, she rests her forehead against hers, letting their noses nudge slightly.
"I've gotta go," she breathes regretfully. "But can we talk more about this later?"
Amazed at the dazed feeling that kissing Brittany still gives her, Santana nods. "I'll bring you a hot meal; make sure you get properly rested- use my cabin..." Brittany squeezes her hand again, pulling away with a grateful grin.
"Be careful," Santana whispers, but Brittany's already gone.
"Those are the neatest stitches I've ever seen."
Santana glances incredulously down at the young woman kneeling next to her foot, wondering what in the Great Ocean possessed her to make such a strange comment- especially to her, an infamous pirate. "I've had a lot of practice," she answers easily, and the woman breaks the intense gaze she has fixed on Santana's calf, then nods and returns to her task of digging out a giant swatch of fabric from beneath a messy pile of bolts.
She hadn't been in port long, but since being there she'd learned two things: first, that no one knows who the hell she is, which is an actual blessing, and second, that everyone in the town is a little bit loony. She's forced to deal with it, regardless; her favorite pants are ruined, and she's far from her usual tailor. She could mend the garment herself, but she doesn't have the patience or the desire to pour energy into such a task, which is why she's standing in an unfamiliar tailor shop, waiting for assistance.
"Did you need something?" the young woman asks once she pops up from the pile of fabric. She reaches to straighten the glasses on her face, which had grown crooked from her search. She traces her eyes down Santana's form, making her slightly uncomfortable, and before Santana can muster a response, the woman adds, "I'll get Madame."
Eyebrows furrowed, Santana watches the woman disappear, then turns her focus to the random bolts of fabric surrounding her. Did the woman really not recognize her at all? Has she finally reached a place where the influence of Lycas has not yet reached?
"Lookin' for anythin' special, honey?"
At the sound of the woman's voice, Santana looks up from the cloth she'd been disinterestedly browsing to find the shopkeeper, as promised by the young woman from earlier. The dark-skinned, older woman before her crosses her arms, making herself seem bigger, more intimidating. "Name's Roz. I run things 'round here."
"Santana," she offers, the sound of her own name giving her a surreal feeling. How long had it been since she could be herself, could be anonymous? "And yes, I am; I need a new pair of pants, similar to these." She indicates the garment draped over her right arm. "And I would like them mended, also."
Roz nods, reaching her hand out for the article of clothing, which Santana relinquishes to her without any resistance. Once in possession of the pants, she holds them up to survey the style, the fabric, the stitching- and the damage. Santana inwardly cringes- they look pretty awful.
"Nasty slice," Roz comments, examining the abundant bloodstains. "Whoever was wearing these definitely had a bad day."
Santana forces a polite smile in response. "Mmhm."
Raising a knowing eyebrow, Roz purses her lips. "When do you need them by?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"It'll cost you extra."
"I can cover it."
"All right, then. I'll send Suzy over to take your measurements."
"Are you a sailor?" Suzy asks as she slides the measuring tape along Santana's thigh, and judging by the tone of her voice and the slight blush coloring her cheeks, Santana can tell that she's interested in her- intimidated by her.
"Something like that," she murmurs. The knowledge gives her a familiar feeling of power, of control, but it's muted, now; it doesn't give her the same satisfaction it used to, and as Suzy's fingers surreptitiously caress her ankle as she presses the end of the tape there, Santana pauses to reflect on why that could be.
In the past, Suzy is exactly the kind of woman Santana would've preyed upon- the innocent kind, the kind who have no idea how dangerous she is. She had a type- and, she realizes, Brittany fit into it perfectly-
Or at least, she used to. Brittany is far from the stammering, innocent girl Santana knew; she's evolved into a fierce, confident woman, and with her, Santana's taste has evolved, as well. No longer did she desire the kind of woman who would avert her gaze at the sound of her sultry, commanding voice- not now that she has a partner, an equal, to stand by her side.
Suzy smiles hopefully at her once she's back on her feet, and Santana returns it politely.
"Tomorrow morning, then?" Santana says awkwardly, breaking the uncomfortable gaze.
"Oh- yes," Suzy answers with apparent disappointment, and Santana leaves the shop in a hurry, filled with an overwhelming desire to see Brittany's face immediately. A quick glance at the sky reveals that it's still too early for dinner, but perhaps she can distract herself with shopping.
She wanders aimlessly down the busy, cobbled street, still amazed that no one recognizes her or threatens to call the rozzers, until she comes across an old bookstore, and she pauses.
