Stars of Tyde Pt. 2

Weeks being at sea had made the crew unsettled. Drake never left enough food for the crew until the next port. She had remembered to tell him that supplies were low, but he brushed her off every time, leaving the crew to starve.

A few days had past and once they pulled into port, the crew she had took their coins and their belongings and left the Royal behind. She had to give them credit though, at least they didn't leave her to tie down the ship alone.

As Orla tied down crates, she felt eyes on her and the soft sounds of boots on wood before she noticed Wes leaning against the railing, watching Orla's movements. He was Drake's second hand; his executioner. Every choice and decision went to Wes. How she became first mate, she couldn't piece together.

"If you wish to be apart of the crew, Wes, I suggest you wipe that sneer off your face." Orla said, turning back to her task.

"What crew?" Wes smirked. "They all left you."

"And yet, you're still here judging me." Orla said.

With the rest of the money she had, she was able to fully commit to the captain look. She wore a leather jacket that reached to her calves and a matching hat, keeping the sun off her face and out of her eyes. She'd gone to the markets after the failed conversation with Cael, the king. He would not allow her to sail until she had a full crew to allow her to carry out her dream and passion.

"I'm judging you because I'm confused as to why you killed him. Why you felt that need to do it." Wes wondered.

"I killed him because I was sick of being his sex doll." Orla said bluntly, straightening her form, dropping the ends of the ropes. "I killed him because I wanted to feel happy again while I listen to the waves and the winds and the mist against my skin. Working for him for fifty years... I haven't been happy about this life since I came on board." Orla shrugged, knowing she'd said too much. "Not like you cared to truly know that."

Wes watched her and looked around the empty ship. "If you don't have a crew, are you just going to do this alone?"

"Yes." Orla said, meeting his gaze. "I don't care what Cael has to say about it, if I sail until I run out of food, I do just that."

Wes stepped onto the deck, meeting her halfway before he held out his hand to Orla. "I will take nothing less than first mate."

Orla stared at his hand, disbelief crossing over her face, the sting of the cold winds catching her pointed Fae ears, whipping her blonde hair around her making her grip her hat. "First mate? Seriously?"

"Oh, so you don't remember that bet you made?" Wes smirked, slapping his hand on her shoulder making her trip forward. "Give me a week and you'll have a crew."

Orla shook her head, waving him off unable to believe his words. But Wes gave a smirk and walked from the deck of the Royal. Even if Wes failed to get her a crew, she would have zero issue shipping supplies from place to place alone. The issue would be not getting paid for it. Cael, the king of the realm, made that clear. She would be nothing more than a pirate. Everything she did would be her own actions and would have nothing to do with the kingdoms she supplied.

~

A week past and the moon was high in the sky. At night, the kingdom was lit in light blue Fae lights. The paths winding down from the white and gold palace leading to the small markets in the city. This kingdom was never a home to Orla. Not since her father had left to sea and never came back. She fought so much with her mother and brother after his death; her mother damning her for following in her father's footsteps, her brother protecting her far too much, telling her to stay and wait until they'd heard news and that the seas were too dangerous for his older sister.

Now, Orla stood at the helm of the Royal, grown into an woman and Captain. Westley had promised to find a crew, and now, twenty men and women stood on deck, waiting for a command from their Captain.

Orla stepped from the helm and walked over to the main deck, facing her crew as she scanned each of their faces. "This ship will not be like others." Orla started. "This ship will be transporting supplies around these lands. The city, North, South, and West. We are not controlled by the kingdom, anything we do is our own actions. Anything you do is under my name, so chose your actions wisely. Each of you have your own positions, do them and if you fail I will not be giving second chances. Not when I have twenty lives on this ship."

The crew looked at each other and nodded, the sound of the wind catching the closed sails. Orla's hair whipped around her as the wind picked up. "Welcome to the Royal." She said lastly, her smile wide.

Wes shouted demands from the deck, everyone jumping to their tasks. Orla turned back to the helm, her eyes scanning over the map. The map shifted under her touch, waves rippling over the page and sea creatures rising to the surface as if to wave hello to the new captain. Orla's eyes watched over the map, a small smile turning her lips before it faded as Wes walked to the quarterdeck. "Yes?" She asked, lifting her head.

"What is this really for?" Wes pressed, scanning over her form. The tightness in her shoulders as she tucked away the map and the distance in her eyes.

Orla lifted her chin. "I don't see that as any of your business." She stated. "I am captain."

"Yes, but you're not that type of captain." Wes challenged.

He was right. Orla never wished to shed blood or torture those who stowed away on the ship in a desperate attempt to be with their beloved from across the world. It was also true that there was more to this new found pride of being captain. She'd heard legends of another world aside from the one they sailed currently. One with white sand rather than black, a tavern that was filled day and night and not empty and barren. This new realm was a new place to start fresh. A place where they wouldn't see Orla and see a ruthless pirate who used her money for sex or rum, but to see her as a savior to a handful.

"I'm not, but I cannot tell you." Orla said, keeping her eyes locked on Wes.

She'd never fully looked at him. The stubble along his chin and his unkept hair as if women threaded their fingers into his locks moments before. From their previous adventures with Drake, she'd heard the sounds of pleasure that always came from his room. Orla's toes curled in her boots at the thought, but never strayed from her own desires.

"If I am going to be your first mate, you're going to have to tell me at some point."

"I know the duties of first mate, Wes." Orla retorted, turning her eyes to the flowing map, keeping the map's movements from his view. "You will wait until I see fit to inform you of my plans. For now, we send out our shipments."

Wes nodded once, taking her words as dismissal as he walked down to the main deck. Orla watched him through her lashes. Trust wouldn't be easy. Orla supposed that it would never be earned. Yes, he had given her a crew, but her time with Drake made her realize that not everyone should be trusted. Some took advantage of trust, others ignored it, but most earned it as long as their morals were in the right place.

~

Night came and Orla retired into her chambers, pulling off her hat and her jacket, letting the sway of the ship settle her bones. Her crew had followed orders directly as she had hoped. The hardest part was going to be to trust them.

She knew how some, if not most, pirates worked. They are only loyal to themselves and no one else. Granted, Orla would be the one filling their pockets and their bellies, but when it comes to death, everyone will be selfish and turn against those who they fear. Her crew hardly heard anything about her, which was a blessing, but it also meant that they wouldn't know what she is capable of; the amount of pain she could withstand or the amount of pain she knew that the human body could take. At least Drake had taught her something.

"You look tired." The healer asked from the corner of the room. "I haven't seen you all week."

"Then I was hiding well enough." Orla said, pulling her rings from her fingers, setting them in a dish with a soft clink. "I figured you would have left with the others."

"I would I leave?" The healer asked, closing the space between them, her hand resting on Orla's before pulling her close to her chest. "Let me relive some of the tension, Orla."

While the healers words curled her toes in her boots, Orla pulled away from her touch. "Your room is below deck, I think it is wise that you get some rest." She commanded.

The healer stared at Orla, her eyes looking over the captain's features before she walked from the chambers and down to the belly of the ship.

Orla ran her tongue over her teeth, grabbing a bottle of rum from the table, chugging the contents until her vision blurred. She sank down on the edge of her bed, kicking off her shoes, muttering shanties she remembered her father singing as he put them to bed, music filled her head as she downed the bottle, lulling herself to sleep.