The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

Amu could always tell when something was amiss.

It was uncanny - a strange, albeit unsettling little quirk to her character that, really, she'd have been quite better off without, in her opinion, but, for all she'd tried, she couldn't help it. It was just a gut feeling. It was an uncomfortable shiver settling over the back of her neck; blooming beneath her beating heart and blooming 'til her hairs stood, the chill spread as bitter frost across her back. It was unnervingly like being watched, only never being able to catch the culprit's piercing gaze to every lay the blame, and it was exactly in this way that she'd always been acutely aware of the subtle changes that signalled something gone awry.

She'd known when she'd sat in her carriage that very first night. She had known when weeks had passed within the palace walls and her most trusted maid remained inexplicably 'called away' every time she'd been to ask. She had known that day so many months ago when her father interrupted her afternoon studies to duly inform her that her worth and wishes and all her livelihood had been sold and shipped away across the seas - that the voyage through life on which she sailed had been cast afar to uncharted ends. And Amu knew now as she picked her way across the deck of the Shining Black that there was definitely, undeniably something quite out of place in the air that morning.

She tried not to stare too obviously as Ikuto exchanged some apparently tense words with the helmsman on the upper decks. Utau was at his side and an old spyglass was held firm in his grip. He kept turning it over restlessly in his hands, juggling it from one palm to the other as if the thing were comprised of hot coal, yet still he looked reluctant to stow it safely away beneath his coat. Whatever had come over him, Amu had not heard the details… But even without her remarkable sense of precognition, Amu had a hunch that it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

After all… It was all around them. There was a static in the air - a heaviness beneath their sails that had the crew trading about the deck of the ship looking oddly subdued; hushed as though truly fearful to break the quiet, unsteady sort of equilibrium all about them.

In that moment Amu startled. A piercing, shrill wail echoed between the edge of the sails, foreboding and terrible as anything she'd ever heard and the young woman near jumped out of her skin, fearing that what she'd heard was the dreadful wail of a crewmate falling dramatically to their death, but was just as shaken to realise that it was in fact the unholy shriek of the wind as it rattled through the rigging, shaking beams and tugging on yards like the limbs of an old tree caught up in a tumult. Above her head the sails were flapping. The stays were clanking. Even further skyward the clouds were bearing down upon the tips of their masts, grey and gloomy, their bellies sagging languidly as they grew fat and thick upon the breeze, devouring the last blue streaks left alight in the heavens. To Amu it felt then as though the world beyond had disappeared. It felt as if those clouds were closing in, creeping ever nearer until the sun and the sea and the Shining Black were all devoured - lost to the light of the outside world and doomed to sail the dark spaces between forevermore.

As soon as the thought entered her head, Amu forcibly shook it out. It conjured up old sea-shanties and unlucky man's fables that sang sombre songs of all the damned, deceased crews that scuttled along the seabed, rising only in the dead of night, reigning over realms of darkness and despair the likes of which only death could bring upon them. Yet, try as she might, the tension was building, the humidity gathering as Amu hurried along, her arms laden with little bundles of what passed as supper aboard the Shining Black. At the very least, this was a much better system than the free-for-all attitude to rations that had persisted before aboard this ship. She nudged the nearest man beneath the mainmast and offered him an extra helping of food, tilting her head skyward.

"Provisions for that idiot up there."

The pirate cracked a smile. He gratefully took the bundle from her and took a sneaky mouthful of bread for himself before facing the ratlines and clambering up to the crow's nest where a familiar, disgruntled-looking rusty-haired crewmate was perched miserably above deck. Kukai had been utterly miffed to be sent up to the nest first thing in the morning and for a while it had been amusing to pass him by and laugh mischievously at his displeasure, but now there was a change in the wins and a whistle in the sails that had the pirate disregard his dissatisfaction and Amu was set thoroughly on edge to look up and find their usually jolly, comical companion hunched over at his post. His brows were creased, his lips pulled taut and an unusually stony look on his face. A weather eye kept darting worriedly over the horizon as if expecting something unpleasant to launch headfirst over the grey line of the sea at them at any moment… And not without good reason.

