The breeze was welcome, with its cool caress as Warren bent down to pick up the last of the cargo and begin his decent to the ship. Despite the mild weather, with the sun beaming down on his bare skin, birds cawing above him, it all seemed rather, serene. Still, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was amiss. Warren was not one for holding onto superstitions, of doom and gloom – but his mother had taught him to listen to his instincts, it was what made him an excellent sailor, and an even better soldier – so he decided, as he lugged the heavy cargo over his broad shoulder, to watch not only the path before him but also the path behind.

The ship had recently been swept and mopped, given the slight acidic smell invading his nostrils and the slight wet sheen the decks had. Men darted around the ship in every direction, preparing her for the long journey back to Prythian. The sea looked relatively calm, the skies a light blue so the journey should not be too difficult which was always a blessing.

Warren ducked as some soldiers brought a long object above him, narrowly missing his head – he swept them a displeased look and they shrugged in apology. He gripped his own belongings and padded to his own small lodgings below deck, ducking as he did so given his tall and big build. He stopped when he saw a young man approach him, dropping his bags and broadening his shoulders.

"Warren is it?" the man said, he moved closer and Warren felt somewhat threatened, almost as if this person held considerable strength despite the man being much slender than himself, perhaps it was just a feeling the man gave but Warren didn't particularly like it.

"Who are you? You're not supposed to be down here…"

"Don't fret, I'm not going to hurt you, well, not yet…" Warren frowned, he felt it, deep on his forehead as he crossed his thick arms over his chest, still bare to help alleviate the heat and spare his clothes from the heat and sweat. "I have a proposition for you" the man began, with his dark almost jet-black hair. With a slight smirk on his pretty face, Warren thought this man was perhaps more dangerous than he first thought. He did not move from the small doorway.

"I think you should leave" he said, his voice non-wavering; his smirk only widened.

"My good friend needs someone to help her gain safe passage to Hyburn" Warren sighed "we have someone in mind but we need her to be…watched so when the time comes, she will accept the offer"

"What would I have to do with this plan of yours?" He couldn't help but feel curious, what with the mans strange lilac coloured eyes and carefree attitude.

"You're returning to a small town which is near a smaller village, we need you to watch someone and report back to us" he smiled, showing straight white teeth.

"I am no spy" Warren firmly stated.

"I will pay you well, the girl will come to no harm you have my word"

"What does a strangers word matter to me?" the man laughed, and edged closer.

"We just need to know if she is the right person for the job, you'd simply let us know what the locals say about her, get close to her if you can, I can't risk any harm coming to my friend but she needs someone who knows the land and it's people and this girl could be invaluable" he confessed, and for the first time, Warren believed him.

"I want my own ship" he stated, feeling proud of himself knowing the full cost of such a treasure but the man did not blink, instead he smiled and Warren felt something in his stomach churn.

"Done" Warrens eyes widened as the man passed him a little envelope "The person you will be reporting to is called Mor, she will approach you, the girls name is Brianna, watch her closely" and before Warren could object, the man seemed to have disappeared with only the glow of his smile burned into Warren's mind. He couldn't quite help but feel like he'd made some terrible mistake but he was young and desperately wanted his own ship and crew, he could surly watch some girl, what could be the harm in that? He thought.

Months later…

"Curse these waters and all that try to master them!" Brianna screeched over the loud bangs as the waves crushed into her small sailing boat. She had been eager to begin early, to catch some fish before the fishermen but it would seem they'd some good sense to keep clear of the seas on this particular grey morning.

Her short red hair whipped her in her face as she gripped the wheel and tried to maintain some semblance of control of the vessel, as it was assaulted by the elements. The sky began to darken, and she sighed as she kicked the side and swore loudly, grimacing when her foot began to throb.

A bright light flashed, once, twice and then moments later a huge boom echoed all around her, Brie felt the sound rattling her every bone. It was at this point the rain poured from the grey clouds, and her poor boat seemed to accept that perhaps it had seen the last of its adventures. However, Brie would not accept this, her knuckles turned white as she forced the wheel to turn and angle it back to shore, but the stubborn thing would not adhere to her attempts of control. "I will not die here, not after everything I have done, I will not die for some fish!" She shouted, baring her teeth.

