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Chapter Text

Cassandra gently stroked Fidella’s muzzle, the horse’s warm breath puffing against her gloved hand. The stable was quiet save for the soft rustling of hay beneath their feet, the snorts from other nearby horses and the occasional scurry of a mouse darting across the floor. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the stable windows, casting golden hues on the hay and polished wood.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Cassandra promised softly as she pat Fidella’s neck. “One week, tops. The island I’m going to is too small for you to stretch your legs anyway, you’ll be in far better hands here.”

Fidella huffed, lifting her head. Her ears flicked toward the faint rumble of thunder in the distance, and her nostrils flared, picking up the scent of rain on the horizon. She tried to warn Cassandra with a low neigh, but the human’s soft words continued unabated.

Cassandra’s heart was heavy with guilt. It was rare for her to leave Fidella behind. They’d been through so much together, from Rapunzel’s adventures to long nights alone under the stars.

But this trip was one Cassandra had to do alone.

Fidella pressed her head against Cassandra’s shoulder, a silent protest.

“I know, girl,” Cassandra murmured, scratching Fidella’s favourite spot behind her ears. “I’d take you with me if I could, but it’s a small boat. I doubt they’d welcome a horse aboard.”

Fidella’s neighs grew louder as Cassandra stepped back.

“One week, tops,” she repeated. The package she was going to deliver heavy under her arm.

Fidella pushed her head over the door, looking slightly panicked.

Cassandra reluctantly stepped away.

The stable master approached, drawn by the horse’s agitation. “She’ll be in good hands here, don’t you worry.”

Cassandra forced a smile. “I know. Thank you.” She gives Fidella one last pat before turning away.

Her boots clicked softly against the path as she left the stables, the faint scent of salt growing stronger as she neared the docks.

The boat was nothing grand—just a small ferry heading to a nearby island—but it looked sturdy enough for the short trip; cheap too. The crew bustled about, preparing for departure as passengers boarded. Children darted excitedly between crates, and sailors helped women hoist heavy bags.

Cassandra smiled faintly, focusing on the lively scene instead of the last time she’d been on a ship. That had been with Rapunzel, and with Rapunzel, nothing was ever simple.

This voyage would be different.

As Cassandra stepped onto the deck, the murmurs started. Whispers and a few pointed fingers, as well as lingering stares—all too familiar since her fallout with Rapunzel. Rumours followed her wherever she went, some closer to the truth than others. At this point, she knew to ignore them, most wouldn’t dare confront her.

A sailor directed her to her cabin below deck. It was simple but clean—a narrow bed, a small desk, and a round window offering a view of the endless ocean. Cassandra dropped her bag and the package on the floor, removed her boots and gloves, and stretched her aching shoulders.

The sound of the waves hitting the boat made Cassandra’s heart race ever so slightly. She wasn’t sure why.

Boats were safe, she told herself. The tightness in her chest was just exhaustion.

Cassandra sank onto the bed, its warmth and softness lulling her almost immediately. By the time the ship left the dock, she was already fast asleep.

Despite how easily sleep had come, soon the gentle sway of the boat shifted. Cassandra woke up, shivering slightly. She reached for a blanket but froze at the unmistakable rumble of thunder. The smell of rain usually soothed Cassandra, the sound of raindrops hitting the roof was a comfort, but usually Cassandra wasn’t at sea when they hit.

The gentle rock of the boat soon becomes more erratic, and Cassandra could see the flashes of light in the distance through the window.

Cassandra swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her fingers instinctively curled around the hilt of her sword, even though it would be useless against a storm.

The ship heaved violently, and Cassandra was thrown to the floor. Muffled screams echoed from other parts of the ship. Above deck, Cassandra can hear the stomping of boots and shouts that rise in panic. Her thoughts turned to the families she’d seen boarding.

She scrambled to her feet, abandoning her belongings as she rushed upstairs in hopes to be able to help. She was young and strong, her father had shown her the ways around a royal barge, and she knew from experience during stressful moments an extra pair of hands was always good.

Cassandra’s boot pound against the wooden floors as she climbed the narrow staircase two steps at a time. Her heart racing as the waves pound against the ship and thunder roars around them, echoing through the small chambers.

Rain lashed against Cassandra’s face as she pushed the door open, the wind roaring like a living thing. The once-calm sea was now a churning mass of black water, towering waves battering the ship.

The crew shouted orders at one another. Their voices boom, clearly trained and even so, barely audible over the howling of the wind. Sails flapped wildly, half-lowered but still threatening to rip free. The ship itself groaned and creaked, even the hull was straining against the relentless assault of the storm.

A cry for help snapped Cassandra into action. She spotted a crewman struggling to secure a loose rope that threatened to collapse one of the sails. Without hesitation, she rushed to his side. Together, they fought the wind, muscles straining as they tied it down.

“We’re taking on water!” Another sailor shouts. “Below deck—she’s flooding!”

Cassandra’s stomach dropped as again she remembered the family’s boarding. She was about to ask if they needed to evacuate the cabins when another wave slammed into the side of the ship, tilting it dangerously. Cassandra staggered, grabbing onto the nearest rail to keep herself upright. She looked around at the chaos—the crew running frantically; the rain pouring—she didn’t wait for orders as she rushed back down towards the cabins, determined to get all the people to safety to the best of her abilities.

Cassandra burst through the door leading below deck, nearly losing her footing on the drenched wood as she descended the narrow staircase in a rush. The further she went, the louder the chaos became—panicked cries, shouted instructions, children wailing, and beneath it all, the ominous groaning of the ship's structure, somehow audible over the cacophony.