To the north - where the head of the prow just barely touched the belly of the clouds - there was a dark, grey smudge across the skyline.

And it was moving. Fast. Rolling and rumbling and swelling like some primordial beast devouring all within its path.

When Amu had awoken that morning, it had been so dark that she'd been convinced it was still dawn and had promptly gone back to sleep. (That is, until Ikuto had come along and just about hauled her out of bed with a glint in his eye that signalled both danger and delight.) And now she could see why, for it seemed that the beast was relentless. She furtively glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Ikuto's face held a grim expression beneath the brim of his hat. He was whispering quickly with his sister on the forecastle now. Tentatively, Amu milled her way about the deck, handing out the last of her provisions, until she could just about hear the low drawl of his voice.

Over the persistent howl of the worsening weather, words such as 'thunder' and 'wreck' were all Amu could make out, but they sent chills down her spine like nothing else could.

Behind her the darkness was spreading like an inkblot across the sky. Resigning herself to the idea that she probably didn't want to know the details of their predicament just yet, Amu quickly hurried away and headed back for the galley. At the very least it was calmer down here below the deck and the incessant moaning of the wind was shielded from her ears. The constant flicker of lamplight deep down on these darkest levels gave her the unshakeable impression that the night had already fallen - that the danger had passed and the ship lulled into the welcoming embrace of the restful dark of the night. She could almost kid herself that she'd already been working long and hard into the wee small hours and, it had to be said, it was a preferable illusion to the murky reality above.

"Ah, Ya Maj'sty!" a cheerful voice rang clear amidst the darkness. "Ain't Yaya glad to see you! C'mere! Sit! Lend Yaya a willin' hand an' help get some o' this grog outta the way before the crew gets wind of it."

Yaya's usual cheer and optimism was warm and bright enough to drive the far-off shadow from Amu's mind. She smiled gratefully, abandoning her leftover rations on the table.

"What's all this?"

Yaya was at that moment surrounded by various bottles and kegs of various sizes. The cupboards were thrown open; the ale cabinet bare. Beside her was a strong-smelling barrel that leaked amber liquid and made her eyes sting the longer she stood near it. Rows and rows of containers were illuminated in the soft candlelight, each murmuring softly, filling the lull with endless voices as their contents sloshed gently inside. Liquor lasted longer than fresh water aboard a ship, after all, but Yaya had proved herself to be quite possessive of it. Never before had the stuff been included in the crew's daily rations, yet now their new cook seemed determined to keep it stowed securely behind lock and key. The young girl raised a pointed finger and said, with wisdom beyond her years;

"Yaya may not know much about the workin's of this here ship, ma'am, but Yaya won't have her men befuddled by booze unless in great celebration - and you can lay to that!" she said. She held up a bottle of dark brown stuff (it's label was missing) and shook it as if to cement her point. "Yaya's set to ration her grog just like everythin' else! Yaya's worked behind the tap enough in her life. Yaya knows men won't be trusted!"

Amu laughed lightly. Such an stern expression on such a small girl was oddly endearing. Yaya went on.

"Especially after the shenanigans Her Maj'sty and Kukai got themselves into the last time liquor flowed free between them!"

Yaya was, of course, thinking quite specifically of the sight of Amu and Ikuto and their whole brood of hungover pirates arriving breathless and bloodied on deck after their little incident in the tavern brawl, but, unsurprisingly, Amu had different memories from that night.

"Wha-What?" She stuttered, perhaps a little too quickly to be inconspicuous.

The scent of dried lavender and rum overwhelmed her senses.

By the time Yaya turned back to retrieve another bottle, Amu was sure her cheeks were scarlet.

"Frightful stuff!" the girl said to herself. She was busy rolling the bigger barrels beneath a row of antique cabinets, the only place she apparently seemed secure enough to store this precious cargo. To her left was a trap in the floor, the hatchway flung wide open. In times perhaps well passed, it looked to have been the entrance to a keep for livestock, yet now it was being repurposed and padlocked all in order to serve as Yaya's secret speakeasy. "A blessin' aboard Her Maj'sty's vessel, no doubt, but frightful, addictive stuff! As nectar to the gods, it is, but the men 'ave got a taste for it an' Yaya don't know how far this grog'll stretch if everyone keeps helpin' 'emselves!"

