Maraea sobbed for a long time. At last she couldn't cry another tear, or wrack another sob, and she stopped. It took her a while to realize that there was some emotion still left in her body. Hard, cold determination had closed in, and moments later she rose to her feet. Determined to show no more weakness, she crossed to the dresser, looked in the hand mirror the pirates had brought over from her things, and wiped her eyes.

She almost dropped the glass when she heard a resounding boom, and the entire room shook. She realized they were sinking her ship – along with its crew and Captain. Tossing the mirror back onto the chest, she flew to the door and wrenched it open. Garren leapt to his feet but this time he was not fast enough to catch her. She sprinted to the deck, and from there towards the railing. She was brought up short when she saw her ship, her former home, as it slowly began to sink. She looked down at the cold waves beneath her and tried to throw herself into them.

Garren caught her about the waist and dragged her away from the railing. Screaming her pain, Maraea struggled until Garren let her go. She sunk to her knees and keened for her father, his ship, the crew, and her freedom.

She lay on the deck, silent now, her cheek pressed against the rough wood, watching until even the sail had sunk beneath the ocean waves. Garren sat near her, still watching her. She heard the sound of boots, and from somewhere above her, someone said, "She has spirit."

"I know," Garren said. His voice was full of quiet admiration.

"And fight." The voice said.
"She must," Garren said, looking up at the source.

"Let us hope she does not mourn for too long," the voice said, with a hint of laughter. "If she starts up wailing again she'll have the whole navy down on us."

"She won't," Garren said, softly.

The boots came closer. A pair of firm hands caught her arms, and an immense strength lifted her onto her feet. A huge pirate, obviously Garren's father and the Captain, held her dangling a foot off the ground while he looked into her face. Maraea was held motionless by the wiser but no less keen gaze that so reflected Garren's. But this man, unlike Garren, had a long mane of blonde hair accompanied by a flowing beard. His massive arms didn't falter with her entire weight, and he held her there for a full sixty seconds before setting her gently on her feet. Shocked, Maraea rocked back on her heels and only Garren's arm kept her from falling. From the deck, the Captain looked even more enormous. But he smiled at her, and then at his son. "You have a good eye for Treasure, my boy." With a chuckle, he turned away and disappeared below decks.

Still supporting Maraea, Garren said unnecessarily, "My father."

Having fought and grieved as much as her body could stand, Maraea sat still in Garren's cabin. It was night, and Garren had just returned from dinner. Maraea had refused to leave the cabin. Garren had brought her a few things to eat, but Maraea, as much as she needed it, refused the food. He had shrugged and left it on a dresser. He had quiet confidence that she would not starve herself to death.

She watched him as he sat in the chair in the corner and took off his boots. He rubbed his face tiredly, and looked up at her. She looked back with stony apprehension.

"You must be tired," he said.

Maraea gave the barest of nods, reluctant to admit it. He waited, then swept his arm at the bunk expectantly. Maraea leapt to her feet, ready to resist.

He put up his hands quickly. "No," he said smiling. "We're both tired." Maraea relaxed, but only a little. She watched as he took a blanket off the bunk and laid it out on the floor, rolling the end like a pillow. Giving her a reassuring look, he pulled off his still bloodstained, crimson shirt. Then he went to the single oil lamp lighting the room and blew it out. Maraea listened as he settled himself on the floor. She waited for a long time. When her eyes had long since adjusted to the moonlight, and she could see his unmoving form, she undressed quickly and quietly until she was wearing only her slip. Then, gathering her courage, she stepped over the sleeping shape and made it safely onto the bunk. Tensely, she arranged herself on the small mattress, facing Garren's pallet.

Garren watched her through half-closed eyes as she readied herself for bed. Once she was in the bunk and had stopped moving, he listened to her breath as it went from frightened, through average, to calm, to near-sleep, ending in complete release. He smiled to himself and finally let himself sleep.

Maraea woke slowly. The sun was streaming in her window, and her bed felt so comfortable. For some reason, the sheets felt like silk…

She bolted upright. They were silk.

The happenings of the day before crashed down on her, and she was nearly suffocated with grief. She closed her eyes and composed herself. Then she thought of Garren and looked around quickly. At the foot of her bed was the blanket Garren had used to sleep on. He had been so quiet she hadn't heard him leave. She knew he had left, however, because his boots were gone from where he had placed them.