As she descended, the sound of rushing water became unmistakable. The lower deck was dimly lit, with murky water already reaching up to her knees. Cracks in the wood allowed water to surge in with each wave crashing against the ship, causing the level to rise rapidly. Passengers stumbled through the water, clutching belongings or frozen in fear. A young mother stood wide-eyed, cradling her baby as the water covered her feet, too terrified to move.

“Everybody, we need to get out!” Cassandra shouted over the commotion, splashing forward. “Everyone up to the deck—now! Leave everything behind, children first and no pushing!”

Some passengers hesitated, their gazes uncertain. Others, realising the dire situation, began to move. Cassandra grabbed a man by the arm as he struggled to drag a heavy trunk through the rising water.

“There’s no time for that!” she barked, pushing him toward the staircase. “The ship is sinking—go!”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but then it seemed to hit him. He dropped the trunk, grabbing his wife’s hand and hurried toward the stairs.

Cassandra guided and encouraged people along, heading deeper down the hall, pushing open every cabin door to make sure nobody got left behind.

Another powerful wave struck the ship, sending her sprawling to the floor. The icy water soaked her completely, but she scrambled back to her feet to continue her work.

“Come on! Hurry up!” she shouted, her voice hoarse at this point as she helped an older man to his feet. Before pulling a couple of children into her arms, the water was now becoming too high for the children to even walk in. She struggled to get them to the stairs, turning around, gesturing for the rest to follow.

The water surged higher, now reaching her thighs and slowing her movements. The ship was sinking fast. There wasn’t much time left.

A young boy caught her attention, standing in the corner clutching a large stuffed animal. The sodden toy weighed him down, but he refused to let it go.

Cassandra splashed toward him. “It’s okay,” she said gently. “I’m going to get you out of here, alright?”

The boy nodded, his wide eyes filled with fear. Cassandra lifted him into her arms. Though he was light, her muscles screamed. She turned towards the stairs, nodding to the mother who had two babies already in her arms.

“Hold on tight,” she urged the child as they followed the other passengers upwards.

Her heart pounded as she took one last look at the cabins and saw the water surging through the open doors. The paranoid part her wanted to go back and check everybody was safe, but she had to trust herself—she’d opened every door, checked every room. There wasn’t time for a second sweep; the lower deck would soon be fully submerged.

“Go!” she shouted at those ahead, pushing herself to move faster. As she reached the top she handed the boy over to a sailor who was holding open the door and helping everyone out.

She was relieved to be outside, to have the sky above her head rather than a thick wooden ceiling, but she also knew the worst was yet to come.

“We need to get everyone off the ship!” Cassandra shouted, not sure if anyone could even hear her over the storm.

Her eyes scanned the deck, searching for the lifeboats. She saw them, crewmen were already working on getting them up, but there clearly weren’t enough. There were too few, and they were too small. There was no way everyone would fit.

A wave of panic rose in her chest, but she shoved it aside. There was no time for that.

“Everyone to the lifeboats!” she shouted, waving passengers toward safety. “Children first! Leave all belongings behind!”

Cassandra knew shortly there was going to need to be difficult choices made, but for now, the choice was simple; children cry, parents try to comfort them and Cassandra guides them onto the boats without hesitation.

The first lifeboat is lowered, filled with children, mothers and a few small animals. Their terrified faces disappeared into the storm as the ropes creaked, lowering them into the churning sea below. Cassandra watched, her heart heavy as she helped one child after another into the second boat. One small girl grabs onto her arm, tiny fingers trembling. “Please don’t leave us!” she pleads, tears mixing with the rain.

“I won’t…” Cassandra promises, even as she knows she may not be able to keep that promise. “I’ll be right behind you.”

The third and final lifeboat descended. It carried the remaining children, the older man she’d helped, and several parents.

There are not more lifeboats.

And the ship is shipping fast.

The rest of them would soon be at the mercy of the sea and the storm.

The ship lurched violently once more and Cassandra, who wasn’t holding onto anything, hit the deck hard. Her breath knocked out of her as another wave crashed over the ship, soaking her completely once more. She struggled to stand, clutching her side as she looked around. It was chaos. People were clinging to anything they could, railings, the hull, trying to keep themselves above water as the upper deck too became flooded.

“We’re sinking!” someone screamed, and Cassandra almost wanted to make a snide comment about how obvious that fact was.

Her eyes frantically searched for something she could do. But there was nothing. The storm was too strong; the waves were too high; the ship wasn’t just sinking; it had already sunk. Her hands once more moved to the hilt of her sword, a small comfort, a force of habit. But even she couldn’t fight against the forces of nature.

She was only here on this ferry because she was meant to deliver a package, a package that, alongside all her other belongings, were now somewhere in the depth of the ship, lost to the water and soon to the depth of the ocean.

There was no time to mourn such a loss; in all likelihood she’d be joining her belongings soon enough.

She turned towards the people clinging to the railings. “Stop clinging to a sinking ship and grab onto anything that floats!” she shouted, pushing a piece of floating debris towards them. “Grab onto anything that floats! Your life depends on it!”

The ship groaned ominously, tilting further as its demise became inevitable.

Just as the ship disappeared beneath the waves, Cassandra braced herself for the worst.

But then the storm shifted.

The howling wind died, the rain slowed, and the clouds parted, revealing a pale, glowing moon. Its light reflected off the water, now eerily calm, casting a silver glow over the wreckage.

The sudden stillness after so much chaos was almost surreal.

For a moment, silence reigned. Gentle waves lapped at the floating debris as survivors clung to planks and barrels, pale-faced and exhausted but alive.

Cassandra clung to a piece of wood, her legs kicking beneath her to stay afloat. She scanned the faces nearby, unwilling to count or confirm who had made it. For now, she chose to believe everyone was there.

