#queen!deacon

He laughed, beckoning a smile back on her face. When they had their coffee, they took a seat at her small table. Deacon opened up the morning newspaper and started reading through the columns. He was always reading - it was rare for him not to take up his free time in a book or article, if she wasn’t the one indisposing him. She always admired his intelligence and being up-to-date with practically everything. 

“Are you ready for today?” he asked, his blue eyes looking at her knowingly. Her mind processed his words until it occurred to her, and she groaned in disappointment. 

“You really want to meet my family? You know, we could spend these couple days off doing something better-” 

He shook his head and started folding up the paper. “You already agreed to it, so there’s no backing out of it.” 

“That was before you charmed me into bed. We don’t have to go anywhere-” 

“Why are you still trying to avoid this?” 

She sighed and crossed her arms, her gaze moving into her steaming cup of brown nectar. She could nearly see her reflection in it. She stirred it with her spoon and took a sip, averting her eyes from his direction. 

“What if I haven’t done enough? What if they’re still not happy with me when I come back? They’re going to keep comparing me to my sister, I just know it.” 

“There’s not much you can do about that,” he set the paper aside and took a drink, grimacing when his lips drew back. “You have such sweet coffee.” 

She nudged his foot with hers under the table. “Thanks for trying something different.”

“Yeah. I’m not going to do that again,” he set it down and brushed the subject off. “We can always leave early if you’re unhappy. I have no problem with that. And if we do, I’ll treat you somewhere nice.” 

She seemed to mull over it until she shrugged and clicked her tongue. “Alright. That’s a good promise..” 

“Good,” he said, standing from his chair and heading over to her fridge, intent on making them breakfast. “Now, where are your eggs?” 

—---- 

Their trip to Monquista felt the same as the last time she went with Deacon. But unlike their first visit here, where they’d gotten off on the wrong foot and argued with each other, she was much closer to him now. Their relationship was recognized in the Armada and, as he had promised, was looked at the other way. Their officers offered no word when they embraced each other and watched the islands grow bigger from a distance. He hummed beside her, and she looked at him curiously. 

“What is it?” she asked.

“I used to despise coming here, but now I don’t mind it,” he looked at her with a gleam in his eye. “You’ve made Monquistan politics bearable for me.” 

“You’ve finally warmed up to my homeland. Hopefully you’ll feel the same way about my family.” 

Her eyes were so focused on the waters and inevitable-approaching islands that she barely noticed the sensation of something being gently slid onto her finger. When she looked down, her eyes widened and she gasped at the sight of a small engagement ring. It was a golden band with an emerald gemstone, which sparkled in the light as he drew his hand away from hers. 

“You said it was better if we were engaged, right?” he tapped his knuckle on the railing. “I’m sure that will impress them.” 

She snapped out of her ogling, heart twinging in disappointment as she remembered what she said. “Right, the ‘pretend engagement’. It’s still a pretty ring, even if it’s a fake.”

“Fake?” he let out a breathy chuckle. “That’s genuine, Dea.”

She straightened herself out. “What!? You didn’t need to waste money on-” 

“I didn’t waste anything,” he assured, moving his gaze and tipping his head. “Look, we’re here.” 

They were docking at the island near Monquista City. He assisted her off the ship and she led him the rest of the way to her home. She’d spoken to her family a week prior to plan a visit and introduce Deacon. They had comments to give about that, but she ignored what they had to say and focused on getting things sorted out. Her sister would be there, as well as a few close relatives. But she made sure there weren’t too many present to overwhelm the Armada’s Emissary. 

They arrived at a colonial house hosting a courtyard that covered a modest amount of land. The weather here was a little warmer than it was in Valencia, and Deacon was prepared to shed his outer coat when they arrived. She led him to the front doors and knocked on the wooden surface, crossing her arms while they waited and closing her eyes in preparation of whom she was about to face. 

Thankfully, it was her father who answered the door, and visibly lit up when he saw the two on his doorstep. 

“Reyna! ¡Hace tiempo que no te veo! Come in,” he ushered them inside, shutting the door behind them and clasping his hands together. 

The inside was decorated just like a party, with banners and streamers hanging around. There was no way they would’ve thrown a celebration for her return. Her suspicion grew as she took off her shoes with Deacon, and her eyes grew wide when she read a congratulatory banner hanging above their living room. She whipped around to her dad, eyes searching for an answer in his. 