The sky boomed again as if exclaiming, 'yes, you will', and she saw the bright lights flying in every direction above her, the waves becoming more frantic and with every bash came her hitting some part of her body on the sides of the small cabin. The rain poured so fiercely, soaking her loose clothing through until she felt the chill wrap around her entire body – she thought for sure that she would die. What a way to go, death by stupidity, stubbornness and stupidity.

Oh how the elements mocked her, giving her everything they had while she stood swaying every which way, uncontrollably bashing every limb off every pointy or otherwise hard edge and surface. "Show off" she groaned when one particularly large wave collided with the side of hers small boat knocking her to the side.

All of this because she had stubbornly listened to that ridiculous old man, who had declared a storm would be brewing and no man should ever brave it, especially not a young woman who was a few months off twenty one, a young woman who was 'too short for attempting to master those waters in any case'. Well, she had declared, we shall see who masters who…

~ Earlier that morning ~

The dock was dry, and birds sang to one another above her, she hated birds, given when she was younger her eldest brother has convinced her a bird had shit on her head, he'd lightly patted the top of her head and slid his fingers softly down her hair somehow without her seeing. He'd started laughing and soon convinced her the bird had emptied itself right on top of her head. She had just washed it that morning, as it was her first day of school, her father had argued with the teacher to allow a girl in the class, she'd been so excited when he'd told her she would join her brothers the year after. She was utterly shook to her very core, how could this have happened? She would be the only girl in that class, in the whole school, and not only that, she would be the only girl at that school – or child in the whole school – that had bird shit on her head.

What would they think? Intelligent folk and educated classmates had to disprove of shit on someone's head, they'd not think she took her education seriously. But for a seven-year-old, she had indeed taken it extremely seriously. So she had cried and cried, begging her eldest brother to help, but he'd laughed, tears escaping from the corners of his eyes. It wasn't until she looked ready to attack him like a feral animal, did he tell her the trick he'd played. But by this point her eyes were red and swollen, and her hair a mess from her brothers crude games, she swore for the first time in her life, a cruel sounding phrase she'd heard her neighbour call her husband. Her brother stood still, and she had stormed off on her own claiming she'd never ever forgive him. Brie smiled at the memory, sending her thoughts to her eldest brother, because of course – of course - she'd forgiven him. But still, the gentle hatred of birds and the fear of them above her head sent mistrust right through her, it was ironic really, that her ancestors had chosen a bird for their family sigil.

Brie occasionally glanced up at the sky, glaring unflinchingly at the large white birds, circling above her. She came to a halt when she caught a group of men huddled together shouting and pointing to the sky and waves then to their boats – which were much bigger than her small white vessel. She walked briskly toward them and attempted to quietly get around them, but of course, a woman roaming the deck was an unusual sight no matter how long she frequented the space.

"You again" a slim man groaned, making the others halt their conversations and glower at her disapprovingly.

"Fine morning isn't it gentleman?" They all looked at one another, painfully confused, because the morning, was in fact, a deep grey and rain threatened on the horizon.

"You still trying to sail these waters on that thing you call a boat?" Another silver haired man questioned.

"Oh, Mr Kincaid, who put shit on your morning breakfast?" She grinned as the mans mouth flew open along with the rest of his cohort, she called them the silver sailors, simply because they were old as sin and continued to maintain their archaic belief that a woman could never sail.

"Fowl language for such a pretty young lady" The youngest of the group scoffed, he was still sour that she'd turned him down on more than one occasion, and when he got handsy one time, well, she was certainly not going to let him forget it, so she couldn't help but obviously look at the ugly scar across the mans cheek. The man decided to remain silent, given Brie knew he had lied about that scars origin to cover the humiliation of getting turned down and bested in a fight by a girl half his age.

"Not just a pretty face is what they say gentlemen" she winked at him "now if you wouldn't mind, I have work to be getting on with" she attempted to barge past them, but was blocked by the eldest of the group.

"You oughtn't go out there today Miss, them waters are going to turn, it's no place for a lady to venture, especially when it's going to be a rough day" unbelievable, she thought.

"I'm sorry Mr O'Hare, I wasn't aware you controlled this dock? I certainly wasn't aware you could also predict the comings and goings of the elements!" she folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot lightly on the deck.

