Alwyn

"Let's have this talk."

At her mother's words, Alwyn tore her eyes away from Zavier and his brothers. She'd never seen him so broken and her heart hurt for him. The only person she'd lost was Bates and she'd only known him two seasons.

She imagined the pain must be like if she'd lost Sparrow, but a dozen times over. At the thought, Alwyn wanted to comfort Zavier but knew the embrace of his brothers was more than efficient.

Besides, she had her own struggles to face.

"This way," Isla said.

She and Raif led the way up the steps to the palace. Alwyn glanced at Cyrus but he didn't seem to feel the same foreboding that she did. Which made sense, he wasn't the one that had screwed up.

When they entered the grand entrance, Alwyn couldn't help but pause. The ceiling arched high above her and was lined with intricate moldings. Alcoves dotting the entrance held marble statues that gleamed as if a servant had only just stepped away from polishing them. Light glinted off the floor and reflected Alwyn.

Shaking herself from the grandeur of it all, Alwyn followed her parents. Despite knowing she was clean, Alwyn couldn't rid herself of the thought that if she touched anything around her, she'd leave a smear of dirt.

How did Zavier call this place home? Every surface was spotless, every tapestry, painting, statue exquisite. Everything controlled, contained. The echo of their footsteps rang against the floor. It meant that running through these corridors would be impossible, everyone would hear the commotion. Yet that's how Alwyn had always pictured Zavier growing up, running around, wild, free.

The constraint of the palace explained why she'd never visited with her parents more than a few times. This wasn't likely to be a place they enjoyed staying in. All the times they stopped in Loria Alwyn could only remember having the King and Queen aboard their ship or her parents briefly visiting the palace. She understood, for two who lived on the freedom of the sea, these cold walls were too confining.

Isla guided them into a wood-paneled study, made dim by the dark furniture and the bookshelves that lined two walls. It smelled faintly of pipe smoke and lantern oil. It was a soothing smell, a strange sensation coming from a palace that felt stiff.

The family settled around a mahogany table edged with gold. Alwyn sank back in her seat, touching the delicate stenciled work. Even a table needed to be adorned. How could anyone live in a place like this?

"So," Isla said, looking from her son to her daughter. "You don't need to tell me about the attack on the palace, that will come later. Right now I want to know why most of your crew is gone and why you have a different mainsail."

Alwyn wanted to crawl beneath her table, of course her mother would notice they had a new sail. She met eyes with Cyrus. She couldn't let him talk, if he did he'd find some way to make it sound like they'd both been at fault. But that's wasn't true. This was on her. Still, she didn't want to speak.

Alwyn looked at her parents. Raif leaned against the arm of his chair, his manner relaxed as it always was. Isla sat more upright, but her face revealed nothing. It was what made her such a good captain, she showed only what emotions she wanted to be seen. As a mother, it made it intimidating to live under and even harder to try and imitate.

"You could simply ask Sparrow for his written report of it all," Alwyn said. "I'm sure he could give more detail than I could."

Something flickered across her mother's face but was swept away before it could stay.

"I asked Sparrow to sail with you so you'd have support, guidance. He was not there to spy or judge."

Alwyn knew this but still, sometimes it felt like that. One of her mother's closest friends watched their every move, how was he not there to judge their actions?

"Little Duchess," Raif said, his tone soothing. "What happened with your crew?"

There was no way out of this, she simply had to duck her head and barrel through it, hoping she made it to the other side.

"The crew," Alwyn said. She stopped, hating what she needed to admit to. The memory of her crew all watching her be carried off by the city guard made color creep into her cheeks. There was no way around it, she needed to fling the words out or they wouldn't come at all.

"They abandoned the ship."

Her parents waited and Alwyn locked her fingers together, forcing the story out.

"Tor questioned my position at every turn," she said, anger and humiliation burning her face. "He would follow Cyrus's commands but not mine. Each time I called him on his disrespect he would brush me off. In the West Isles, we were at a tavern and he told me I was unfit to be a captain. I fought him."

"And you lost?" Raif asked. The note of skepticism cheered Alwyn a bit, at least her father had faith in her ability.

"No," Alwyn said. "The city guard stopped the fight before I could defeat Tor and they...carried me off...I was locked up for the night."

