Deacon grunted while he paddled their boat away from the large presence of The Executioner. It was painful for Dea to watch them leaving their temporary-home, but with the Pirates currently onboard it, they had no other choice. She watched it get smaller as time went on, then looked at the man she was currently handcuffed to. He was finally taking a break, tossing the oar aside and burying his head into his free hand.

Dea reached out to touch him, getting a good look at him after all the fighting. He had suffered more than her, physically. "How are you doing?"

"I've been through worse." He gasped at the end of his sentence. He cleared his throat - it was coarse and tasted heavily of blood. His head was pounding from that blow he landed on the man…he wished he could lie down right now.

"How..are you ?" He managed weakly, giving her a once-over himself.

Her hand unconsciously went over his chest - feeling his ragged breathing and splaying her fingertips over where his heart was. She was worried about him. "Besides a swollen knee, I'm alright."

He nodded before looking around. There were no islands nor other vessels in view. They'd been sailing in a rather desolate part of the sea at the time, still on trail to their next destination, but nowhere officially marked on Armada logs. He intended on communicating with his officers a couple hours from now, when they arrived for their final target…

He pulled back his sleeve to access the communicator on his wrist. It was hard to reach under the metal cuff, but he just barely managed to press its button. Dea watched in silence as it beeped once, then proceeded to run out of battery life before their eyes.

"Great." He commented dryly, letting his hand fall along with Dea's.

"..Was that our last source of communication?" Dea asked with a wince, somehow already knowing the answer.

"It was. But it's my fault. I should have known better and charged it when we were back on land."

"Don't blame yourself. There was no way we could have seen this happening."

He hung his head down and slumped on the board of wood he was sitting on. She was currently sitting across from him - having to hunch over due to the short amount of chain on the cuffs between them. Her back was starting to hurt, so she had been thinking of moving to the same seat as him. When she noticed he wasn't making a single noise, she moved to console him.

" Espía . It's alright. We made it out of there together, didn't we?"

"Dea," He choked out. It sounded like he was on the brink of crying, and it pained her to hear him this way. "We just lost our ship. Our crewmembers. Each and every one of those prisoners we'd been capturing for months."

She tensed, not knowing exactly what to say.

"... I lost my ship and my prisoners. Twice ." He removed his hands from his mask. His eyes were watery. "There is no way I am not losing my job."

"I'm sure all Armada vessels get plundered by Pirates. That's the norm, isn't it? And Kane is your dad. He'll understand-"

"-You don't know anything about Kane." He interrupted unkindly, his words starting to waver. "I'll be lucky to make it out alive after he hears about this."

She moved closer until their hips were touching, attempting to reason with him. "I'm sure he'll understand it was out of your control. Boochbeard and Gandry came out of nowhere - they had more people than us. We were outnumbered. Surely, he'll-"

"-That means *nothing*." He turned to her, his voice dropping. She shivered at the new sound. "I told him all of that before - I was outnumbered, unprepared, the prisoners conspired together - and he still held me on standby. I am expected to do better. To fail TWICE? That's unacceptable."

Her lips pursed in thought, attempting to understand what he was saying. That cruelty made sense towards a soldier like her, but weren't Deacon and Kane family ? He and Rooke were, and they got along well, from what she saw. Why was it so different with the Supreme Commander?

Deacon seemed to be reading her thoughts and sighed, dropping all hostility towards her. His gaze fell to the floor so he didn't have to look at her. "You were right about me. I am unfit to be an Elite. To keep pressing my luck like this…it will end in my unemployment."

"..What? That's not true," She shook her head. "I was wrong-"

"-No, you weren't." He rested a hand on the forehead of the mask, shaking as he continued his words. "I'm not strong like Rooke is, not as smart as Bishop, and not as useful as Phule. The only reason I'm an Elite is because my brothers were enlisted and I wasn't. I was given the easiest job out of all of them - and I still can't do *that*."

"Deacon!" She grabbed ahold of his blue sleeve, trying to get him to look at her. "You're more than capable of being an Elite-" She paused to smile under her false visage. "When I was offered this job, I did my research on you, espía. And you know what I found? Every single person I talked to about you told me how great of a Captain you were, how you were the only Armada Elite to actually listen to his employees and care for them. Everyone wishes they could work for you - which made me feel lucky."