Maraea shivered when she thought about where the silk sheets she had slept on had come from. She got out of the bed quickly. Then she crossed to the door, looking for a latch of some kind, but there was no way to lock it. She hurried to her chest of clothes to get dressed, pawing through the fine fabric and lace until she found a black gown. She pulled on all of her things – all the while watching the door apprehensively – until she was fully clothed, in black, for mourning.

Then she went to the dresser and brushed her hair quickly before pulling it back in a braid. She wished she had a veil to wear, but nothing could be done about that. Just as she was going to leave, she spotted the morsels of food that Garren had brought her the night before. At the thought of eating, her mouth watered, and she took a step towards the plate. She hadn't eaten anything at all the day before, and it was going to be so hard to eat with the pirates watching…

The door opened behind her, causing her to jump and turn around quickly. Garren was there, dressed as he had been the day before except today in a deep green shirt. She couldn't help but notice how the green shocked against his eyes. Then she composed herself and glared at him.

"You should knock before you enter a lady's quarters," She said, stiffly.

"They're my quarters," he said, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it, as if in anticipation of another suicide attempt. "I enter when I wish."

Maraea sniffed and turned away.

"In black today, I see," he said.

"My father died yesterday," Maraea said, proud of the waver in her voice. Let him know what he did was wrong, she thought. Let him know it's the reason why I hate them most, let him suffer for it.

"You can only be expected to grieve," he said, almost mocking.

She glared at him. "I will remain here today," she said.

Maraea stayed in mourning for ten days. Garren still slept on the floor, and every morning when she woke he was already gone. She would not leave the cabin and wore nothing but black. Garren brought her meals in the cabin and let her eat alone out of respect to her. She was surprised at his chivalry, but refused to let down her guard.

On the eleventh day, Garren came in with a different air.

"It's time you come out of mourning," he said.

"My father died just days ago," she said stiffly. "And, might I remind you, he died by your pirates' hands."

Garren shook his head. "I know it. I am sorry."

Angry, Maraea snapped at him.

"Sorry! How can you know my pain? You kill and think nothing of it. You don't know the meaning of a life!"

Garren's eyes smoldered. He took two steps foreword and seized her by the arms.

"Just because I take does not mean I have not lost," he said, his words intense with emotion, his face dead serious and inches from hers. "Just because I am a pirate does not mean I don't feel. Just because I am what I am doesn't mean I don't love. You don't know what I have thought and felt." And he released her. Maraea stumbled back, shaken. She watched as Garren turned away, his shoulders rigid.

"What – what happened?" Maraea couldn't restrain herself.

"My mother," he said, after a moment. "My father loved her so much, and she loved him. She loved sailing: the sea, and the sun, and she loved this ship. And she loved me."

Maraea waited.

"She was strong and alive and so, so free…" His back was still to her and she couldn't see his face.

"What happened to her?" she asked.

"She got ill," he said, still not looking at her. "Out here on the ocean there was nothing we could do for her… we never knew what it was. She was gone in a matter of days. We buried her in the sea she so loved."

"I didn't know," Maraea said, surprised. But he still didn't know her pain. His mother had died naturally. Her father had been murdered before his time. As if reading her mind, Garren continued, stronger now.

"My mother died many years ago." he faced her. "Your father died days ago, and so did a thousand others across the world, murdered or no," he said, shaking his head. "But we have to move on. We are alive, the day is perfect, the men are in high spirits, and you are beautiful, in mourning or not."

The compliment took her aback, and she was at a loss for words.

"Now," he said, taking her by the arm. "You'll be hungry."

Although she wanted to stay in and mourn, he made her leave the cabin. She didn't resist too much. After he had spoken to her she held some amount of respect for him. He led her to the mess hall and got her something to eat. Then he brought her back to their cabin, for which she was grateful; the pirates still made her uncomfortable. But Garren didn't leave her alone. After they had spoken, he became cheery and lighthearted. He watched her eat the whole plate with a smile. When she was done, he looked smug.

"So you won't be starving yourself after all," He said, winking at her. "Now then, I'll show you around your new home."

Maraea thought of protesting, but decided it would be better to know her way around the ship. So she followed Garren as he cheerfully showed around. She kept her manner silent and sad as she could, still trying to hold onto her mourning, but soaked up every word he told her about the ship. Her name was The Dannelle, and she was truly a magnificent piece of art. She had been in the family for several generations, Maraea gathered, and Garren was the next in line to receive her when his father retired. His love and pride for the ship was obvious as he showed her around.

At last they reached the steering deck, where Garren's father stood at the wheel, massive shoulders set against the wood. He looked up with a smile.

"Still mourning, eh?" he asked, nodding at Maraea.

"My father…" She began.

