A/N- Sorry for the slight hiatus but grad school started again so I've had almost no time to write. Thank you so much for sticking with me and reading this story. Reviews are very much loved and appreciated.

Every day the sun shone hotly on the deck of the ship, the water lapped at its sides. Half of the sails remain rolled up, allowing the Fox Hole glide across the sea in an almost leisurely pace. The ship barely left a wake despite its size. Both the ocean and the sky seemed endless. The sea was dark cerulean topped with foam mirrored the light royal blue of the sky streaked with wispy clouds. But despite the languid pace of the ship on the water, the ship itself was always bustling with activity. From sun up to well after sun down everyone worked, no one was allowed to slack off. The Fox Hole crew worked in tandem, drunken filthy tandem, to keep the ship going.

Over the past week, Arnold's legs gradually became used to the constant swaying and bobbing of the ship and his stomach no longer attempted to rebel against Harold's cooking. The skin on the bridge of his nose was beginning to flake and peel from prolonged exposure to the direct sunlight. But the most starling change was within himself. He no longer desperately searched for a boat to rescue him or strained his eyes trying to see land on the horizon. Life on the ship was a constant flurry of work and activity, a complete and utter change from his previous life. It had only been a week but it felt as if Arnold had lived multiple lives already. A blissful childhood with a loving family, the cloudy fog of his dull life as governor, and now this. He hated be held here against will, but he loved waking up to the gentle rolling of the ship. His clothes were becoming increasingly grimy but he was no longer suffocated by breeches and vests and buttons. And he couldn't get enough of seeing the endless sky above him, and the rippling waves around him.

There was only one, very annoying problem; Arnold's wrists were still tied. He hadn't made an effort to escape in a while (only due to lack of opportunity), but the rope remained like a crude harness. It was a big laugh for the crew to see Arnold being dragged around like some ill-tempered pet.

Ill-tempered was exactly what Arnold was feeling as he moved the hard-bristled brush across the sudsy wooden planks. He, along with Brian, Edmund, and much older gentleman by the name of Scurvy Murphy had been assigned the duty of scrubbing the decks. Curly was "supervising", juggling cheery bombs while rocking back and forth on a sideways barrel.

"You know," Arnold grumbled eventually, "This task would be a lot easier if my wrists weren't still tied."

Curly shrugged carelessly, "We loosened them yesterday. You're fine."

"They're still pretty restraining!" To demonstrate Arnold stretched his arms out, the rope stopping them about a foot and a half apart.

"Just enough to keep scrubbing the deck."

"Aw, *#$% this *&$# ship's #$*&!," Scurvy Murphy declared, spitting a wad of phlegm onto the deck before scrubbing it. "You know, *!&% &**# the **&#! Hahahaha!"

Scurvy Murphy then began to laugh like he told the world's greatest joke. Curly and Brian chuckled while Arnold gave a tolerant roll of his eyes. The constant swearing and foul language used to shock him at first, but it did no longer. It seemed like the only reverence and respect these pirates had went to two people and two people only. Captain Roth and…

"Curly! Where did you put that map we worked on last night?"

Arnold's fingers reflexively clenched on the brush as soon as he heard her voice. He kept his eyes on the ground and began to scrub harder as she approached them. From the corner of his eye though he saw Helga run an affectionate ran through Brian's hair.

"You know, the map we worked on for Port Emerald's canals," she continued, "I want to head out by sunset so I can be there by night fall."

Arnold's head came up before he could stop himself, "You're leaving?"

Helga looked at him, an eyebrow raised in surprise at his question that sounded plaintive to even his own ears which began to burn in embarrassment. He quickly went back to scrubbing but not before he saw Helga's lips twitch up in a small smirk.

"I shouldn't be gone long," she continued talking to Curly but Arnold knew that the smugness in her voice was directed at him, "I'm just sorry that you'll suffer my absence for a while."

The burning in Arnold's cheeks intensified as Curly laughed, "We'd suffer even without you, my dear."