“What is this?” she asked. 

“Well, we did not tell you over the phone because it’s a surprise, but your sister is expecting again,” his smile was wide. “We figured we could have the baby shower while you were home.” 

“Oh, for the love of God–!” she clenched her fists and stormed off, leaving her boyfriend alone with her father. He took the liberty of outstretching his gloved hand, and the other man gave him a firm shake in return. 

“I’m Deacon,” he introduced. 

“Ahhh, yes. Deacon. I’d only heard of you a week ago,” he sighed and dropped his hand. “Mi casa es tu casa. I’m, eh, sorry for my daughter’s outburst, we really should have told her about this in advance.” 

She would need some consolation, he knew. He hung his coat on the rack and placed his folded cane on one of his belt loops. He and Dea didn’t arrive in their Armada uniforms, but a casual arrangement instead. Had he known they were going to a party, he would’ve put a bit more effort into his looks. She insisted he wear his mask while she came bare-faced. The bauta made him feel a bit more comfortable, getting to hide his expression while he took everything in. 

Reyna arrived back in the room, looking just as frazzled as she did when she left. She sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“There’s more of my family here than I wanted,” she spoke to him through gritted teeth. She turned back to her dad. “Where is Sara, anyway?” 

“Her friends took her out for lunch. Your sister should be back within the hour,” he clapped his hands together and gestured to their dining room. “Help yourself to the snacks! I’m going to go look for your mother.” 

He dismissed himself, muttering something in Spanish under his breath. Deacon followed his direction and found a table overflowing with food, chips and salsas, cheeses, and sandwiches. He dipped a couple of tortilla chips in some guacamole and ate them while his girlfriend fumed beside him. 

“Of course they would do this,” she whispered angrily. “They couldn’t just tell me she was pregnant again and I could’ve seen her last week. They had to wait until I was here to make it all about her.” 

“I know what it’s like not to be the golden child,” he wiped his mouth and reached for the salsa. “Try not to let it get to you, just for today?”

She let out a deep breath and grabbed his arm, relaxing as she leaned on him. “Okay, I’ll try.” 

She reached over and helped herself to some of the food. A minute afterwards, some children ran through the room screaming and laughing, chasing after a remote-controlled car. Their eyes landed on their new company and they quickly ran off, except for one boy who stood stock still staring at them. His brown eyes were trained at Deacon, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He wore an orange shirt with a pair of overalls and had a decorative watch on one of his wrists. He looked no older than 10 years old. 

“That’s my nephew I was telling you about!” she whispered excitedly. “The one into those comics and villains?” 

She gestured him over and the child timidly took a step closer, eyes never leaving her beloved’s bauta. It was almost like he’d been waiting for permission to greet them. She leaned down to meet his eye-level, passing a sympathetic look to Deacon. 

“He’s still learning English,” she said. Then she leaned down to meet his eye-level and plastered a grin on her face. “Tomás, te presento a Deacon.”

“Hola,” he waved shyly at the man. The Emissary crouched down and began speaking to him in fluent Spanish. 

The child’s eyes lit up as he listened to his voice, then began asking him about his mask and where he was from. He followed it up with questions about Valencia and who he exactly was. He was hypnotized with what he was wearing and couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bauta. Reyna giggled as she listened to her love exaggerating his job and identity, playing into Tomás’ wild imagination. 

The children in the other room began calling for him, asking where he went. He was more comfortable when he bid goodbye to Deacon, looking at him over his shoulder twice before running off. When he returned to his full height, Reyna trailed a finger along her beloved’s shoulder, eyes full of admiration.

“I knew he would love you,” she said confidently. 

“I should impress your parents next,” he returned. 

She led him by the arm into the other room, where her relatives were sitting and talking. Their eyes snapped to her and they were greeted with pleased exclamations. She was embraced by her family, who regarded her company with curious expressions. She took the liberty of introducing him to them all, and he shook plenty of hands as they exchanged pleasantries. They were impressed with his Spanish and even more so when they learned who he was and where he came from. It was universally recognized that Valencians were rich – so she wasn’t surprised to see some of the girls swooning a little too closely to him. 

