Arnold repressed a grunt of pain as his vigorous scrubbing left his knuckles raw and sore. A growing pile of clean dishes was stacked neatly on one side while a still large pile of filthy dishes was stacked haphazardly on the other side. His skin was beginning to split from the prolonged submersion in the scalding water. But try as he might, the cast-iron cauldron he was scrubbing would not come clean. After a few more scrubs Arnold had to call it quits and take a break. A small hiss of pain escaped him as he tried to work the feeling back into his hands.

"Oh, stop griping," Harold called over to him, "when I was ten I used to have to wash twice as many dishes. In cold water."

Arnold felt his eyes widen, "You've been trapped here since you were ten?"

"Trapped? Who said anything about being trapped?" Harold brandished his ax proudly, "See this ax? My father gave it to me after I worked on my first ship. He was a cook for the ship Mary's Revenge, my grandfather was a cook for the ship Emerald's Booty. I come from a proud family of pirates and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon."

"But what if you get caught?" Arnold couldn't help but ask, "The punishment for piracy is death by hanging or lifetime imprisonment if you're lucky."

"Who says we'll ever be caught?" Harold puffed out his chest, "did you see what we did to your precious port?"

Arnold narrowed his eyes as Harold began to laugh meanly. Just when he was beginning to think that even pirates had souls…

"You think taking lives is funny?" He asked coldly, "You think destroying homes, hurting people is something to laugh at?"

For a moment, Harold had the decency to slow his laughing and look somewhat abashed. But then he merely waved Arnold off with a grumbled order to get back to the dishes. Arnold obediently re-submerged his hands, hoping the water would cool some. Another pot of hot water was boiling in case it did grow cold, but Arnold wasn't planning to inform Harold when it did. As he continued scrubbing, his mind began to drift. When he was ten, he and his grandparents had just begun to suspect that his parents hadn't just been delayed by rough seas. They still held on to the hope that they could be found. Grandpa Phil and Grandma Gertie had been so full of resolve and drive to bring them home that Arnold couldn't help but believe they would.

"Private Shortman, fetch me a map!" Gertie ordered grandly, "We'll turn these seas inside and out to find Privateers Miles and Stella!"

"Aye, aye grandma!" Arnold saluted her and began going through the drawers for his mother's maps.

The door opened and closed in the front hall and his grandpa soon entered the room wearing a triumphant smile on his face.

"I got it, Pookie!" He shouted, brandishing a leaflet of papers in his hand, "The charter for the ship has been paid and a crew has been hired. Had to use more than one favor and some collateral, but I haven't lost my touch yet."

"Excellent, General." Gertie planted her foot on the table and brandish a sword in the air in a grand posture. "Now, let the rescue mission commence!"

A low rumble broke through Arnold's thoughts. He quickly blinked away the mist in his vision before turning his head to investigate the odd sound. The rumble came again and he realized that it was coming from Harold who was now deeply asleep and snoring. Arnold only shook his head and returned to his task. It was blissfully quiet now.

It took him a long minute to realize his stupidity.

Harold was asleep. No one else was in the room. Which meant no one was watching him. Arnold moved slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible so that he wouldn't wake him. First, he eased his hands from the water, hoping the dishes wouldn't splash or clink against each other. Then he lightly tugged on his wrists, testing the strength of the rope. Temporary disappointment made him purse his lips when the rope held firm. It seemed that submerging it in hot water had done nothing to weaken it. But the end wasn't tied to anything. Arnold continued to move slowly, keeping an eye on the still sleeping Harold. The floor creaked under his footsteps but Arnold knew that the constant creaking of the ship, in general, would cover it. He did make sure to peek through the door's window with caution. As far as he could see, no guard had been posted outside. The closet pirate was scrubbing the floor yards away, his back to the kitchen door.

Arnold eased the door open and waited. He wasn't spotted; there was no immediate shout of alarm. He carefully wedged his body out into the bright sunlight and eased the door shut again. Still, no one noticed. His wrists may have still be bound but his legs weren't. A small triumphant smile graced his lips before he could stop it. They had tried to humiliate him, intimidate him, and yet here he was, on his way to freedom. Absolutely none of the pirates noticed him as he snuck along stacks of crates, barrels, and rigging. The ship was large but cramped with supplies.

And there were the rowboats. Unguarded and waiting. Arnold paused. The rigging looked simple enough and there was no doubt an oar already in the boat, but his wrists were still tied. He vigorously shook his head. It didn't matter, he would figure it out. Leaning on the railing, Arnold looked down at the water below. It swirled and foamed against the side of the ship so the ship was definitely in motion. But maybe there was a chance for him to use the ship's wake to propel his boat away from them and row to shore, any shore, and make his way back home from there. Arnold made up his mind and reached for the rigging.

