As the rowboat glided silently over the calm waters, the looming silhouette of the Jolly Roger became more distinct. The ship's massive sails, taut and ready to catch the first winds of morning, towered over us like a slumbering beast. Lanterns flickered along the deck, casting faint glows that reflected in the dark waters below, giving the ship an almost ethereal presence. The closer we got, the more tangible the weight of what was to come settled in my chest. It was always this way before a voyage, but this time it felt different.
Cillian remained silent in front of me, his emerald eyes fixed on the ship. I could sense the apprehension in him, though he masked it well. The Jolly Roger had that effect on newcomers—it exuded both awe and fear, a perfect reflection of my father's presence. As we neared the side of the ship, Smee cleared his throat nervously, nodding toward me as if seeking permission to speak. I raised an eyebrow, giving him a slight nod.
"Miss, uh… your father's expectin' ya," Smee muttered, his words tumbling over themselves as he glanced up at the ship with more anxiety than usual.
"I'm aware, Smee," I replied, my tone calm. "Tell him I've brought someone with potential."
Smee's eyes flicked briefly toward Cillian, then quickly darted back to me. He nodded, eager to comply, and once we were close enough, he signaled for the crew above to lower a rope ladder. The sounds of the night—lapping water, the creak of wood—seemed to hold their breath as we climbed. I went first, scaling the ladder with practiced ease. Cillian followed, more hesitant but steady. As I climbed, I became more resolute with my decision. Cillian would be a fine addition to the crew, although I had to admit it may have been my longing for someone of around the same age to converse with; But no matter. Defeating Pan was my one goal, which my Father greatly approved of.
As soon as my boots touched the deck, I felt the familiar sensation of the ship beneath my feet. The air was colder up here, with a salty bite carried by the breeze. Home. The crew moved about with purpose, preparing for our departure, and the sight of it gave me a strange comfort. This was where I belonged. Yet even now, with Cillian at my side, I felt that I belonged even moreso with this group.
Cillian stepped onto the deck, his gaze sweeping over the ship, and I saw the flicker of awe in his expression. Despite his earlier uncertainty, there was a quiet curiosity in his eyes now, a readiness that hadn't been there before. Straightening out my skirts, a thought came to my head: What was Cillian's true reasoning for joining the crew? I had to wonder.
"Well," came a deep, familiar voice from behind me, "what have we here?"
I turned to see my father standing at the helm, his imposing figure framed by the night sky. Captain Hook's dark red coat billowed slightly in the wind, his hooked hand gleaming faintly in the low light. He descended the stairs slowly, his eyes locking onto Cillian with an appraising look. There was an undeniable power in the way he carried himself, a quiet menace that made men tremble in his presence.
"Captain," I greeted, inclining my head slightly, a formality he always expected. "This is Cillian. I believe he could be of use to us."
Hook's gaze shifted to me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I feared he might disapprove of my choice, that he'd see something in Cillian that I hadn't. But after a long pause, he nodded, his voice low and calculating.
"We'll see if he's worth his salt." Hook's eyes flicked back to Cillian, the scrutiny in his stare unnerving but measured. "Do you know what you're stepping into, boy?"
Cillian straightened, his hands at his sides, meeting my father's gaze with a steady resolve. "I do, Captain. I'm ready."
Hook studied him a moment longer, then finally gave a short, satisfied nod. "We set sail at dawn. If you're still here by then, you'll be part of the crew. My daughter will show you 'round the vessel until then."
With that, he turned and walked back toward the helm, issuing orders to the crew as he went. I watched him go, feeling the familiar tug of both admiration. He was everything I had ever known, or at least it felt like it.
"Captain Hook is your…" Cillian looked to me in disbelief, "Father." I finished for him in absolution, ending the conversation, which he thankfully seemed to get the hint. I often beheld this interaction with new crewmen and it was quickly growing tiresome. I half expected to relive this conversation for the rest of eternity, or at least until we ended Pan's reign.
Cillian stood silently beside me, and for a brief moment, neither of us spoke. The ship rocked gently beneath our feet, and I felt the weight of the decision he had just made settle between us. He had chosen this path—and for reasons I couldn't yet fully grasp, that mattered to me.
"You'll get used to it," I said softly, breaking the silence.
Cillian glanced at me, his brow furrowed slightly. "To what?"
"The ship. The way it feels beneath you."
He nodded slowly, though I could tell he wasn't quite convinced. "And your father… does he always look at people like that? Like he's sizing them up for a fight?"
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "That's his way. But don't worry. If he didn't think you had potential, he would have thrown you off the ship by now."
