Stowaway...

<< Closed... Hope you'll read along and enjoy the adventure... >>

Niamh’s heart was thundering in her chest, her blood pulsing ominously within her ears as she fought to remain silent. Her lungs felt as they might simply explode they were so raw from the cold night air. Sounds outside made her shrink even tighter to the wall, even though the crates in front of her would almost certainly block her from sight should they think to look where she was she still tried to blend even more so into the shadows. To be found would be just the beginning of an unimaginable nightmare. For Niamh was of royal blood and those pursuing her had their greedy eyes set upon her family’s kingdom. The castle and the walled city surrounding it had already fallen against their attack, along with her parents and brothers, but to make their claim unquestionable, they needed a Queen whose child would be unarguably the heir to everything. They needed her.

She had fled the city, fighting against looking back at the flames that glowed ominously from the burning buildings around the castle that had been her home. Niamh had known she would be followed but she hadn’t anticipated she would be followed so soon. She had ridden hard towards the docks, handing her horse and a few gold coins to a bemused looking youth in an attempt at a diversion but only half of those hunting her had followed him as he rode on out into the countryside beyond the small harbour village. Niamh had scrambled aboard a ship that appeared to have been left unattended for the night. Its mast and rigging creaking in the night breeze. The hatch to the hold was open and seemed the perfect place to hide and so she had jumped down inside, hiding behind some of the crates within it.

The voices outside drew closer but their owners did not seem to be boarding the vessel upon which she had sought refuge. Eventually they wandered off, deciding she must have hidden somewhere in the village itself. Letting out a long breath Niamh collapsed back against the rough wood behind her. Finally letting the tears of grief and terror fall from her eyes at what had happened in the last few hours. She decided to wait awhile before leaving the ship, having no desire to risk being seen by those searching the village for her. She closed her eyes, lifting up her knees and placing her arms across them, cushioning her brow upon them; trying to think of what she was going to do next. She could try and get to the neighbouring province but there had been rumours they were going to side with those who claimed her country for their own…plans and possible schemes moved through her mind with increasing slowness before drowsiness overtook her and Niamh fell asleep.


She awoke with a start, her long curls the colour of mahogany across her face. At first she had no recollection of where she was or how she had gotten there, then swiftly, the awful events of the previous night came back to her. Groaning a little as she stretched and stood up she suddenly felt fresh worries grip at her heart. The floor was moving, rising and falling steadily. The ship was moving. Niamh rushed to the hatch to at least try and see the time of day or how far from land they were but found it was locked. Biting her lip, resting her hands loosely upon her hips, she cast her emerald eyes around the contents of the hold. She was a stowaway, a crime for which Captains could punish as they saw fit. She could only hope the Captain was one sympathetic to her country or at least to her cause. Or she may well have jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. Only time would tell…

The call heard around the ship, from the crow's nest down to the filthy underbelly swabbed and oiled to keep out leaks. A crew such as this yearned for chances of filth and debauchery. It could be compared to a night out on the town, spent drinking with friends.

"Stowaway!"

Stowaway!"

It rang out, like church bells on a morning sunday, calling all the wayward sheep home, to rest themselves awhile and embrace in the Lord's good graces. Here, there be pirates though, the good graces only came from him.

Captain Wesley Acker shook the tired feeling from his muscles, and left the ship's wheel to glance his opal eyes down upon the deck, a form of men already lining up, shouting against the dying winds about the stowaway.

"Aye... aye," He spat, pressing against the bannister, as eager as any young cabin boy at who had decided to passenger along with a simple meager crew of pirate cuthroats and all around degenerates.

Someone very smart, or very stupid, Wes had to admit.

When he saw the long hair and frilly petticoats, realizing their stowaway was a woman, he didn't think it was the former. No wonder the crew had been so eager to yell at the exploits of a stowaway. This one could be more fun than most to a lonesome man on the high seas.

"Found her in the hold, I did... captain."

Just about all of the crew now stood around the young woman. The captain pushed his way through, so they made a circle between the two. He gazed upon her up and down, no shame in where his eyes chose to wander.

Nice features, good hair, deliciously frightened eyes, and he could imagine such warmth if she ever decided to bed a man. Warmth even a well stoked hearth could not quite match.

"My lass, let me be the first, to welcome you aboard the Guardian. A humble ship, but we make a living from the small dealings that we do."

A few heaty laughs rose up at the captain's exploits. He walked up to her, his hand moving with suprise ease as it slid around her neck, pulling her so that she had to press up against him.

"If you have half a brain, you know what is at stake by doing what you did. My men would love to have a bit of fun with you. I imagine they could cook up a couple of ways for you to pay for a trip on our boat."

Some had glints in their eyes, ready to take whatever innocence still left in her.

"Tell me then, what are you doing on my ship?"

Niamh's heart leapt into her mouth as she heard the footsteps upon the boards above drawing ever closer. The crew of the ship had passed by the hatch to the cargo hold several times over the last few...days...she wasn't really sure of the time, she had found a water butt in the corner and had been able to sate her thirst but the exact amount of time she had spent in the shadows was unknown to her.

Suddenly the hatch was opened, bright light pouring down into the hold and causing Niamh to screw her eyes tightly shut, trying to crouch down as low as she could within her hiding place behind some crates. Two thickly set men lowered themselves down the ladder into the hold, a vague but unmistakable scent of rum and smoke perfuming the air around them, making Niamh's nose wrinkle slightly in response. She held her breath as the men focused their energies on one particular chest, appearing to appraise it's contents. She had no clear plan of action, having thought of no clear way of escaping the hold but she was certain that to be discovered now would be far from a good thing.

The bright sunlight revealed the sheer size and fullness of the hold, Niamh wondered at what kind of ship would carry such and the sight of the men currently rifling through one of the chests didn't instill much hope within in her that she might be upon one of her father's ships. The light had also awoken the other stowaway's within the hold and one of them crept closer to Niamh as she watched the men with widened eyes. She felt the rat before she saw it but even so she could not prevent the loud gasp that left her lips, sending the two men rushing over to her hiding place, pistols and swords drawn, eyes narrowed.
"Well, well, well...what 'ave we 'ere?" A voice leered as the slightly taller of the two men's eyes swept briefly across her cowering form. Before she could say or do anything further, his arm shot out, large fingers curling around her upper arm and dragging her out from her hiding place. An almost gleeful smile upon his face as he yelled, "Stowaway! Stowaway!".

Niamh twisted and pulled, trying in vain to shake his hand free but his grip was like iron and soon enough she found herself upon the deck. Another man moving to secure her other arm and all but march her along. A salty breeze swept across her, lifting her mahogany curls from her face and revealing her delicate features to the men now staring upon her. Her dress was smudged and crumpled, it's former elegance obvious but she knew she looked far from the princess she was. She tightened her jaw and tried not to look as terrified as she felt, her heart racing within her chest, but even the strongest resolve in the world couldn't keep the fear from shining within her emerald eyes.

Within moments she found herself surrounded by men, an almost hungry stare raining down upon her from all directions.
"Found her in the hold, I did... captain."
The man grinned toothily as a man moved before her, his bearing and appearance singling him out as Captain before he was named as such. Niamh watched his eyes as they roved across her form without any attempt at modesty.
"My lass, let me be the first, to welcome you aboard the Guardian. A humble ship, but we make a living from the small dealings that we do."

Niamh glanced around at the grinning faces of the crew as the Captain moved closer, none of them looked particularly friendly. Her eyes moved back to the Captain just in time to see his hand shoot out towards her, his hand gripping the back of her neck and using it to pull her against him. Her hands rising uselessly, almost in defense, as he pressed her chest to his.
"If you have half a brain, you know what is at stake by doing what you did. My men would love to have a bit of fun with you. I imagine they could cook up a couple of ways for you to pay for a trip on our boat." The ball of tension that had been within her stomach since her flight from the castle pulsed with fresh terror. She didn't doubt his words, the prickly heat from the lecherous glances of the crew provided ample evidence of their desires.