There was a sudden sharp whistling noise and a dagger suddenly appeared in the railing mere inches from where his hand had been. Arnold jumped back with a cry of fear as a dark chuckle sounded from above him.

"You just never learn, do you?"

Arnold whirled around. The sunlight bounced off the sails and he was blind for a moment before he saw her. She was a dark, lithe shape that descended from the bottom of the foresail and landed gracefully like a dancer. A second dagger glinted in her hand as Helga approached him with a smile on her face. She rose an eyebrow at his silence.

"Why so quiet now?" Her smile grew more dangerous, "You're usually much mouthier."

Knife in hand, a dangerous glint in her eye, Arnold still couldn't help himself. His lips turned up in a smirk, even as his heart pounded in fear.

"I apologize, my lady," he offered her a small bow, hoping she couldn't smell his fear, "I was just so dazzled by your presence that I was rendered speechless."

To his surprise, a blush appeared on her cheeks and her smiled faltered. And then returned. Arnold swallowed and attempted to take a step back but his back hit the railing.

"Do you really want to leave that badly?" Helga closed the distance between and placed her hands on the railing, boxing him in. "Then leave."

Her face was incredibly close to his, her tone almost seductive. Arnold felt a small shiver go through him and it took him a minute to process her words. Her breath fanned across his lips and almost on reflex his tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. The flicker of her eyes told him that she tracked the movement and she stepped back.

"Well?" She asked, her voice still a soft purr, "What are you waiting for? Go."

Arnold hesitated, furrowing his brow, "Are you… serious?"

"Sure. Get out of here."

"Okay…" Arnold stared at her before raising his arms, "Might I ask you to untie these please?"

Helga's eyes glittered and her smile brightened, "Nope."

Arnold felt his jaw drop open and he quickly shut it. Helga continued watching him. He looked at her and cautiously started to reach for the riggings again.

"Uh, uh, uh…" Helga waved her dagger at him, her smile growing larger still, "I'm afraid I can't allow you to take our boat, Sir Shortman. It belongs to the Fox Hole."

Arnold released an explosive sigh of frustration, "Well then how do you expect me to escape, my lady!?"

Her smile was pure and her eyes were bright, "Swim."

She then began to laugh and it was both the sweetest and the most infuriating sound that Arnold had ever heard. In a moment of sheer insanity, he made a lunge for the dagger in her hand. She sidestepped him easily and clicked her tongue.

"Too slow," Helga shook her head, a smirk on her lips, "no wonder why you got caught."

Arnold felt his face flame in embarrassment and he lunged at her again. Her step was light as she hopped away from him, her smile smug. A low growl of frustration from Arnold only made her laugh again. The next time he lunged, her sidestep was a small controlled twirl; the skirt of her dress brushed against his legs. Arnold quickly found himself out of breath trying to best her while she practically danced around him again and again. He finally gave up, trying to regain his breath without doubling over and looking weak.

"I suspect… that you are…. a dancer…. my lady," he panted between breaths, "Were you taught… before you… became a pirate?"

At once Helga expression became slanted and she glared at him, "What the hell did I tell you about asking things that were none of your business?"

Arnold started, baffled by her sudden change in attitude, "I-I, um… I was just curious."

"Well don't be," Helga re-sheathed her dagger and snatched up his rope. "The next time I catch you trying to escape I'll cut your foot off. And maybe I'll sew those pretty little lips of yours shut too. Curly!"

A nearby barrel popped open and Curly saluted her with a grin. "You bellowed?"

"Get him out of my sight," Helga yanked Arnold over to him and dropped the rope in Curly's hand. "But keep an eye on him or I'm throwing you overboard!"

"Aye, aye!" Curly nodded and saluted her again.

Arnold watched as she walked away, her long hair swinging with each step. His stomach was twisted in uncomfortable knots and he let out a shaky breath. He waited until she was out of earshot before tearing his eyes away from her and turning to Curly.

"Is she always like that?" He asked, "One minute she's laughing, the next minute she's threatening?"

"Ah, the never-ending mysteries of women," Curly shook his head and jumped out of the barrel. "Their secrets are as vast and as dangerous as the sea."

"Yeah, yeah girls are weird, but what about her?" Arnold gestured to Helga's retreating back in exasperation, "She's so…"

"Intoxicating?" Curly suggested wagging his eyebrows teasingly.