The storm may be gone, but it could return just as fast, and there was no land in sight. The lifeboats may reach land, but they may just as likely be floating somewhere just as stranded as them awaiting rescue.

But while the lifeboats could afford to wait, Cassandra could tell those with her didn’t have the strength to last much more than a night.

Cassandra glanced up at the sky.

The moon was bright enough now to guide the survivors toward some glimmer of hope, a faint promise in the darkness—but Cassandra couldn’t help but feel some resentment towards it. The tides that had raged against them, Varian had once told her they were guided by the moon.

She felt a flicker of old anger stir in her chest; she knew better than to blame the moon itself—she doubted it had any sentience, any malice, but still, as she looked up at the glowing orb in the sky, she couldn’t help but wonder, just for a moment, if it had been part of the forces trying to drown her tonight.

Chapter Text

The water stretched endlessly before the survivors. Ripples formed as they kicked their legs to stay afloat, huddling together around scattered debris. Beyond their small circle, the water dissolved into an endless black void—still and silent, unnervingly so after the chaos of the storm.

The waves against the broken wood made a gentle lapping sound but brought with it a biting cold that seeped through their clothes, leaving everyone shivering. Some wept quietly, while others stared blankly at the horizon, their shock evident.

The captain, an older man with decades of experience behind him and perhaps only a few years left before retirement, had his arm slung over a large piece of wood. His grim expression did not invite questions, but someone had to ask.

A woman who had sent her husband and daughter away on one of the life-boats, seeing herself as the better swimmer, spoke up, “Captain... will there be another boat coming through these waters soon?”

The captain shook his head slowly, the lines on his face deepened as his glance moved across the wreckage, avoiding the eyes of his passengers. “Not anytime soon…” he muttered. “Our best chance is for the lifeboats to reach land and send help but… the tides are not in our favour, they are calm, unmoving. Another boat may well not be seen in these parts for days.”

A murmur of hopelessness rippled through the group, some clutching their loved ones tightly, others falling deeper into despair.

“What about swimming?” Cassandra asked.

“Land’s too far,” one of the crew answered flatly. “At least a day’s sail. You’d tire and drown long before making it to shore.”

Cassandra felt her hear sink as her grip tightened on her piece of debris. She’d thought the worst was over once the storm passed, but now it looked like their fate was still sealed. But as she raised her eyes, taking in the faces of those around her, something in her refused to accept this fate. This wasn’t her first ship-wreck, though it may be her worse. She’d been through deadlier adventures before and always come out the other side. She refused to fall victim to a simple storm at sea.

“How far is land exactly?” she pressed, her voice cutting through some of the hopeless chatter.

“Far,” the captain said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Even the strongest swimmer would be lucky to make it by next nightfall. There’s no land in between, no rocks or islands to rest on.”

Cassandra’s jaw tightened as she considered his warnings. She was a good swimmer. She had a lot of stamina, she’d spent her whole life training—pushing herself to and past her limits, building up strength, endurance. She could run further and faster than any of the guards without breaking a sweat. If anybody stood a chance at making it to land and finding help, it was her. And even if she didn’t make it, that was still better than sitting around waiting to die.

“I’ll swim for it,” she said, determination hardening her voice.

“You’ll never make it…” one of the crew members said, his voice hollow, he didn’t seem very determined to convince her, he also didn’t seem to hold out much hope.

“I’m strong enough,” Cassandra said, more for herself than anyone else. “I can make it. I have to try.”

Before anyone could argue further, she took a deep breath and pushed herself off the debris, her muscles immediately protested both about the effort and the icy chill of the water that now reached up to her neck. She swam a few strokes, testing the resistance, the waves tugged at her limbs; her muscles already felt sore from the effort of saving passengers earlier, but she’d trained through the pain before.

The trick was not to think about it—to focus, to believe she could make it no matter what—to keep moving.

She glanced back at the other passengers and crew, they didn’t really look at her, they all had hopeless expressions, it was clear they didn’t believe she’d make it. She hoped they’d hold on as long as possible, long enough for her to get help.

She set her sights on the horizon and began swimming. Her strokes were strong and steady, cutting through the calm water. But as minutes turned to hours, each stroke grew heavier. The ocean’s vastness mocked her efforts, its unchanging horizon a reminder of how far she had to go.

But she kept going.

Time blurred. Her muscles burned, then went numb. Her limbs grew heavy. She fought to keep her strokes even, her breathing controlled.

The shipwreck was long out of view, but still there was no sign of land.

The moon’s slow descent offered the only sign that time—and hopefully distance—was passing. Still, no land appeared.

As the moon neared the horizon, her breaths grew shallow, her strokes sloppy.

Panic began to claw at her chest, a feeling that was unwelcome and unhelpful.

She scanned the horizon, but it remained the same. No sign of shore, not even the tallest roof or tree peeking out in the distance.

She needed a break. She looked around, hoping for a rock, some debris, anything—but there was nothing.

Reality began to settle in—she wasn’t strong enough. Not this time. She couldn’t make it to land… but she also couldn’t stop trying.

She kept going.

Exhaustion weighed down her limbs.

The saltwater stung her eyes.

She wasn’t breathing enough.

Her movements were slowing.

She was barely able to keep her head above water.

Saltwater filled her mouth, and she struggled to spit it out.

She kept kicking, but her legs were cramping.

Desperation filled her heart.

Tears fill her eyes, but they mixed with the rest of the sea.

She feels the cold in her bones.

She almost gave up.

But then she saw something in the distance. A light—a faint and flickering light. She wasn’t sure if she dared to hope, but she couldn’t afford not to. She let hope fill her as she squinted her eyes and could just make out the silhouette of a ship.