She scolded and batted them away. They dispersed afterwards, and she protectively clung onto his side. He was chuckling under the bauta. 

“If I don’t let them know you’re mine, you will be swept away by my cousins,” she warned. 

“How terrible, we mustn’t let that happen,” he teased, and she tapped his mask’s nose in warning. 

She got them a couple of drinks and led him on a tour of their home and the courtyard. There was music playing loudly outside as the children played games of tag and hopscotch. A few men were surrounding the grill, cooking carne asada and assembling tacos out of them. Reyna snagged a couple and handed one to her partner. He took off his gloves to eat it, the flavors meeting on his tongue and a moan involuntarily escaped his mouth. 

“That was the best I’ve had,” he confessed, cleaning off his fingers. 

“Yeah, no offense, but Valencia has nothing on my family’s food,” she grinned confidently. “Just watch me, espía. You’ll love Monquista by the time we leave.” 

He didn't object to that. They sat outside and spoke with some of her relatives out there, who asked Deacon about his hobbies and gave him advice on cooking. That was fun to listen to. Reyna was feeling comfortable and happy. The door opened and she heard a feminine exclamation - rising to her feet when she saw her sister running towards her. 

“Reyna!” Sara screamed in glee, hugging her as tightly as she could. “I thought I’d never see you again!” 

“Come on, that’s an exaggeration,” she scoffed, returning the embrace and smiling. 

“Is not! We barely hear from you anymore! I wanted to have you at my baby shower,” she pulled away and held their hands together. She was about to say something else until her eyes drifted down and the color left her face. Reyna blushed at the attention of her ring. 

“Oh. My. GOD!” her squealing caused everyone’s heads to turn to them. “YOU’RE ENGAGED?”

“The whole neighborhood can hear you,” she whispered in embarrassment. Deacon chose this opportunity to join them, and Sara dropped their hands as her head whipped around to him. 

“You’re the guy dating my sister! It’s uhmmm - Dickens, right?”  she sounded out of breath with how excited she was. 

“Deacon,” he corrected, clutching her hand politely. She forgoed the formality entirely and hugged him as she had with Reyna. 

“No kidding! I thought she’d never find a man! And from Valencia!?”

“Sara, let go, you’re overwhelming him,” Reyna peeled her off from her boyfriend. 

She reached for her hand again and eyed the ring, her expression of disbelief. Another man joined in on the scene - a handsome gentleman who was just as tall as Deacon. His hand landed on Sara’s shoulder and she leaned into him with a smile. Reyna noticed her pregnant stomach and eyed it a little longer than was appropriate. She noticed where her eyes were and rubbed the top of it with a smile. 

“We’re expecting triplets,” she informed her. 

Reyna didn’t really know what to say. She thought she had enough children, but some couples must be happy to have plenty of kids. She attempted to picture her and Deacon ever having a child and the thought caused her to turn red. She held her hand up again before Sara could notice it, and she was once again distracted by the gorgeous sight of the green emerald. 

“Simon,” her husband introduced himself, offering his hand to Deacon. He repeated the gesture in return. She listened to them making small talk but it became background noise as her sister held her attention. 

“I’m so glad you made it,” she confessed. “Mom wanted the shower here today, and I thought it worked out since I wanted to tell you in person. But I guess that isn’t the only thing to celebrate,” her eyes darted downwards again. “How long have you two been engaged?” 

“A few months,” she lied. She and Deacon have been dating for more than a year, and the subject of an engagement had never come their way until now. She was still flummoxed by his words earlier - it was a real ring, so that must make the situation real, too. Or was she just overthinking it? She’d have to ask him as soon as she could. 

“And you didn’t tell me!?” she pouted and placed her hands on her hips. Reyna copied the gesture. 

“You didn’t tell me you were having more kids, either. So, we’re even.” 

“I guess we are,” she sighed, and tapped Simon on his chest.  “We better get going - mom wants to dress me up for dinner. You guys will be staying, won’t you?”

Deacon looked to her for permission, and she nodded. “Of course we will.” 

The couple excused themselves, looking the epitome of a happy, expecting pair of parents. They didn’t wear masks, had a normal life at home with their children every day…Simon with a stable job, Sara as the dedicated homemaker…and here she was, getting to travel the Spiral every day while shooting guns and singing out into the ocean. They were two vastly different lives - and Reyna felt the comparison was striking. 

