Coco put on her pajamas and brushed her teeth faster than her parents had ever seen her. Normally, she'd bargain for just ten more minutes of play time. Tonight, she popped up as soon as her parents told her it was time for bed. Within minutes, she was tucked under the blanket, waiting for her father to begin.

"Hmm, do you remember what part we were on?" Héctor asked, flipping through the book.

"Swordfight!" Coco chirped.

"We were at the part where he's riding through the woods, right?"

"Swordfight," she said again.

"Or was it one of the kissing parts?"

"No, swordfight!"

"Oh wait, I remember. We were at the really boring part where they watch paint dry."

"Papa…" Coco groaned, flopping back against the pillows.

Héctor laughed and held up to book. "Okay, okay. Swordfight."

[-]

The masked woman scaled the cliff side, occasionally taking a second to look up at the youth waiting for her at the top. He was one of the kidnappers, no doubt. He looked pretty young to have already fallen into a life of crime. Though, she knew in reality this was the case for far too many people. She ignored the sadness this brought to her heart. He was her opponent and soon, she'd have to face him.

Curiously, the youth kept glancing behind his shoulder and fiddling with the hilt of his sword. This boy doesn't want to fight, she realized. That only made the situation all the more tragic. What was this boy doing here? The kidnappers must have their motives, be it money or political gain. Was he brought on board with the promise of riches or power? He was still young and possibly foolish enough to believe he'd get away with it. High profile cases such as these almost never ended well for either party, which is why she felt the need to step in when she overheard their plans in a Santa Anthony tavern. She was going to make sure at least one person made it out of this alive.

"Um, excuse me?" The boy called over the cliff side. "How much longer do you think you might be?"

Was this boy really talking to her? "It'll still be a while," she called back with a bite in her voice.

"If I threw you a rope, would that help?" he asked. "I have extra. It should reach you."

What was this? A trap? He could easily cut it again once she grabbed on. "It would, but I don't trust you to help me," she answered honestly.

"Yeah, that makes sense." The boy paused and thought for a moment. "What if I swear on my honor?"

"No good. I never trust anyone who swears on an abstract concept."

There was another pause before he asked, "What if I swear on the souls of my late parents?"

The way the boy said this struck her. She learned to spot a liar during her times on the high seas. She knew when someone was feigning emotion. This boy was no liar. His grief was genuine. His love for his parents was sincere. "Throw me the rope."

The rope unfurled from the top of the cliff and landed just within her reach. She grabbed ahold and climbed the rest of the way up. When she reached the top, the boy held onto her arm and helped pull her over the ledge. It was confusing, given that the boy was just waiting around to fight. She reached for her sword, even though her arms still ached from the climb.

"Oh, uh, you can catch your breath if you want," the boy said. He was surprisingly accommodating for a hired killer. What was he doing here?

The masked woman sat down on one of the rocks to catch her breath, but she didn't take her eyes off of him for one second. He was just too nice, given the circumstances. It wasn't just good sportsmanship either. He just seemed to have no idea he was supposed to be threatening.

"Excuse me, do you happen to look like a Chihuahua by any chance?" the boy asked.

She looked up, brows knitted together beneath her mask. "No…"

"Oh," he said with a frown.

"You have a very specific type."

"No, I just…" The boy looked down, hiding his face, and fidgeted with the hilt of his sword. "My parents were murdered when I was twelve. I escaped but, I saw the assassin. She had a face…"

"Like a Chihuahua?"

"Yeah," he sighed. He took a breath, then continued. "After that, I ran away to Santa Anthony. That was when I met Chicharrón. He took me in. He let me train with the best swordsmen in the country so that if I ever meet the assassin again, I can avenge my parent's death."

"So why get involved in this?"

The boy looked down and shuffled his feet. "Chicharrón practically raised me since he took me in. I had to do this favor to repay him."

"I see…" The boy doesn't want to be here. She looked harder at his face. He was young. He tried to hide it behind sparse scruff, but he was young. "Exactly how old are you?"

"Me? I'm, uh…" He cleared his throat and put on a deeper, gruffer voice. "I'm twenty eight," he finished, drawing himself up.

The masked woman gave him a skeptical look.

He deflated a little. "Twenty two?" he tried, but the woman remained unimpressed. "Eighteen?" he tried again. When the woman still didn't believe it, he deflated all the way. "I'm sixteen…" he admitted with a sigh.

"You're young."

The boy shrugged in response. "It doesn't matter. I'm still here. I still need to fight you."

"Very well," the masked woman said, getting up and drawing her sword, "You seem like a nice boy. I'd hate to kill you."