She loved her father, loved the hint of amusement in his grey eyes and the way he held himself back from laughing. At least he found the whole thing funny instead of embarrassing. As always though, Isla betrayed nothing, but Alwyn knew that she was thinking hard.

"When she was taken off," Cyrus said. "Tor used the opportunity to turn the crew against her. Sparrow was able to convince three of them to return but...that was it."

"Did you say anything?" Isla asked.

Cyrus sighed. "I tried but it made no difference."

Guilt seeped into Alwyn's veins, because of her Cyrus looked less competent. A part of her wondered if she'd never been captain with him, would he have managed to keep the crew? Most likely. He'd kept the ship running when she'd stayed with Zavier. He knew how to lead. She was the failing.

"What about the sail?" Raif asked.

At least this story wasn't all bad. Though they were in debt to Hawk for the sail... Alwyn swore under her breath. Cyrus was right and she knew it, they never should have asked for a ship. Everything that had happened proved this.

"The sail was destroyed during an attack," Alwyn said. "We made it to Seau where we were able to replace it."

Raif raised his eyebrows. "That must have taken all the money you had."

Alwyn and Cyrus exchanged a look. If only they had been that prosperous in their recent endeavors. Which they hadn't. Their mother noticed and understood their shared look.

"Hawk?" Isla asked.

Alwyn nodded reluctantly. "He paid for it."

At the admittance, Isla cast a glance at her husband, who gazed at Alwyn and Cyrus. Neither of them had to say anything, but Alwyn knew. Two seasons and the result was less than ideal. It wasn't even less than, it was a disaster.

"And do you have a job lined up to pay him back?" Isla asked.

There was no judgment in the question yet Alwyn felt it all the same because of the answer she had to give. Luckily for her, she had Cyrus.

"No," he said. "Our goal was to see Zavier and princess Lydia safely to Loria."

"Which was a good decision, they're safe," Raif said.

His voice held a note of pride but Alwyn couldn't feel it, not with her overwhelming sense of failure. She had wanted to be her mother and she wasn't. It was that simple.

"We will hear the whole story of what happened tomorrow," Isla said. "For now we should rest."

Alwyn hated how relieved she felt that her mother had nothing more to say to them, though she knew more would come. She hadn't been raised by her mother to think that would be the end of it. She dreaded that conversation not having a clue what the outcome would be.

"The royal family has given us rooms for the night," Isla said.

They left the study and Isla called out to a passing servant, asking for directions to the designated quarters.

"Before we go," Raif said, turning to his son. "I want to hear about this girl you're in love with."

Any subtle tension that lingered around them vanished with the comment.

"I'm not in love with her," Cyrus said, his widening smile contradicting him.

In response to this, Isla grinned. "Yes, this is something I want to hear."

"I don't want to hear of Cyrus's stupidity when I already had to endure it," Alwyn said. "I'm leaving."

Raif chuckled as Cyrus reddened. "This should be interesting."

Alwyn followed the servant's led, needing to get away. But even retreating from her parents and the weight of all her failures, she was still in the palace and that left her with a different sense of shortcomings. Portraits of past royals watched her like she was an intruder. The authority that exuded from canvas and pigment mocked Alwyn, even the inanimate fit this place better than a girl born of a pirate and a former Duke.

The servant showed her to a bedroom made up of blushing pink tones and golden accents. Lacy curtains and handcrafted furniture. Alwyn managed a thank you as the servant shut her inside.

She drifted over to the bed and touched the silken blanket. It felt impossibly soft like the lightest breeze. How did she sleep in a bed like this? She wasn't dirty but somehow she felt like it would take hours of scrubbing in a bath to rid herself of the salt and sea that clung to her skin. She didn't belong here.

She moved to the windows, needing air, needing to breathe in more than the confinement of the palace walls. But all she saw as she reached the window was the high stone walls, trapping her inside.

She reentered the hallway before she even realized she'd moved. With a search, she found a set of stairs and climbed. She didn't stop climbing until she reached the roof and emerged into a cool night. She filled her lungs with warm air and could smell the sea. She rested her hands against the marble parapet, staring out on the palace's grounds, the city beyond, and to the sea.

So high up and with everything laid before her, Alwyn imagined anyone would feel like a ruler gazing over their domain. But she didn't feel that. All she felt was her inadequacy.