It's been a long time since she's been able to lose herself in a bookshop; she knows, from experience, that Brittany enjoys books almost as much as she does. Perhaps she can find something in there to purchase for her, to pass the time, and perhaps when she finishes, it'll be dinner time.
"You got me dessert?" Brittany gasps, and the way her face lights up with joy makes Santana's heart skip a few beats.
"Of course," Santana says casually, pouring Brittany a cup of beer from the growler she'd acquired. "I know how fond of it you are."
Brittany looks at her then, and her blue eyes sparkle with adoration and an intensity that makes Santana's stomach tighten. She's still afraid to think too hard on that look, afraid of what it could mean, so instead she pulls the leather-bound book from her bag and sets it down next to them.
"And this is for later, when your watch gets terribly boring."
"Is it not terribly boring the whole time?" Brittany jokes, and Santana smiles wistfully. "Thanks."
"You're welcome; I'm sorry you got stuck with it."
"It's my turn." Brittany shrugs and takes a bite of the meat pie Santana had brought her for dinner, trying to discern the spices used in its creation. She hadn't thought of making meat pies, but the idea seems genius and easy enough to execute in the galley. The flavors, however- they might take some guesswork.
"Is Sugar still on board?" Santana wonders around her own meat pie.
"No," Brittany answers. "She finished weaving the sling for her jar, and took it with her to town. I think she and Jake got a room." She chuckles, "Even she would rather risk death than stay on the ship when she didn't have to."
They laugh together, and Brittany finishes her meat pie, licking the crumbs from her fingers. Definitely garlic and salt. But what else? Pepper?
She imagines making meat pies in the galley with Kurt as she takes a long sip of her beer. The thought makes her smile, as does imagining the impressed, admiring expression on Santana's face when she brings them to her for supper one day out at sea. Which reminds her...
"Have you worked out which shift you'll have once we leave tomorrow?" she asks nonchalantly, and Santana shakes her head. Puck, Matt, Arty and herself switch their watch times every port, so that no one gets stuck with the worst shift.
"Not yet. Have you?"
Brittany smiles to herself. "Kurt will let me choose whether I want days or nights."
"And which do you prefer?"
Brittany glances up teasingly into brown eyes burning with interest. "I prefer the shift that coincides with yours."
"And how am I to set my shift if I don't know your preference?" Santana asks before taking a sip of her beer.
Brittany grins. "Kurt likes the mornings."
Santana nods. "Evenings, then."
She leans into her, content with their plan. She's almost looking forward to being back out at sea- almost. "Do you think we will run into any more Lycan ships?"
"Out here?" Santana pauses to consider. "I think their focus is elsewhere."
Happy with that answer, Brittany squeezes her arm. "I'm glad. I don't want to risk another quarrel between you and Puck."
Santana sighs at the memory. "I'm not against pirating Lycas, Britt. They are usually our main targets."
"I know."
"But attacking them in their territory, when surrounded by a blockade? That's probably the dumbest idea Puck has ever had."
"I'm not against attacking them either," Brittany admits. "I promised my brother… but I feel like it's my fault that you and Puck fought- and that you were injured."
Santana grabs her chin gently, gazing into her eyes. "None of that is your fault- I already said, I didn't do it for you. Even if you hadn't given your word, I would have still acted the same."
Brittany squeezes her hand, processing her words, forcing herself to believe them, and gazes up at the stars. "It's bright out tonight."
"I'll stay with you, if you wish- to keep you company."
"I do wish it," Brittany confesses quietly. "But you are still recovering- you deserve a proper bed and a proper night's rest."
"I can have both in my cabin," Santana insists, but at Brittany's frown of disapproval, she relents. "Can I at least bring you breakfast?"
Brittany smiles and whispers, "I'll allow it," before leaning in close to kiss her.
The next morning goes by in a blur as Santana meets Brittany for an early breakfast before heading to the tailor shop. She forces herself to remain polite during her final fitting, but is unable to avoid another awkward interaction with Suzy, who admires the color choice of her pants- of all things- and breathlessly informs her that she laundered the soiled ones for her.
"Uh- thanks," Santana responds, and before Suzy can say another weird thing, she leaves, rushing back to the ship and thankful that they aren't staying in this peculiar port any longer.
Once on board the Tide Ripper, she greets Arty and Matt, finding their captain noticeably absent from their agreed-upon meeting to discuss their shift assignments.
Arty sighs at her annoyed expression. "He's sulking in his cabin, but he requested mornings."