"Me being 'well-liked' will not stop Kane from firing me."

It was infuriating to listen to him brush off her words. She could feel herself getting annoyed and impatient, which reflected in her next words:

"You can't tell me he has NO sympathy for you? You're his kin - he can't just fire you for making a mistake-"

"Dea. Please understand…" His tone softened, which made her regret having raised her voice at all. "It's not any better that I share his blood - in fact, that makes things *worse*. Since the Elite are his family, he expects more from us. He taught us everything we know - and because he did, he thinks we will make no mistakes. When we mess up - we face those consequences tenfold . The fact that I'm his son is probably the last thing on his mind when he's reprimanding me."

"I…" She lost her voice at this deeply-personal confession. "I'm sorry…"

He stared at the bottom of the boat for a few seconds before shaking his head and reaching for the oar again. He began paddling in the direction they've been floating, taking his compass out of his pocket and looking around. Dea noticed the other oar sitting on the floor and grabbed it to help him out.

"So…what do we do now?"

"We head this way until we reach an island. We were shifted off-course during the struggle, so…it will take a long time. And that's if we even make it."

She shouldered him playfully. "At least we have each other?"

"We're probably going to die."

"-But we'll die together !"

He rolled his eyes. She hoped he was smiling under that mask.

They struggled for a bit with their coordination; rowing with their non-dominant hand wasn't an easy feat, especially when it was the only one they had to work with. They eventually got used to it and made a good pace, but something about their close proximity was making Deacon feel dizzy. He had that headache and the pain in his chest, but when he smelled her perfume this close…it was numbing in a good way. There was something advantageous yet annoying about being cuffed to her like this.

"You wouldn't happen to have anything to drink, would you?"

Dea had stopped rowing and looked at him with desperate eyes. He reached for the flask he kept in his front pocket. He shook it to check for any liquid before handing it to her.

"There's a little left. You should finish it."

"And let you go thirsty? No, we should share it."

"It's better if one of us is hydrated. Just drink it."

"Deacon, you lost some blood. You need it more than I do."

"What I need is a shot of whiskey. Stop arguing with me."

" Ugh! You are an insufferable man, you know that!?"

Despite her annoyance, she was clearly grateful for the few gulps of water he handed to her. Deacon's throat felt dry and god-awful, but she was more important right now. He was sure his death sentence was already signed for the moment he'd step back in Valencia.

He reached into his other pocket and grabbed a few pouches of snacks he kept on-hand. He was glad he hadn't been eating them lately, as they sure came in handy now. "-There are these, too, if you're hungry."

She grabbed a helping of trail mix and started to pick through it. When he reminded her not to be picky, she snorted at him. He helped himself to a bag of cashews in the meantime, relieved that this would carry them on for a bit longer and they wouldn't have to starve out here.

"I know you shared something personal about yourself with me, so….would you like me to return the favor?"

He shook his head. "You don't owe me anything."

"You're sure you don't want to know why I'm here? What was I doing before I joined the Armada?"

He was selfish to have wanted to know so much about her before. He learned that when he made the mistake with his journal. It dawned on him then, and he started patting around his coat in search of the book. He relaxed when he felt the rectangular indentation in his biggest pocket. It carried a few confidential details he'd written down. He was glad those Pirates didn't have their hands on it.

Dea didn't notice him searching around, too busy working up the nerve to talk more about her past. He gave her his full attention the second she calmed herself down.

"Monquista's army is full of sexist pigs," She spat out spitefully. "I knew there weren't many women in the field, but I thought that…maybe, I could help break the standards and inspire other girls out there. I wanted to be successful, make a name for myself. But I quickly learned *why* women don't typically join Monquista's service…"

She went quiet for a minute, her attention focused on her lap. Her handcuffed hand was clenching as she struggled to continue. He wanted to move even closer than they already were, but her body language suggested some space. Which was a hard feat in their position right now.

"Every day I got whistled at and told these… things, by my superiors." She looked into the ocean. "At first, I thought it was all talk. They were hitting on me. So what? It happens every now and then. But…I was working hard to get promoted. I wanted to become the first female Monquistan officer. To impress Queen Eleanor..! But that wasn't what those men wanted. There were several who were aiming for a higher position like I was, and to be threatened by a woman was…not acceptable."