"Tell me then, what are you doing on my ship?"
"I..." Niamh began, trying to keep her voice level. She had two choices, admit openly who she was and pray they would be sympathetic to her cause or simply attempt to appeal to their better natures, assuming they had better natures within them somewhere. She was all but certain she was onboard a ship of a more mercenary nature and couldn't be sure that her position as a royal wouldn't be used for a more pecuniary nature and cause her to be returned to those she had fled from. "Captain...I am sorry for boarding your ship but my family was murdered and those responsible sought to condemn me to a worse fate..." Her cheeks flushed a little with anger and concern as a snigger or two reached her ears from some of the men about finding fates of their own for her.

"...I intended only to hide upon your ship until they passed but I had ridden for sometime and I...I fell asleep. When I awoke you had already set sail and I had no way out of the hold...please, I know I have nothing with which to bargain my safety but please....see me safely to the next port and I swear I shall see you repaid..." Niamh's voice was quiet but she was privately proud of how much she managed to keep the trembling from invading it as it was invading her body. She knew the Captain would feel it, given how close he was holding her but she could do little about that. Her identity was still unknown and she could only hope the Captain and his crew would take pity upon her story and allow her passage with them. It was a hope that began to fade as soon as the words left her lips and her eyes met those of the man holding her tightly against him.

"Family murdered?" The Captain gasped with fright, listening to the woman's poor heart wrenching story.

"The devil's own men must have been chasing you. Oh, it is good that you found solitude within the holds of my ship. I would hate to see what would happen had those horrible horrible men taken rough fingers to such delicate skin."

The back of his calloused hand touched along her neckline. It was a scary careful touch of intimacy that should not belong to such a hand. He reached down to his belt, picking out a knife.

The long blade glinted in the sunlight, sharp and eager to cut. It held a hunger all its own.

The captain stood a good couple of feet taller than her. He had short black hair, even blacker eyes, and stubble running across his chin. He had the build of a sailor, strong and healthy, underneath his clothing.

"You have nothing which to bargain? Oh, not true lass. Why, I believe you had a lot to bargain for a simple ride to the next port."

The knife went up to her face, trailing along a single cheek, merely kissing her, before moving further down to the dress she wore. One tug ripped a part of it from her body, and the knife found hold easy enough. It ripped clean in two, falling part one way and part the other from her body.

It must have been sharp, to do such in one swipe.

The crew men, had they been lustful before, now turned into a drooling pack of wild dogs. Seeing so much of a woman, and the promise to have her was beginning to cause a stir of frenzy inside of them.

He leaned in close to her, partly to feel the warmth of such a woman, but mostly to whisper his torture in her ear.

"The less you fight them, the better chances you have to stay alive."

His eyes flashed truth, as he threw her into the dispersing crowd. Already their hands were out to catch her. They touched, groped, pulling away any clothing she still had. Fingers crept along her skin, hard probing fingers, pushing, pulling. Some tugged her hair, others worked between her thighs.

One grabbed a leg, pulling her down below deck. There would be beds there, places to lie her down, do what they needed. Already men were undoing their pants, pulling them down.

The captain turned from the ravaging mob, ready to walk back up to the stern of the ship.

"Family murdered?...The devil's own men must have been chasing you. Oh, it is good that you found solitude within the holds of my ship. I would hate to see what would happen had those horrible horrible men taken rough fingers to such delicate skin."
Any relief that Niamh felt at his apparent concern for her safety vanished in a breath as his hand srtoked along her skin. It was too gentle, too smooth in motion. It sent a chill dancing down her spine as she found herself craning her head slightly to keep her eyes upon his face, eyes that widened as he produced a deadly looking blade. She tensed, the instinct to pull away growing steadily stronger but the knowledge that do to so would result in a far worse fate than to remain where she was kept the urge to struggle in check. She swallowed audibly as he ran the blade across her cheek.

"You have nothing which to bargain? Oh, not true lass. Why, I believe you had a lot to bargain for a simple ride to the next port."
The Captain's actions were swift and accurate, her dress falling apart and landing with barely a sound upon the deck. Niamh attempted to maintain a kind of modesty, a hand across her bust and another between her legs. A little of her slip remained but not enough. She was all but naked and the crew's desires towards her hung in the air, their breathing loud and hot in her ears.

Niamh shivered as the Captain leant closer, the salty smell of the sea and sweat combined with rum invaded her nostrils, his breath warm against her neck as he whispered.
"The less you fight them, the better chances you have to stay alive."
"No...no please..." She began uselessly as he threw her back. Her feet barely touched the deck as so many hands took hold of her. "You...you don't know what you're doing...!" She cried out and struggled as she was stroked and groped from every possible angle. Her body, until that moment touched by no one but herself and those that had bathed her during her infancy, was swamped by greedy, hungry fingers and palms. Pinching, kneading, invading. Niamh tried to lash out, the Captain's advice being all but forgotten beneath the desire to defend herself.

She managed to elbow one man in the chest she thought but soon she was being carried down below. Her cries and struggles in vain. A hand was wound tightly in her waist length hair, using it to hold her head in place while one man pressed his exposed sex against her cheek. Niamh screwed her eyes shut, forcing her lips closed against another pair of fingers attempting to part them. In amongst the seething mass of men around her she caught sight of the Captain's back as he walked away from the scene. She had little choice now, appealing to their apparently non-existant 'better nature' had failed. Now all she could do was attempt to appeal to his purse.

"Captain! Captain!" She yelled, her voice carrying above the appreciative groans and sighs of the men mauling her. "I swear I shall see you hanged for this!" She all but screamed, her words turning into a cry of discomfort as fingers simultaneously tortured her exposed breasts and sex. "I...I am Niamh, Princess of Caria, rightful heir to the throne...release me, release me this instant or I will see to it that every man upon this vessel serves time in the cells!" There was a pause, even amongst the chaos around her Niamh sensed hesitation in those holding her aloft, their probing and pinching stopping for a moment or two. Several pairs of eyes besides her own turning curiously towards the Captain. Her words were almost entirely empty. She was in no position to threaten anyone, even if the ship and it's crew had been at sea for months, she had already admitted that her family were dead. She was the heir to a kingdom that neither she nor her family was in control of. However, a princess was surely worth more to them unharmed. Niamh could only hope that would be the case.

"Wait..." He turned, slow and deliberate turn, looking at her again, eyeing the same immodest look he held before, able to see so much more now. Her own hands were seperated, stretching out as two men held them. Fingers still probed at her though, one pushing into her sex, forcing in despite no lubrication.

"Let her go."

They did. Reluctantly they did. They were being held at bay, but barely. These men wanted her, they needed her, and they would do what they could to get her.

He walked back over to her, on the floor, clutching herself. Bending down on one knee, he ripped her chin up so she could see him eye to eye. He could tell if she lied, if this was some trick to avoid being some plaything for his crew.

"Jason!"

Jason was a shorter lanky boy who looked like he belonged more on land than at sea. He wore clothing a littler better than most, and his hair washed and combed. He made a little bow as he came on top of the ship.

"Yes Captain?"

"Before we left, was there word of a princess missing?"

"Yes, sir. Men were out that day in search of her. You saw them, that is why we left early. You thought they might search the holds, and find..."

"Yes," He interrupted the man, before more could be said in front of these innocent ears. He cocked his head to the side, studying such a girl. Not the flesh now, but the body itself.

Her hands had never seen a day's work. Never washed a dish or held a rope. That skin had never seen the harsh touch of the skin, a kiss felt deep and long. Those eyes had never seen fear before today. Her toughest choice before had been which to eat for her fancy meal, and now she had to reveal herself to a bunch of snivelling men in order to save her own self from rape.

He wondered...

Wesley's hand went down to her legs. They reached between her thighs. He felt her struggled, but slapped her. A soft slap, more to let her feel the pain than actually hurt her.

"I don't wish to take what is yours... only to see," His fingers pushed inside of her. That touch he used again, that soft gentle touch, probing against her sex, sliding along the inside of her walls.

And there, he felt the block. The ripe bloom of her maidenhood.

"A virgin," He looked with surprise down at her. Even were she not a princess, he did not blame her for saying whatever she could to stop these men from rape. Poor thing might not have made it.

His finger left her, one lingering touch before he brought it back out.

"What does this princess look like?"

"I do not know. I am not familiar with Caria or her royalty."

Wesley looked to the others, who only stared in confusion and loss for not having to taste such precious flesh.