Santana glares at the very idea- as if Puck will be up before sunrise. "Then I want evenings," she snaps, and Matt and Arty ignore her harsh tone, knowing that her anger lies not with them.
She listens as each of them report the ship's condition and supplies, then completes her usual task, helping to get the ship underway. It's late afternoon by the time they're out to sea and on course towards the Three Points. A nervous terror takes hold of her stomach at the realization that they are finally on their way to the Dead Gate, with only one planned stop and nothing but the unknown before them. She longs to visit Brittany, but knows the woman is busy at work in the galley with food preparation, where she will remain for several more nights. With a heavy sigh, she heads to her cabin instead of the destination she truly desires, and allows herself to accept and succumb to the monotony of what her future days will surely contain.
She spends the majority of her time, free and otherwise, wracking her brain for answers to the endless questions plaguing her about the Dead Gate, the Etherplane, the Immortal Spring, the enchanted jar- for fuck's sake, has this really become her life now?
It's several days later when she notices that the Lycan flag, which had been lowered and stowed when they'd ported in Klu, is once again flying. When she takes over the ship from Arty that evening, she inquires about it, but she's sure she already knows who commanded it raised.
"He figured it would deter ships from attacking us," Arty explains.
"Or paint a giant target," Santana grates, placing her hand on her forehead. "Since when has a ship being Lycan deterred an attack?"
Arty shrugs. "If anyone attacks, at least we can surprise them. We can always use more supplies."
Santana sighs. With over a month left out at sea, it's going to be a long, long voyage.
The back of Brittany's head hits the shelf lining the wall above the counter she's sitting on with a soft thunk, but she doesn't notice, too focused on the feeling of Santana's mouth working magic between her legs. Her hands tangle tightly in dark, soft hair. She's not sure how their relaxed dinner escalated into Santana lifting her onto the counter and tugging her pants down to her ankles; she remembers Santana mentioning something about dessert, her pulse quickening, and then they were kissing- not that she's complaining.
Her thighs tremble where they bracket Santana's head; her heels dig in to her shoulder blades. Her hips rut upwards against Santana's mouth, tight with tension, chasing her release. She struggles not to crush Santana's head between her thighs, reaching blindly behind herself to brace as she feels her orgasm approaching.
At the sound of Brittany breathlessly moaning her name, Santana redoubles her efforts and is rewarded with the sight and feel and taste of Brittany coming apart under her tongue, an experience she knows she will never tire of. Brittany sits, splayed on the counter, shaking and rapidly sucking in air, as Santana presses gentle kisses to her inner thighs.
After a moment, Santana slips from between her legs and helps her to her feet, and Brittany clings to her shoulders for balance as she tugs her pants up on weak, shaky legs. When Santana kisses her, she tastes herself- an odd flavor- and she pulls her closer as she leans against the counter, wrapping her arms around her tightly.
Her racing heartbeat just starting to slow, she offers Santana a smile. "Well, that's a lovely way to start my night."
Santana smirks. "Is it?" She presses another slow, searing kiss to Brittany's lips, and Brittany sucks in a shaky breath when teeth find her lower lip.
"How do you do that?" she breathes, placing a hand over her heart to feel it pounding, racing. "How do you unravel me with just your mouth?"
Santana's smirk grows bigger. "Add it to my long list of skills, Britt."
Brittany laughs, leaning in for another quick kiss before she pulls away to whisper, "I have some skills of my own." She reaches for Santana's belt, teasingly tugging it open, and Santana's breath catches in her chest. Brittany's mouth moves to her neck, her hands working Santana's pants open, but the sound of the ship's bell ringing, calling for Lights, startles them apart.
"Ship checks," Santana groans.
Brittany smiles against her neck. "Can you not skip them tonight?"
Santana laughs shakily, still focused on the way Brittany's breath feels against her skin. "Sure, if you want us to sink."
"It's got to be better than starving to death."
Santana bites her lip. "You noticed?"
"That we don't have enough food here for a thirty-two day journey?" Brittany comments lightly as she pulls back to stare into Santana's suddenly serious brown eyes. "I work in the galley, remember?"
Santana frowns. "Puck has zero stops planned other than Elach, which is just outside the Points- at the end of our journey," she complains, frustrated.
"Perhaps he plans to pirate."
"He's ordered the Lycan flag flown," Santana informs her, "but we have no idea what we will run into- what kind of enemies Lycas has-"
"Everyone in the mortal world," Brittany jokes.