Still, she wondered if perhaps it was a trick of the light, or a cruel illusion.

But if hope would get her to swim just a little further, she’d take it. She tried to move towards the ship.

“Help!” she called out, her voice hoarse and ragged from exhaustion. “Help! Please!”

She forced herself to keep swimming, though her strokes were messier as she tried to keep her gaze fixed on the ship, like it’d disappeared if she blinked.

It was growing larger, closer. Had they seen her? Were they coming for her? The ship was grand under the moonlight, far bigger than the ferry the storm had eaten up. She swam closer with everything she had left, strokes sloppy and desperate. She could see the ship’s sails in the moonlight, swaying in the breeze.

She screamed again, louder. “Help!”

The lanterns moved and to Cassandra’s relief, she could see movement on deck, voices and finally rope was lowered down.

“Grab on!” a voice shouted into the night, Cassandra didn’t need telling twice.

She wrapped her hands around the rope and gripped onto it for dear life; she didn’t have the strength to climb, but the men seemed well aware of that as they began to pull the rope back up.

Cassandra’s body spasmed as the cold breeze hit her soaked body, the cold making her want to throw up, but she managed to keep her hold on the rope. Then strong hands were grabbing onto her arms and hauling her aboard.

She collapsed onto the deck, gasping for air, coughing up seawater, her limbs shaking uncontrollably from the cold and exhaustion, too weak to even sit up, tears streaming down her face. But despite the pain, she was alive, she was on a boat, she’d done it. She’d survived.

She could hear the murmurs of the surrounding crew. She had to inform them of the shipwreck so they could help, but before she could, she heard the clicking of boots as the captain approached.

“Well, well, well…” a woman’s voice, one Cassandra recognised but was too tired to place, “look what the tide dragged in.”

Cassandra’s eyes rose to see a figure standing over her, hands on her hips, fiery red hair glinting in the lantern light. A smirk played on her lips, though surprise flickered in her expression.

Cassandra had fought this woman only twice before, but she would recognise her anywhere: Lady Caine.

Chapter Text

Cassandra lay sprawled on the deck, struggling to breathe. The cold air gnawed at her lungs, and her limbs ached, too heavy to lift. Water dripped steadily from her hair and clothes, pooling beneath her trembling form.

Above her, Lady Caine loomed, arms crossed and a smirk curling her lips. Amusement danced in her eyes, satisfied to have a once formidable enemy helpless at her feet.

“Well, well,” Caine drawled. “Didn’t expect a visit from the princess’s loyal lapdog. What brings you to these waters? Pleasure cruise gone wrong?”

Cassandra forced herself to shove aside her pride—and the sinking feeling of having landed on an enemy ship. She had no time for regrets or trading barbs. The mission she’d set out to complete wasn’t over, and lives were still at stake.

With effort, she dragged herself onto her knees, her entire body trembling from the strain. “Please,” she begged, bowing her head. “You have to help them.”

Caine’s smirk widened. “Help who?”

“The ferry…” Cassandra gasped, her breath ragged and uneven.

Caine’s expression flickered, one eyebrow arching. A ferry? She’d been prepared to gloat if it were some royal vessel, imagining the poetic justice of Corona’s elite meeting their end at sea, much like her father. But a ferry?

“It sank in the storm,” Cassandra pressed on, desperation dripping from every word. “There are people—families—clinging to the wreckage. They’ll die out there. You have to rescue them. Please.” Her voice cracked, the weight of exhaustion dragging her down, but she didn’t stop. “I’ll do anything.”

Caine’s smirk faltered entirely. “A ferry?” she repeated, her tone disappointed.

Cassandra nodded, her damp hair sticking to her face. “To the island. The people don’t have much, but you can ransom them—or something. Please… just… don’t let them die.”

At this point, Lady Caine’s expression was unreadable, but her smirk was long gone.

“If it’s money you want, you’ll get it. Ransom me—Rapunzel, the princess, Corona will pay you, but those people… they don’t deserve to die.”

Caine’s eyes returned to Cassandra for a second. “You’ll throw yourself at my mercy for a bunch of strangers?”

Cassandra nodded. “Yes.”

There was a tense pause as the words hung in the air, Cassandra’s laboured breathing the only sound. Lady Caine stared down at her. For a moment, Cassandra feared her plea had fallen on deaf ears.

But then Caine’s gaze shifted to the horizon. Without another word to Cassandra, she spun on her heel and barked orders to her crew, her voice sharp and commanding.

“Lower the sails! Get the lifeboats ready! Move!”

The crew leapt into action, adjusting the sails and readying the ship. The vessel shifted, catching the wind as it turned in the direction Cassandra had come from.

Still kneeling, Cassandra blinked, struggling to process what had just happened. Had she been successful in her pleas?

Lady Caine continued issuing orders, her attention entirely on the task at hand. Then, as if remembering Cassandra’s presence, her sharp gaze flicked back to her, an afterthought but one that needed addressing.

“Tie her to the mast,” Caine barked at one of her men, her voice laced with bitterness. “She’s caused me enough trouble in the past.”

Cassandra didn’t resist as the pirate approached. His rough hands gripped her arm, hauling her up with surprising care. Her legs wobbled beneath her, nearly giving out the moment her feet touched the deck. She stumbled forward, her vision spinning as the world swayed around her.

“Easy now,” the pirate muttered gruffly, steadying her as he guided her to the mast. Once there, he shifted his grip, easing her down into a seated position. “Just gotta tie you up,” he mumbled, his tone flat, almost apologetic, as he worked to secure her wrists behind her back with a length of rope. “Captain’s orders.”