"I need proof," He spoke to her, "Prove you are who you say you are, or I will throw you to the dogs without a second thought to your maidenhood. If you're a princess, you are indeed worth more to me alive than dead... and without having touched a man."

Something else tugged at him, questions of why she were here, how a princess made it by herself upon his ship, but those could be answered later. For now, she simply needed to show him she was something more than a nicely treated maid who had saved herself.

There was a moment, as the silence on the deck drew out becoming more and more oppressive, when Niamh feared the only advantage she might have had had failed to have any effect. She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, steeling herself against what she felt sure was to follow.
"Wait..."
Niamh whimpered with unstoppable relief as the Captain's voice rang out, her body sagging slightly in the arms of those still holding her in place. Forcing herself to remain calm as the Captain's eyes swept over her prone body once more.
"Let her go."

Niamh collapsed onto the deck as she was released, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around her bared chest, her long, rich brown tresses tumbling down around her shoulders. The strong fingers of the Captain curled sharply around her chin and forced her face upwards until their eyes met, her eyes meeting his searching gaze as steadily as she could. She was a princess after all, she had to defend herself before she could think of defending her kingdom. She kept her chin tilted almost defiantly upwards as he released it although she couldn't help but wince slightly as he bellowed for a member of his crew.

"Jason!"
"Yes Captain?"
"Before we left, was there word of a princess missing?"
"Yes, sir. Men were out that day in search of her. You saw them, that is why we left early. You thought they might search the holds, and find..."
"Yes,"
Niamh's eyes had been flicking back and forth, following the brief exchange. At least the facts corroborated her story. So far at least. The Captain continued to appraise her but the intent in his eyes had changed. He was looking beyond her nakedness now, looking at her. She took a moment to do the same to him. He had obviously lived a life on the seas, his physique and face told of a life of physical toil, broad shouldered and with a face that almost entirely hid his inner feelings, or so it seemed to her. It was only within the depths of his eyes that she felt she could see his mind working things over. Somewhere she doubted most of his crew ever dared to look.

She gasped as his hand moved, snaking between her thighs as she knelt upon the rough wooden floor. The muscles in her legs tensing, instinctively trying to keep his fingers away from her most intimate centre. The slap that followed her muted struggle was a shock and it left her wide eyed and open mouthed. Her cheek stung but it began to fade almost instantly. She was certain that had he wished to really hurt her he could have done so easily and she forced herself to remain still.
"I don't wish to take what is yours... only to see,"
Biting her lower lip against whimpering again, Niamh allowed him to part her thighs and press his fingers inside her body. Her eyes closing as her tight channel gripped his digits, as if trying to draw them deeper and expell them simultaneously.

"A virgin,"
Niamh blushed and found she had to look away from the surprised expression looking down at her. She had felt his fingers reach the barrier of her innocence and pause. There was something about the way in which he was looking at her, half curious, half suspicious, it made her feel even more vulnerable than her nudity had made her feel. His finger withdrew, drawing a soft moan as it did so, adding fresh colour to her cheeks in the process.

"What does this princess look like?"
"I do not know. I am not familiar with Caria or her royalty."
"I need proof,"
"...Proof...?" Niamh repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Prove you are who you say you are, or I will throw you to the dogs without a second thought to your maidenhood. If you're a princess, you are indeed worth more to me alive than dead... and without having touched a man."
Niamh wet her lips, keeping her focus upon the Captain, not daring to glance at the crew waiting with clearly baited breath for her response. How could she prove her identity to people she had never before met in her life and who she was certain had never had even the slightest thing to do with her family before now. She nervously ran a hand through her hair as she thought, pausing as her fingers glanced along her neck.

Tilting her chin a little more towards the sky, Niamh slowly rose to her feet. She knew how she could prove her identity. Feeling a wave of relief pass as her long hair down her front and almost entirely covered her breasts, she covered her sex with her hand as she did so. Tipping her head to the side slightly silently asking to be allowed to pass the Captain, she made her way to where her shreaded clothing lay upon the deck. After a second or two of rooting through the torn and ripped fabric she found what she was looking for.

She turned and held out her hand, a small golden locket hanging from her fingertips on a fine chain.
"Inside you will find a potrait of my mother and father, King Riad and Queen Embella of Caria and alongside it another, of my mother and I...as you will see, the likeness between my mother and I is uncanny...it...it has been commented on for as long as I can remember..." Niamh's voice faltered as she spoke of her parent's, the realisation that she would never see them, or her brothers, again striking her heart with a dull ache.

"O-on the casing you will also see the crest of Caria engraved upon the front..." She handed the necklace tentatively over to the Captain. Watching it with hawk like attentiveness. "Please...please be careful with it...it's all I have to remember my parents, I would appreciate it if you would return it once you've finished looking at it..." She stood, one hand over her sex, the other outstretched towards him, awaiting the return of her locket. With her hair cascading down her front she was certain she looked more mermaid than princess but that could not be helped. Her teeth caught on her lower lip slightly as she watched the Captain open the delicate piece of jewellery and peer inside.

The captain stared at her a moment, before looking down at the simple locket in hand. He had hoped for something better, something more fancy. An extravagent ring, some awe inspiring tattoo.

Still, fine gold. If she were making up a story, she sure as hell went through a lot of trouble to do so.

The picture was indeed of a family, in their best dress. He recognized them as royalty. Pompous asses who ruled all and got their wealth from the common man.
The Queen looked beautiful though, and her daughter just as delicious. He paused, looking from the picture to Niamh.

He threw the locket to Jason, who studied it inside and out.

Wesley did the same with the girl. She stood in front of him, and never faltered. His eyes raced down to the discarded pile of clothes still on the deck. She would need new ones. He had something in his quarters that might fit her.

She was the princess. He didn't need a locket to tell him that. She had the look of someone expecting things to be done for her, and no fear. Not of him, or his crew. No, she was terrified of them. But not her story. She had no fear of the story, and that told him more than...

"She is the princess, Sir," Jason spoke, "This crest is true, and I have seen the king and queen once before. These are them, if they aren't than my reputation is at stake as well as hers."

Wesley sighed once, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "Princess, you could have said something before. Maybe then so many of my men wouldn't have had a chance to roughen you up. I hope they weren't too hard on you."

He turned to them, "Fellows, we have a new guest aboard our ship. Her name is Princess Niamh. She is under my protection until I take her back to Caria and claim a finder's fee. She is not to be touched, do you understand."

There was a clear sadness in the eyes and voices of the crew, but no dissention. They were rabid dogs, but the captain was the strongest craziest of them all. He could starve them for a week and put a banquet in front of them, ordering them not to eat. Not a single morsel would have been tasted.

"Come, princess. I have some clothes in my quarters you might need. While I trust my men, I would rather you not tempt them by running around naked on my ship."

His large arms around her, guiding her to the captain's quarters. A room just under the wheel of the ship. They passed Jason and he took the locket, placing it just around her neck, the jewel dipping between her breasts. It looked good there, he didn't know why she had taken it off to begin with.

He opened the door for her, even bowing, following her inside. The rest of the crew sighed at the last sight of her naked ass, before getting back to work. Lot's to be done.

"Here is what I want to know," He asked, walking over to his dresser. The bottom drawer was filled with women's clothes, different assortments and sizes. Nothing fancy, most of it seemed owned by simple maids, or lady's who walked the street at night. He would let her pick out the clothing she wanted.

"How does a princess, get to be on a ship all by her lonesome?" He sat down on his bed. A large foreboding bed, built into the far wall of the ship, overlooking a small lattice window of the outside, showing calm blue ocean around them.

Niamh winced as she watched her locket sail through the air from the Captain's hands to Jason's, the slightly gangly boy whose opinion he seemed to value. Her heart fluttering with worry until it was safely within Jason's hands. Noting the interest with which the Captain was now viewing her, she withdrew her hand, wrapping her arm protectively across her bust.

"She is the princess, Sir...This crest is true, and I have seen the king and queen once before. These are them, if they aren't than my reputation is at stake as well as hers."
Niamh smiled ever so slightly as her story was verified, holding her hand back out to take the necklace back.
"Princess, you could have said something before. Maybe then so many of my men wouldn't have had a chance to roughen you up. I hope they weren't too hard on you."
"You didn't exactly..." Niamh began but before she could finish the Captain had turned to address his crew once more.
"Fellows, we have a new guest aboard our ship. Her name is Princess Niamh. She is under my protection until I take her back to Caria and claim a finder's fee. She is not to be touched, do you understand."