As her footsteps began to move away, Arnold glanced up one more time to watch her long, blonde hair swing as she strode away from them. It was a wonder how she kept it looking so soft in all this salty air. Arnold quickly shook his head and resumed scrubbing the floor planks with an annoyed frown. Why should he waste time thinking about her? She barely glanced at him unless she wanted to tease him or pass him along to someone else for the day. It was insulting. Not that he wanted to be on this ship in the first place, but now that he was the least she could do was acknowledge his existence. Hell, even Curly and Harold, the kidnappers who got him into this mess, had warmed up to him somewhat. And it didn't help that Arnold was bunking with Brian, which meant that he had to also endure only being a secret witness to her kind and gentle side. Three nights out of the past week he listened to her read, fugitively watched her as she smiled at Brian patiently as she allowed him to nestle beside her. Arnold wasn't jealous or anything, it just made it confusing and exhilarating, erm, exhausting to be around her. When she lowered her standards to be around him that is.

"Alright boys, take a break!" Curly finally declared.

Scurvy Murphy stood up with a groan, mumbling a couple of choice words before breaking into a hardy laugh again. Arnold stood up slowly, feeling his joints creak and stretched his arms above his head, working out the kinks in his spine and shoulders. The wind picked up cooling the humid sweat on his skin. It continued to blow making Arnold smile in relief, but the others didn't seem to be enjoying it.

"Hmm," Curly looked up at one of the rippling sails, "this isn't good."

"I don't know; it feels good to me."

Curly gave him a look of mild amusement, "You really don't know anything about the ocean, do you?"

Another gust of wind blew, strong and hard. The ship gave a sharp jerk in its direction. Arnold stumbled against the railing, looked out over the water, and gasped. The horizon was marred by threatening dark gray clouds. The white foam began to dance as the waves increased. And the wind began to double in strength and ferocity. It had come upon them almost instantly, but a storm was definitely upon them.

A cry came from the crow's nest, "All hands on deck! Storm's a coming!"

The call was picked up and repeated throughout the ship and soon every pirate running around on the deck. Arnold stood unsure and completely out of place as everyone hurried around him. The earlier sense of near freedom had completely vanished. He felt small and insignificant in the midst of the fierce storm. The door to the captain's quarters burst open and Captain Roth began calling out orders, shouting to be heard over the noise of the storm.

"Tie down those barrels! Fasten the crates!" He bellowed, brandishing his axe, "You men, unfurl those sails. Either we beat this wind, or we dine with Davy Jones tonight! YAAAR!"

"YAAAR!" The pirates echoed with almost savage glee.

Arnold couldn't comprehend their vigor. How were they not terrified by the massive waves that tossed the ship like a child's play-thing? As the storm closed in, the warm sun vanished enshrouding them in darkness. Sheets of rain engulfed them, chilling Arnold to the bone as it instantly soaked through his clothing. He felt a tug on his rope and looked down to see Brian pulling at him to get his attention, looking almost as afraid as he was. But wordlessly, Brian led them both to a spot between the walls of the forecastle deck and a few tied down crates. Following Brian's lead, Arnold crouched down with him, both keeping out of the way and bracing them against the storm.

The ship suddenly began to rise as a mammoth wave swelled beneath them. There was a curious, nauseating feeling of weightless as the Fox Hole reached its summit and seemed to hover there for a few breathless moments. And then it plummeted, the ocean yawning open to receive them. A scream tore through Arnold's throat as the ship fell, tilting sideways as if it wanted to toss them into the gaping abyss before it followed suit. But the swell of another waved saved them, knocking the ship upright again right before it landed in the water again. Tons of gallons of salt water washed over the ship nearly carrying off a few pirates.

But still the storm wasn't done with them. Gale force winds whipped the waves into a frenzy, tilting the ship dangerously more than once. Captain Roth roared and the muscles in his already burly arm bulged as he gripped the helm and struggled to regain control of the ship. The men struggled to unfurl the sails, but something among the rigging caught and the larger sails only unfurled a fifth of a way.

"Wolfgang!" Captain Roth roared, "we need those sails open or we'll all go under."

"We're working on it!" Wolfgang shouted back and began direct the others, "Curly, Torvald, get the lower aft sails! Edmund, you're with me on the foresails. Helga, get the main sail!"

"I'm on it!"