"You seem like a nice lady. I'd hate to die."

They began. The masked woman let him strike first. It was her custom to let her more honorable opponents take the first swing. She liked to play with them a little, find out what they can do. He had skill, there was no doubt about that, but he was hesitant. He didn't attempt any fatal blows. She imagined he wouldn't.

"You're good," she said, blocking his blow. "You said Chicharrón got you trained?"

"Yeah, trained with the best," he said with a cocky grin.

She let him advance on her as she led the fight away from the side of the cliff. "And I assume this is the favor you had to do in return."

"Yup."

"Tell me," she said, blocking another swipe, "what do you expect to gain from this?"

"Nothing." He went in for another jab, which she dodged. "Just paying off a debt."

"And Chicharrón?" She asked, testing him with a swipe of her own. "What did he tell you about this mission?"

"He said we were going after the guy who stole a bunch of his stuff." The boy leapt up onto a rock, gaining the high ground. "I just thought we were going to shake the guy down. I didn't know it was going to go this far."

She jumped onto the rocks as well, continuing their fight on the rougher terrain. "You got yourself into one hell of a mess. Kidnapping Lord of the Southlands is a serious offense."

"Wait, that guy's Lord of the Southlands?!" The boy's eyes widened.

He hesitated. The masked woman took her shot. With her hand still wrapped around the sword's hilt, she swung her fist against the boy's head, knocking him to the ground. She jumped off of the rocks and picked up his lost sword. He groaned, letting her know he was mostly alright, but he didn't get up.

"Listen, boy," she said, sheathing her own sword, "The Prince won't take this lightly. Get out now, while you can." She threw his sword behind a rock formation and ran off. By the time he picked himself up and found his sword, she'd be well ahead of him. Hopefully, he'd take her advice and leave this whole operation behind.

[-]

She didn't have to run very far until she came across her next obstacle. The tall man stood in the center of a field surrounded by rock formations. She stopped. He watched her, but didn't make a move. "Are you my next opponent?" She asked.

He responded with a hand motion.

"Oh, you use sign language. Lucky for you, so does one of my crewmen." She signed along with the words she spoke. "Can you hear me?"

The man looked elated at having someone else who could understand him. He responded with a nod. I am sorry. I must stop you, he signed.

"Well, I must get past you," the masked woman answered.

The man signed again. Why are you wearing that mask?

"Oh this?" she tapped strip of black cloth around her eyes. "They're just terribly comfortable. I made it myself, though I'm better at making shoes."

What happened to my friend? He signed.

"Do you mean the boy?"

The man nodded.

"He'll probably have a headache when he gets up, but he'll be fine," she explained.

The man smiled, but his lips immediately fell back into a frown. Sorry, we need to fight now.

She drew her sword. "Nothing personal."

The man advanced on her. She advanced on him. As soon as she was in arm's length, he knocked the sword out of her hands. He reached for her. She ducked and slid between his legs.

You're fast. He signed.

He reached for her again and she ducked out of the way. Her eyes fell on her sword, now laying in the grass across the field. The tall man stood between her and her weapon. She needed to get to it. He was too large to fight without it.

The tall man advanced on her again. She jumped up on a rock behind her and leapt across the rock formations toward her sword. She almost reached it, when the tall man's large arms shot out and swiped her down.

She coughed when she hit the ground, but hopped to her feet as quickly as she could. The tall man loomed over. He still stood as a wall blocking her from her only weapon. She took a step back and heard a twig crunch beneath her boot. Well, I have one more weapon. With quick, skilled hands, she took off her boot and smacked him across the face.

The man fell back from the blow. He landed on his back, sprawled across the grass. With one hand, he reached up and sighed the letters O-U-C-H. He lifted his head, winked, and dropped back, closing his eyes.

Odd. Her opponent was pretending to be defeated? She cautiously tiptoed around him and picked up her sword. As she began to run off, the man clapped twice to get her attention. When she turned to look at him, he signed, Thanks for sparing my friend, then fell back into his unconscious routine.

The masked woman smiled. She saw now. This man clearly cared more about the swordsman boy than any ransom he might get. She wondered if that was the reason he joined up in the first place. She didn't have time to dwell on it, however. She ran off. There was still one more obstacle to go.

[-]

She spotted her target from a distance. Héctor was arguing with his captor while Chicharrón tried to pull him along. She noticed Chicharrón stopping to take a swig from a canteen and got an idea. She took a small vile out of her pocket, and inspected it. Once she was sure it was the correct vile, she drank the contents and pocketed it again.

"You there," she called, running up the hill toward them.