Cassandra barely registered his words. Her attention was fixed on the horizon, where the ship’s course had shifted, now sailing toward the wreckage.

The pirate propped Cassandra up against the mast, her back resting against the wood as he secured her to it with more rope. Cassandra still didn’t care, far too exhausted to feel any humiliation or shame over the situation. Far more grateful than anything else, even if the rope was digging into her wrists a bit.

As the pirate left her side, her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the motion of the ship and her exhaustion almost enough to lull her to sleep. But she forced herself to open her eyes, to stay alert. She needed to see the rescue.

In an attempt to stay wake she focused on the crew. The pirates worked with swift precision, readying the lifeboats and gathering supplies—ropes, blankets, whatever might be needed. Their movements were coordinated, their teamwork seamless.

Cassandra could respect their skills—they were pirates, yes, but they were also clearly well trained, efficient, and capable. There were far worse ships that could have come to Cassandra’s rescue.

Lady Caine stood tall at the helm, her eyes sharp as they scanned the horizon, her voice cutting through everything else as she barked orders. She coordinated her crew with the ease of a seasoned leader.

As the ship drew closer to the site of the ferry’s sinking, faint silhouettes began to emerge in the distance—figures clinging desperately to debris.

The rising sun cast a pale glow over the wreckage: broken planks, shredded sails, scattered belongings bobbing on the now-calm sea. Survivors clung to whatever they could, their faces pale and drawn, their limbs trembling from cold and exhaustion.

The pirates wasted no time. Lifeboats splashed into the water, their ropes creaking as they descended. Crews rowed toward the survivors, calling out as they approached.

“Alright, we’ve got ya, let’s get y’all up!”

The survivors, weak and shivering, reached up with trembling hands. Pirates hauled them into the lifeboats, wrapping them in blankets as soon as they were safely aboard.

One pirate helped the captain aboard, his hands icy and trembling from the cold. “Where are yer lifeboats?” he asked, voice low and urgent. “How many are there?”

“Three…” he responded, lips pale. “They drifted south. I don’t know where they are now.”

The pirate nodded, signalling back to Lady Caine, who was still at the helm. Soon as the survivors were on the deck, she got back to barking orders. “Alright guys, we’re heading south. We’re not leaving anyone behind. Let’s move!”

The ship lurched forward once more; the pirates working in unison to prepare for more people.

They didn’t take long to find the three lifeboats and started bringing them aboard. Each survivor was wrapped in a blanket. Soon, they were handing out cups of water and broth.

A small boy sat huddled on the deck, his body racked with quiet sobs. A tall pirate crouched beside him, draping an extra blanket over his shoulders.

“You’re alright, lad,” he said softly. “We’ve got ya now.”

The boy sniffled, clutching the blanket tightly. Around him, the rescued passengers slowly began to warm under the pirates’ care.

Seeing the rescue was successful, Cassandra’s eyes fluttered closed, ready to give into exhaustion until a harsh cough wracked her body. Her vision blurred, and when it cleared, she found herself staring into fiery red hair illuminated by the morning sun.

Lady Caine knelt in front of her, one hand resting firmly on Cassandra’s shoulder, her sharp eyes glinting with concern that she quickly masked with a smirk.

“Weren’t strong enough to take on the sea, were ya?”

Cassandra’s head lolled forward and as it did, she registered the fact there was something warm draped over her shoulders. Caine tugged at the edges of the blanket, ensuring it was snug around her shivering form.

Cassandra’s body instinctively curled into the warmth.

Caine held a flask of water up to Cassandra’s lips, tipping it gently. “Drink.”

The cool water slipped past Cassandra’s cracked lips, and she swallowed greedily. She hadn’t realised how thirsty she was until that moment. The water tasted so good, not salty at all.

Caine watched her closely, her brows furrowed into an expression of concern, before she quickly masked it with a smirk as she lowered the flask. “You’re at my mercy now… and doesn’t look like you’ll be giving me much of a fight,” she laughed.

Cassandra mustered a weak glare. “You don’t have to remind me.”

Caine chuckled, soft and low. Her fingers moved almost unconsciously to brush a damp strand of hair from Cassandra’s too pale face. Her touch lingered for just a moment, her expression unreadable, before she drew back.

“Get more blankets over here,” Caine barked to her crew without turning away. “And some broth. We need her alive for ransom…” she added, as if needing an excuse for her display of kindness.

Cassandra’s eyelids grew heavy again as warmth began to seep back into her body. For a fleeting moment, the sound of Caine’s voice and the promise of broth felt almost reassuring—though she knew better than to let her guard down.

As her crew hurried to fetch supplies, Caine’s gaze lingered on Cassandra. She’d seen this woman fight before—had even been bested by her. Cassandra was fierce, formidable, and relentless. Yet now, she looked fragile in a way that didn’t speak of weakness, but of sacrifice. She had poured every ounce of strength into saving the people now huddled on Caine’s ship.

Caine could respect that.

She tore her eyes away and turned back to oversee the rescue efforts.

As the sun rose higher, the last survivors were pulled from the water. The pirates worked tirelessly, ensuring no one was left behind. Blankets and hot broth were distributed, and the ship was alive with the quiet murmur of survivors finding solace after despair.

Satisfied that everyone was accounted for, Caine’s gaze drifted back to Cassandra. She sat propped against the mast, cocooned in blankets, her head drooping as exhaustion overtook her. Eyes only half open as one of the crew knelt beside her, carefully helping her sip broth.

A plan began to form in Caine’s mind. Ransom negotiations would inevitably lead them to Corona, and with weeks of travel ahead, Cassandra would have time to recover from her ordeal.

Caine would see to it.