A flash of pink swept by his and Brain's hiding spot, making Arnold jump. He squinted to see her through the driving rain. The skirt of her dress had been ripped opened and tied to the side, exposing her boot clad legs. The sunny mass of hair, darkened by the rain, was all tied back into a pony tail with her pink ribbon. A knife glinted between her teeth as she began to climb up the main mast.

"Helga!" He called out her name, not really knowing why, the storm should have swallowed his words.

But she did hear him. Through the blinding torrents of rain and the shrieking gusts of wind, Helga turned her head and her eyes met his. Their gazes held for a brief moment before she looked away first and continued climbing.

"Helga!" Arnold called out her name again, but she was a fast climber, already out of earshot.

The ship continued to battle the stormy waves, but Arnold's earlier fears were dwarfed by growing anguish watching Helga climb the impossibly high mast. He stood up on shaky legs and Brain tried to tug him back down again.

"Stay here," Arnold ordered him and pulled away from his grasp.

He knew there was nothing he could do, but he couldn't help but run to the mast, peering hard through the rain just to keep his eyes on her. Just to keep her in his sights. As it could somehow keep her safe. Helga was a skilled climber though. She maneuvered up the ropes and rigging swiftly, despite the rain and wind doing their best to make her fall. Her feet found holdings among the knots in ropes, but never got tangled. She was completely focused on her task, no fear showing on her face. Instead she was scowling, as if the storm was a mere inconvenience to her. Beneath Arnold's terror, a feeling of admiration was beginning to swell in his heart for this intimidating, fierce woman.

After what seemed liked forever but may have only been minutes, Helga finally reached the cross beam of the sail where a tangle of ropes and rigging held the sail closed. Looping one arm through a spare hanging of rope, she began to cut through the rigging to release the sail. Captain Roth continued to hold the steering wheel in a death grip, struggling to keep the ship balanced and upright. Most of the other sails had been released by now, but they needed the main sail opened to escape the storm's clutches. But despite Captain Roth's powerful grip, the ship continued to lop sideways. It was worse near the top where Helga was still cutting at the rigging. More than once the mast nearly dipped her into the water.

Arnold continued staring up at her, barely noticing the crick forming in his neck. She only had one more knot to cut loose and she could safely come down. The ship would finally escape this storm and he would be able to breathe again.

And that was when he felt it. The wind stirred his hair at the nape of his neck. Arnold broke his gaze from Helga and looked around at the dark clouds above them. The wind and rain were blowing right, if the main sail finally opened it would catch the wind and straighten the ship out. But the hair at the back of his neck was blowing back, left. A few of the clouds were drifting in that direction as well. Arnold didn't know how, the first time he stepped on a ship was last week, but somehow, he knew that the wind was about to change. And when it did, the ship could be overwhelmed and capsize, and Helga would be-

"Turn the ship!" Arnold screamed at Captain Roth, "You have to turn the ship!"

Captain Roth whipped his head to stare at him, "Are you crazy boy!? Stop spouting nonsense and get out of the way!"

"Listen to me; the wind is about to change! If it does and the sail opens, it could capsize the ship! Helga will be thrown off the mast!"

"The wind is always changing during a storm! And what the hell does a milk bred, governor like you know about the sea!?"

Arnold shook his head desperately, refusing to back down, but not knowing how to answer either. "I just do! Please turn the ship- that way!"

Words failing him, he pointed in the direction he knew that would save them. Captain Roth gave him a hard glare for a brief moment, as if he were not quite sure if he believed him or not. But something of Arnold's distress and urgency must have shown in his face because with a loud yell Captain Roth jerked the wheel in the direction Arnold indicated. The Fox Hole seemed to groan with the effort as it began to turn, fighting against the wind.

"Dad, are you crazy!?" Wolfgang yelled, "What the hell are you doing!?"

Arnold barely heard him though. His eyes were already trained on Helga's lithe form again. She was laying sideways on the cross bar, one leg and one arm clinging to the wood as she worked at the last knot to free the sail. But as the ship changed course, the movement seemed to jostle her and she nearly lost her grip.