Well, it made sense, Amu mused as she watched the barmaid at work. In the meantime (for Yaya was almost done by herself - and with energy to spare!) the Princess admired the smaller, more sophisticated antique bottles that were laid out neatly upon the tabletop, waiting patiently for their turn to visit the cabinet. Most of them were marked with faded, yellowed parchment, inked with not the contents, but the years in which they were made. She scrutinised the dates - though near-illegible most of them were, covered in crusted black inkblots or otherwise smudged beyond repair. These were far more agreeable than the spirits most of the men liked to drink. Their sweet, fruity scents rose before her face and lingered in the still ait as she passed them by. For all the cruel deeds he had done in the past, it had to be said that their former Captain had a truly fine taste in wine. Perhaps she would save some for later, Amu thought, to help ease their current Captain's nerves.

Amu reached for one of the bottles, her fingertips lingering lightly on the crisp, curled label about its neck-

'Captain…'

She froze.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

Amu flushed-

"That depends… Do I have to?"

-and immediately dropped the bottle in her grasp back onto the table, her cheeks glowing brilliantly. Her heart fluttering wildly in her chest, Amu tried her best to turn her thoughts back to the present when-

"What's the matter?" Yaya piped up across the room. She rolled a keg of what looked (and smelled) suspiciously like Ichinomiya's best old brandy into the bottom of the cabinet and dusted off her hands on the front of her apron. "Ya Maj'sty's got an awful red glow. Are ye well?"

"I-I'm fine!"

A hum. A scratch of the head. Yaya narrowed her eyes in response. "You're not as convincing a liar as I thought, Ya Maj'sty, if you'll not mind a lass sayin' so." And she leaned back down through the open hatchway, reaching about in the dark for whatever Amu could not guess before producing n old, heavy-looking brass key out of apparently nowhere and triple-checking the lock just to be sure. "Settle them nerves an' drink up! Here ya go!"

There was a heavy 'thonk!' and the gleam of firelight on bottleneck. Yaya was proffering to her the biggest, darkest bottle of rum in existence.

Only rum was the very last thing Amu wanted to see right now.

"Drink up!" the girl repeated. "Ya Maj'sty's looking pinker by the minute!"

Amu would have liked to refute that claim, but the burning beneath her skin said otherwise. Since that night, Amu hadn't been particularly fond of drinking. Well, nothing much stronger than wine anyway.

Yaya sighed loudly. She produced two deep-set goblets, uncorked the bottle between her teeth and plonked herself down across the table, shaking her head and eyeing her sympathetically as one can only do having spent enough nights behind the bar to know the troubles in a man's eyes upon first reflection.

"Somethin's on ya mind, Your Highness?"

Yaya's eyes were wide and doe-like in the gentle candlelight. Unexpectedly, Amu's heart wavered. She could feel her resolve crumbling.

Eventually, she sighed.

"I just…" Amu fought to find the words. "Ah, it doesn't matter, Yaya…"

Besides, Amu already knew her troubles.

"I must say…"

"There are times when I find you far too tempting."

The smell of brandy on his breath was as strong in her mind as it had been in real life. Her stomach clenched.

What if he had not meant it? After all… He had been drunk. And she had run away. Humiliation still burned deep down in her heart for that, but, in the end, it didn't even matter. Because if Ikuto indeed remembered it… Well, then he did not say.

Something strange took a sudden tug within her chest.

'So why am I so disappointed?'

Sighing heavily, Amu glanced warily at the still-shining glass before her. Perhaps Yaya was right, she thought. Perhaps this was the sort of stuff that should be kept hidden away under lock and key, for it made matters of the mind so unnecessarily complicated that it almost wasn't worth the trouble.

Almost.

"Ugh, never mind. By the way, I've had enough of rum to last me a lifetime." For the life of her, Amu couldn't keep the disheartened tone from her voice, but, at this point, she wasn't sure she cared. "Uncork some of Ichinomiya's old wine before it gets locked up forever and we'll toast to the old bastard's ill health."