“Dinner’s going to be fun,” she muttered, leading them both back inside. “I hope you’re up for it.” 

“With this food, I think it’ll be worth it,” she could practically hear him salivating. She patted him on the back. 

—---

Dinner was, in fact, fun. 

But it was in the way Reyna expected. The table was full of her family, the room noisy as the children’s hollering mixed in with the adult’s conversations. She and Deacon were seated near her parents, and before the food could even be served, her mother wasted no second eying her company and bombarding him with questions. 

“I’ve been hearing different things. Are you an emissary, or a spymaster?”

“I’m both,” he replied easily. 

“What are those, exactly? Do you spy on people?” 

“I’m a diplomatic representative for the Armada and Valencia. I also happen to be the head of our organization of spies. I employ and direct them, their job is to get valuable information for our army.” 

To her surprise, her mother could not refute the admirable professions in which he had. Her father rubbed her arm, laughing nervously as he attempted to diffuse the tension. 

“¡Impresionante! Tell me, Deacon, do you like spicy food?” 

“Sure,” he replied, slipping off his gloves. 

“Carmen makes the best Chilaquiles Verdes. You two should drop by sometime after this, have some maybe. We would love to have you.” 

Reyna appreciated her father’s attempts in lightening the mood. Thankfully, the food was being served - and she moved her attention to the dinner. It was a shared effort of her sister and mother’s cooking, and Deacon was thoroughly enjoying the food. He offered his compliments, and as a thanks, more was poured onto his plate. He wasn’t used to eating this much, but continued on under politeness. 

“So, Reyna,” her mother spoke from across the table. “How much do you make, being a…what was it? A firstmate?” 

She sighed. “Does it really matter? It’s a moderate salary, mom.” 

She chose not to push it. Instead, she turned to her love and eyed him directly. “I don’t understand the masks. I think they’re strange.” 

He replied, “They’re a symbol of military rank. The more gilded, or golden they are, the higher their status is.” 

“Yours is blank,” her mother commented dryly. Reyna opened her mouth to scold her, but it wasn’t enough to offend Deacon. 

“Mine is a bauta, which hides my identity and allows me to eat and drink without ever taking it off. It’s more practical to show my Elite status through my uniform.” 

Her mother grew quiet. It was amusing Reyna to see her picking fights that she could not finish. They worked through the food a little longer before the older woman decided to speak up again. 

“And when is the wedding?” 

The water came down her throat a little too harshly, and she sputtered at the question. While she fumbled to recover herself, Deacon clasped his hands together and regarded her parents carefully.

“We don’t have a set date yet. But we were thinking sometime in the spring next year, right, Reyna?” 

She blinked at him before slowly nodding. “Right. Around then.” 

“That’s around the time your sister is due,” her mother nodded along thoughtfully. 

“Then we’ll have it in the fall,” she responded a little too harshly, digging her fork into her plate. Deacon’s hand came to rest on her leg under the table, reassuring her with the swipe of his thumb across her skin. 

They managed through the rest of dinner until dessert was served. She and Deacon shared some fried ice cream while her mother moved her attention over to Sara, cooing at her stomach as she rubbed and spoke to her grandchildren inside. Reyna watched the scene with a little envy. Not for her sister’s expectancy, but how easily she held their mother’s love in her hands. She cupped Simon’s face in her hands and congratulated him for what would be the tenth time that night. 

“Do you want to leave?” her partner asked quietly beside her. 

“I do. I think I’m about done here,” she agreed, taking one last bite before standing and dusting her clothes off. 

As they bid their goodbyes, Reyna closely observed Carmen’s face. She was aging quickly for her age, with wrinkles already well-formed in her face, neck, and arms. There were lines formed from years of narrowing her eyebrows at her younger daughter, and her mouth was pulled from all the scolding she’d done. Her mother was losing her beauty she still carried from her youth, and that fact pleased her a little. 

When they left, she felt just a little better, gripping Deacon’s hand tightly and lifting his mask to kiss his cheek. 

“So how was it?” she asked expectantly. 

“Pretty good,” he answered. She looked at him doubtfully. 