"Mark my words Miss, it's no place for anyone, let alone a woman. You'd be dead before you return, that's the truth, look at them clouds coming in" and of course, there they were, plain as the man stood in front of her, but, those clouds weren't mocking her for simply being a woman. Her father taught her to sail, she was damned good, and all these men knew it, but even she could admit he was probably right about the waters, those clouds coming in did look angry. Did she listen to her instincts? Of course not. She would not be made out a fool simply because these men thought she were absolutely incapable of sailing when the water was a tad rougher than the average day.

"So you won't be sailing today?" She looked around the group as they each shook their heads, grumbling it was too risky even for a seasoned man. "Good, I won't have any competition at the market when I bring my catch in…" She pushed her way through the Silver Sailors, flicking her short hair as she did so "good day gentlemen" she waved without turning as she hurriedly boarded her small boat, the smallest of smiles decorating her face.

~ Present Day ~

Brie was being tossed around her boat so much that she thought perhaps the waves, rain and wind might not sink her, perhaps it would be the own battery of its owner from within. She'd pulled in her sails and readied herself and her small vessel to face the storm, and then she stood, swaying and bumping into everything. She gripped the wheel and held on firm; at least her catch was good, that was something. Whether they remained aboard was another matter entirely, she thought gravely.

"Alright, if I am going to die, I'll do it with a fight" she promised.

The waves and sky gave her everything they had, but somehow her small boat fought, with her clinging to the wheel for dear life. Her hair and clothes were soaked, her eyes bloodshot, her body exhausted and more than bruised - but still she gripped that wheel, steering against the storm, until the rain lessened and the ferocity of the waves eased enough for her to return to the dock, tie her little boat up and remove her beaten catch of the day. She wasn't to know how many fish she had managed to keep in reasonable condition, more than a dozen by the end of the sorting.

She couldn't quite believe her sheer luck. That somehow, against all odds, Brianna and her little boat had survived a deadly storm. The pride that evaporated from her as she waltzed past the Silver Sailors, dripping wet from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes but she was alive and she had fish, damn it.

The sheer look on their ghost white faces as she strutted by, fish in her net swung over one shoulder, made the whole ordeal almost worth it, and she could swear she could almost hear the relieved laughter from her brothers and parents. Brie smiled and nodded, hearing her feet squelch as she walked all the way to the market to prepare and sell her catch. All the while completely unaware of the eyes that had followed her as she wove around the people of the bustling market, and the relief in those eyes, that the fearless young girl with the wet red hair and proud beautiful face, had survived against a storm only hours before.

"Pass me that over would you" a man, shouted over the large crowd and Brie passed him a wooden barrel. "Mother, as soon as those soldiers dock the whole town goes into a frenzy!" he cried, hoisting the barrel over his shoulder and shoving his way through the crowds gathered around the entrances to the docks. Women, children, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers all eager to see who had returned – and those who had not. Brie wanted to point out to the townspeople that the dreadful war had come to an end, that these men were simply patrolling and brining back goods from far away lands – but she didn't dare. She knew all too well the dangers of sailing and even more so of the worry a person could hold in their heart for someone they loved

. It was a burden to love a traveller, with their heart always set on the line between the ocean and the blue sky; perhaps she could sympathise with them given her own affiliation with the need to move constantly – trouble never too far from her back. Although, she mused to herself, no one would wait in the cold at the edge of a town waiting for her safe return – and hadn't done so in a very long time.

She tried not to think of her brothers waving farewell to her as she hugged her mothers leg, her mother who had so much love to give and not enough time to give it all to her four children. Brianna pushed past some people to try and reach the small tavern nestled deep within the town – it was a dark and dangerous place but it had good ale and music so she had found herself frequenting the place. It reminded her so much of the small shack she had in her own village growing up, her whole village would try to fit in for celebrations, most people would sit outside however, laughing, hugging and generally trying to be happy. At least before everything happened, her friends and family had those memories, of simpler, happier times. Where no one waited for their children and loved ones to return, bloodied and broken or not at all as was the case for most folk.