A little of the colour faded from Niamh's cheeks as he spoke of returning her to Caria and those seeking her for less than honorable purposes, cutting short her relief at being believed for who she was.
"Come, princess. I have some clothes in my quarters you might need. While I trust my men, I would rather you not tempt them by running around naked on my ship."
Niamh bit her lip against replying to his comment about tempting his crew. She wanting nothing more than to be as far away from them all as possible, the last thing she wanted was their attentions.

A nervous tremor skipped across her skin as the Captain stopped the pair of them en route to his cabin to place her locket back around her neck. The cool metal had always felt comforting when next to her skin but there was something else, the sensation of the Captain's hands moving her hair aside, fingertips brushing her skin, all of it serving to make Niamh's breathing tremble ever so slightly.

Niamh stepped eagerly into his cabin, not thinking about the connotations of walking into a man's bedchamber in such a fashion.
"Here is what I want to know...How does a princess, get to be on a ship all by her lonesome?"
Niamh had been busy looking around the interior of the room, it was modest and undisputedly masculine. Plain white sheets upon the bed, heavy dark curtains at the window. She moved to the drawer he had opened, selecting a simple skirt, bodice and blouse that looked as though they might fit her.

Niamh glanced around and moved behind an ornamental screen in the corner of the room that looked as though it had seen better days, small holes and tears dotting's it's surface. She knew the Captain and the rest of the crew had seen her in as great a state of undress as was humanly possible, but she still did not wish to dress before him.
"I told you, Captain..." She began pulling on the white blouse and putting on the floor length skirt. "I was being pursued by those responsible for the murder of my family they...they need an heir of royal blood to ensure their claim to the throne is unquestionnable...they need me to get what they want..." She finished quietly, fixing the black bodice over the blouse.

Glancing down at herself she thought she looked like a tavern wench. The bodice hugged her figure and finished below her bust, causing the firm globes of her chest to stand out even more proudly than usual within the white cotton blouse. The neckline was loose and wide, falling off of one shouler as she made an attempt of bringing the wild curls of her hair under control.
"I managed to lose them when I entered the harbour village and as I was looking for a place to hide I ran past your ship...it was apparently unattended and the cargo hatch was open. I honestly intended to hide for only as long as was necessary..." She continued earnestly, moving out from behind the screen to stand before him.

"You...you told your men I was to be a guest upon your ship...may I ask what restrictions you mean to place upon me during my time aboard...? Where will I sleep, for example, as I assume there are no quarters free that I might use..." Niamh asked after a pause, moving a little closer. "...And as you know who I am...might I ask who you are?" She wanted to ask why he hadn't simply let the men have their way and then return her for a bounty. She wanted to ask about the slightly distant look he had gotten in his eyes while he had been looking at her. There were many questions buzzing within her mind but many would have to be silenced for now.

He wished to slap her again for such questions. How easy did it take for her to slip back into that feeling of worship and power once more? She played her part as princess much better than most. And he hated her for that most of all.

But, he did nothing. He laid back on his bed, admiring how well the clothes worked on her. Nothing like her old outfit. That had been modest and form fitting. This was tawdry, clinging to her too tight in some places, not enough in others. Still, it evoked the same gutteral response from him.

He was, after all, just a man.

The news she entrusted in him didn't bode very well either. For a moment he thought he had made some mistake. Her entire family murdered, what good was she aboard his ship? But, the thought of others wanting her badly to be put upon the throne.

Then that would mean they wanted her even more than a parent or loved one might. They would pay plenty.

He liked the thought of that.

"My name is Captain Wesley Acker. You may call me Captain or Sir. You have no restrictions, at least none that I can tell. You may go wherever you wish, talk with whoever, even sleep with whoever you want. The best bed on the ship is here, so you may want to sleep with me. Otherwise you'll have to have one down with the other men. While they are under order, I feel that under cover of darkness idle hands might find themselves close to you."

He laid his hand across the fine cloth sheets, fingertips caressing a lover, staring up at her.

"The only room off limits to the crew is this one. We have to drop off a certain cargo a few days ride from here, very important I'm afraid, otherwise I would turn around and go right back to claim what is mine. Perhaps this is better, wait a week or so, let them sweat and boil over what they have done. It will be easier to open their pockets once we do return."

His eyes flashed in wealth, but they still leered against the flesh.

"How much are you worth, princess?"

"My name is Captain Wesley Acker. You may call me Captain or Sir. You have no restrictions, at least none that I can tell. You may go wherever you wish, talk with whoever, even sleep with whoever you want. The best bed on the ship is here, so you may want to sleep with me..."
Niamh opened her mouth to say that while it may well be the best bed, she had no intention of sharing it with him but his voice continued, cutting her off and adding fresh concerns to her mind.
"...Otherwise you'll have to have one down with the other men. While they are under order, I feel that under cover of darkness idle hands might find themselves close to you."

Niamh fought against a shiver that threatened to turn her spine to ice, settling for folding her arms across her chest in a protective stance. Her eyes unknowingly following his fingers as they stroked the sheets beneath his reclining form, every pass they made across the pure white fabric adding to the uneasy feeling inside her.
"The only room off limits to the crew is this one. We have to drop off a certain cargo a few days ride from here, very important I'm afraid, otherwise I would turn around and go right back to claim what is mine..."

Her eyes had narrowed as he spoke of claiming what was his, as if she were simply another commodity he was trading, no different from the chests and boxes within the ship's hold. The added knowledge that the only room she would find refuge from the hungry eyes of the crew was his wasn't exactly comforting either.
"...Perhaps this is better, wait a week or so, let them sweat and boil over what they have done. It will be easier to open their pockets once we do return...How much are you worth, princess?"
"I couldn't possibly say, Captain Acker. How can anyone place a value upon another person?" Niamh moved back to lean against the windowsill, wanting to keep a little distance between herself and the broad shouldered Captain upon his bed.

"I suppose it depends entirely on the sort of people involved...and their intentions. You call me a guest and yet you intend to hand me over to those from whom you know I was fleeing...I suppose I should ask if you treat all your guests in the same way, Captain, but I am certain I do not want to know the treatment those upon your ship receive who cannot bring in a profit for their stay."

Niamh let her eye glance out of the glass behind her. The sea was calm and as blue as the sky above it, it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. In other circumstances the view would have been breathtaking, but in her current situation it was almost suffocating. The ocean, a far more effect prison than walls and bars might have been. Even if she were to make it off of the ship, where would she go? How long would she last?

"How much is a princess worth to you, Captain?" Niamh asked, turning her head back towards him. "Or should that be how much am I worth to you? What if I were to offer to work here upon the ship, cook, clean...do what I could, pay for my passage in a way...would you accept it and set me free at the next port...?" She didn't expect him to even consider her offer. She was certain the bounty he would recieve for her return would be more than she could earn from working upon his ship over the course of a lifetime. But she wanted a chance to judge him. To find out something, anything about the true nature of the man in charge of her fate.

"You're worth nothing to me as a deckhand," He had such a cheery ring in his voice, on the verge of laughing. He stood up, coming next to her. The glass window, latticed at her back, and the captain towering over her as he touched her hand.

He brought it up to her face, so she could see, "You've never done a day's work in your life, do you see? Such soft hands..."

The point got lost as one rough finger caressed the back of her hand, feeling for the first time just how soft they were. Soft pale hands, delicate fingers, the touch of her skin sending something right through him.

He let her hand go, but reluctantly.

"You don't know how to cook, or clean, or swab a deck or hoisten a sail. Even if someone taught you, that would take weeks, months before you became anything more than a burden aboard this ship. And then what? You just sail under me, fighting off my crew each night? Cooking and cleaning for them each day? Is that really a life you want?"

He wouldn't let her do it. That thought rang out inside of him, through his very bones. He didn't care for her, no reason to care, but suddenly seeing that if she chose that life, she would be in danger, he just wouldn't see to it.

No, no, that was ridiculous. This was about the money, nothing more. Money.

