Chapter Text
On the day that I run away, I take my rifle and a purse of coins and leave no note. I wait until the sun sets, until my father has locked himself away in his study, and I flee into the night using the route I have mapped out for weeks. I climb out my window and shimmy down the tree that has stood outside my window since I was born; I dodge guards by staying in their blind spots and successfully leave my father’s estate through the back garden.
All I leave behind for explanation is my wedding gown on the bed.
Under the night sky, the docks are quiet and strangely peaceful. With dawn will come the ruckus of the fishermen and merchants, but for now the only sounds are the soothing lull of the waves. There are a number of smaller boats, intended for day trips, but I need a vessel that will take me far, far away from here. I quickly move past the ones that I recognize from my father’s papers and walk down the dock. Stapled to every wooden post are wanted posters that flutter in the wind. It’s difficult to make out the names embossed on the side of these ships with just the pale moonlight guiding me, but I find myself drawn to one docked on the far end, with plenty of space between it and the other vessels. It’s a merchant vessel: discreet with its plain finishings, large enough to carry loads of cargo, and with no movement on deck.
Since there’s no gangplank, I use bits of rope left on the dock to make my way onto the ship. My footsteps are careful and slow on the deck, and I duck into the ship’s belly. Thankfully, I am correct on my first guess and discover storage. I shove my body into the farthest corner, cramming myself between two barrels. I push crates in front of me so I have full cover, and for the first time since I slipped out of my bed, I let myself relax. Passage, I tell myself. All I need is anonymous passage to another island. I need to get as far away from Strictland as I can.
Against all odds, I find my eyes slowly closing, and the exhaustion of the last few days settles in. I hear the booming voice of my father’s disappointment, but I let it wash away with the lull of the waves.
Suddenly, I find myself in my old treehouse, the one that got torn down after my twelfth birthday. This is where I learned to shoot, where I taught myself how to shoot leaves floating on the wind. This treehouse is the last place I remember feeling safe. There are scribbles on the wall, pictures etched into the light wood with crayons that cover every available surface. There’s the window, where instead of glass there’s simply a large square gap in the wall that faces the forest outside my family’s estate. I would lean my rifle against the wood’s ridge and practice hitting tree trunks that he would choose for me. When I shoot, all that exists is the reassuring weight of the butt of the gun against my cheek and the steadiness of my breathing as I count every inhale.
I trace my fingertips against one of the pictures on the wall, a ship teetering on top of a massive wave. He always drew things like these: sea monsters, heroic sailors, legends of the ocean that he worshiped like scripture. So much of our time together was marked by his impassioned regaling of sea tales, and me hanging onto every word. Despite my own doubts of the blessings families gave to their fishermen before they embarked and the ardent warnings elders gave of the sea’s dangers, I wholly believed every story he told me.
When he left, I tried to ignore the growing emptiness inside of me. I congratulated him for finally achieving his dream. I was happy for him. All he had ever wanted was to become part of the navy, and my selfish loneliness would never get in the way. I never made another friend after he left, and all I was left with was the roots of a dead tree. When I wasn’t stuck in suffocating family meals, I was in the woods perfecting my aim. Until the proposal, my life became a cesspool of pleasantries and isolation. Until the proposal. Until my father told me that somebody else’s parents wanted me to marry their son. I never got to see his face, but I knew the type of man my father would want me bonded to. Running away was my only option.
“Y/N?” The voice behind me is as familiar as my own, though I haven’t heard it in years. I’d almost forgotten I was in the treehouse, but I couldn’t be in the treehouse because it was torn dow–
“STOWAWAY!”
I startle awake, arms knocking against the barrels that surround me. It takes me a moment to remember where I am, what I’m doing here. Proposal. Anonymous passage. I instinctively reach for my rifle, but the cramped space doesn’t allow me the room for me to maneuver it.
“What the hell are you doing on our ship?”
Before I even look up, I scuttle backwards, fruitlessly attempting to blend into the shadows. The man before me watches humorlessly. I see the high leather boots, the sweeping red coat, the golden spyglass tucked into his belt. In an instant, I know I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.
Pirate.