They stopped and turned around, both unsure of what to make of her. Chicharrón pulled out a dagger and pointed it at Héctor's throat. "Don't come any closer."

The masked woman put her hands up and tentatively took a step forward. "No need for that."

Chicharrón stiffened. "I told you to stay back. You're after him aren't you?" He jabbed his dagger at Héctor. "Who sent you? The Prince?"

"No one sent me," she answered.

"Then you're trying to steal his ransom for yourself."

The masked woman paused, before taking another step. "Perhaps we can come to some arrangement. A wager, maybe?"

"No," he growled. "You've already beaten my muscle and my swordsman. I know I'll be no match in a fight."

"How about a battle of wits, then?"

Chicharrón lowered his dagger, intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

"A simple test. Your choice decides our fates."

Chicharrón smiled. "Very well." He sat down on a rock and sat Héctor down next to him.

The masked woman joined them by the rock. She took out her canteen and a small vile. "We'll need yours as well." Chicharrón handed her his canteen. She turned, hiding both behind her, and poured the contents of the vile in one of them. She shook them up and placed both canteens on the rock. "I've poured Padua poison into one of the canteens. It is undetectable by smell or taste and is one of the more deadly poisons known to man. You'll choose one to drink from. I'll drink from the other. Then we will find out which is right, and who is dead."

Chicharrón let out a low chuckle. "Is that all?"

"Wait, hold on. I don't think we need to resort to poison," Héctor interrupted. "I'm sure there's another way we can work this out."

Both ignored him as Chicharrón continued to chuckle. "Well, it's so simple. I simply need to figure out if you're the type to put the poison in their own drink or their opponent's."

"Then choosing must be easy."

"It will be once I work this out. You might have put the poison into your own canteen, as only a fool would drink from his own, so I can't choose to drink from yours. However, you would have counted on me figuring this out, and put it in my canteen, so I clearly can't choose to drink from mine."

"Have you made your decision then?"

"Not yet. Padua poison is from Santa Anthony, and you know I'm from Santa Anthony, which means you might have suspected a Santa Anthonian might know of another way to detect the poison and put it as far from me as possible. So I can't choose to drink from yours. However, you are clearly a pirate and as a pirate, you'd know all men can be killed. Therefore, you'd want to put the poison as far from you as possible, so I can't choose to drink from mine."

"Truly you have a dizzying intellect."

"I'm not even finished! You might have guessed that I'd know you were a pirate and wouldn't trust what you did to my canteen, so I can't drink from yours."

"You're just stalling now."

"I'm not stalling," Chicharrón scoffed. "I know where the poison is."

"Then make your choice."

"I will. I choose…" His hand shot out as he pointed to something in the distance. "What in world is that?"

"What? Where?" the masked woman looked over her shoulder.

While her back was turned, Chicharrón reached out and switched the canteens. By the time she turned back, his hands were back in his lap.

"I didn't see anything."

"Must have just been a shadow," Chicharrón said dismissively. "Now, let's drink."

Chicharrón picked up the canteen in front of him and the masked woman picked up the canteen in front of her. He watched her face, waiting for some telling flinch. When none came, he hesitantly took a drink from his canteen.

The masked woman calmly took her drink and set the canteen back down. "You chose wrong," she said, a confident smirk on her lips.

"No, you chose wrong!" Chicharrón exclaimed, jumping up in triumph. "I switched canteens when you weren't looking. You fell for one of the classic blunders! The first of which is 'never pitch a tent over a fire ant nest' but only slightly less well known is this! Never go in against a Santa Antonian when death is on the line!"

Chicharrón started laughing both out of victory and relief. All the while, the masked woman kept the confident smirk on her lips. She didn't seem at all surprised when he suddenly stopped laughing and fell to the ground.

"Cheech!" Héctor shouted. The masked woman picked up Chicharrón's dagger and used it to cut Héctor's ropes. "You poisoned him," he said, eyes still fixed on his former friend's body.

"Yes, but I didn't kill him." The masked woman pulled him up by the shoulders.

"But, you said…"

"I lied," she cut in. "I lied about which poison I used. This one will only knock him out for a few hours."

"And that whole time, the poison was in your canteen."

"It was in both," she admitted, smiling at her own cleverness. "I took an antidote before the challenge began."

Without another world, she took Héctor by the hand and led him away.

[-]

Héctor resisted and she pulled him along. Being kidnapped by Chicharrón was bad enough. Now he was being dragged to God-only-knows-where by this stranger. He took some time to guess who the masked woman might be while she and Cheech had their challenge. She was able to achieve feats few on earth could. She was brave enough climb the cliffs of hysteria, skilled enough to defeat a trained swordsman and a hired muscle, and clever enough devise a battle of wits on a moment's notice. He knew of only one woman who could do all that, though he knew her by reputation only.