"No!" Arnold cried out in despair, but Helga clung on, her knife finally cut through the last knot and the sail burst open.

The ship faltered for a moment, but then miraculously, and just as Arnold predicted, the storm's powerful winds suddenly changed directions. The sail snapped open, wide and full, and the Fox Hole righted itself. More than that, it leaped, now racing across the water. It no longer battled the storm, it was propelled by it.

"HAHA! You did it boy!" Captain Roth rewarded Arnold with a triumphant smile and a rough clap on the back, knocking Arnold to his knees. "The Fox Hole triumphs again! YAAAAAR!"

The ship rang out with similar cries of wild triumph, almost rivaling the noise of the storm. Arnold stood up with a weak laugh of relief. His eyes immediately searched out Helga again to see her already repelling down from the mast with the help of rope. The rain was still pouring heavily so he couldn't see her face clearly, but through the thick curtain of gray he could have sworn he saw her smile.

That night the mess hall was packed and noisier than ever. Caskets of wine and rum were opened and freely distributed. Cries of glee and victorious laughter rung out as the crew celebrated yet another escape from the clutches of death. Even Arnold, the outsider and the captive, was included in the celebration. Seated between Harold and Curly, he listened to their tales of their harrowing feats and tremendous perils with baited breath. He sipped at a wooden chalice of wine while they down rum by the mouthful.

"This storm was nothing!" Harold was slurring and beginning to sway, "I remember the time we got sucked up by a tornado. The Fox Hole got flung clear across the ocean!"

Arnold's eyes widened in shock but Curly made a rude noise with his mouth and rolled his eyes.

"We've faced far worse than that," Curly waved a hand dismissively before downing more rum and wrapping an arm around Arnold's shoulder, "allow me, my wonderful governor, to account to you the tale of how we obliterated the German ship Sophia's Mercy. The blazing hull of their ship lit up the night sky. The boom of our cannons could be heard for miles."

"You fight with other pirates?" Arnold asked in genuine surprise, "isn't that against some kind of pirate code?"

Harold snorted but began choking on his drink, leaving Curly to explain, "Only if we have a treaty with them. Sophia's Mercy was trespassing in our waters. They asked for a fight, we gave it to them."

He gave a triumphant, maniacal laugh while Harold continued to snort and choke on rum. Arnold chuckled and shook his head in amusement. The wine was beginning to give him a warm, tingly feeling at the base of his skull but he wasn't nearly as drunk as the others. A table over Captain Roth and Wolfgang were having a drinking contest, chugging large bottles of wine, cheered on by the others. Arnold watched them, feeling a fleeting pang of longing for his own father, but he was unable to stop smiling none the less. Wine dribbled down both of their jaws, but Wolfgang broke first, red faced, sputtering and choking. Captain Roth kept going though, draining the bottle before slamming it against his head and roared. The room went wild. Arnold found himself cheering along with everyone else. His cheers died down though as his gaze went across the room. Somehow, his gaze always found her. Her blue eyes were bright even from across torch lit room. Bright and intense, making the warm tingle spread throughout his body. Helga was standing apart from the other pirates, leaning against the wall, and watching him. Her hair had dried curly, still held back in a ponytail. Arnold raised his cup to her in a small salute. She didn't return it of course, but her lips curved up in a smirk. He couldn't remember if her lips were always that pink or if they were tinted from wine. Arnold's mouth suddenly went dry and his tongue darted out to wet his own lips.

"Let's have some music in the blasted ship!" Captain Roth yelled.

The crew shouted their agreement and from various places in the room, instruments began playing. The music was just as wild and rambunctious as the crew. They stomped their feet, hooted, and clapped to the music. The sound was near deafening, but their drunken joy was contagious. Tables were roughly moved aside to make an impromptu dance floor. Arnold wasn't much of a dancer (Robert had him trained in the waltz), but he set down his cup and clapped along with the music. He entertained himself by watching the others dance. Some danced in pairs, others danced on tables, but the most entertaining was Captain Roth himself. For such a large and drunk man, he was surprisingly quick on his feet. His stomped his large feet in time with the music, dancing a rougher version of a jig. In the middle of his dancing, he thrust a hand out towards Helga.