"In-infuriating," Arnold licked his dry lips. Her devilish smirk flashed before his mind, but he quickly shook it away. "She's infuriating."

"Ah." Curly gave a light tug on Arnold's rope to start him walking. "No one quite knows that mystery that is mistress Helga. Not I, nor Harold, nor even Wolfgang know her full story."

"But what of her story can you tell me?"

"Only that three years ago she hopped aboard the good ship Fox Hole and has graced us with her boisterous presence ever since."

"Three years huh?" Arnold bit his lip and made a quick calculation in his head. Helga had told him she had been on her own for five years total. With three on the Fox Hole that still left two years unaccounted for. If she wasn't on the Fox Hole, how did she survive? Arnold had never even been on his own before now.

Curly whistled as he started to lead Arnold below deck. When the darkened doorway loomed ahead of him, Arnold's steps faltered. He looked back to give the bright blue sky another longing look before he was enveloped in the stifling darkness again. A flash of bright gold caught his eyes. His gaze traveled to see Helga sitting on the cross-trees of one of the masts watching him. He was once again caught off guard with how pretty she was when she wasn't close enough to scowl at him.

"Come on," Curly chuckled and gently tugged him through the doorway, "you'll have plenty of time to gawk later."

Arnold blushed, "I- I was just looking at the sky."

"Or a pair of sky blue eyes," Curly winked at him in the near darkness.

Arnold's blush darkened but he couldn't find the words to defend himself. They descended a second flight of stairs, Curly walking slowly to make sure Arnold didn't fall. It only added to Arnold's general confusion. This was the same person who bombed his home and probably countless other homes, how was he so nice and friendly now? Or was he just insane?

"What's your story?" He asked bluntly, "I can't seem to figure you out."

Curly gave him a wide amused grin, "Simple my fine fellow. I was bored of a life of wealth and title and chose the excitement of piracy instead."

Well, that answers that question, Arnold thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The room they entered in was large and long. Square holes lined along one wall, behind them sat cannons. Several pyramids of cannon balls were stacked in several places, spaced out around the cannons. Barrels of gunpowder were grouped away from the windows and sitting on a stool was Brian sifting through some of it.

"Oi, cabin boy, get out of the powder," Curly called out to him, "or mommy Helga will be on my ass as well as Harold's."

Arnold gave a startled gasp even as he felt his heart hiccup, "Helga is his mother!?"

Curly gave a hearty laugh, even going as far to bend over and slap his knee. "Oh, my laughable, gullible governor. That expression of yours is art in itself."

"But, you said-"

"Mother in spirit, my dear governor," Curly led Arnold over to take Brian's place, "The first year our lady Helga was here we boarded and raided a naval vessel. She found little Brian here working as a powder monkey, and adopted him to our cause. And like a fierce mother she has protected him ever since. And she absolutely hates it when he's in the powder room."

Arnold sat down and had to restrain a cough as well. No wonder why Brian was always rasping and wheezing. He vaguely wondered how long Brian spent as a powder monkey. Did he not have any parents? No, Arnold supposed he didn't if Helga felt the need to rescue him in the place.

Without saying a word Brian demonstrated to Arnold how to shift the gun powder to keep it from separating. He then moved to begin polishing cannon balls while Curly cleaned and inspected some pistols. As Arnold sifted his mind began to wander. He was worried about Gerald and Hillwood. He hoped that Captain Roth wouldn't ask too much of a ransom for his release. It could bankrupt and ultimately destroy the port if they tried to comply. He could only hope he could find some way, somehow to escape or jump ship when they made port.

They worked until the room grew too dark to see in. No lamps were allowed to be lit for fear it could ignite any gun powder residue so their work in the room was over for the time being. Arnold's shirt was now thoroughly dirtied and probably permanently stained. His throat felt raw from the powder residue and lack of water.

"Where are we going now?" Arnold asked as Curly led him to yet another part of the ship.

"My friend, you are about to experience the finest meal on the seven seas. Cuisine de la Fox Hole," Curly announced and through open a set of doors.

The room inside was large with lit lanterns lining the walls. The noise was near deafening with almost all of the pirates inside eating at tables. Again barely any of them glanced at Arnold as he entered pulled in by Curly.

"You going in or are you just going to stand there?"

Arnold jolted as he turned and saw Helga standing behind them. Curly offered her the end of Arnold's rope. "He was as docile as a kitten."

Helga laughed and needlessly gave Arnold's rope a rough yank. "Perfect."

Arnold frowned in annoyance, but then felt his lips twitch up in a smirk, "From what I hear, you are secretly as motherly as a feline, my lady."