They'd come to the mouth of a ravine when he finally pulled away.

"Need a rest my lord," the woman asked, her smirk now turned mocking.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," he stated firmly. "I know who you are."

For the first time, her face faltered, but only for a second. "You've figured it out?"

"You're the fierce pirate Valentina Rodriguez, aren't you?"

Her smile returned in earnest and she let out a laugh. "So I am. What can I do for you?"

His expression darkened and his eyes pierced her. "You can walk into the sea and never breathe again."

She looked taken aback by this, but recovered with a mocking tsk. "That's a bit harsh. What have I ever done to you?"

"You killed my love."

"Is that so?" she asked. "Who was it? A noble lady? A princess?"

"No, a shoemaker's daughter from a small village." He sat down on a rock and looked off into the clear blue sky. "Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. Her hair fell in soft, dark waves. And her voice… she could sing with the best of the angels…" He snapped out of his nostalgic trance and turned his venomous gaze on the masked woman. "That is, until you attacked her ship, and everyone knows Valentina Rodriguez never leaves survivors."

The pirate watched him, taking in his. It was hard to tell her thoughts behind the mask. After a moment of silence, she strode past him, looking out into the distance. "I think I remember your shoemaker. She didn't cry or panic when I took her ship. She simply told me, 'no.' She told me 'I won't die today. I still need to build my fortune and return to my family.' She had so much spirit, I almost thought she'd make a good pirate herself. So I wonder…" Her head turned sharply back toward him with a scowl on her face. "How long after she left did you abandon the family that raised you?"

"What?" Héctor jumped to his feet, his scowl matching hers.

"I spoke to her," the pirate snapped, turning completely around to face him. "She said her family was kind enough to take you in as a boy. That you had to hide from the Prince. She said they kept you safe all those years and now look at where you are. You've become his royal companion. You became exactly what they were trying to protect you from. I can only wonder what your shoemaker would say if she could see you now."

"My parents were murdered," Héctor argued back. "I had to take up their duties as Lord of the Southlands. I became royal companion to protect my own people."

"How noble of you," the pirate sneered. "I wonder how long until you forget your shoemaker for a royal lady."

"How dare you?" He was furious now. He marched up to the pirate. Her deadly reputation wouldn't scare him into silence. She knew nothing and he would not let her tell him who he was. "How dare you judge me when you go around, murdering whoever crosses your path? You kill without a care about who you hurt, what lives you destroy."

The pirate scoffed in response and turn her back on him to look off the edge of the ravine. His temper flared. She would not dismiss how deeply he loved or how painfully he grieved. It was an outrage, an insult to the loved ones he lost. "My parents and my love both died within a week of each other and I haven't lived a day since."

She continued to ignore him. She wouldn't for much longer. The muscles in his arms twitched. Hesitance only flickered in his mind as he reached out. "Now you can die too for all I care."

With a rage-filled shove, he sent her tumbling over the ravine's edge. She rolled down the steep hillside. Her mask flew from her face and she called in an all too familiar voice, "You idiot…"

"Imelda! What have I done?!" He threw himself over the side and tumbled after her.

Down they went. Colors swirled. Grass and dirt collected on their clothes. The ground hit their backs with every turn, knocking the breath out of their lungs. Once they settled at the bottom of the hill, Héctor's only thoughts were for Imelda. When he regained his breath, he rolled over and crawled over to where she lay.

"Are you hurt, mi amore?" He asked, brushing stray hairs out of her face.

"No," she groaned, sitting up. "What about you? Can you walk?"

"Walk?" A puff of laughter escaped his lips. "You're alive. If you want, I can fly." And he felt he really could. His wildest dreams were coming true today. Why not learn to fly?

She smiled; a smile he thought he'd never see again. He put his arms around her and she held him in return. She was real. She was really real. There'd be time enough for questions and explanations later. All needed to know right now was that she was here, with him, alive.

They leaned toward each other, and kissed like they thought they'd never have the chance to again.

[-]

Héctor marked the book and shut it. "I'm sorry, m'ija. I know you must be disappointed to end on a boring kiss tonight but it's past your bedtime."

Coco looked back at him, eyes still wide and clinging to her Chewbacca plushie. "I'm not disappointed," she argued. "But, we can read the book again tomorrow night, right?"

Héctor smiled and ruffled her hair. "Of course we can." He leaning in and kissed her forehead. "Good night, mi vida."