“My mother did nothing but scrutinize you all night, and you think it went well?” 

“Of course. The food was excellent and the rest of your family was kind. I don’t know why you stress over that woman.” 

“That was only a glimpse into what she’s like. She can be way worse,” she sighed sadly. “I’ve wanted her approval and love so badly all these years. But I think I’ve lost that to my sister.” 

“You have Queen’s love, now.” 

She snapped her head up. “Do I?”

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “She’s talked to me a lot about you. She adores you like her own daughter, and I think you should know that.” 

That did make her feel wonderful. Her eyes went down to their intertwined hands and she held a breath remembering the question she had yet to ask him. How could she approach such a bold subject? 

“I guess I should be giving this ring back to you,” she suggested, going to take out her hand but he held it down firmly. 

“You can keep it if you want,” he said. A blush painted her cheeks as she took in the meaning of his words. 

“Are you asking me to marry you?” 

“I am.” 

She looked down, overwhelmed. In any other circumstance, she’d be screaming her heart out and exclaiming to the skies - but for now, a demure smile would suffice in his company. 

“Then I’ll keep the ring.” 

“Perfect,” he purred. “We’ll get married sometime in the fall next year, so your sister doesn’t go into labor and ruin everything.” 

She laughed so hard she snorted. “It’s my mother who will ruin things.” 

“Then we’ll keep her off of the guest list.” 

He rolled his head and tapped his girlfriend on the shoulder, who jumped back awake. She’d been dozing off. There was no doubt she was going to pass out at some point tonight. “Actually, Bishop, I should re-introduce you two. Reyna is my girlfriend.” 

“Congratulations.” Bishop stated flatly. 

She smiled shyly in return. She wondered if he recognized her without her mask and uniform. She hadn’t talked to him since she came over to see Deacon’s piano. “It’s nice to see you again.” 

He leaned over to clean up the board. “Would you like to play a game?” He offered.

“You don’t want to play with her .” The Emissary snorted. “She’s terrible at chess.” 

“Oh, dear. That is not ideal.” 

“Why does everyone keep saying that..?” The woman tiredly muttered under her breath.

“Well. Anyone can learn if they are willing to practice.” His goggles shone invitingly as he gestured to the seat across from him. “I encourage you to play with me.” 

“It’s more preferable than Kane,” Deacon shrugged as he looked at Reyna. “You should join him.” 

She groaned before standing up and moving into the seat. She swayed a little as she tried to gather her bearings. Why was she such a lightweight? She only had a couple drinks tonight. There was no doubt she was going to do terribly and embarrass herself in front of one of Deacon’s brothers…at least it wasn't Rooke… 

“I assume Deacon has taught you about the game,” The tall man sat up straight as he positioned the board to his liking. “I will be happy to fill in anything you do not know.” 

She eyed the pieces which were getting slightly blurry by the minute. “I seem to get myself cornered a lot.” 

“That is insightful. I will help you to prevent that.” 

. . . .

And so she engaged in a game of chess with the Armada’s genius. Such a position sounded daunting, but Bishop was actually informative while they played together. Granted, she was sure she would’ve done better if she was in a sober state of mind, but the tinkerer was patient and gave her tips on how to avoid ending the game like she’d done so with Deacon. She didn’t even mind playing her least favorite game in the world - but she credited that to the alcohol at that moment. 

All she could remember last was Bishop cleaning up the board before her body felt limp and the world around her darkened. She jolted awake some time after and found the chair across from her empty. She was able to spot some blue and red colors on the couch. Phule glanced over to her and she was met with a pair of beautiful blue and brown eyes. He was drinking from a bottle of beer. 

He smirked as she rubbed her eyes. “You fell asleep.” 

“Ugh…” She groaned as she stood and placed a hand on the table to balance herself. She looked around. No one else was in the room. “Where is everybody?” 

“Playing doctor,” He pointed to a door with his mask’s long nose. “You should go check up on your compagno .”

She passed him a strange look before following where he told her to go. When she opened the door, she found two men huddled around a small cot. She stepped inside and earned their attention right away. She was met with Rooke’s hazel eyes and Bishop’s blue goggles. They addressed her before turning their attention back to Deacon, who was laying before them without a shirt on. She joined their side and eyed his bruised chest worriedly. 