Out of all ships in the harbor—
“Either give me one reason not to kill you, or stay silent and save me the trouble,” the pirate continues, and I finally look up to face the sword he has pointed at me. Impractical, is my first, ridiculous thought. Exactly what I used to tell him when he played navy soldier in my treehouse. Swords are for showmanship, not deadly intent.
The pirate’s dark hair nearly covers his wide, intense eyes, and despite his detailed get-up and blade directed at my throat, I realize that he’s young. Hints of boyishness cling to his face, giving me the impression that he’s not much older than me. A boy pirate, I think to myself, stupefied by the idea. The exact opposite of the type of person that I’ve watched go in and out of my father’s study for my entire life. When I was a child, they seemed like devils, humans turned into monsters by the unrelenting vortex of the sea. Not someone my age. Not someone young enough to still have doting parents or an apprenticeship.
I open my mouth to speak, to defend my life, when a figure appears behind the boy pirate. I squint into the shadows, trying to discern the tall form.
“Y/N?”
He walks closer, looking over the pirate’s shoulder. Light from a lantern hits his face, and I can’t suppress the gasp that escapes me.
“Yunho?!”
“I don’t understand,” I say for the hundredth time. I’m still sitting by the barrels, knees drawn to my chest. The boy pirate hasn’t moved an inch either, though his eyes narrowed at my recognizing Yunho. “I thought you were enlisting in the navy.”
“I was,” Yunho says almost bashfully, and it’s as though no time has passed at all, and it’s just the two of us telling each other stories for hours on end. I want to close my eyes and capture his easy smile, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead. “When I left Strictland, that was my plan. But, uh, things got… derailed.”
“Why are you here? Why didn’t you come back home? What happened? Did they—”
“I think the better question is,” the boy pirate interrupts, “what you are doing on our ship.” He gesticulates with the silver sword that’s still pointed at me, and I flinch.
“Y/N, why are you here?” Yunho repeats gently.
“I thought this was a merchant ship. If I had known…” I shake my head fervently. Had I made a mistake because I was desperate and it was dark out? I could’ve sworn this looked nothing like a pirate ship; I avoided anything that looked anything like one, I know I did.
Yunho and the boy pirate exchange a knowing look. Yunho clears his throat. “We’ve, uh, never had this happen before,” he says carefully, and I realize that for the first time in my life, Yunho is keeping a secret from me.
We, he said, we.
Yunho runs a hand nervously through his hair, and I realize that he’s wearing garb that matches Jongho’s. Pirate garb.
Unable to stop myself, I ask, “Yunho, why are you on a pirate ship? Did they take you?”
Yunho’s cheeks flush, and he opens his mouth to speak, but another voice interrupts before he can explain.
“Take him? Sweetheart, he’s our swordsman. One of ATEEZ’s best.”
“One of whose best?” I ask quietly, but there’s no mistaking that name.
I hear Jongho repeat it with a smirk, undoubtedly watching the blood drain from my cheeks as I attempt to process this. ATEEZ. ATEEZ. The most notorious pirate crew in all of the Seven Seas. The pirate crew that terrorizes small villages and spooks grand kingdoms. Not one of their crew has ever been caught before; their ship is so elusive it has never been identified at a port before. I have just stumbled onto the ship belonging to the most wanted crew in the world.
It hits me that as much as I cared about that little boy who was my best and only friend, that little boy is gone now, and a pirate is standing in front of me. I don’t know who he is anymore. I can’t trust Yunho to protect me, or even just not attack me.
And he knows what my father does. My blood runs cold, and I know I have to get off this ship immediately.
“Just let me leave,” I say slowly, spreading my hands to show them I’m weaponless. “I have money I can give you if you’ll let me get off.”
“Interesting demands from a stowaway,” the pirate comments. “Last time I checked, and forgive me for repeating myself, but you are on our ship. It’s not up to you to tell us what you want.”
“Jongho, I know her,” Yunho murmurs, placing a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “I can vouch for her. She’s not here to hurt us.”
Jongho’s gaze doesn’t move an inch, hyper-focused on my face. His grip on his sword doesn’t falter. “That’s not for you to judge. You know what we have to do with stowaways.”