"'Course," he interrupted. "But no more of it; mourning doesn't do when ye're on my ship. Wear black again and we'll toss ya overboard."

"Don't say that, Captain," Garren laughed. "She'll do it just so you will throw her overboard."

"Eh, there's too much life in her for that," the Captain said, eyeing her.

And Maraea knew he was right. The day was so beautiful, and in the face of the fate of her father and his men, she couldn't stand to think of dying as she had days before. Life was too sweet. Too short. And there was so much she could do…

You should make them all suffer, a cruel little voice inside her said.

Even as she heard it, it sounded wrong. Maybe she should reconsider…

Stop it, she told herself. These men are your enemies.

Despite her own hostility, the men on this ship were much more open to her presence. They didn't refrain from talking about their work when she was around, as the other sailors had, and she learned more in the one day about the sea and sailing than she had in the months on her father's ship. In between their discussions of the previous night's games and where that extra bag of grain had gone, they let drop little tidbits of knowledge necessary for life on the sea. Despite the fact that she forced herself to keep constantly on her guard, a part of her enjoyed the freedom and the learning.

Most of what she learned was from Garren. He was with her all day, explaining, pointing out, laughing. His cheeriness was so catchy that Maraea found herself smiling once or twice, although each time she did she made herself stop.

The next day she wore a deep blue dress. She was half-resentful and half-pleased when he commented on it.

"Blue suits you so much better than black," he said when he came in, smelling like fresh air and sunlight. "Come on deck, they've spotted dolphins."

Maraea couldn't help it. She had loved her father, and wished he was alive, but there was nothing that could be done about that. The pirates, despite her reservations, were kind to her, especially Garren. He made her want to let go of the resentment she still harbored.

Soon a month had passed. Maraea was adjusting to her new life. She kept a hard shell around her, and tried to return every smile and friendly look with anger. But something small inside her was growing, like a fledgling eagle, wanting to stretch its wings and fly. Trying to keep herself aloof was hard, and a small part of her ached to stop and to live freely, to try to be happy again.

Until they reached the Shoals.

Garren had warned her they would be sailing through dangerous waters. But he assured her their ship was built specially to navigate the sharp rocks and choppy waters, and the crew had done it hundreds of times. They would make it through safe, he knew.

He was right, but other ships were not so lucky. They had been sailing for a few hours through the deadly protrusions when a fairly new shipwreck came into view.

The ship was perched on the rocks, its hull ripped in half in a ragged gash. There was rubble and wreckage floating all around, and The Dannelle dropped anchor to salvage what they could. Maraea watched from the deck with some interest until she saw the body.

Among the pieces of disconnected wood, chests, bits of rope and other materials, a single, bloated body floated face down. Instantly Maraea thought of her father, floating similarly, so stiff and empty of life…

Her stomach turned and she vomited over the railing. Several men nearby took pity on her and someone got her some saltwater and she rinsed the bile out of her mouth. Needing silence, she retreated to the cabin, weak and trembling.

Garren, who had been out scavenging, came in about an hour later, to find her lying on the bunk, gripping the pillow with white-knuckled fingers and staring off into the distance.

How could she have done it? How could she have almost enjoyed living with these animals? They had killed her father. They had killed him. Killed him.

And somewhere he might be floating like that body…

Feeling sick again, Maraea pushed past Garren's open arms (a killer's arms!) and dragged herself back on deck. She was sick again into the sea. When Garren touched her she went cold and that little knot of anger exploded in her again. The voice in her head told her it was at Garren, that everything was Garren's fault. But in truth she was angry with herself for forgetting her father so easily.

The next few days were her darkest on the ship. The same anger she had started with had multiplied, but her pride and self-respect had collapsed. She sunk into a depression. She wouldn't leave the cabin's bunk and didn't eat anything. Garren began to worry that she would actually starve herself. Sleep was her only haven until she realized it and wouldn't let herself rest. For two nights she didn't sleep, sitting upright on the bunk, eyes hollow and face wan and colorless. Garren's heart was sick for her.

During the day, Maraea sat on deck (only on Garren's insistence), wrapped in a blanket, watching the cold blue skies with matching cold and dead eyes. She was so absorbed within herself she didn't notice on the afternoon when the pirates around her became uneasy and kept looking at the sky. Her mind was so tired with lack of sleep she didn't even feel the cold, let alone see the coming clouds or hear the pirates talk around her.

Garren had to force her to come down into the cabin that night. He all but dragged her unresponsive body away from her accustomed haunt and put her in the cabin. He left her there to go speak with his father.