Chapter Text

The pirate ship eased into the harbour at dawn, the sun casting a soft golden glow over the bustling island. As the ship pulled up to the dock, sailors murmured among themselves, unease lingering in their voices. But atop the ship, the small crowd was overjoyed to have reached their destination alive. The survivors began to disembark. One by one, passengers shuffled off the ship. While they looked tired, there was energy in their steps and their faces brightened as their feet came onto solid ground.

One woman, an older woman wearing a golden necklace that glimmered in the sunlight approached Lady Caine. Her trembling hands moved behind her neck, unclasping the chain and holding it out towards the pirate captain, offering it to her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I have little to give, but—”

Lady Caine held up a hand, refusing the gesture. “Keep it.” Her eyes shifted to the water. “You’ve already lost more than enough,” she said, her voice quiet yet firm.

The woman hesitated, but then a smile spread across her lips, she held the necklace close to her chest. It clearly held some sort of value beyond the material. “Thank you,” she repeated. “May the gods bless your soul.”

Caine shook her head. “The only blessing I need is that of the tide, for the ocean is far more powerful than any god I’ve heard off…” she murmured.

As the last of the passengers descended onto the port, Cassandra—still tied at the mast—watched Caine closely, eyebrows raising slightly as she approached. Caine noticed Cassandra’s gaze, stiffening slightly as a smirk slid across Cassandra’s face. “What?” Caine glared. “Don’t get any ideas. I’ll be getting more than enough from your ransom,” she said, crossing her arms. “And that necklace? Probably not worth the time to sell.”

Cassandra didn’t look convinced, Caine almost kept defending herself but instead rolled her eyes. She turned back towards the crew, barking orders to set sail once more. It wasn’t safe to stay at the dock for long, so with the survivors off they worked swiftly to move away from the shore.

The town soon grew small.

Cassandra wondered where the package she’d been meant to deliver was… probably with the fishes.

Before she could mourn a failed job, she noticed the ropes around her loosening.

“You don’t stand a chance of escape,” Caine informed as she untied the ropes. “Ship’s crawling with pirates who’d happily put you right back in those ropes—including me.”

Cassandra met her gaze with a tired look. “No intentions of running,” she replied simply. “You did save a bunch of people, and you deserve to be compensated for it, even if it’s through a ransom.”

Caine blinked in surprise at Cassandra’s answer, her mouth twitched into a faint smile. “Good,” she muttered, grabbing Cassandra’s upper arm firmly and helping her to her feet before leading her.

Caine brought her to a solid wooden door that Cassandra knew to be the captain’s quarters. Her father had explained the layout of ships many times before. The room itself was far less luxurious than the captain’s quarters Cassandra had seen on Corona’s warships. It was neat, though. A small yet sturdy bed, a desk with maps, a table and chair, a stove, a chest, a wardrobe, an empty barrel, and, for some reason, a pile of thick blankets on the floor furnished the space.

“This’ll be your cell for the next week or so.” Caine pushed Cassandra inside, trying to sound more irritated than she actually was. “We don’t have guest rooms.”

“Or cells?” Cassandra asked.

Caine didn’t answer. Instead, she set a large pot on the stove before moving to rifle through a chest, fishing out a set of clean clothes and placing them on the edge of the bed. “Get undressed. I won’t have your stench in this room,” she grumbled.

As Caine turned to fill the barrel, a makeshift bathtub, she inadvertently caught a glimpse of Cassandra’s side as the woman shrugged off her shirt. A dark, mottled bruise spread across her rib-cage, the skin purple and swollen from where she’d hit the deck during the storm. Caine’s face shifted, her expression darkening.

“Who did that to you?”

Cassandra’s brows furrowed in confusion, and she glanced down at her bruise before looking back up, realisation dawning on her. “The storm,” she replied, amused.

A flicker of embarrassment coloured Caine’s cheeks, and she quickly looked away, busying herself with the water as if nothing had happened. “Hurry up. Water’s hot.” She motioned to the barrel.

Cassandra didn’t need telling twice. She moved forward and sank gratefully into the warm water. Her sore muscles relaxed as she leaned against the barrel, the salt that had irritated her skin washing away. If she were alone, Cassandra might have cried from the relief that swept over her body.

Caine pulled a stool close, grabbing a jug to pour fresh water over Cassandra’s hair, before grabbing a comb to tackle the salty knots that had formed in it. Caine’s fingers worked gently, yet efficiently, untangling the hair like she would detangle ropes on the upper deck and washing away the remnants of the storm. She didn’t say a word and Cassandra, who was practically falling asleep, didn’t either. The only sound was the gentle sloshing of water as Caine poured it over Cassandra’s hair.

After almost an hour of soaking the water was starting to cool. Cassandra finally stood, drying herself off with a towel and slipping into the clean clothes, the trousers and light fitting blouse were far more comfortable than her previously damp tunic and leggings. Her eyes moved to the pile of blankets on the floor, realising that must be where Caine planned for her to sleep.

Caine, however, hesitated, her gaze flicking between the pile and Cassandra before she gestured to the bed with a reluctant sigh. “Take it,” she muttered. “I know firsthand the exhaustion of swimming and you’ll need proper rest to recover.”

Cassandra blinked. “Are… you sure?”

“Don’t make me say it twice,” Caine grumbled, grabbing a pillow from the chair before settling down on the floor. Cassandra’s brows knitted as she watched Caine lie down on the makeshift bed, her expression softening with gratitude.

“You know…” Cassandra glanced down at her, “the bed’s big enough for the both of us… I don’t move at all in my sleep and sleeping on the floor is terrible for the back.”

Caine’s mouth opened, then shut. She looked at the bed, rubbing her neck awkwardly before muttering, “Fine. But if it turns out you kick me, I’m throwing you to the floor.”