"If anything, as a woman, a virgin at that, I could sell you to the highest bidder, but he would take that which is most intimate of you. He would buy your virginity for a fair price. I've heard some women can sell it upwards of a hundred. Enough to live on for a year. This is a pirate sea, my princess, everyone and everything is for sale... even you."

Still, he would not have it. A woman's virginity is rare, especially around these waters, but not unheard of. As a princess she would serve him just as well.

"Those who want you in Caria are desperate. They will pay thousands for your safe return. I could retire, sail the seas as I wish, do whatever I want. Nothing more dangerous than growing fat and old. You have no other use to me."

"You're worth nothing to me as a deckhand,"
Any feelings of offence at his almost jovial dismissal of her skills was swiftly swept aside by his approach, causing her to shrink back against the glass, emphasising the significant difference in height between the two of them. Niamh bit her tongue against a gasp as his hand took hold of her own, raising it between them.
"You've never done a day's work in your life, do you see? Such soft hands..."
The feeling of his fingers moving over her skin caused her breath to catch in her throat. She had shaken hands with hundreds, maybe thousands, of people in her royal existence but no one had ever touched her hand in the way Captain Acker was at that moment.

His hands were like no other she had held during a ball or a state dinner. The hands of princes and dukes were almost more feminine than her own. The Captain's hands were large and undeniably strong, the skin rougher than her own and the colour tanned from a life under the sun. Niamh found herself almost entranced by the stroking motion of his thumb across her hand, a quiet sound escaping her lips when he eventually released it, somewhere between a sigh of relief and a soft sort of whimper.

"You don't know how to cook, or clean, or swab a deck or hoisten a sail. Even if someone taught you, that would take weeks, months before you became anything more than a burden aboard this ship. And then what? You just sail under me, fighting off my crew each night? Cooking and cleaning for them each day? Is that really a life you want?"
Niamh looked towards the floor. He was right, even though she was loathed to admit it. Other than dancing or playing a few instruments that polite society had deemed siutable for a princess to play there was little she could offer anyone and a life of subservience such as the one he described was something she could never accept as her own. She could embroider well, although she doubted there was little call for such a skill upon a ship such as the Guardian.

"If anything, as a woman, a virgin at that, I could sell you to the highest bidder, but he would take that which is most intimate of you. He would buy your virginity for a fair price. I've heard some women can sell it upwards of a hundred. Enough to live on for a year. This is a pirate sea, my princess, everyone and everything is for sale... even you."
Her eyes were drawn sharply back to his face. She had heard tales of women selling themselves, and being sold, for such things. Niamh had never really considered her own innocence as being worth anything to anyone, besides herself and the suitor her family might have one day deemed worth of her. She flushed as he spoke of her in such familiar tones about something so private.

"Those who want you in Caria are desperate. They will pay thousands for your safe return. I could retire, sail the seas as I wish, do whatever I want. Nothing more dangerous than growing fat and old. You have no other use to me."
"I suppose I should be happy that condemning me to a fate almost worse than that my family suffered will bring you such potential happiness, Captain," Niamh's tone was level, just bordering on the harsh but polite enough. "I am also hapy to hear that your interest in me appears to be purely monetary...you shall, I am certain, be maintaining the orders you have given your crew, and will keep your distance..."

Her voice became lower, almost a whisper as she added, her emerald eyes narrowed slightly. "I may not be able to do the chores and duties that your men do everyday, but I was taught by the finest swordsmen in Caria, Captain, and even if I say so myself, I am a very attentive pupil. If you ever touch me again with such familiarity I can promise I will give you a demonstration of the things they taught me..." She held his gaze for a moment almost smiling, fighting the urge to actually look at the discrepancy between their builds and know that her words would probably amuse him rather than concern him. Licking her lips tentatively, Niamh made to step around him, wanting some fresh air, to find a place to start to gather her thoughts and begin to attempt to plan a way off of the ship with her innocence intact.

He didn't move. He simply stared at her, watching her try to bare him down. It looked... interesting. He found it enticing, like the way a kitten will back into a corner, wild and feral, jumping and hissing with claws out, ready to attack, no matter what the enemy, what the size.

When cornered, most civilized people become feral. That or they cower and fall. This one had not cowered, not yet. Even as she was being drug down to be raped by all of his crew, she still struggled for freedom.

He let her reach the door, and them he moved. It was an instant, a flash of color before his hands were on her again. He pinned her against the wall, twirling her around before him, hands grabbing her small wrists, holding her, pinning her.

They were face to face, his dark eyes drilling into her green. He gripped her, not hard enough to hurt, not true pain, but hard enough for her to know his strength, what potential he had.

"Is the little princess going to threaten me? Does she think her little play time with a sword can save her?"

He dragged her hands up, along the door, moving so they were above her head, stretching her whole body up. Her breasts squeezed together, threatening to pop out of the bodice she wore, her feet just on the ground.

"This is my ship, and this is my crew. You are nothing more than a piece of cargo, a chest of goods I need to sell in Caria. If you think differently, I have ways of putting you back in your place."

He came close, dangerously close. Eyes together, their bodies pressing into each other. Wesley wasn't sure what he was doing at this point. He wanted just to threaten her, as he did most, but was he really? He just wanted to feel her next to him, her breathing caught in her chest, flutting up and down against his. It felt so good, so comforting.

His lips, so close...

He kissed her. The softest touching of their lips together. A hungry desperate need filled him with that kiss, but it was not hungry, it was not desperate. It was a man pinning a woman against a door for a soft generous kiss.

He released it, licking his lips. Drowning in the pure simple taste of her. Perhaps he shouldn't have touched her most intimately to know she was pure. One kiss like that could have told him she had done nothing more than chase boys in her teens and write flowery letters of unknown feelings.

"Another touch, princess... now show me what you can do."

Niamh's breath was stolen from her as she found herself being whirled around and pressed up firmly against the door. His hands encompassing her wrists and holding them in place as if they were nothing, her struggles utterly in vain. Her eyes widened and face paled, her heart beginning to thump ominously within her eardrums once more.

"Is the little princess going to threaten me? Does she think her little play time with a sword can save her?"
She whimpered quietly as he lifted her hands, sliding them up above her head across the surface of the door until she was up upon her toes, back arched emphasising the rise and fall of her chest within the close fitting clothes she had put on.

"This is my ship, and this is my crew. You are nothing more than a piece of cargo, a chest of goods I need to sell in Caria. If you think differently, I have ways of putting you back in your place."
Niamh's heart stopped, she was certain of it, for a moment or two as the Captain pressed closer. His muscular frame against her own, she could feel the tone and warmth of his skin even through their clothes. She could smell him again. That scent that she had experience out on the deck, the smell of the sea and the sun and hours spent working hard combining to almost torment her senses.

He continued to move closer, his face aligning with her own, causing him to stoop down over her slightly. The darkness of his eyes blazed into her own, making her feel that he might see right into the centre of her heart and see just how terrified she was. A thought that only served to increase her worry even more.

Niamh gasped as his lips connected with her own. Confusion and anger blending seamlessly with surprise and something akin to excitement within her veins. His lips were so smooth. So very much smoother than she would ever have imagined, smooth and soft and warm. Her eyes closed without her bidding and her struggles stopped.

She wasn't sure what to do as hundreds of desires flooded her mind. Should do as she knew she should try and pull away, perhaps she should bite him? Or should she give into the most worrying desire of all and attempt to kiss him back, although she didn't know why such an idea had even entered her thoughts...or how she would attempt such a thing even if she had wanted to do so.

The kiss seemed to stop almost as soon as it had started although to Niamh it felt as if days could have passed in the interim, having experienced so many new and strange feelings during it. Her eyes fluttered open just in time to see his tongue dart along his lips, bringing an embrassed, slightly infuriated, flush to her cheeks.
"Another touch, princess... now show me what you can do."
"Why you...!" Niamh struggled hard, fighting to pull her wrists free from his iron like grip, twisting and writhing against the thick wooden door. Ignoring how her movements were affecting her clothing, pulling and shifting the simple white blouse across her chest, or how they caused her to press momentarily closer against the Captain.