Yaya beamed. "Tha's the spirit!" She got up from the table. Uneasy atmosphere gone, she skipped over to the cabinet and rooted around in the cupboard. "There's an old treasure in here pressed an' prepped on the eve the crownin' of Her Maj'sty's father hisself!"

With that, Amu had almost forgotten her troubles. Yaya was chattering happily, laughing light as the spill of the wine as it flowed, rich and red, dancing delicately in the swirling depths of the silvertine goblet, shining like stardust in the fading light-

And then, all of a sudden, leapt from the vessel and onto the deck below.

At first the ladies thought that something had hit them. Before either of them knew what was going on, the planks seemed to drop beneath them. There was an almighty goan and out of the blue bottles were shattering; pots and pans and hanging ladles falling with almighty clatters to the floor; the table slid to port so forcefully that Amu's chair was torn from its side and teetered dangerously on the edge its legs before slumping with a sicking 'THUNK!' against the nearest, now splintered cabinet.

When the girls had regained their rightful balance, there was a clamour climbing up above. There was the thumping and thudding of boots; the ear-splitting creak of the timbers; and then - there! - Amu heard it;

"But it must be all hands on-deck!" Yaya cried and the two girls jumped up at once from the table, pressing their way through the galley and into the darkness of the hold beyond. All about them there rang the echoes of many voices; of thunderous footfalls and half-yelled commands. Up on the gun decks men were hurrying to seal the cannon ports and the smell of tar lingered so strong in the air that Amu's eyes were stung as she and Yaya fought their way through the throng, their footsteps utterly drowned beneath the relentless clanging of bells and whistles.

When Amu first emerged onto the deck, battling against the wind and spray, the sky was so dark that it was hard to believe that they hadn't sailed straight beyond the world and over the edge of night.

The first she knew was the cold; the bitter hissing beneath the hull; the growing roar of the almighty gale that echoed through every nook and hollow that the Shining Black had to spare. Already the wind was sputtering painfully against her ears. The clouds - once grey and benign - were an ominous black. The tide had risen. The rain had begun to fall. The horizon had opened up and there beyond the prow the face of the storm opened up like the black, gaping maw of some untameable beast and swallowed the sea by the whole. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was like an empty space upon the sky - a whirling, rumbling void utterly rid of light. Amu heard the yards groan and felt the desk rise and fall swiftly beneath her feet as she ran down the gangway, searching for splash of blue about the growing din. All the while the crew scuttled frantically around her. Somewhere along the way, Yaya left her side to help a fallen sailor who had slipped from a low rung along the ratlines. There were cries ringing out, orders being barked, but their words were lost on the sudden sweep of the wind as all about them the gale grew. A sudden gust threatened to knock the Princess off her feet as she scrambled up the companionway, her skirts catching and tripping her feet on the slippery steps.

There was a tension in the air - palpable and pressing even amidst the upheaval of the elements - and, from her new vantage point, Amu watched the chaos unravel in utter horror, wondering if not she should have been more afraid, for even the most hardened men amongst them were twisting about in terror, their eyes wide and faces ashen, muttering prayers that were lost to the wind as they fruitlessly tried to work the ship into submission.

And no wonder their efforts were wasted. The Shining Black was quickly falling to the mercy of the ocean's unrest. As Amu's hand met the edge of the bulwark for support she saw that far ahead the clouds were beginning to merge into the very sea itself in a blurry haze - as if the watercolours of a murky palate had begun to mix and trickle lazily into a dreary canvas onto which there shone no light; no colour nor life. Amu swallowed. It was true that in all these months she'd spent at sea they had been indescribably lucky to avoid any formidable squall that crossed their path, skirting silently and swiftly around it and leaving the sea to whatever foul plans it had in store. It had been quite a remarkable feat, but now Amu gazed fore and, at the sight of her crewmates, she knew then that their inexplicable streak of good fortune had worn thin.

Below on the main deck Amu saw Kukai scrambling down from the crow's nest. He landed with a heavy 'thud!' and nearly slipped on the now-slick planks, shaking a fresh, fine coverage of spray and salt from his soggy hair. It was a wonder he hadn't broken he neck. He was handing Ikuto a compass (though where he had come from Amu could not guess) and gesturing wildly out across the waters.