Deacon felt his stomach sink. He knew where this story was going and it was starting to make him sick. He was about to interrupt Dea, insisting that she didn't need to keep going, but she suddenly hunched over and began crying.

"They cornered me one day and took advantage of me. There were four of them. Three were my fellow soldiers and the other one was my… superior . They had their way with me that night, warning what would come if I kept trying for a promotion. They ridiculed me the entire time - telling me women had no place to protect the King and Queen. I was so scared that I begged to be discharged. They let me go, but tampered with my file after I left."

She took a moment to sniffle, slightly lifting her mask to wipe at her eyes. He could only imagine the mess she was making underneath that right now. Like he had been earlier, talking about his insecurities with being an Elite.

"I moved to Valencia the moment I could, since I heard good things about the Armada. I was upset when my application got denied - they saw what was marked on my file and told me I didn't meet their qualifications. I was ready to move back until I was approached by…Queen, of all people. My denied request had gotten her attention somehow.

She looked into the case and noticed my discharge from the Monquistan army. She must know a few things, because she asked me why I had done it. She seemed so kind to me, so I spilled the truth about why I left. She was enraged to hear what happened to me, and must have felt some pity that I never got accepted. So she brought me in and later promoted me herself."

Deacon's eyebrows raised, his longtime questions finally being answered.

"She told me I could work with one of the Elites. It was a huge honor…but I was scared. When she told me I'd be lodging with a man, in the same room for three months …I was terrified what happened to me would happen *again*. She said it wouldn't because she knew you personally. I decided to take her word for it, and…"

She thought about something before a laugh escaped her lips. Deacon knew it was forced - a way to ease the tension from the story. The sound still blessed his ears, nonetheless.

"...You're a really nice guy. You never made one wrong move towards me. I was surprised how comfortable I felt around you. I was so scared of being taken advantage of that I didn't want to give the impression that I'm some dainty woman like all those men told me I was. So if I was a little hostile to you in the beginning...it was only because I was trying to protect myself."

She faced him and averted her gaze.

"-But I didn't need to. I know that, now. And I'm sorry that I did."

He stared at her, trying to figure out what to take exactly from this confession. All those times she'd been difficult were for a reason. Her trust in the workforce had been tainted by a few bad apples. He couldn't blame her, and was just happy that he could turn things around for her. He didn't even do that much beyond showing her basic human decency. But she'd been rejected propriety before.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you. I figured as much when you told me what you did." He reached for her hand but stopped himself short. "But they were wrong. You're an incredibly beautiful, strong, and talented woman. To take advantage of you like they did showed that they were the true cowards, who could not meet the expectations for that promotion like you did."

She was as red as a beet under her mask. "..You're sure about that? Beautiful?"

"I don't need to see what you look like to know that fact," He insisted.

His heart was pounding in his chest from saying this. Little did he know hers was going crazy as well, causing her to rub her legs together nervously. He just told her he thought she was beautiful - and not from her face or body that those men ogled at, but from her personality and what she proved she could do. It was incomparable to anything she ever heard before.

"And I think you're just as handsome," She met boldly. "Deacon, you're such a smart guy, and I wish you wouldn't think otherwise. You know a lot of things I don't, you've read so many books and passages…I don't care what Kane or anyone else thinks about you. You've proved to me that you're intelligent, despite your poor decision-making just now."

He audibly groaned, clearly embarrassed with the mistake that led them into their current position. She didn't want this detail to deter from her point, so she continued:

"Stop undermining yourself. Things happen out of your control, and you do the best you can. We could've been imprisoned or even killed , had you not thought on your feet to get us off that ship. So what if Kane is a hardass - I'd promote you myself after everything I've seen happen!"

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Bold of you to call him a hardass."

"I don't think we're getting promoted anytime soon, so I'll say whatever I want." She replied firmly.

Something softened in his eyes as he looked at her. He leaned to his side to hug her again, and the only thing that surprised her was that he initiated it this time. His hold on her was gentle but ever so needful, and she gladly met the embrace with similar intentions. She lifted her chin to rest it on his shoulder.