"Let go of me and I'll show you what I can do..." Niamh's voice was low and husky and she barely recognised it as her own, her eyes narrowing with dusky coloured curls falling into them from her struggles. "If you truly believe my words to be as empty as I believe your heart to be then release me...release me and face me like a man..." She believed him to be largely unarmed, no sword hung at his waist and the dagger he had used on deck to remove her dress she thought might be hidden back at his belt. If she could distract him and get to it, she might have a chance at making him actually listen to her for a minute or two. She had no intention of going back to Caria, least of all as little more than a slave to be simply bought and sold, even if it meant risking a leap into the ocean.

She paused waiting to see if he would actually release his grip before moving into action. She brought her knee up sharply, missing her target of his groin but making him jump back slightly to avoice the connection. The motion released his hold just enough for her to wriggle free. She ducked under his arm, snatching at his belt on the way past, her fingers closing around the handle of the knife and pulling it free from it's scabbard. Whirling back to face him, Niamh smiled grimly, the blade glinting slightly in her hand. Wobbling slightly as she found his bed behind her knees but forcing herself to keep her eyes upon the Captain.

"Well, Captain...you have seen something of me but now what will you do. You've said it yourself I am worth more to you in one piece...unharmed... But now I have a knife and I assure you that I can and will use it if necessary, Sir..."
The situation wasn't quite as Niamh would have liked. It was true Captain Acker was blocking the only way out of the cabin, besides the window, and he had the entire crew to call upon to assist him but she did at least now have something of an advantage in that she was hardly defenceless any longer. Her stance was one of attack, feet parted and knees slighly bent; just as she had been taught. Her muscles were taut as she awaited his response, be it action or words she would be ready. At least she hoped she would, he may be bigger and stronger than she, but she believed she was lighter and quicker on her feet and that might at least count for something.

"And what are you going to do, princess," He lowered himself, on his haunches. He looked almost vicious, as if some deformed mask of a warrior had been put over his face. Those twinkling eyes turned to dull black coals burning darkly within his head. He stared at her, her feet, every movement she made.

Still, he stepped closer.

"You mean to hurt me? Cut me open? What then? Kill all of my crew? Or just jump off, try to swim for shore? You have got yourself in quite a mess, now haven't you?"

What a situation this girl must be in, what troubles she must have. Her whole world turned upside down. Was he not mad at this point, he might actually have felt sorry for her.

He did feel sorry she thought she could pull something like this on his command. She would pay.

"You give me the knife, right now," He held out his hand, as he did so, he took another step towards her, dangerous now, almost close enough for her to use the knife if she wished.

"Put it in my hand, like a good girl, and I might just forget this ever happened. We can both walk away untouched. You don't have to make this any harder than it has to be?"

Another step, along her edge of danger. He flirted it it, touched upon it, almost like a lover. Just as he touched her against the door, pressing into her, moaning against her lips.

Had he moaned? It felt good, it had turned him on so. He must have. If he hadn't, he wanted to...

"I won't ask you again. Give me the knife."

One more step. Inside of her zone, pushing into that border between them. He could lunge and grab her now if he wished, he could push her down on the bed, let his hand come up to hers, squeeze.

He reached out for the knife, another step. Close now, too close. Anything could happen. His eyes untouched, unreadable now, they went from her to the knife, back and forth, as if unsure which was more dangerous.

"And what are you going to do, princess,"
Niamh swallowed audibly, her eyes fixed upon the Captain's, watching them grow ever darker as he moved steadily closer.
"You mean to hurt me? Cut me open? What then? Kill all of my crew? Or just jump off, try to swim for shore? You have got yourself in quite a mess, now haven't you?"

A painful lump began to rose in her throat as her heart began to grow louder and louder in her ear. His words struck home precisely how trapped she truly was. She had no where to go, no one to help her. She was alone. Her eyes remained narrowed, keenly following his movements.

"You give me the knife, right now,"
Niamh glanced from his eyes down to the large hand extending towards her and back up to his face. Shaking her head tentatively, not trusting her voice to not betray her fear.
"Put it in my hand, like a good girl, and I might just forget this ever happened. We can both walk away untouched. You don't have to make this any harder than it has to be?"

She frowned slightly, the familiar sensation of tears pricking behind her eyes forcing her to try and blink them away. Her breathing was growing harder as he moved closer. And closer. She could sense his anger hanging around him like a cloak. Her pride prickling ever so slightly as he called her a 'good girl', speaking to her as if she were no more than an errant child caught in the panty with sugar on her fingers.

"I won't ask you again. Give me the knife."
He was almost upon her now, his hand within touching distance of the knife...and her. Niamh could feel her jaw starting to tremble as the fear and the sadness and the confusion about what had happened to her in the last few days began to overwhelm her. The loss of her family and her home, the degradation of being found and treated the way she had been, all of it threatening to drown her.

She was trembling, her entire body pulsing with a sense of foreboding.

To hand over the knife would only mean that her situation was as bad as she feared, that she was as scared of the hulking man before her as she thought she was and, what was more concerning, that she was not as strong or as brave as she had hoped she was.

To keep hold of the knife, to even think of using it would no doubt end badly for her. The almost lifeless expression in his eyes spoke of as much, his words merely confirming it.

He stepped closer, his frame still towering over her own, he could simply reach out and snatch the weapon away from her white knuckled grip, or thrust her back and pin her upon the bed, neither would require much effort from him she was certain. She could almost feel the pressure of his body against her own once more. The thought of it sending a thrill racing down her spine.

"You...you can't..." She stammered, the hand holding the knife beginning to shake imperceptibly. "This isn't....I'm..." Niamh's eyes were sparkling brighter with tears she could not attempt to hold back, threatening to spill down her cheeks at any moment. Any pretense, any bravado she might have had was slipping away like sand through her fingers. But still she refused to simply lie down and surrender.

Steeling herself, tightening her jaw, Niamh quickly stepped the half step remaining between them. Her hand rising and lifting the knife until it pressed against his chest. There was a steady pressure behind it but not enough to pierce the shirt or the flesh beneath it. Her eyes blazing into his with all that remained of her courage.

"I have a knife pressed to your heart, Captain, but I am certain that even if I were to pierce it, you would still live. Your heart may well be beating but it cannot feel. I would rather you killed me, here and now, than took me back there..." As she spoke a tear finally escaped between her lashes, snaking down her cheek. "But I know you won't...when you look at me, all you see is my title and the reward I'll bring you and your men...you don't...you just don't understand..."

There was a pause and then the silence was pieced by the clatter of the knife as it slipped from her fingers, falling and hitting the floor. Niamh sank back onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands, rubbing almost harshly at the tears now falling quickly down her face. Determined not to cry in front of him.

After a few moments she looked up, her eyes bright from tears and cheeks flushed, the position and ill fitting clothes doing little to preserve her modesty as she did so. Dark waves and curls spiralling down around her shoulders and down her back. She parted her lips to speak but couldn't find the words.

She wanted to fly at him, hit him, hurt him, take out on him the rage and hurt she felt towards those who had snatched her life away from her the night they had stormed the city but she could not. Would not. Even if she hadn't been certain that the Captain's reflexes would prevent her getting anywhere near striking distance of him. No matter what was to follow, she could not let herself turn into the exact type of person she detested. She would not be like them.

He never moved, never even flinched. As the knife stuck against his chest, threatening to slice through and still his slow beating heart, he only stared at her. An open deliberate stare, half curious if she had the guts to do it, but mostly daring her.

She could not. That was not a princess. She might have been taught by the best, but he had been taught by the worst. You kill a man any way you can, make sure he never gets a chance to see the knife until he hits the floor.

But, she held back tears, and found herself near collapse as she dropped the knife. He didn't know if he could deal with this. He didn't know how to. Men he could understand, command and lead them. If this were a man he would know just what to do.

But a woman?

She needed... comfort, and caring. She needed to feel like she was a woman. He needed her to be as healthy and calm as he could have her on the ship here. Because, hysterical women lashed out, did hysterical acts.

Next time the knife would be imbedded in his back. She would do it as soon as they saw land, swimming for it, trying to leave without him getting his just reward.

So, new strategy. He had to be her friend, he had to make her trust him. At least until he could get what was his.

"Princess," It was the first time he said it without a cursing edge to his voice, the first time he used it to address, not hurt her. He came up to her, calm, rational, serene. His hand touched against her shoulder, hoping to find her some comfort.

When she pulled from it, he just gripped her again, helping her sit down on the bed. She looked so weak and frail, if she didn't he was sure she would collapse on the floorboards below.