Bishop noticed her look and assured her. “It is not bad. A non-displaced fracture, but a couple ribs are broken, nonetheless.” He pressed some ice to the area, which made their ‘patient’ hiss through his teeth. “Still. You could have damaged your internal organs. So consider yourself lucky.” 

“You should have been resting,” The large general muttered. 

“Hard to rest when I had to escape pirates.” The Emissary rolled his eyes. “I know you shrug these injuries off too, Rooke.” 

He chuckled. “Alright. Maybe I’m hiding some injuries of my own right now. It’s annoying to be on the bedrest, but it is still necessary, fratello .” 

“How long does he need to take it easy?” Reyna asked. 

“A few weeks. Make sure he does his breathing exercises and ices the area a few times a day. I’m sure some painkillers wouldn’t hurt.” 

“ I’m right here ,” He reminded his twin. 

He stood back and clapped his large hands. “I know. And it’s a good thing you’ve got yourself a partner, now. I can trust that she will make sure you recover.” 

“You act like I'm trying to get hurt,” He winced as he removed the cold compress from his skin. 

“You and Rooke suffer the most injuries out of all of us,” Bishop dutifully reminded him. 

He glared daggers at the taller man from the cot. He went to rise, but was pushed back down by Rooke’s gloved hand. He forced him to return the ice to his tender areas. 

“Give it 10 more minutes. We’ll play some scopa once you’re done.” 

“Fine.” 

The two dismissed themselves and left the couple alone. Deacon laid back and closed his eyes while she shuffled uncomfortably next to him. She was glad to see him finally taking care of himself, but the sight of those bruises and his slow breathing reminded her what happened back on that ship…and then she was brought back to the memory of her concussion; how he also waited by her bedside. 

“He’s right, you know.” She told him cheerfully. “I’ll make sure you get proper care when you’re under my watch.” 

“Hooray,” He responded dully. 

She took a seat on one of the chairs. It looked like they were in a closet of some sorts, but it was bigger than any she had back at home. This one was filled with chairs, cups, and different board games. She leaned over and pressed a kiss on his dampened forehead. 

“You’ll have to wait until we’re back on duty, anyway, so get used to having to rest like this.” 

“I’m not going to be completely bedridden, you know.” His free hand sought hers. It was still a strange sensation to feel his bare palm instead of his usual gloves. “We can still have some fun.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘fun’.” 

“We can practice our shooting and work out a little bit. I want to stay in shape so I’m ready to go back to being a captain.” 

She sighed. “I guess we’ll have to set back your singing lessons until you can breathe normally.” 

“A pity.” 

She smacked his shoulder at his sarcastic tone and he laughed. At least things weren’t bad. She could’ve lost him to those pirates…and he could’ve lost her to those scum back in Cool Ranch. Something uneasy settled in her stomach coming to terms with this; having to get used to the close calls and just hoping that they could save each other in time. That’s what being partners meant, didn’t it? She still wasn’t sure she liked being in love with a man and having to join him in a gunfight nearly every day. 

“Things will be alright,” She was comforting herself more than him. 

He squeezed her small hand in return. 

“They will.” 

Once he was done icing his injuries, they went to the entertainment room and found a table prepared for a card game. Reyna spent the next 20 minutes attempting to learn how to play scopa. It was fun watching the elite play and get frustrated with each other. It reminded her of the good days when she used to play games with her own family. And when she was brought in to try, she was practically treated as one of their own. 

They did not spare her any mercy. 

“Take it easy on her,” Phule spoke up as he watched her cards being swept from the table. “She’s just a girl!” 

“A girl who will kick your asses once I figure out what I’m doing…” Reyna bit her lip as she watched the cards move around. 

“Sit the next one out and watch carefully,” Bishop instructed as he moved to play with Deacon. 

She spent the rest of the hour watching instead of playing, which felt like a fortunate turn of events. It was late into the night when they decided to wrap things up. Everyone left for their rooms and Reyna followed Deacon into his. She slipped into one of his shirts and settled comfortably back in his bed. The sheets still felt immaculate under her touch.

“I’m glad you like it here,” Her boyfriend said quietly. He was dressing himself to join her side. 

“Of course I do. Your brothers are pretty nice to me.” 