"You really think that?" He asked quietly.

"Of course. They were right, you know. I really am lucky to get to work with you like I have," She nestled her face deeper in his cape, not caring if it gave her away or not. "Thank you for putting up with me all this time."

His figure stiffened and he pulled away to look her adamantly in the eye. "You have got to stop doing that. I never 'put up' with you. You've been a blessing in my life, to give me your friendship and company. I'm forever grateful, Dea."

…None of this was turning out how either of them thought.

The fact that they could not physically pull away from each other added to the closeness they felt mentally. He spilled about his long-hidden insecurities to her without even knowing if she would show any sympathy, and she trusted him enough to tell him about a terrible time from her past. In doing so, they revealed just how much they trusted each other, and desperately wanted to lay their souls bare to one another.

Deacon could think of no other person he minded being handcuffed to. He mentally cursed and thanked Boochbeard at the same time.

Her mind seemed to be on the same subject, as her eyes drifted to the metal between them. "...I'm guessing you don't have the key to this, otherwise you would have used it by now?"

He shook his head. "The key is on the chain those rogues have right now."

"No backup?"

"I carry nearly 40 keys on that ring. No, I don't have any 'backups'."

Her eyes drifted away despite never releasing her hold on his shoulder. "You shouldn't have done any of that."

"I know. It was a careless mistake."

"No, I mean…you don't have to prove yourself by doing something that…risky ." Her tone was akin to scolding. "What did you have to prove by taking down Boochbeard? The fact that you went and re-captured almost everyone you lost was impressive on its own. You didn't need more than that."

He shrunk down on himself, both ashamed and defensive. "He has no idea how much he's taken from me. I wanted to have revenge for what he did."

"And in doing so, you nearly lost everything again. You should prioritize what's more important."

He looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes scanning her up-and-down. "You're more perceptive than usual. How long have you been keeping this from me?"

"I'm tired of holding so much back from you," She felt exhausted. "We've been working together so close and yet share so little. I'm at fault for that, too."

He stared at her a little longer before finally removing his hands and reaching for the oar. She took the message and grabbed hers, helping him paddle and falling into their previous rhythm almost automatically.

The air was light between them again - but there was still something lingering about. A subject that would have to be addressed, but neither of them did not dare bring it up.

They spent a good 20 minutes paddling. By now, the sun was starting to set and the wind was getting chilly. Dea was glad she had layers on, but her head felt colder than usual. She looked over at Deacon and felt jealous for his overly-layered uniform and cape. There was no doubt he was as warm as ever right now.

She prudently scooted closer just to steal some of his heat. He looked over in surprise and noticed she had stopped moving her oar. She rested on his side and looked out at the sea.

"If we do make it back…what do you think you're going to do?" She asked.

"Have a very unpleasant chat with the Supreme Commander," He muttered.

"No, I mean afterwards. If we lose our jobs…what would you do?"

He thought about this question carefully. He was more focused on redeeming himself when things went awry, rather than coming up with a back-up plan. He never thought of what else he would do if he wasn't an Elite. It just seemed like something he was supposed to do. It wasn't until Dea came around that he ever entertained the idea of something else.

"I don't know," He answered honestly.

"I still think you would make a great musician," She hummed, leaning more on him than she realized. "I could see you playing instruments at those fancy balls, or even for a movie."

"I would like that." He waited a moment before turning to her. "What about you? What would you do?"

"Knowing my luck, I'll probably end up as a servant for some rich Valencian woman."

He tut-tutted at her. "You should aim higher. You could sing for me, and I could play for you. We'll be a wonderful duet that makes lots of gold."

She giggled at his playful tone, picturing this idea in her head and finding that she… didn't dislike it. That would be the best outcome, wouldn't it? To still be with Deacon after all of this? And do something that they both loved to do, with each other ? The blush returned to her cheeks and she hastily sat up.

He felt the loss of her presence and turned in surprise, hoping he hadn't offended Dea.

Her eyes were locked on something behind him. He turned around and his jaw dropped in shock. Coming towards them was a ship - and not just any ship, but an Armada frigate. He jumped to his feet and began signaling to them. Dea forced him down with her wrist to rummage around for the flare kept in the escape boats. As soon as she found it, she let it off, jumping with glee as they turned in their direction and began sailing to them.