Santana smiles. "And immortal world."
They laugh for a moment, and then Santana sighs, closing her eyes, clearly stressed at the lack of planning for this leg of their journey, despite having ample time to plan. Brittany reaches up to cup her cheek, stroking her thumb over her cheekbone fondly.
"We will figure it out," Brittany murmurs. "We always do- but you do no good worrying about it now. Perhaps with starvation on the horizon, Puck will reconsider."
Santana nods slowly. "Perhaps I need a drink."
Grinning, Brittany nudges her playfully. "Well, it just so happens that I have an entire barrel of rum here." She releases Santana and grabs one tin cup down from the shelf, then pauses to consider for a moment before grabbing a second one. She fills them both with rum from the tap of the barrel while Santana chews her lip nearby, lost in thought. Finally, she quarters a lime and squeezes a piece into each cup, then drops a second piece in as garnish- it won't survive much longer, anyway.
"Thanks," Santana murmurs as she accepts the cup, but when she looks up, she finds Brittany offering her a dazzling smile, her eyes bright as she lifts her own cup up as if to toast.
Something happens to Santana, then, staring into those depths of blue; a powerful, intense feeling grips her heart, squeezing it tightly- a feeling she dares not give name to, nor think too hard about. It simultaneously excites her and terrifies her, and she suddenly recalls the fear she'd felt days ago in the tailor shop. She'd never imagined she could feel something so strongly- what is this feeling that's taken hold of her?
When Brittany kisses her with soft lips tasting of rum and lime juice, her stomach clenches, and every part of her body aches with want so powerful it transcends physical desire. It's a want she does not know how to satisfy- it seems to her like a giant whirlpool, endless and consuming, and it's that insatiability that frightens her.
She pulls away suddenly, torn between two conflicting feelings and struggling not to think too much about what any of it means. "Ship checks," she repeats breathlessly, and Brittany offers her a teasing pout before releasing her.
Santana chugs her cup of rum before handing it back to Brittany and practically fleeing from the galley. She rushes through her duty, ensuring that the ship's lanterns are appropriately lit and that the look-outs are posted to watch for hazards in the dark, and then, alone in her cabin, she rides her own fingers until she comes with a shuddering cry, allowing herself, for the first time, to imagine herself with Brittany completely, without barriers- physical or emotional. It's liberating, terrifying, intense... but it grants her the clarity to admit to herself, finally, that it's what she wants more than anything.
"You've been avoiding me," Brittany accuses lightly, coming to sit next to Santana, who's seated on the main deck in her usual spot, whittling. "Have I upset you?"
"Of course not," Santana says easily, slowly dragging the blade of her small knife along the block in her hand. She hadn't been able to carve anything useful since her fingers had healed, but that didn't stop her from trying. "I've just been busy."
Brittany cocks a disbelieving eyebrow. "For two days?" She reaches for Santana's hand, stilling her knife's movements, and tangles their fingers together, her thumb stroking the top of it. Santana doesn't pull away, and Brittany studies her face. "Are you all right?"
Instead of answering, Santana gazes out into the horizon, where the sun has begun its descent, and squeezes Brittany's hand. "It's lovely this time of day."
"It is," Brittany agrees. She's spent enough time with Santana to know that she will answer when she is ready, so she doesn't push her. She watches the sun move lower and lower, until it seems like it crashes into the sea, and finally, Santana speaks.
"We've reached the end of our map."
Brittany takes a moment to process such heavy information. "What do you mean?"
"I mean- the map we use to chart our course? We've reached the end of it. There's no more map to show us what's out there."
Brittany swallows. "How will we know where to go?"
"Follow very vague, very sparse directions. Arty thinks the astrological cues written on the Fig Sack map were intended to guide one to the Three Points."
"And if they're not?"
Santana shrugs, offering her a weak smile. "Then I guess we starve."
Brittany returns her gaze out to the endless ocean, which seems a lot larger, more intimidating, now with the knowledge that it is completely unknown and unfamiliar. "You won't let that happen," Brittany promises softly. "And neither will I."
Santana bites her lip. "I have no idea what awaits us out there," she whispers. "How can I keep us safe?"
Brittany squeezes her hand reassuringly. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together. We will keep each other safe."
As if predicting their future, the last, dying beams from the setting sun fade, casting the sky, and their world, into darkness.
SOON.
Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you'd like to share your thoughts, but absolutely no pressure! :D
See you sometime this fall, everyone- and remember, BRITTANA IS FOREVER!