"Come on lass," he cried out with a laugh, "let's show these sons of wenches how to really dance."

Helga didn't seem the least bit surprise at being called out. Her eyes flickered to Arnold and her amused smirk grew. She set down her drink and made her way to Captain Roth, the crew parting before her. The hooting and catcalling amplified as she took sly, tripping steps towards Captain Roth's outstretched hand. She then broke into a genuine smile when she reached him and clasped his hand in hers. Bellowing out a loud laugh, Captain Roth pulled her into a lively, bouncing two-step dance. The crew cheered them on, and Arnold found himself entranced. Helga's smile was the brightest that he had ever seen. Her blue eyes glittered. Eventually Captain Roth stumbled into a table and fell but Helga continued to dance without him. She twirled and spun around the room, her feet quick and graceful despite her boots.

Laughing, Helga made her way around the room, enticing everyone to dance. No one could resist her. Or they were too drunk to refuse. Even Arnold was beginning to feel a little tipsy. Fleeting images of wrapping his arms around her slim waist flashed before his eyes, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. As beautiful as she was, Helga was still dangerous, and he couldn't forget that.

"What are you doing just standing there my good sir?" Curly crashed into Arnold, reeking of both rum and wine, "Dance the night away with us loathsome pirates."

"N-no I'm good," Arnold laughed politely, "besides, I can't do much dancing with my wrists tied-"

"Wrists, smrists," Curly slurred, "get out there and dance!"

Without warning Curly shoved Arnold hard, making him stumble into the middle of the floor and crash into, of course, Helga. He stared at her in fear as she stared at him in surprise. His heart then began pounding as her lips curved into her signature smirk. She grabbed his rope and yanked him into the middle of the floor. Everyone cheered excitedly, waiting to see what Helga was going to do to him. Helga jerked him to a stop, smiling wickedly down at him as he practically cowered.

"M-my lady-"

Helga suddenly thrust Arnold away, but held on to his rope to keep him from falling. Arnold rocked back on his heels, the pounding in his heart increasing. Laughing, and still holding his rope, Helga began to move. She moved in a large circle, causing Arnold to move in opposition to her. Faster and faster until the room spun around them, and all Arnold could see was Helga in a haze of orange light. Soon, Arnold was laughing. He had danced only once before, and it paled in comparison to now. Everything around him was light and color. He could hardly breathe from laughing. Arnold didn't know if it was the wine, but his head and body felt full of air.

Before he knew what he was doing, Arnold found himself grabbing at his rope, pulling himself closer to Helga as they spun. Helga giggled, her cheeks flushing, but there was a strange glint in her eyes that he didn't know how to interpret. Right before he reached her though, Helga suddenly darted out of his grasp, spinning around him in a tight circle, and brushing his shoulder with hers. Arnold turned around to face her and found her fixing him with a challenging stare. She began dancing again, so close to him that he could spell the scent of her hair. Arnold watched her for a moment before joining her. He moved his feet like her, a bit clumsier, but keeping up all the same. They danced close enough to touch, but the only thing Helga allowed to touch him was the hem of her dress as it flew around her. A dull ache in his chest began to throb as Helga drew close to him only to move away again, or turn her back on him entirely. Finally, Arnold could take it no longer and grabbed her hands in his, relishing the small, nearly inaudible gasp that escaped her lips. Arnold spun her under his hands and dropped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest.

The music kept playing, but it felt like both time and Arnold's heart had stopped. Any courage he had suddenly left him as he stared down into Helga's stunned face. He waited for her anger, her fury, her knife. But instead, something seemed to dull in Helga's eyes and she slipped from under his arms. The smirk still played on her lips but there was something off about it.

"Good show, my lord," she gave him a brief bow before walking away and disappearing into the crowd.

Arnold stared after her. He still felt dizzy and light headed, not quite understanding what just happened. His heart still hadn't regained its normal rhythm. The crew was still dancing, not seeming to notice Helga's disappearance. When he was sure no one was watching, or would follow him, he slipped out of the mess hall as well to find her.