"Yes!" The Emissary cheered in relief, tears forming at the ends of his eyes.

"No!" Deacon exclaimed, seeing who it was that picked them up.

Dea looked ahead once they were on the safety of the deck. A colorful man was approaching them, dressed in blue and red and wearing half of a theater mask broken into two sides of comedy and tragedy. He was wearing a jester's suit, carrying around his own marotte and making a jingling sound as the bells on his hat swayed to and fro.

"Deacon!" He extended his arms in kind. The spymaster clenched his fists as they closed the gap, stopping not too far in front of him.

"Why in the Spiral are you captaining a ship this late?"

"Someone doesn't sound grateful that I rescued them," The man's voice was expressive and teasing. "Might I ask what * you're* doing in the middle of the ocean at this hour?"

Deacon groaned, clearly not wanting to disclose why, but was unsure how to avoid the subject. "..My ship was taken by Boochbeard and Mr. Gandry. Dea and I escaped, but our crew are being held hostage by those pirates."

His eyes went to her. Her first notice was that he had heterochromia. His right eye was blue, similar to Deacon's, while the left was brown. He smirked then, and she realized this was the first person in the Armada she met wearing a mask who she could also see emoting. It was gratifying to see.

"Ah! I've heard so much about your little 'partner' here," He moved to her and pointed his marotte in her direction. "How is it working with my brother? Completely unbearable, I presume?"

"Phule," Deacon warned.

His eyes moved down to the handcuffs keeping them together. His eyes widened and he shortly fell into laughter.

"Phule!" He was pleading by this point.

"How in the Spiral's name did THIS happen? No, no, wait. Don't tell me. Boochbeard did it?"

"How do you know?" Dea finally spoke up, looking at him curiously. He was quite a character. At least his playful attitude reflected the costume he wore.

"He's got a wild sense of humor. It's only ever funny when he plays with Deacon." He passed his younger brother a knowing smile before glancing back at the handcuffs. "Quite a pickle you two are in, I must say."

"You wouldn't happen to have any keys to this, would you?" Her partner mumbled.

"Me? No. Sometimes I get the privilege to arrest people, but that's your job." He shrugged. "Sorry, fratellino. I can't help you."

"Then we have to get back to Valencia. Can you take us?"

"Sure I can. But it's getting late, and my crew have to rest, so we can head out tomorrow." He looked between the two, seeming to think about something. A mischievous grin grew on his lips. "You must be exhausted…if you'd like, you can use my cabin in the meantime."

"How are we supposed to sleep with this on?" Dea asked, holding up their handcuffed wrists to make her point.

"There's one bed. You do the math."

Deacon was offended. "That is highly inappropriate–"

"Your choice! The floor or my bed."

The two exchanged a weary glance. They've shared a cabin together, where their beds were not so far apart. It wouldn't be a big deal…despite the butterflies in Dea's stomach and Deacon's sudden inability to breathe properly. When they nodded to him, Phule clapped his hands in delight - in which Dea noticed he was only wearing one glove - and he happily showed them to his small cabin.

"Try not to be too noisy," Was his last remark before he slammed the door.

Deacon turned, about to yell at him, but noticed he was long-gone. He rubbed his temple in frustration as they looked around the room. The bed wasn't terribly big and there was a window above it, which enabled the moonlight to hit the mattress and make it harder to sleep. Besides a small table and a chair, that's all there was to the quaint cabin.

Dea realized how privileged they had been to receive a roomier space in comparison. She considered herself lucky they were offered this right now.

"Sorry about him," The man beside her grumbled. "He's an idiot."

"That's your brother? Phule?"

"My older one, yes."

"...You hinted to me that Rooke is your brother, too. Is he not older than you?"

"Rooke and I are the same age," He responded, acting like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "We're twins."

Dea struggled to receive this information. "You two look the same? Seriously?"

They took this opportunity to sit on the bed, forced to be close as they awkwardly hung their legs over the edge. This arrangement would not be easy to figure out. That seemed to be the last thing on her mind, as she continued to sputter at him.

"But he's so much taller and bigger than you!"

"Thanks for pointing that out. I had no idea," He quipped sarcastically.