Cassandra nodded, lying down first. Caine seemed hesitant, but eventually she climbed in beside her, back turned towards Cassandra.

Cassandra could feel Caine’s back; the bed truly wasn’t that big, but it wasn’t a bother. Her eyes drifted shut. Despite being amidst pirates, she felt calm, safe even.

Beside her, Lady Caine lay still, aware of every breath, every small shift, but gradually, the rhythm of Cassandra’s breathing lulled her to sleep as the ship drifted quietly across the dark sea.

Chapter Text

The morning light slipped through a small, dusty window in the cabin, casting a faint glow across the room. Cassandra stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She realised she could no longer feel Caine behind her. She didn’t have time to wonder where Caine was, though, before she heard the quiet creak of the door and the soft thud of a tray being placed on the edge of the desk.

“Awake yet, or are you planning to sleep the day away?” Caine’s voice, unusually soft, floated across the room, purposefully quiet enough it wouldn’t wake Cassandra if she were sleeping.

Cassandra shifted, wincing when every inch of her body seemed to protest. She realised she was finally paying the toll for the last few days, no adrenaline left to mask the pain.

She forced herself into a sitting position, regardless.

Caine, seeing her struggle, carefully lifted the mug of coffee from the tray and helped Cassandra to grasp it, before gesturing to the tray where some bread, alongside a small pot of jam and butter, lay within reach.

Cassandra gave a grateful nod, taking in the smell of the coffee before taking a slow, steady sip, savouring it’s flavour. It was perhaps more bitter than she was used to but she could appreciate how the taste woke her, grounding her even.

Caine turned back to her desk, rummaging through drawers until she found parchment and ink. Cassandra reached for the bread, spreading butter and jam with deliberate, steady movements.

“So,” Caine began, dipping her quill into the ink. “Your little princess—how’s she going to react when she gets my ransom demand?”

Cassandra shrugged, chewing on her bread, too absorbed in the flavours to take Caine’s attempted teasing seriously. “She’ll come,” she replied between bites, reaching for more jam. “Rapunzel doesn’t leave anyone behind.”

“Good for you then,” Caine muttered, jotting down her message in broad strokes, her eyes glinting as she looked back at Cassandra. “I plan to get payed. If not by the princess, I’ll find another way to make money out of you.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, swallowing her last bite of bread. “You wouldn’t have much trouble. I’m wanted in a few kingdoms. One of them’s bound to pay for my delivery—unless, of course, you’re wanted there too.”

Caine paused, her quill hovering mid-air. “You? Wanted?” She paused, then her expression shifted as a memory of a rumour flickered in the back of her mind. “Because of the moonstone? I heard something, but I assumed it was false…”

Cassandra nodded, setting the empty plate back onto the tray. Well, it was true. Made a bit of a mess for myself back then.”

Caine laughed, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Oh, we’re definitely talking about that later.” She rolled up the parchment, pointing it at Cassandra with a grin. “I’ll send this off now, but when I’m back, I expect the full story.”

Cassandra’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Alright,” she agreed, leaning back against the wall. “Guess that’s the least I can do for my hero, huh?”

Caine’s expression soured. “Not a hero.”

“Savior, then?”

Caine huffed and pretended not to hear as she slammed the door on her way out.

When Caine returned, she was carrying her own breakfast, settling herself at the edge of the bed as she sliced her bread. Cassandra found the silence between them was strangely comfortable. It wasn’t awkward like with some.

“So… you stole a magical artefact?” Caine asked.

“Yeah… the moonstone. It was the cause of those black rocks that used to be everywhere.”

“Woah, okay, so like, very powerful magical artefact?”

Cassandra nodded. “The counterpart to the Sundrop.”

“Sundrop? The flower that saved Corona’s queen?”

“Yeah. The one that gave Rapunzel that indestructible hair that caused you so much trouble.”

Caine snickered, pointing her bread at Cassandra accusingly. “I think a certain lady-in-waiting caused me far more trouble than that hair. With a candle-holder, no less…” she trailed off, looking faintly embarrassed.

“Don’t feel bad. I’m a very skilled warrior.”

“If you’re so skilled, why’d you need the Moonstone?”

Cassandra’s smile dropped, her eyes falling to her hands. “Ah… well… it’s complicated.”

Caine took another bite of her breakfast, not pushing for more, but waiting.

“I didn’t feel valued,” Cassandra admitted, her voice quieter. “Everyone around me had something—power, respect, admiration—but I felt undermined, even by my so-called friends. It made me feel like I was nothing… which made me angry.”

Caine nodded, humming in understanding.

“I thought the Moonstone could change that,” Cassandra said, sighing.

“I get that.” Caine’s voice was unusually subdued. “The being undervalued part, not the stealing-a-major-magical-artefact part. I usually limit my thefts to simple monetary value items.”

Cassandra let out a soft laugh.

“After my dad died, I felt absolutely useless… I was willing to do anything to feel like more than just… a shadow?” she hesitated, looking away as memories surfaced.

“Turns out power just makes everything feel a little emptier…” Cassandra said.

Caine took a thoughtful bite, chewing as she watched Cassandra. “Yeah… funny, isn’t it? You reach for something you think will fill that emptiness and then… it just widens it.”

Cassandra tilted her head, watching Caine carefully. “Does that mean you’re done seeking vengeance against the royal family?”

Caine rolled her eyes. “I have a ship to manage, that’s my new purpose in life.” Caine stood up. “But if possibilities for a little vengeance come to me,” she raised her brows at Cassandra, implying she was precisely that. “I take it.”

Cassandra smiled. “You just go with the flow, huh?”

Caine flinched. “Was that a sea pun?”