Cillian chuckled softly, though there was a hint of nervousness in it. "Good to know."
We stood there for a while, watching as the crew worked around us, the night stretching on in its eerie stillness.
The sea breeze seemed to thicken the quiet between us, filling the space with something unspoken. Cillian's eyes roamed the deck as if he was taking it all in, as though trying to decide what kind of future lay ahead. In the glow of the ship's lanterns, I could see the uncertainty that still clung to him, yet there was a flicker of resolve underneath it. He had made his choice. Now he had to live with it.
I, too, felt the gravity of the night pressing down on me, but I kept my focus. "Come," I said, motioning for him to follow me, "I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. The crew quarters aren't luxurious, but you'll find them adequate for a man seeking adventure."
As we made our way below deck, the ship creaked beneath our feet. It was familiar, something I hardly noticed anymore. The warmth from the lanterns dissipated, replaced by the cooler, more intimate atmosphere of the lower levels. The smell of salt, wood, and iron mixed with the familiar scent of leather and worn fabrics. For a brief moment, I felt a strange sense of pride in this place—this world that had shaped me. It was mine as much as it was my father's.
"This way," I said, guiding Cillian toward the crew's quarters. The small, cramped space was lined with hammocks swaying lightly with the motion of the ship. The soft snoring of some of the crew filled the room, though most were still above preparing for the voyage.
Cillian surveyed the area, his eyes catching the dim light filtering in from the corridor. "I didn't expect comfort," he said, though there was no bitterness in his voice, just quiet acceptance.
I turned to face him, leaning against the doorway. "Comfort isn't what we offer. Freedom is."
He met my gaze, something flickering in his expression, like he was trying to decide if he believed that. "Freedom," he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue.
"It's a different kind of freedom than what you're used to on land," I added, my voice softening. "Here, you answer to no one but the sea... and the Captain, of course."
Cillian gave a small nod, then glanced around again. "You've been here your whole life, haven't you?"
I tilted my head slightly, wondering what he was getting at. "For as long as I can remember."
"And… you're alright with that? This life—being stuck in this endless loop?"
His words caught me off guard, a slight pang of something I couldn't name rising in my chest. "It's not a loop," I said, a little more defensively than I intended. "It's a purpose."
Cillian held my gaze, something in his eyes softening. "I didn't mean to offend." His words came out in a way that sounded as if he was trying to salvage whatever rapport we had.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words didn't come as easily as they usually did. The truth was, I didn't know what was beyond this life. I had never truly considered it. My father's world was the only one I had ever known. And while I had grown to love it, there were moments— No! Who was he to comment upon my life?
Cillian didn't push the subject further, but I could tell he understood more than I was willing to admit.
The silence between us grew again, and I could tell by his eyes that he knew where to draw the line now. He would have his own path to follow now, just as I had mine.
"You should get some rest," I said, breaking the silence. "It'll be a long day tomorrow."
Cillian nodded, offering a faint smile. "Thank you… for everything."
I gave a small nod in return before turning to leave. As I stepped back into the corridor, I hesitated for a moment, glancing back at him one last time before disappearing into the shadows.
Back on deck, the night air felt heavier, the anticipation of the upcoming voyage thick in the wind. At this point, I was beginning to feel homesick for Neverland. It wasn't welcoming to my kind, but in the end, it was as much our home as it was Pan's. The ship was alive with the hum of preparations, and my father stood at the helm, his silhouette sharp against the dark horizon. Watching him, I felt a familiar pull—one part admiration, one part something else. Something unresolved.
As I approached him, Hook turned his head slightly, acknowledging my presence without a word. The lantern light cast sharp angles on his face, accentuating the hardness that had grown in him over the years as he smoked his cigar.
"Cillian seems... promising," he said, his tone neutral as he blew out a puff of smoke.
"He is," I replied, stepping up beside him and smelling the familiar scent of cigar smoke. "He's different from the others I saw tonight. More driven it seems."
Hook glanced at me, his eyes narrowing slightly in silent accusation. "Sentiment can be a weakness."
My eyes quickly met his in exasperation. "I recognize potential when I see it." I countered sharply. Being his only child gave me the privilege to counter his remarks without the threat of being tossed overboard, something I took full advantage of over my years.
For a long moment, Hook said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he let out a low chuckle, the sound rough like the wind over the sea. "We'll see."
We stood there in silence, watching as the stars above twinkled like distant flames. In the quiet of the night, with the sea stretching endlessly before us, I felt a new conflict stir within me—like a seed that had been planted.
But for now, I would let the wind carry me forward. There was no turning back. Not for me. Not for Cillian. And certainly not for Captain Hook.