He sat down beside her, staring down at the knife still on the floor.

"I don't want to fight you. I don't want you thinking you're unsafe on this ship. You are, I give you my word. No one will harm you, and I follow that command as much as my crew."

He helped to catch her hair. It had gone everywhere, an explosion of curls dangling around her face. His fingers traced the contour of her cheek, slipping a stray strand behind her ear.

"What happened, back in Caria? Do you know who did this to you, what they did? Maybe, there's someone we can go to for help? A rival country, one who might be sympathetic?"

Give her hope. That is what he wanted. If she found hope, in him, she would trust him, and whatever he did. Then, that money would be as good as his.

"Princess,"
Niamh's brow creased with confusion as he addressed her, the tone of his voice different to any she had heard him use since she had met him. The touch of his hand upon her shoulder jerked her out of her thoughts and made her pull away, attempting to stand although her wobbling legs refused to co-operate. His hand tightened, guiding her back down to the bed as he moved to sit beside her.

"I don't want to fight you. I don't want you thinking you're unsafe on this ship. You are, I give you my word. No one will harm you, and I follow that command as much as my crew."
"How...how can I trust you?" She asked openly, turning to look into his face as his fingers began collecting and moving the curls from her face. Feeling a mild flush filtering onto her cheek in the wake of his fingers' trail across it.

"What happened, back in Caria? Do you know who did this to you, what they did? Maybe, there's someone we can go to for help? A rival country, one who might be sympathetic?"
'My kingdom...my home was attacked. Attacked by those too greedy and too lazy to try and mend the troubles in their own country who thought they could take ours...men from Bravien..." Her tone was bitter as she replied, eyes moving from his face to stare at the knife upon the floor although they were focused on the images within her mind.

Men with flaming torches streaming through the city streets. The cries and screams of her people filling the night air. She winced as she recalled the pleading of men, women and children that had carried up to the castle upon the wind.
"They attacked us at night, our army is small and we...we weren't ready..." Niamh frowned, the night's events continuing to replay in her head. "The royal guard tried to get us out but my father...my father and my brothers refused to leave our home. They wouldn't run into the night and leave their people to suffer in their absence."

Niamh's face turned to the man beside her. Eyes alive with so many emotions. "My mother and I, we wanted to stay but...my father insisted...we hadn't gotten far when the Bravien soldiers broke inside the castle. They...my father..." Her voice faltered as the sadness threatened to overwhelm her once more. "...The were outnumbered ten to one...they didn't stand a chance..." Fresh tears began to fall unchecked as she forced herself to continue. "They followed my mother and I into the tunnels beneath the castle, she made me run on ahead, her dress got caught and she...she..."

Niamh grew silent, her eyes closing against the image she knew she would never be able to forget. The sight, over her shoulder as she had fled, of her mother and the men who swarmed over her like rats, her screams echoing against the stones, urging her daughter on. She wanted to cry, wanted to feel the safety and security she had felt in the arms of her parents when she had suffered nightmares as a child. The warmth and solidity of the body next to her own was almost too tempting to resist, the urge to bury her face against his shoulder and weep growing stronger. She shook her head, fighting against succumbing to the grief. Not now, not in front of him like this.

"I can think of no one who might help. Bravien has more allies than I can name, most of whom are too afraid to go against them for fear of invasion..." She ran a slightly shaking hand through her hair before glancing back into Captain Acker's eyes, an eyebrow quirked slightly. "Besides...I thought you have important cargo to deliver and then a bounty to collect. Why....why do you care about finding help...?" Her tone was pointed but not harsh, bordering on the disbelief.

He listened quietly to her story, nodding in all the appropriate places. His hand, which had found itself idly pulling back her hair, had trailed around her shoulder, first comforting her, and then pulling her towards him to cry against. It would be better on his shoulder than hers.

A princess, her world nothing more than banquets and masquerades. She shouldn't have to deal with that kind of life. The life of a killer, the life of a pirate.

She seemed fresh out of tears, wiping the last from her eyes as she questioned him. The Captain, big, bold, still looking as fresh as he had when he touched her to see if she were still pure, gave the faintest of warming smiles.

"You rather I threaten you and hurt you again? Steal another kiss?" Why was he doing this, lending a friendly ear, a shoulder to cry on. He had forgotten, lost in her story and her demise. He realized he couldn't be that friend, couldn't be that close.

He wanted to use her, manipulate her. Just like everyone else was doing. That wasn't right.

The captain sighed, sadness in his fate. Sadness for her, but not for her situation, for what he knew he had to do to her. Although, she looking at him would easily mistake it for something else.

"I see just as much profit helping you, don't I? If I could get you back to your lands, put you on your throne... I imagine a Queen of Caria would be very grateful for anyone to help her out in her journey back. Maybe, pardon a dear old captain who has had some mistakes in his past? Reward him enough to retire?"

He nudged her, his forehead bumping into hers. And a wonderful smile. The kind of smile filled with possibilities and solutions.

"How about we be... partners? Ok? You stay on the ship, let me help you, trust me... and I will see to it you find common allies to help you. I've been on the seas a long time, seen many ports. I know of the Braviens. They have a long arm, but it does not reach everywhere. Some will help you, some will help you for no other reason than to fight against the Braviens. You may think you are alone... but you do have friends, and allies, and those who..."

There came a knock on the door. One of the low deckhands popped his head in, asking about dinner. He nodded, saying to bring in something extra for his guest. She'd been locked up in the hole for two days, girl must be famished by now.

Niamh didn't fight as he drew her closer, giving in to the need for contact and resting her head lightly upon his broad shoulder.
"You rather I threaten you and hurt you again? Steal another kiss?"
His smile confused her, making her pull away slightly to meet his gaze squarely. The look of sadness and apparent compassion that followed it only bemused her even more.
"I see just as much profit helping you, don't I? If I could get you back to your lands, put you on your throne... I imagine a Queen of Caria would be very grateful for anyone to help her out in her journey back. Maybe, pardon a dear old captain who has had some mistakes in his past? Reward him enough to retire?"

At first she thought to pull away a little more definitely and at least slap him for his familiarity as he pressed his forehead to hers, smiling at her. But there was something in that smile, something that disarmed her, made her smile back slightly before she could stop herself.
"How about we be... partners? Ok? You stay on the ship, let me help you, trust me... and I will see to it you find common allies to help you. I've been on the seas a long time, seen many ports. I know of the Braviens. They have a long arm, but it does not reach everywhere. Some will help you, some will help you for no other reason than to fight against the Braviens."

"Y-you would do that, for me...?" Niamh asked quietly, tentatively. Another smile, shyer, her chin lowering instinctively so that her eyes continued to meet his but now through her gently curling lashes.
"You may think you are alone... but you do have friends, and allies, and those who..."
The knock at the door caused Niamh to start slightly, her attention having been so entirely focused upon his face. She felt her cheeks redden as she realised just how close they had been sat, shifting back slightly as the door opened to reveal a member of the crew enquiring about dinner.

As if on cue Niamh's stomach rumbled as the lad vanished back through the door. She stood, smoothing the skirt and adjusting the blouse which had once again slipped down to reveal a shoulder.
"I...I would be very grateful if you would assist me, Captain Acker..." Niamh said quietly, "I do not know where you might start to find allies but that you would consider trying to find them tells me of the strength of your character...in spite of earlier behaviour..." She blushed, recalling the touch of his fingers against her skin, against her most intimate of places. The memory of the feel of his lips against her own sending a tremor of unfamiliar sensation through her stomach.

"I agree that to be partners during my time aboard the Guardian would be the best course of action...I shall remain on board and I promise to try and prevent myself becoming a burden to you and your crew...if you will let me at least try and help wherever possible..." She added with a hopeful smile. Perhaps the Captain wasn't the blaggard she believed him to be, his words had appeared to be genuinely spoken with true intent behind them.

Her stomach growled again as she moved to look out of the window once more, causing her to blush and cause her smile to grow a little more embarassed as she glanced back towards the Captain.
"Please excuse me..." She said softly. "I...I suppose this is what happens when one travels without sustenance..."

"Even princesses are only human," He said, with a smile.