She shrunk in on herself. "Sorry…I just can't believe it. It explains a lot."

"What does it explain, exactly?"

"Twins are closer than other siblings. You get along with him better than you seem to do with Phule."

He opened his mouth to refute, but she made a good point. He was closer and more familiar with Rooke than his other kinsman. Being twins had a lot to do with that - not to mention they naturally got along better. He clenched his teeth imagining the eventual judgment he'd have to face from him and Kane. Again.

"I still feel so embarrassed," Dea brought up shyly. Deacon looked at her and curled an eyebrow under his mask.

"Embarrassed for what?"

"How I acted around Rooke. I must've looked so stupid. Do you think he thought less of me?"

Something ached in his chest at this subject. He'd forgotten all about her fawning over his brother. The memory wasn't pleasant to remember. He suddenly felt ridiculous for ever having feelings for Dea. Rooke was a much better - and more fitting - suitor for her caliber.

"No. He thought you were cute," He sighed in defeat.

"Did he..?" She laughed, but it sounded too nervous to be genuine. "I can't believe I had a crush on him. Although, I guess everybody does, huh?"

"You had a crush on him?" Deacon feigned surprise. Dea flinched and turned away. He hadn't anticipated that reaction and regretted making the comment.

"I'm sorry for acting like that," Her mood dropped. "He was talked about so well, too, but not in the way you were. I think everybody who hasn't worked with Rooke just likes him because he's big and strong. And that must be pretty unfair to him, isn't it?"

"Again, that's an insightful comment you're making," He told her in shock.

"I've been thinking about it, and I feel so bad. I knew nothing about him but I still acted that way. If you ask me, you should've been talked about like he was." She said sheepishly.

"Me? No. I'm…I'm not like him."

"You're not and I like that." She confessed, looking at their hands. "You're just as impressive as he is. If everyone knew that, I think they'd say the same things about you."

His eyes had gone to their hands as well, noticing how close they were. Just nearly touching but not enough. He wanted to move but didn't dare risk anything. "I wish that were true."

Did she know about his other insecurities? Why else would she say these things? Was Dea aware of how Deacon constantly compared himself to his brother, always feeling like he was under-performing? That he wasn't enough? It bothered him, sometimes, that they were twins - similar in every aspect except their size, which seemed to matter the most apparently. It was assumed that Rooke was the oldest because he was the biggest, but that wasn't true. Even Phule was offended each time he was referred to as the 'younger brother'.

Rooke was humble and always gave credit where it was due. He was the best family Deacon could ask for. He was just tired of everyone putting him in his shadow when Rooke gave every attempt to make things different.

He gave a smile that Dea could not see. At least she understood.

"Alright…you take off your shoes first, then I'll do mine."

He looked at their hands and then to their feet. He did as was told, allowing Dea to lean down afterwards and peel off her boots. They would have no other choice but to sleep in these clothes tonight…Deacon brought his hand to unclip his cape from his shoulders and set it aside, followed by his hat. He expected Dea to do the same until he remembered about the missing part of her apparel.

"By the way, how exactly did you lose your hat?"

"Fell off my head and into the water," She replied sadly.

She hovered her hands over her mask. She didn't want to sleep in the thing, it was disgusting when she woke up in her drool and sweat the last time, but she had little choice. It was bugging her now…to have to worry about her mask of all things. Why couldn't she just take it off since Deacon thought her beautiful regardless of it? Would it even change anything?

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Thinking how we're going to manage this," She lied.

"My left hand and your right are cuffed. You sleep on that side, I sleep over here. If we lay on our sides, then we don't have to worry about our arms locking up."

There was one problem with that idea – They had to lay facing each other.

Dea's eyes traveled down to his last layer of clothing, feeling it intimate to see him like this so closely. His eyes were open as well - not trying to look at her, but the wall behind her. When they made contact, she was embarrassed to have her wandering eye caught.

"I'm sorry about today," He spoke in a hushed whisper.

"About losing our ship and all our crew?"

"I'm sorry things turned out like this. I…" His mouth appeared to open for a few seconds before she heard it shut. "If there's a way I can make it up-."

"I just want them back. I want everything back." She confessed sadly.

"As do I…"