It wasn't that she'd ever dreamed of living in a palace, of longing to walk among the people of the court being one of them. Her life was on a ship, always had been. But meeting Zavier, falling for him, she'd let herself forget that this was still his life, his home. What part would she ever have in it?

She closed her eyes and dropped her head, letting out a breath. The soft tap tap tap of a slow footstep alerted Alwyn to someone's approach. She straightened and crossed her arms, trying to rid herself of all her conflicting emotions.

When Zavier appeared at her side, she shot a glance at him. She wished she hadn't. It didn't help anything. Even unshaven and still wearing his travel-worn clothes, he looked like he belonged, he looked like he'd come home.

Right then Alwyn saw the disparity between them. Clean him up, put him in rich apparel, and he was a Prince. Clean her up, give her new clothes, and she was still a pirate. This was his life, not hers.

The truth hurt but she couldn't decide if it hurt because he wouldn't be hers or because this was a reality she should have always known but ignored. Foolish. Utterly foolish. She'd fallen for a Prince, was there anything more stupid she could have done?

She almost laughed at herself. Yes, and she'd done it. She'd convinced her parents to make her and Cyrus captains of a ship they weren't ready to command. Alwyn lifted her head, soaking in the familiarity of the stars. Was there no end to her recklessness?

"How did the talk with your parents go?" Zavier asked.

Alwyn let out a low breath. "Fine, for the most part. But...the truth of the matter is where my mother would have succeeded, I have failed."

Zavier turned to Alwyn, compassion in his gaze. "You can't compare yourself to your mother, Wyn."

Alwyn snorted. "Why? Because I will always come up short?"

"Yes."

This startled Alwyn. Zavier was usually not the one to be so hard on her, even when he should be. Zavier sent her a quiet smile at her shock.

"We will always fall short of the people we wish to emulate. What you fail at is seeing your mother for who she is, a woman far older than you who has faced her own struggles."

Her mother facing struggles? That was extremely doubtful.

"My mother didn't have struggles."

Zavier playfully poked her with his cane and she swatted it away. "Yes, Wyn she has. Your father has told me all about them. The second thing you fail to realize-"

"Thank you for constantly making mention of my failure," Alwyn mocked.

"Is that you need to be your own person," Zavier continued. "Stop trying to be your mother, be you."

Alwyn had no answer to that, her whole life all she ever wanted to be was her mother. She was strong, loving, fierce, confident, unstoppable.

"I always wanted to be like my oldest brother Dimitrius. He is crown Prince, a powerful warrior, and a wise man." A faint smile came to Zavier's lips. "He's wise enough that he knew what I wanted and told me one day that I could not be him. But that I must be my own person, that there is a role I am to play in this kingdom and no one else could play it. The same holds true for you, Wyn."

As Zavier gazed out over the city, Alwyn rested against the parapet looking to the harbor. She imagined she could spot her ship outlined in the night. A ship she'd neither earned nor deserved. Zavier's words drifted between them. She wanted to reply, but couldn't and so they remained there, silent, two separate islands in the same sea.

Be her own person... what person was that? She'd wanted to be captain, like her mother. The evidence showed she wasn't very good at that. So if she stopped trying to be her mother, who would she be? 

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Oh my golden stars! I've missed you!!

(For those of you who will read this when it's complete this greeting will seem a bit extreme)

*huddles next to you* Tell me all! It's been ages! Ages I say and I want to hear all those bibblie bubbly thoughts you have! I could burst like a bubble with anticipation! 🧜🏽‍♀️⚔️🛡

Also I want to know your thoughts on the dynamic between Alwyn and Isla!

*twirls in a giddy excitement...rereads the chapter sobers*

Okay, so maybe my happiness about returning after having to take a break is a little rude in light of the chapter.

*huffs* I mean I don't see what Alwyn's problem is, she's in a big palace with servants, sounds like a holiday to me.

*Alwyn glares at me*

What, Wyn? I feel like you should be seeing the brighter things in life.

*She storms off*

YOU Know It's TRUE! Whatever, I'm going to soak this up. *claps hands* Servant! Bring me five cartons of ice cream, each a different flavor.

...

What do you mean ice cream doesn't exist here! *faints*

Question for you reader: One regret you have in life?

I am in need of more questions to answer so drop them down right here!

Till then you shall have my silence! Hey! What's with the sigh of relief! That's rude! Whatever, vote, comment, follow!