Curly choked on a laugh and quickly moved away as Helga shot him an angry look. With a growl, she gave Arnold's rope another rough yank and led him to an unoccupied table. She sat down but wouldn't allow Arnold to. He stood nervously, waiting for her to order him or insult him, but she did neither. She just watched him, the annoyance in her face fading into genuine curiosity.

"Why do you want to get back so badly?" She asked finally, "You don't seem like some of the other money and power obsessed governors and rich guys we ransom."

Honestly, Arnold wasn't surprised. Most governors were born and breed for their positions. He wasn't. But he didn't think his kidnapper and harasser had the right to know that.

"I don't see how that's any of your concern, my lady," He answered stiffly, "You haven't treated me very kindly to encourage familiarity as of late."

Helga chuckled, her eyes twinkling, "You haven't given me a reason to yet."

"How about me trying to save your life?" He said through gritted teeth.

"You mean after you broke into my room and stole my sword?" Helga promptly responded, "by the way, you're avoiding my question."

Arnold huffed and looked away, "I have responsibilities back home."

"A girl?"

"No."

Arnold's reply was instant and caught even himself off guard. Technically speaking, there was a girl back home whose money and family influence he was depending on to save his port. But now, was he even sure he wanted to go through with it? Helga watched him, one of her dark eyebrows raised.

"I take that as a yes?" she asked.

"It's a no," Arnold said firmly, "there is no girl waiting for me. But there is an entire port who depend on me."

Helga's smile became sardonic, "Poor you."

"Poor them," Arnold corrected her swiftly, "Would I love to do nothing more but to sail around? Of course, I would! But I can't okay? Their jobs, their homes, and their lively hoods depend on me and you all are keeping me against my will. Which is why I keep asking you again and again to release me."

Arnold felt himself shaking and realized that he was breathing heavily. He also realized that somehow during his low-voiced, rapid rant that his face had become incredibly close to hers. His common sense desperately screamed for him to move but his body was frozen. Helga stared at him unflinchingly, seemingly unbothered by his close proximity. For a fleeting moment, as her impossibly blue eyes stared into his, Arnold felt like she could see through him, see his soul and the very core of his being. When she spoke, her warm breath fanned across his lips and he could vaguely taste something sweet.

"Again," she whispered, "poor you."

A sudden heat broke out all over Arnold's body and he forced himself to take a step back before he did something he would regret. What specifically he couldn't say. Helga's smile grew and she opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted.

"The next time you guys are late for dinner, I'm letting your food get cold," Harold declared as he came by their table to drop off two plates of stew with two rolls, and two mugs, "I make my food hot for a reason you know."

"Yeah, yeah fattie I got it," Helga waved him off impatiently and gestured to Arnold. "Sit." She ordered.

Arnold did so obediently and eyed the food. A week ago he would have gawked at the idea of eating a meal cooked by a pirate, but now he was starving. But when he started to reach for his spoon, Helga gave a sharp tug on his spoon to stop him.

"Uh, uh, uh," She smirked, "I think I… want you to feed me."

"Wait!?" Arnold jumped and nearly fell out of his seat. "Wh-why?"

Her smirk turned into a grin, "Because I own you, sir."

Arnold's face flamed as he stared at her, hoping that she was just kidding. But the familiar wicked gleam in her eyes told him she wasn't. He narrowed his eyes and grab her spoon. Taking his sweet time to hopefully annoy her, he scooped up some stew. She gave a sharp tug on his rope, pulling his hands and the spoon to her mouth. Her lips parted slowly and Arnold had to repress a strange shiver that came out of nowhere. He quickly shoved the spoonful of stew into her mouth.

"Good boy," Helga chuckled with her mouth full, "Curly's right, you have become docile."

A low growl built in the back of Arnold's throat. For a moment he fantasized about taking the next spoonful of stew and dumping it in her lap, but he better than that.

"I live to serve, my lady," He remarked instead, feeding her another spoonful.

"Everyone but yourself so you've told me," She giggled, "admit it, we're doing you a favor holding you hostage."

Arnold's instant denial never made it past his lips. His nerves were too on edge for him to think straight. Helga pulled on his rope again to get another spoonful of stew.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Wolfgang's voice was tight and angry as he came over and sat down throwing an annoyed glare at Arnold. He draped a heavy arm around Helga's shoulder and drew her into his side.

"None of your business," Helga grumbled but didn't move away from him.