Outside the temperature had dropped so that it was almost chilly. But the skies with once again clear and peppered with thousands of stars. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust but Arnold found Helga sitting on the railing of the forecastle, staring up at the moon. Arnold's footsteps faltered. What was even he planning on doing? What was he going to say? What was he supposed to say? He had never met anyone, man or woman, who was as intense, intriguing or as deadly as her. Who made his heart race or his blood boil like she did. So, what was he supposed to say to someone like that?

"Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand there, governor?" she asked not even bothering to turn around, "in case you didn't realize, I came out here for some privacy."

Arnold's footsteps faltered and a small frown graced hips lips, "I was just come to check on you, my lady. You left so suddenly I was worried."

"Will you stop calling me that!?" Helga whirled on him in a sudden fury, "I never was, nor have I ever been, or will be, a lady. Got it!?"

Arnold's eyes narrowed, but he took a breath to calm himself. He walked up beside her and looked out into the water. The moon made the waves glow silver for miles. The sight calmed him. His love for the sea was growing every day. The longer he was here, captive or not, the longer he felt strangely comfortable. Not like he was home, but something different.

Suddenly Helga spoke, her voice soft and reverent;

"The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray

Mounts up the eastern sky,

Not doomed to these short nights for aye,

But shining steadily.

She does not wane, but my fortune,

Which her rays do not bless,

My wayward path declineth soon,

But she shines not the less.

And if she faintly glimmers here,

And paled is her light,

Yet alway in her proper sphere

She's mistress of the night."

Arnold stared at her, his heart fluttering and his breath short. The look on her face was pensive, her expression thoughtful. But there was something sorrowful behind her soft eyes. Sorrowful but resolute.

"That was beautiful," he whispered, "did you-"

"Will you give it a rest, governor?" she interrupted, turning to him with a heated glare, "In case you forgot, we aren't friends, and you aren't a part of this crew. From the minute, you got here you've been demanding for us to let you go back to your privilege life, so cut the nice act because it's making me sick. You're just a ransom letter to us. A payday and nothing more."

She spun off the railing and started to walk away, but Arnold grabbed her arm. He yanked her toward him to look her in the face.

"Why are you being like this to me?" He demanded angrily, "In case you forgot, you were the ones who kidnapped me! You're the ones who won't let me go! But God help me, how can I help it that I'm… that I'm starting to... that I-"

"Don't!" Helga hissed. There was a sudden flash and she was pressing a knife against his cheek. Arnold gasped, his eyes widening in shock. Helga's eyes were hot with hatred but her eyes shimmered.

"Why did you dance with me?" Arnold asked in a whisper, "If I'm just a payday then why did you dance with me?"

Helga choked out a laugh, pressing the knife more firmly into his cheek, "I was drunk. It meant nothing to me. You mean less than nothing to me."

Arnold staggered and let her go. The breath left his body and he felt hollow like someone hit him in the stomach. His lips trembled but he drew himself up to his full height and offered her a stiff bow.

"I apologize for taking too many liberties, my lady," He said tonelessly, "if it pleases you, I shall refrain from ever speaking to you again."

He turned on his heel and walked away from her before she had a chance to respond. If Arnold could, he would will himself to stop feeling entirely. Behind him, he heard a dull thunk. He turned back around, but Helga had already disappeared. Her knife was thrust all the way to the hilt in the mast.

The next morning, Arnold's head felt thick and his mouth was dry. The worst pain though was the ache in his chest.

"Too much wine," he muttered to himself even though he knew it wasn't the truth. But he wasn't going to think about that. No, he had to focus on getting back home. That was the only think that mattered.

"I just have to figure out how," Arnold sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, "how in the world am I going… to…"

He suddenly froze, one hand in his hair, the other still in his lap. One hand in his hair, one hand in his lap. And no rope in between. Arnold drew in a sharp breath and stretched his hands out, staring at them. His wrists were still pink and raw but the rope was definitely gone. Did it come untied when he was sleeping? A quick check under the blankets and under the bed proved that theory negative. Brian was nowhere to be found but he wouldn't take off his rope, would he? No, he was loyal to Helga and wouldn't defy her to free Arnold. As a matter of fact, no one in their right mind would defy Helga.