Cassandra nodded proudly, her grin widening.

Caine’s whole face scrunched up with disgust as he picked up the now empty plates and mugs. “You’re lucky you have monetary value, or I’d be throwing you right back overboard.”

“Sure.”

“We aren’t friends. Do not mistake my amusement for kindness.”

“I saw how you rushed to save those people. You wouldn’t just kill someone.”

Caine gave Cassandra an odd look, but didn’t deny the statement either. “Rest. I’ll check on you throughout the day. Remember this is your prison so you better not leave.”

Cassandra settled down into the bed, indicating she had no intent of even getting out of bed.

Caine left, trusting Cassandra alone in her private quarters despite being a supposed enemies.

After a few days of rest, Cassandra had colour returning to her face. She’d found the energy to read a book Caine had given her and was now using her newfound energy to pace around the quarters.

Caine appeared at the door, leaning casually against the frame as she watched the woman pace, a familiar smirk forming. “I feel like you’re gettin’ a bit too comfortable in here.”

Cassandra frowned, she’d describe her current state as rather uncomfortable actually, but given where she’d come from she didn’t really feel like she had the right to complain. She could be in a cell, instead she was in the Captain’s quarters. Yet she longed to be outside, to walk, to feel the wind and the sun through more than just a tiny window.

“Come on,” Caine said, motioning with her head.

Cassandra looked surprised. “Really?”

Caine rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Clearly, ya need to stretch yer legs, and I can’t have the princess docking my ransom for neglecting my hostage.”

Cassandra smiled, rushing to follow.

“Besides, ‘bout time you saw the rest of the ship.”

Cassandra nodded. As she stepped out into the open air, the sunlight was a warm contrast to the dim cabin. She took a deep breath, her lungs grateful for the fresh sea breeze. She watched the crew working, ropes in their hands and boots thudding against the hard wooden deck. Their movements were quick, coordinated, and confident. They laughed and chatted as they got on with the daily chores.

“I could help out,” Cassandra offered, glancing sideways at Caine. “I’m a good, strong worker.”

Caine raised an eyebrow. “You tryin’ to bribe me for more deck time?”

Cassandra didn’t answer.

Caine laughed. She was surprised by the offer but not displeased. “I ain’t sure how much you’re gonna be able to help after your recent near death experience, but we can always use an extra pair of hands on deck. Come,” she gestured for Cassandra to follow. “I’ll show you the ropes… literally.”

She led Cassandra to the main deck and began a quick lesson on how to tie certain knots for securing the sails and cargo. Cassandra watched intently, mirroring Caine’s motions, and when her first knot held steady, Caine gave her a curt nod of approval.

Cassandra grinned, glad to keep herself busy. Soon she was moving around the deck, helping wherever needed. She even got the crew laughing with her as they shared stories of past adventures, and they welcomed her presence, impressed by her adaptability.

It was later in the day when a bird flying high suddenly swooped down, surprising several of the crew, who weren’t sure what to make of the bird until it landed on Cassandra’s shoulder, nuzzling her cheek with a soft hoot.

“Owl!” Cassandra smiled, scratching the bird on the head, not surprised to see him searching for her after the storm. “Tell Fidella I’m alright…” she whispered, figuring the horse was equally, if not more, worried. Owl chirped before taking off again.

From the helm, Caine observed Cassandra with interest. She should’ve been focusing on steering and managing the ship, but her gaze kept drifting. Despite her noble upbringing, Cassandra fit seamlessly among the rough-and-tumble crew of outlaws. To an outsider, she’d probably seem no different to any other pirate.

By sunset, Cassandra was exhausted but content.

Caine handed off her position to her first mate as she walked over to Cassandra. “Ready to retire for the night?”

Cassandra nodded.

“Head back to the quarters. I’ll grab supper.”

“May I help?”

“Come in the kitchen and get your hands on a knife?” Caine laughed. “No way. I like my prisoners far from weapons, unable to stab me in the back while I sleep.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Go wait for me.”

Cassandra returned to the cabin and lit the lanterns. Caine soon arrived with a tray of steaming soup and warm wine.

They ate together and soon they shared stories of their past adventures.

This became their routine. Cassandra worked like another member of the crew throughout the day, and every night, they shared stories. Stories that grew more personal each night.

“Sometimes,” Cassandra murmured, “I think Corona’s royal family… they’re good people, but they don’t always see what’s in front of them. Or who they’re leaving behind.” She trailed off, looking away. “It’s hard, fighting for something you believe in when those in charge don’t seem willing to look past their own nose.”

Caine glanced at her thoughtfully, chewing her food slowly as she considered her next words. “Takes a certain kind of stubbornness to keep fighting when no one’s got your back or understands what you’re fighting for.” Her tone held a hint of bitterness, but her gaze was soft. “Maybe that’s something we both understand too well.”

Cassandra set down her mug, her expression earnest. “You know, Caine, if you wanted to be… I think you could be a good person. There’s more to you than—well, being a villain.”

Caine’s eyes flashed in amusement, though a bit of sincerity softened her smile. “I recently saved a ship full of civilians. Doesn’t that on its own qualify me to be good? After that, would you still call me the villain?”

Cassandra smirked, sitting back. “So, what are you, then? A hero?”

Caine rolled her eyes, realising too late that she’d walked right into Cassandra’s trap. With a half-hearted glare, she reached for a cushion and tossed it at Cassandra, who caught it with a laugh.

That night, as they lay side-by-side, both women found themselves looking forward to the next day, to the routine and the company, to the time they had left together before they unavoidably parted ways to follow different paths.

It hadn’t been long since their paths crossed, but it was getting harder to ignore how much they had come to appreciate each other.