Arnold swallowed and forced down a sudden surge of anger. He wanted to move away, but Helga kept a tight grip on his rope. She didn't have him feed her anymore, though. She did allow him to sit down and eat his own food. But he found himself without much of an appetite as he watched them. Their heads were close together as Wolfgang spoke in a low rapid voice, Helga's responses were equally quiet. The stew felt thick in Arnold's throat as he watched them. But suddenly whatever Wolfgang said must have angered her because she suddenly stood up.

"I swear Wolfgang, you never change!" She exclaimed in anger and tugged on Arnold's rope forcing him to stand. "I'm going to bed. Follow me and I'll castrate you."

She strode out of the room, pulling Arnold forcefully behind her. He glanced back at but Wolfgang was already moving to another table.

"Lover's spat?" He couldn't help but ask once they were out of the room.

"Ha!" Helga barked, "hardly. Not that it's any of your business."

Arnold rose an eyebrow, not really sure he believed her, not sure if or why he cared. Helga seemed more annoyed by Wolfgang than anything, but then she seemed annoyed at everyone except for Brian. Speaking of which, there was a rasping, breathing noise and Brian was suddenly walking beside them. Helga led them below deck to a room. She opened it and ushered Arnold inside, Brain following after him.

"You're bunking with Brian tonight," She explained, gesturing to two cots, "you make any trouble for him, or try escaping again, it's your ass."

She closed the door behind her, and Arnold heard the click of the lock. Brian didn't seem too concerned about being locked in, though. He grabbed Arnold's hand and led him over to the cots. Arnold took a minute to look around the room. Two cots, that didn't look too uncomfortable, a small dresser, a couple of crates, and a porthole allowing the cool moonlight into the room.

Brain clamored into one of the bed and nestled down. Within minutes he was snoring softly. Arnold felt a sudden exhaustion that makes his limbs tremble. Working the best he could with his wrists still tied, he took off his boots, his socks, and his shirt. The blanket was rough but it was warm. The pillow wasn't exactly soft but it wasn't stone either. Arnold laid his weary body down, hoping that sleep would come soon. The ship's gentle swaying rocked him to sleep.

Arnold didn't know what woke him, a sudden sound or a rough wave, but he was awake. His bleary eyes took a while to focus and he felt disoriented. When he was more aware, his heart sank when he realized that he was still onboard the ship, it hadn't just been a nightmare. The sound of voices reached him and he sat up. The voices were quiet, hushed. Arnold looked around in confusion, but the room was empty. Brian wasn't in his bed. For a minute, Arnold wondered if Brian had a second key and let himself out. But then he spotted a crate that looked like it had been moved and a square piece of wood placed in front of an opening against the wall.

Curiosity got the best of Arnold. He crept out of bed and headed for the wall where the voices were coming from. The wall here was actually much thinner than he first suspected. The voices were clearer now and becoming more distinct.

"The golden sun sparkles off golden tuffs of your cornflower hair," A soft voice said.

"The ugh… g-golden sun… ugh…spa- ugh-spa…" the second voice sputtered.

"Spar-kles," the first voice-prompted gently.

"Sparkles," the second voice repeated.

Arnold had to know what was going on. He spotted a hole in the wall dividing him and the next room, right above his head. Moving as quietly as he could, Arnold moved the crate over so that he could stand on top of it and reach the hole. What he saw nearly made him fall off.

Helga was sitting the bed with Brian sitting nestled next to her. On her lap was the same leather bound book he saw her with the first night he was on board. Her finger ran across the page as she read, Brain's eyes followed her finger.

"The beautiful emerald of your eyes do stilleth my beating heart," Helga read softly, "Their shimmer rivals that of the sea. It's as if we were meant to be."

"The…ugh…be-beau- the bea…"

"Beau- ti- ful," Helga broke down the word gently.

"Beau- ti- ful," Brian breathed and then yawned.

Helga giggled, "I think that's enough for tonight. Time to go back to sleep okay?"

Brian shook his head but Helga was already standing up. Arnold jumped down from the crate and ran back into the bed. Moments later he heard the door open and footsteps. Helga whispered a soft goodnight to Brian before her footsteps sounded again and the door closed. Arnold let out a slow, careful breath. When he closed his eyes, he found himself replaying Helga's soft voice in his head, letting it lull him back to sleep. His chest felt light, but he didn't know why.

"The golden sun sparkles off golden tuffs of your cornflower hair

The beautiful emerald of your eyes do stilleth my beating heart

Their shimmer rivals that of the sea. It's as if we were meant to be."

A/N- thank you all so much for reading and reviewing this story. I'm worked especially hard on this chapter and I think it's my new current favorite chapter.