"Sorry" she murmured, shaking the sadness that threatened to shackle her as she bumped into a familiar looking tall, dark skinned man who seemed to nod and hurry off. Brie turned to watch him weave in-between the crowds, carrying a large bag over his wide shoulders, his eyes not leaving the path before him. She could swear she'd seen him hovering around the area for some time and she found it somewhat strange she hadn't properly spoken to him, given the size of the village, everyone seemed to know everyone. Then again, she realised; she didn't particularly like speaking with the people of the village herself so she could hardly blame the man for keeping himself to himself. She shrugged and put a hand on the door of the tavern, excited to rest, after the week she'd had, with the storm and those old fools, she felt a drink was well deserved…

"You!" She spat, slamming her drink on the rickety old wooden table, Brie watched as the pale liquid sloshed and spilled and she dared to look up at the short woman glowering at her with her dark brown eyes.

"How are you Linn?" Brie asked and then took a long deliberate drink, realising that a new kind of storm had landed at her feet.

"Two of my boys took ill, and you'll never guess what they had in common!" In fact, Brie could probably pose a guess or two but she thought better of interrupting the angry woman. Everyone in the small town knew that Linn Kincaid would go to the ends of the earth for her offspring, no matter how unbearable or unkind they were, the mother could only see the good in them. Despite the fact they were, and she didn't state this lightly, insufferable. Mother knew those two were trouble but Brie doubted even the Late King of Hybern himself would attempt to dissuade their mother. "Are you listening to me you foul creature?" Linn had apparently been explaining her plight, cutting out words and syllables every which way.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Kincaid what, exactly does your children taking ill have to do with me?"

"It's that fish you done sold us!" And there it was.

"Linn, when, exactly did your boys eat the fish I caught four days ago?" This seemed to puzzle the stocky woman as her face contorted in wrinkled confusion.

"I don't know, why should it matter?" Brie sighed and chanced a brief look around the tavern, it had started to fill up nicely in the past hour as the evening arrived.

"Humour me"

"I suppose they had it last night for supper" the utter audacity, Brie thought.

"Mrs Kincaid, I told you to make sure you eat the fish within the day, or the next at the latest, it wouldn't keep too long" the woman was about ready to unleash when a low, yet feminine voice cut in.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I have to speak with you" Brie dared a quick glance of the tall woman who'd interrupted Linn and almost fell off her chair. She couldn't see her too clearly, given the darkening tavern and most of her was covered in a warm looking cloak. All she could see was a slender figure, and yet Brie had no doubt, somehow that the woman held considerable strength, she could indicate that firstly by the unflinching interruption of an angry Mrs. Kincaid in a tavern full of strong, drunken men.

Some few bits of soft blonde hair poked out of the hood in wisps around the base of her neck but it was when Brianna met the strangers' deep brown almost golden eyes, that held such mystery, warmth and something like pain, like a summers day and a sky threatening a storm - did Brie thank the gods that she was already seated.

"We're not done here…" Linn scolded after facing the tall woman "you can take your turn with this one after I have spoken with her!" the angry woman exclaimed, Brie squirmed in her seat and sighed loudly. Storm indeed. It took some long minutes before Linn abandoned her anger and huffed away, scowling at the blonde in the cloak who had taken a spot behind her and then approached again as the angry lady stalked away.

"If this is about the fish, I can tell you now, I warned everyone to eat it within the day or two" Brie sighed "I caught it fresh that day, trust me, those waters were dangerous enough that even the fishermen steered clear" not just the waters, border soldiers crawling around in their ships too, searching for someone or something, and Mother knew they weren't the most friendly of men, especially to young women.

Brie dared another glance at the stranger, unashamedly allowing her gaze to linger on the woman's shapely figure despite most of it being covered in that damned cloak. Her jaw was set, with seemingly high, prominent cheekbones lightly dusted with pink; her skin seemed smooth, tanned from days in the sunshine, no blemishes that she could see and understandably, Brie felt positively pale next to her. The woman's hair was certainly blonde, slightly dark from the dim lighting, her nose was rather petite but in perfect proportion with her face, and her eyes. Mother save her. Brie couldn't help but catch her breath. Even in the limited lighting, they maintained a warm gold, while small flecks of white danced in amongst the strange hues. Brie had never seen eyes like them before, so startlingly beautiful and filled with depths of emotions. She couldn't help but let her mind wonder to what she looked like in the sunshine, minus that cloak that she hugged closer to her body.

The strangers' mouth tilted slightly into a small smirk, her eyes dancing with amusement and it was at this moment that Brianna realised that she has been staring rather pointedly at the poor woman. She could already feel the heat creep up her neck and play with her cheeks, Mother help her.