“Jongho—”
“No. No exceptions. If you really have that much faith in her, then you’ll let her meet him. Let him make the call.” Jongho reaches down to grab me by the arm and roughly pulls me to my feet. “It’s time for you to meet the captain.”
I gulp, shivers running down my spine. What kind of man could run the most notorious crew in the Seven Seas? My mind helpfully provides horrifying images of monsters and demons, scales and spikes and gore. I of course know the rumors, have heard every nasty, unbelievable thing about ATEEZ. ATEEZ, which Yunho is a part of. Which Yunho now fights for.
“I’ll be taking that,” Jongho says and reaches for my rifle. I think about fighting him now that I’m standing, but his sword would reach me before I could even get the gun in place. Snipers like me aren’t built for close quarters combat.
With my arm still firmly in his grip, Jongho leads me through the maze of storage containers that I had moved around to hide myself last night. Yunho follows us from behind, and though I can’t see him, the comfort of his presence is as reassuring as it is painful. I don’t know who he is anymore, I remind myself. He’s as good as a stranger. The same boy who played with wooden swords and brushed my hair out of my face when I cried. A stranger.
The three of us climb up the ladder together in the same order. My thoughts are going a thousand miles a minute, plans haphazardly forming before instantly unraveling. I try to slow my ascent to buy myself some time, but Jongho quickly reaches the top and gestures with his blade for me to hurry.
I barely reach the top before Jongho is securing my wrists with rope. My eyes struggle to adjust to the sunlight, my feet clambering along the wooden deck. I can see that we’re still docked, so escape is still possible, but Jongho yanks me forward before I can attempt to run. He’s strong, stronger than I first thought, but if I can just catch him off-guard…
“Where are you taking—” I finally build up the courage to ask, but we’ve stopped in front of a cabin door. Jongho finally lets go of my wrists and flicks me an unimpressed glance, nodding towards the door. He steps aside to close rank with Yunho, the two of them on either side of me.
Jongho pushes me forward, and Yunho flashes me a small, apologetic smile. The door to the cabin has a stained glass window with an hourglass design. Yunho opens the door for me, and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkened lighting inside what must be the captain’s quarters. The room is huge—it has to be the biggest on the ship—and the space is filled with bookshelves and wardrobes and chests. The bookshelves line the walls, and I wonder what a pirate crew is doing with something as frivolous as a library. All of the wardrobes and chests are bursting open with elaborate clothing and jewelry, glittering vases and china. Lanterns are scattered around the room, either hooked on the walls or balanced haphazardly on top of chests.
There’s a desk in the center of the room, extravagant and nailed to the floor so it doesn’t slide with the movement of the waves. Standing in front of it is a man whose entire body screams danger. Half of his hair is a shocking white, and I shy away from making eye contact with him. Instead, I focus on his outfit: a loose red top with a leather coat, silver chains looped around his neck, and an iron cane he grips in his left hand.
“Who is this?” he asks with a grin so wide it looks uncomfortable.
My blood runs cold. This is the captain. My hands tighten into fists as I once again miss the comfort of a trigger.
“Please don’t throw me overboard,” I whisper.
He tilts his head. “And why would I do that?”
But his mouth doesn’t move. The voice is deep with a lisp, and the black-and-white haired man moves from the desk to reveal someone sitting behind him. My mind short-circuits. The man has silky white hair to his neck, pins pulling it out of his face. But his eyes—oh my god, his eyes. Surrounded by dark eyeliner, his light eyes are piercing and so unreal it’s difficult to believe this man is real. His gaze traps me in time, and I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until Jongho nudges me.
“Show respect,” Jongho demands, “to our Captain Yeosang.”
I still can’t find my words, mesmerized by the bright orbs that seem to glow in the dark.
“Y/N?” Yunho asks, brows furrowed.
“Y/N,” the captain Yeosang drawls, trying out the syllables in his baritone. “What are you doing on our ship?”
“I was just leaving,” I say with confidence I don’t feel. “Simple case of accidentally boarding the wrong ship. Mine should be two stops down, if you’ll let me—”
“She was stowed away in the cargo hold, captain,” Jongho announces, and I turn to glare at him. Snitch.
“So again I ask,” Yeosang says, “what are you doing on Destiny?”