A sudden heat rushed to Arnold's face as he fully realized the implication of that. No pirate on this ship would defy Helga. Which meant that only she would-

"But why?" Arnold stood up and started pacing, "why would she free me? She- she hates…me."

The thought hurt more than he expected. He knew it shouldn't but it did. From the very moment, he met her Helga had threatened him, teased him, and even cut him. Why should he care if she hated him? It didn't matter anyway. Soon he would be gone from here. Away from her forever just like she wanted.

Making his way above deck, Arnold looked around cautiously. No one paid attention to him. Or they were ignoring him. An uneasy feeling twisted in his stomach as he all but strolled to the life boats. He found himself almost subconsciously looking for that now familiar flash of pink. His ears were straining to pick up the sound of her yelling or snickering.

"Don't think about her," Arnold whispered to himself, "she sure isn't thinking about you."

He stopped short though when he reached the boats. Arnold was wrong. The closest boat had been already prepared for his escape. It sat ready with oars, a sack of food, and a casket of wine sitting inside next to a map. Arnold felt his knees nearly buckle and grabbed onto the railing for support. It all clicked in his mind now. The rope, the crew ignoring him, this boat. Helga had planned it. She was all but kicking him off the ship, defying the captain himself to let Arnold escape.

Far from being grateful, Arnold felt a curious twinge in his chest. Leaving now meant he would be home in a week or less, especially if he met another ship on the way. Arnold could be back in Hillwood. Back to his old life, back to his friends, and away from… Helga. There was no doubt in his mind that he would never see her again. He would never have to endure her teasing or her threats. Her mood swings or her sharp knives.

Her smile or her laughter.

Her sunlit blonde hair or her shimmering, sky blue eyes.

Arnold took a step back from the railing and the boat. And another. And another. He kept walking until he found Curly, Edmond, and Brain, working to repair some of the sails damaged in the storm. He cleared his throat nervously and they turned to him with surprised stares.

"Um, hey," Arnold spoke with a nervous smile, "Anything I can do to help?"

It wasn't until the next afternoon Helga returned to the ship. Arnold saw several of the crew members rush excitedly to the side of the ship and felt his pulse quicken. He trailed behind them, watching from a distance as a crowd gathered to welcome her back. Even from a distance he could see that she looked weary. She waved her crew mates off impatiently as they tried to help her over the railing, peppering her with questions and words of welcome.

"Later, later," she waved everyone off impatiently, "Wolfgang, the loot is in the boat. Tell the captain I'll give the full report later. I'm taking a nap."

The crew parted to let her pass and she strode through them. Helga walked with her head down, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Arnold felt his breath catch she drew closer to him, not even realizing he was there.

"Hello, my lady," he spoke with a small laugh, "glad to see you're back safely."

Helga jumped and looked up at him, pure shock written all over her features, "Ar-Arnold? You're still here?"

She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, but Arnold had all the confirmation he needed. He felt himself grinning, even though Helga had already resumed her normal scowl. But her eyes still gave her away, staring at him warily.

"Governor," she corrected swiftly, trying and failing to keep the wariness out of her voice, "I'd figure you'd be swimming back home by now."

"What can I say, my lady?" Arnold's grin increased as he took her hand and bowed over it, "you have me completely captive."

Helga started with a gasp and a bright blush burned on her face, "Wh-what?"

Arnold resisted the urge to laugh at her stunned and flustered expression, "Don't you remember my lady? Captain Roth said that you were responsible for me. And I would hate to get you in trouble for your carelessness."

"You son of a-" Helga tried to look intimidating but her eyes were soft, an expression he couldn't name flickering behind her eyes, "You're too dense for your own good, you know that?"

"Whatever you say, my lady." He bowed over her hand again, wondering if her hand would feel soft against his lips, when she snatched it from him and hit him on the back of his head.

"That's right, you're my captive," Helga smirked, "now get back to work, my lord before I throw you overboard myself."

She spoke to him in the same abrupt way she usually did, but there was something different in the sparkle of her eyes as she impatiently pushed him aside. As Helga disappeared below deck, Arnold found himself smiling, feeling light headed, dizzy, and incredibly warm.

A