The stranger sat across from her was obviously attractive, no matter how little Brianna could see of her, and she couldn't bear to think of the rest of the woman's body. It wasn't that Brie was unattractive herself, with her youthful sharp features, bright green eyes, her mothers deep dimples and the light dusting of freckles along her nose, forehead and arms and her shoulder-length wild, red hair. She had never managed to tame it, and since she'd had to cut it a while ago, before boarding a boat for a long trip, she'd decided to keep it short, but she couldn't quite master its wildness. Perhaps because she was mostly outdoors, the wind blowing it every which way but it was easier managed provided it didn't grow beyond her neckline or shoulders. Because of her affinity for hard work and the necessity for sheer survival, her body was slender but defined with muscle. She wasn't too tall, and she had come to terms with that a long time ago, when her mother gave up marking her growth progression on the edges of the pantry door, her siblings' growth continued, while hers seemed to stop. She wasn't short per se, but she certainly wasn't as tall as the woman opposite. Her slight masculine traits wove neatly around her feminine features that gave her that 'edge', the pull that interested many, but that few ever dared venture beyond an obvious but appreciative, lingering look.

Indeed, Brianna had been pursued by almost every man she'd ever crossed paths with, some women even, her mother had often declared her as 'beautiful', which was not something her mother would say lightly, being an unflinchingly honest woman. Her father seemed to have gifted her with her cat like eyes, and her love of the outdoors, he even encouraged it, teaching her to fish, hunt, build and defend herself, along with her four brothers. Which only drove them to play tricks on her, start fights – of which most she was able to finish – and mock her tirelessly when he mother instilled some of her own lessons, including dancing, cooking, dress making and the art of the spoken and written word. Thinking of her family sent a stab of pain through her heart, and she fought to keep that emotion from her face, knowing from her fathers' teachings that they were perhaps the deadliest of weaknesses. Brie shook it away, plastering an uninterested smile on her face.

"I'm not here to argue about fish, however amusing that would be…" her voice, that low feminine husk, sent shivers down Brie's spine, after which she mentally shook herself, what in the Mother is wrong with me? She thought. Brie swallowed some ale and scowled at the warmth of the liquid, how long has she sat in the old tavern, nursing her drink and trying to forget all that was?

"Watch it!" exclaimed a drunkard; eyes widening as his drink almost left his hand when a tall, tanned man bumped into him before scurrying off. Brie tilted her head slightly and only turned back when the attractive stranger coughed slightly.

"How can I help?" There was something in the strangers' cautious demeanour, the way her slender hand fiddled with the abandoned tankard, and how those beautiful eyes couldn't quite remain still, darting from table to table, and landing on the door in repetitive loops. If Brie didn't know any better, this stranger seemed to be surveying the room as though she were a trained solider, expecting a threat at any point. However, Brie did have some indication of these behaviours, having lived near soldiers most of her life, without this experience, perhaps the untrained eye would not note the execution of the woman's wandering yet deliberate gaze, her straight back, and how her fingers had to play with something, to mask her obvious discomfort. Indeed, it would seem, her beauty was not the only attribute this stranger held to be wary of.

"Might we go somewhere a little more…private?" Brianna rose her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her stomach as she lounged back in her chair, which creaked at the sudden movement; the strangers' eyes tried to withhold the slight flinch of her body at the sound. "My name is Mor, and I need your assistance" she said, before lowering her hood only slightly, after ducking low so no eyes could fall on her.

Brianna swore under her breath. Mor tucked some loose strands of blonde hair behind one of her ears, her eyes darting around the room and quickly pulled her hood up in a few swift motions. Brie couldn't contain the shock from her face, because the gorgeous woman in front of her, with the strange golden brown eyes, was a faerie.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that…" Mor fiddled with her cloak, pulling it close – indeed how a small piece of clothing could withhold such power baffled Brianna. Brie swallowed the last of her drink and said, "follow me". As she stood, and felt the woman following her across the dank space, with each floorboard creaking and groaning in answer, the singing of the drunken patrons surrounding them, Brianna felt something within herself, something in the darkest pits of the room, shouting and begging for her to run. Run and never look back, but looking at the beautiful, wary woman at her back, as her own hand rested on the cold broken door handle, Brianna could not yet run.