"There's nothin' for it, Cap'n!" Kukai rose his voice over the gathering roar of the gale, his expression ashen as he followed Ikuto up onto the upper deck. "North ta west that tempest blows an' south Seiyo's colours are a-flyin' in the wind! Cap'n, we're so close-"

"Kazuomi's damned isle will still be there when the storm dies!" Utau appeared at their side. "Fly a naval flag and we'll tear it down! Ride through this squall and we don't stand a chance-"

"They'll run us down like dogs!"

Utau snarled; "Fight like a man and you need not be hang'd like a dog!"

"That's enough." Ikuto's tone was as cold and pressing as the rain that had begun to wash upon the deck. "I will not turn back to run into the King's fleet!"

"They will not stay there!" Utau argued. "Once word reaches of the squall they will turn back to spare their sails! There are other isles there - little inlets where we might ride out the brunt of the waves."

"I will not risk my crew." Ikuto said. His words just barely reached them over the growing wail of the wind and the waves and, whatever followed, Amu could not hear, for it was then that the first streak of lightning flashed across the sky, writhing and leaping from cloud to cloud in time to the roar of distant thunder. Heated words and quick remarks passed between brother and sister then, if there expressions were anything to judge by, and something akin to defiance flared in Utau's wide eyes, but, whatever it was, she said nothing of it. Amu had stopped listening by then. She was making her way across the top deck, throwing rope and twine and other little necessities to nearby men who called for her help, unable to tear themselves away from the lines as they fought to keep their sails from fanning out of control, when Ikuto appeared behind her. A hand was on her shoulder. Another on the small of her back. His lips were moving, but his words were carried away by the wind.

"What?"

"I said you should go to your cabin!"

Amu opened her mouth to protest, but at that moment Ikuto's eyes were lit by a dazzling sheet of lightning and she saw that his brows were creased, his lips taut and expression stern. Whatever she meant to say, he was not about to put up with any argument.

"Let me help, Ikuto!" Amu cried over the calamity, steading herself on one of the ratlines.

"There's nothing you can do - there's nothing any of us can do."

"But-But the ship-"

"She's faced worse than this," Ikuto said, though Amu had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying to sound far more confident than he felt. "She'll ride this one out."

Amu hoped to God he was right. She'd never been afloat amidst a storm before - never so much as faced a spate of thunder unless on dry land.

All of a sudden the deck lurched beneath their feet and Amu nearly with it. When she'd regained her balance, Ikuto was by her side. He cast a grim look over the horizon and found her hand beneath the bulwark.

"Hold your ground!"

A gust of wind wracked across the deck of the ship and tore the breath from her throat. Spray was flying. The billow of her skirts was dragging her aft. She could barely hear the whistles and warning bells sounding on every deck and, as the Shining Black ploughed into the oncoming tide, teetering on her hull and swaying as if suspended on strings, Amu couldn't help but reach for the man by her side. She braced herself, her fingers dug into his sleeve.

How could they possibly bear through this unscathed?

Amu had never known chaos like this in all her life.

"Amu?"

She hadn't even realised how tightly she'd gripped at his coat - had no idea how his voice had even found her for the rest of the calamity.

As the deck rose and fell and then rose again, leaning dangerously onto starboard, she felt Ikuto's arm snake securely round her waist, for without his support she feared she might fall. The sails were taunt. The stays were clanking in a damning, discordant rhythm. The Shining Black was fettered by fear abound. It was in the eyes of the crew; in the moan of her masts; it was choking at Her Highness' heart in a vice-like grip as she and Ikuto braced themselves for the worst that was yet to come.

The darkness was approaching.

"I'd hold on tight if I were you, Your Highness," Ikuto said. "The sea's not through with us yet."

And, before Amu knew it, the clouds had consumed them.

~.~.~

When the clouds finally parted and the rain finally ceased - when the spray had settled and the winds had died to a dull, defeated drone - a dismal, dreary dawn encompassed their beaten craft.