I fidget with the rope tying my wrists together, trying to see if there’s any way I could untie myself, but even if I could, what would I do? There’s four men who are all undoubtedly armed, and even if I could somehow make my way past Yunho and Jongho to the door, the rest of the crew would be waiting for me outside these quarters. I need to buy myself some time to think of something that will actually work. God, I have to get off this ship before they realize who I am.
“I have to get out of Strictland,” I tell him honestly. “I thought this was a merchant ship.”
He tilts his head. “So you hide? Why didn’t you board with the other passengers this morning? Forgive me for assuming, but you hardly look like you don’t have enough coin for the trip.”
I flush. My mind races, trying to think of an excuse that will make sense, and I become all too aware of Yunho’s presence behind me. He could out me right here. He could tell them who I am, and there’d be nothing I could do to stop him. They would believe him because he’s one of them.
The others seem to notice my hesitation, and it’s the one with the cane that speaks up. “Surely you don’t think you can lie your way out of this?” he asks, grinning maniacally. “That’d be very, very bold of you. I’d almost respect you enough not to kill you. Almost.”
Goddamnit. I just want to escape, to finally be free of my father and his legacy. I want to live a life that is my own, not dictated by my father’s whims. I don’t want to marry some random old dungbie and be forced to have his goddamn wrinkle babies.
I start playing with the rope again, seeing no way out other than to tell the truth. I open my mouth to confess when several things happen at once.
Yunho looks down at my restless hands and notices something. “Are you wearing an engagement ring?”
The door to the study bursts open, knocking Jongho to the floor. Two figures rush past me to get to the captain. “Dude, we need to leave like now,” one of them exclaims. “My family—god, I should have never visited them—it’s bad—”
“Wooyoung, you’ve interrupted our guest,” Yeosang interrupts pleasantly, gesturing to me.
I stop breathing.
Even as the new arrival turns, as our eyes meet the other’s and our faces turn into matching expressions of horror, I know I cannot escape what comes next. He’s supposed to be old and miserable and rich and fat. He’s not supposed to be my age on a pirate ship. He’s not supposed to be a member of ATEEZ’s crew.
“Holy shit,” he says, “you’re my finance.”
All my father gave me was a name.
Jung Wooyoung, my husband-to-be.
My legs are moving before my brain has caught up, using Wooyoung’s confession as the distraction I need to get the hell off this ship. Jongho is still on the floor, and the rest of them are too far from me to stop me from rushing out the door. Only Yunho is close enough but he remains frozen in place, watching me with wide eyes.
I sprint out the door, not even trying to get out of my restraints. If it’s morning, then there must be people around on the docks. They can help me escape, even if they return me home. As long as I can get away from these people, then I can figure the rest out later.
“Get her! She knows who I am!” I hear Wooyoung yell from behind me. There’s the pounding of boots on wood, and I pump my legs faster, trying to outrun them.
“When did you get engaged and not tell me?” comes another voice. Their loud footsteps are right behind me. I’ll have to jump to the docks down below; I don’t see a gangplank anywhere.
“HELP!” I go to scream, but something hits my leg hard, knocking me to the ground and leaving me breathless in pain. I clutch my leg, dark spots swimming in my vision. Trying to stand, I immediately crumble back to the ground. There’s blood on my hands that’s quickly seeping through my clothes, and as I attempt to crawl away from the incoming pirates, I spot the iron cane that’s responsible for my injury laying on the deck.
“Oh my god,” I whimper. I literally can’t run. They broke my leg and now I can’t run.
My vision is beginning to darken, and I’m doing everything I can to not pass out. I can’t even fully assess the damage to my leg. All I hear is the sound of their thudding footsteps coming to an abrupt stop right in front of me. I’m still trying to inch away from them, but my body feels weaker and weaker and I can’t seem to breathe properly.
“What the hell, Hongjoong?” one of them says in disbelief.
“I didn’t mean to,” another responds, not sounding very apologetic. “I was just trying to stop her.”
“What are we going to do with her? She needs help.”
“Captain, what do we—” There’s a bunch of overlapping voices all talking over each other. God, I’m so tired. I need to stay awake, but it feels like the hardest thing in the world right now.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. Someone is kneeling next to my fallen form.
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Yunho whispers, and I pass out.