He seached her words, for a sign of mistrust, misgiving. Something sneaky behind it. She wasn't just saying what he wanted her to say though. She meant it, and she even felt flustered by his own kindness.

He liked seeing her flustered. It was good on her.

He nodded, "Then we have a deal."

Another day for the cargo, and then two more back to Caria. He just needed to convince her that he was going to help her until then, and all would be settled. He wouldn't like to see the look on her face, that would be a horrible look.

Perhaps he would let someone else hand her over to the Braviens. That might be best.

He didn't have to look at her to hand her over.

Stew came. Bread, wine, water and oranges. Almost a feast, probably looked that way from Niamh's standpoint. He set it all down on the one table to the right of the room, pulling out her chair for her.

"Please, eat..."

He grabbed a bowl of stew and ate it at the other end of the room, near the window. He stared back behind them, somewhere Caria was waiting. Braviens, how interesting. With Caria theirs, they must have deep pockets. The princess could be handed over for whatever he wanted.

"What can you do?" He asked her, pausing over a chunk of meat, his eyes casting curious glances at her, "You've said your good with a sword, anything else? Can you cook, sew, anything?"

Give her practical skills to put to work, so by the time he handed her over, she wouldn't even know what had happened.

Someone wanted her badly enough. Someone would pay a high price to get her back.

"Even princesses are only human,"
Niamh thought she heard something akin to enjoyment in his voice as she tried to stop her cheeks from flushing anymore but instead of snapping at it, she merely returned his smile with one of her own.
"Then we have a deal."
"Yes, Captain...I believe we do..." She nodded, a little of the tension and worry slipping from her insides.

Soon enough the smell of food filled the Captain' cabin, Niamh's eyes widened with obvious hunger as the plates were laid out upon the room's only table, her stomach growling incessantly. Another shy smile curved her lips as the Captain pulled out the only chair, motioning for her to sit.
"Please, eat..."
"Thankyou, Captain..." She murmured, fighting against using her hands to fill her mouth with bread and wine to sate the hunger gnawing at her insides. Instead she filled her water glass and drained it, slowly but surely, feeling the cool liquid slip down to her stomach and help abate the pains within it.

Using the delicate manners she had been brought up to use, she began to eat. The stew was hardly the gourmet fare she was used to but it was hearty and tasted pleasant enough, besides which it was hot and satisfying which was all she really cared about in that moment. The bread was fairly fresh and Niamh ate with her attention almost completely focused upon the food on her plate.

"What can you do?...You've said your good with a sword, anything else? Can you cook, sew, anything?" The Captain's voice cut through and made her sit back, carefully chewing and swallowing the morself of meat within her mouth before replying.
"I can embroider, although I am sure I could put my skills with a needle to use somewhere onboard...and..." She paused, unsure if she should continue for a moment or two. "And...I can read and write, I mean no offence, sir, but I was under the impression that such skills are not taught readily to...to the masses...skills you might...you might be able to use...other than that, I am not sure the skills of singing, dancing and playing music would be helpful around here, would they, Captain...?" She finished quietly, lowering her eyes and taking a sip of her wine. It was a little bitter and definitely a rougher blend than the age old casked varieties her father and his courtiers had enjoyed but it warmed her throat and her stomach and after a few sips more she felt herself a little more at ease.

Once she was certain she could eat no more without feeling worse for wear she took an orange and began carefully peeling it. Popping a section of the fleshy fruit into her mouth and sighing a little as the clean, acidic and refreshing tasting juice filled her mouth. She rose and moved to the window, her green eyes scanning the sea beyond the glass, noting that the sky was beginning to grow ever so slightly darker.

Her fingers broke off another segment of orange and placed it between her lips, without really realising it she offered the fruit wordlessly to the Captain beside her.
"How long before we will reach land again...?" Asked softly, her voice a little heavy from a combination of food, drink and exhaustion beginning to creep up upon her. "You said your cargo was very important...might I enquire what it is or ...not?" She finished a little less than eloquently, her attempt at making polite conversation was not going well. She didn't even need to look at the Captain's face to know that.

Niamh coughed a little uncomfortably, running the tip of her tongue over her lips as she sought a suitable topic of conversation within her mind.
"Well, Captain...you know a little of me and how I came to be upon your ship...might I ask how you found yourself living a life upon the waves...?" She asked with a hopeful smile, offering another segment of the citrus fruit to the towering man beside her as she sat back upon the windowledge, leaning against the glass with her head tipped up so as to see his face.

"I don't think you want to know the true life of a pirate, luv. You have a good heart, and a good soul, and I've made more than my share of mistakes in my life."

He laid down on his bed, his arms coming up to rest behind his head. It felt good and relaxing, comfortable even. He had her right where he wanted her, and know she was even curious about him as a man. He could use this to every advantage.

"The cago itself is nothing more than a couple of chests of money. Gold and silver, a redebt that I needed to have paid a while ago. Never trust a pirate, princess. That is the only word of advice you should know on the high seas. It is one I learned, only at a bad price."

And he just began to unfold. He talked seamlessly. His life story, a real life story. He had no reason to lie to her about this, not about who he was, or his past. That truth he thought could not hurt in any way.

He had been a promising young captain for the Allan navy. He had land plotted out for himself and his family. A young blushing wife, two kids, twins.

A pirate vessel intercepted them on the way to their new home. The ship destroyed, capsized, all women were taken aboard and raped, some killed. The children thrown in the brig to sell at port. The men were thrown overboard, only a few were taken aboard.

Wesley trapped in the brig below could only listen as his wife was raped, over and over again each night. He would make them all pay for what happened. And during one night, he freed himself and several of his crew members. They ran through every pirate on that ship, each one seeing Wesley's face before they died.

He took the ship, trying to find his daughters, but they had been swept under. His wife died, suicide. She would rather have taken her own life than to live with what had happened.

Wesley requested his government to kill every pirate he saw. Of course they could not comply. Pirates were a well known commodity in these waters. Most worked under contract for one country or another. Steal as much as they could, get a percentage to the country, keep the rest for themselves. Safe port when they needed it, and good places to trade.

So, he found himself going after pirates, only long knowing to become one himself. A slow change of compromises and sacrifices that led him to where he was today. His life had been so filled with revenge, he knew nothing else.

So, he was done. Ready to retire. Give money to Allan this last time, for all of the mistakes in his life, and for their forgiveness. Then he could help save the princess here, and he could finally be free of the sea and everything it had taken from him.

He only moved once from the bed, his hand, to wipe away a single tear. It was all he had left to shed for the life he led. A single tear.

"I don't think you want to know the true life of a pirate, luv. You have a good heart, and a good soul, and I've made more than my share of mistakes in my life."
Niamh watched him move to lie upon the bed, his posture, his face, all speaking of rest. She found herself drawn to first stand nearby and then to tentatively move to sit upon the edge of the bed.

"The cargo itself is nothing more than a couple of chests of money. Gold and silver, a redebt that I needed to have paid a while ago. Never trust a pirate, princess. That is the only word of advice you should know on the high seas. It is one I learned, only at a bad price."

Niamh listened keenly as he spoke, her face echoing the feelings of concern and regret she felt within her heart on his behalf. To have gone through such things and to lose his family in such a tragic, terrible way. No wonder he lived the life he did, away from the rest of the world.

She didn't interrupt, even though there were times during his tale that she wanted to, questions tingling on the tip of her tongue but that was where they remained. There was something in the way he was speaking, she didn't want to stop him, finding herself drawing closer and closer across the bed as his story continued to unfold until she was sat level with his chest.

She felt her breath steal away from her throat as the Captain raised his hand to wipe at his eye. Her teeth catching on her lower lip as empathy washed over her. She leant closer, leaning over him slightly, tentatively laying her hand upon his forearm as he moved his hand away from his face.
"I...I am sorry for what I said...that you wouldn't...couldn't understand how I felt...about the loss of my family..." Her tone was soft and earnest.

"I can only begin to imagine the hurt and sorrow you have experienced, the loss of my family is one I know will never forget and that will pain my heart for sometime to come but to lose my children and the one I loved...I can't begin to...I am truly sorry for your loss, Captain Acker..." Her delicate fingers squeezed his arm for a moment, her eyes meeting his, shining with compassion before she slowly began to withdraw, suddenly aware of how close they had become.