He huffed. “I’m surprised Bishop was helpful to you tonight…he’s usually a little more judgemental when it comes to most things.” 

“Maybe he felt bad that I couldn’t play chess. He beat me at scopa, though.” 

Deacon slipped under the sheets and shook his head. “He usually doesn’t play games like that. It’s been a pretty good night.” 

“I would say so,” She replied, moving over to cuddle him and nestle her face in the crook of his neck. She was being careful of his chest, but he didn’t seem to mind, as he rolled right over and took her into his arms. They laid there for a bit, listening to the footsteps and murmured voices above. 

“You should have me meet your family,” He whispered into her ear. She sat up in the sheets in alarm. 

“Are you crazy!?” 

“If my family can get along with you, then I’m certain yours can as well.” 

Her eyes roamed around his room in thought. “Well. It might not be the worst idea - my mother would rather I come home with a man…We might just have to pretend we’re engaged. Can you do that?” 

He scoffed. “Do you not think I can settle down?” 

She snickered. “You? Settling for me ? Your life's on the ocean, Espía. I don’t expect you to give up anything for me.” 

He went quiet at this, his blue eyes moving elsewhere. She took this silence to settle back down beside him and close her eyes. The light was still on and he had yet to set an alarm. When she felt no movement after a minute, she opened her eyes and found his gaze fixated above him, eyebrows knitted together in thought. 

“Deacon, we can go to bed. I wasn’t being serious or anything-” 

“-No, you just have me thinking.” He shook his head and reached over for his clock. “If I really want to be an Elite for my whole life.” 

“What-” 

“I’ve never really thought about it before until I met you.” He set the device down and rested against his pillow. “I was under the assumption I’d be doing this job until I die - but if I had the option not to…” 

Her emerald eyes glistened as she propped herself on an elbow to look at him. Her mind had also been on the future, but not that far in advance. She’d been too worried about losing her position in the Armada, and not if she truly wanted to get married and have a family. It’s certainly what her parents wanted, and what her sister would support, but…would it be the best for them? Or should they be destined partners, leaving on missions for the rest of their days? 

“We’ll get to that when we’re ready.” She placed a hand assuringly on his forearm. “For now, we should do our best for the Armada and see where it takes us.” 

“I’m not against giving you what you want,” He protested quietly. 

“What I want is to be with you , whether that’s on a ship or in a house. Really, we don’t have to worry about it. It’s just…a precaution I want to make, when you meet my parents. I’m pretty sure you’ll impress them no matter what.” 

He smiled at her. “Why? Because I’m rich?” 

“No, but that will help, I think.” 

He laughed and leaned over to cover her in kisses, which made her giggle. Her lips met with his shortly after, which caused them to calm down. They turned off the light to shut the room in darkness. Sleep came easy and they had a truly restful night, compared to the many restless ones they’ve had recently. 

Reyna yawned as she rose from the bed that next morning. As she expected, the spot beside her was empty with the blankets pulled back. When she felt the pillow, it was still a little warm, so Deacon must’ve gotten up not long ago. She shrugged as she moved to get ready for the day. It was still a little disorienting waking up in her boyfriend’s room instead of the cabin on their ship. She needed to freshen up and get a proper change of clothes. 

She decided using their shower in the meantime will do. As she left for the bathroom, she ended up bumping into someone in the hallway. She stepped back in surprise and immediately opened her mouth to apologize, but froze when her eyes met who she stumbled upon. 

The Supreme Commander looked down at her tiredly, with a mug of coffee clutched in his left hand. He wasn’t in his impressive uniform, but still wore something comfortable yet extravagant. His hands were bare from their usual gloves and she spotted the wedding band on his finger. She couldn’t believe she was seeing Kane in his home clothes..! 

“O-oh! I’m so sorry, sir..!” She stood up straight and saluted him out of habit. After doing it, she immediately felt stupid because he looked at her oddly and held up a dismissive hand. 

“Not necessary. Have a good morning.” 

He passed by her breezily and her awestruck gaze followed him until he disappeared into a door at the end of the hallway. She heard the distant sound of a woman talking - and recognized the voice of Queen. She’d had no idea they were home today. 