The crew of the Shining Black were spent. Dizzy and drained and drenched to the bone, defeated in both spirit and body, it was perhaps a small wonder that they had even managed to drag their ship away from the dying path of the storm in the first place, for it seemed to them that an entire age had passed in which they'd been locked in the relentless grasp of some leviathan, caught helplessly between a battle of sea and sky raging furiously all around them.

They had at last limped away, struggling against the battered rudder, staggering away as a beaten beast and somehow, beyond all hope, they'd turned away from the open waters and sought shelter. Somewhere below it was said they'd taken on water. Up on the afterdeck, the helmsman was mumbling between nonsensical chatter that the tiller was almost in tatters. Even as they trudged silently on (for they were all too weary to speak and most men were close to collapsing on-deck) they heard high above the ominous, heart-stopping squeals and creaks of the spars atop their heads; they saw the torn sails jerk in the whip of the failing wind; and they knew that all too soon at least one of them would threaten to spring loose altogether.

But, at the very least, the storm had subsided. A whole day and night it had taken them - a fruitless day and a blind, bedraggled night - the dark of which was the worst hazard of all. The spray extinguished all their lamps. The clouds blocked out all starlight. They'd felt the ship turn suddenly and sharply beneath the brunt of the gale, yet for the life of them they couldn't tell in which direction the squall had seen fit to send them and so here they found themselves now, their backs to the dark smudge of the cloud and rain that roared away behind them, furious and frightening, yet thankfully far off. As the first light swept feebly on the horizon, Amu stood shivering on the forecastle and saw that the squall was turning west, well away from their chosen path, and breathed an almighty sigh of relief.

Yet they could not help but feel that something about that dreadful ordeal still lingered. The storm that had nearly consumed them - that had nearly sent them straight to the depths of the Locker, swallowed by the sea, left to flail and founder along the bottom of the deep forever - was retreating, sure enough… But still there hung a thin, grey haze; a veil cloaked about the sky, filtering out all light, submerging their world in a dull, despondent sort of shadow. The wind was as ice. The salt of the sea stung upon their cheeks. Sheets of rain still washed the slippery deck, falling so light and fine that it grew almost impossible to distinguish from the ever-constant spray that flew from beneath the prow…

And, through it all - through the feeble drizzle and the dim rays of the dawn, sunken amidst the rolling, grey waves of the incoming tide - Amu and the rest of the crew found themselves staring at what looked at first to be the shape of some giant, defeated creature.

Arched and undefined was its back as it rose about the morning mist; rugged was its face and stubby limbs. As an animal in the throes of its final moments it lay sprawled about the ocean waves, slumping sluggishly headfirst into the still-frothing waters. Truly it looked to them at first glance to be the body of some great, ancient sea beast - of a legend; some awesome being of myth that had weathered the squall and yet, for all its might, had come off worse, floating forevermore atop a watery grave where all who passed might stop and marvel in wonder at its form, left to dream of old tales long beyond recall.

They drew nearer, creeping steadily closer towards such a wonder. Amu stood aft and peered over the side of the ship at this fallen beast until she swore she could descry rugged peaks, points of stone tumbling down towards the water, and thick patches of mossy green and down, down, below, the distant line of some sandy shore laid about its feet like a thread beneath the fog…

And at last the illusion faded, washed away by the rain and swept out to the sea… And they all knew then that they had made it.

Rising up from the sea before them was an island. The island. The first of Captain Kazuomi Ichinomiya's fabled hideouts.

And they knew not what awaited them on-shore.

~.~.~

A/N: What's a piece of pirate fiction without an inconvenient storm? It is a cheesy staple of the genre that I have been dying to use. Even if I did gloss over it a bit. I was hoping when I planned this fic for a really dramatic, awesome set of scenes in which they weathered the storm, but I've been pressed for time lately.

I didn't mean to gloss over Amu and Yaya's interactions earlier either. I'm sorry. It's on my list to rework someday.

Anyway who's ready for some island adventuring? Even if you're not, I sure as hell am. Let's get this fic moving.

Predictions? Suggestions? General criticisms? I'd love to hear them, so please feel free to drop me a comment in the review box! Thank you!