She rushed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Again, she was impressed with how fancy everything was and the expensive skincare products laying around the cupboards and shelves. She used as little of everything as she possibly could and changed into an extra pair of clothes she’d brought. She had the feeling she was going to spend the night here again and was glad she brought them. 

She went downstairs and heard the beautiful sound of the piano. Her feet moved faster than she could think before she found Deacon sitting on the bench playing the instrument. She didn’t even process her movements as she plopped down beside him, surprising the unsuspecting spymaster with her sudden presence. 

“ Buenos días ,” He greeted happily. He was wearing his mask and she realized she hadn’t put hers on yet. She was sitting as still as a statue. 

“I ran into Kane just now,” She blurted out. He blinked at her before moving back to the keys and continuing the little song he was playing. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing…he told me good morning.” 

“I told you he wouldn’t care if you're here. You should go get some breakfast - Bishop made something this morning.” 

She felt even more confused at this information. She stood and made her way into the kitchen, where a prepared plate was sitting on the counter. It was a typical breakfast arrangement - bacon, eggs, a slice of thick toast, and a glass of orange juice. She realized she was hungrier than she thought when she sat down in the dining room and ate through it easily. 

..The table was long and empty at that moment, so she enjoyed her breakfast in peace. She picked up her plate and returned to the kitchen, where she ran into a tall woman grabbing something from the fridge. The moment they made eye contact, Queen straightened in delighted surprise. 

“Dea! Buongiorno, come va?” 

“Buongiorno, Signora. I’m feeling…very good.” She nodded politely. The plate was swiped from her hands and set carefully into the sink. 

“Kane told me you were home. I was so happy to hear.” She leaned down and observed her closely. Reyna realized her face was bare and she began to turn red under the attention. “You’ve been sleeping well. His bed is comfortable, isn’t it?” 

Her question made her blush even further. “Uhm…yes, it is. I should be getting back to Deacon, actually.” 

“Of course. I assume you and the boys had fun last night?”

“Oh, yes. We did.” She nodded her head and grinned. “You look lovely this morning.” 

“ Molte grazie. You look wonderful yourself. Remember you’re welcome here anytime.” 

“ È molto gentile da parte tua .” 

Reyna excused herself back to Deacon. He wrapped up whatever he’d been playing and stood from the bench to face her. He got a good look at her before embracing her and running his hand through her hair. She leaned into his touch when he swayed them slightly.

“I guess I should be going back to my place,” She sighed sadly. 

“Let me give you something before you go,” He insisted, withdrawing from her and moving to grab something from the table. He returned with a small communicator in his hand - the same one she knew existed on his left wrist. 

“These are usually only used for the elites, but we have a few spares. I set this one for our contact only. So we can speak even if we’re far away.” 

She took it from him cautiously. “Are you sure I should have this?” 

“My excuse is that it’s helpful for my first-mate to have, and we’re testing it out in the meantime.” He brushed his mask’s nose on the side of her face. “Remember that I’m not far, carissima . If you ever want me, I’m a call away.” 

She couldn’t help grinning. “Mind if I abuse that power a little bit?” 

“Not at all. Do you want me to sail you home?” 

“If you don’t mind..?” 

He nodded and collected his cane from the wall. She followed him out of the residence and to their dock, where he prepared his small vessel. Reyna couldn’t help gazing out longingly into the ocean and enjoying the sunny weather. She hoped to be back on duty soon so she could enjoy this every day again. 

They spent the next few weeks being simultaneously close and far from each other. They went on a couple more dates and visited each other when they could. Deacon was quite preoccupied with catching up on a few of his personal businesses while Reyna killed some time revisiting Monquista and reflecting on the past month. She received a letter from her family detailing their shock and opinion on her current situation. She ignored what they had to say and hoped she wouldn’t have to face them again for awhile. She thought about how they would react to Deacon and got some quiet pleasure knowing he would be more than what they wanted. It wasn’t her goal to impress them, but he wanted to meet them eventually. 

…She’ll make sure to take her time on that. 

She might’ve bugged him more than once to remind him to ice his ribs and exercise his breathing. He wasn’t pleased but he did as she wished, which made her happy all the same. She was glad to still hear his voice even though they were a few islands away. It made all the waiting easier.

When the weeks passed by and she finally received the news that their boat and crew were ready, she hadn’t ever moved so fast in her life. She left her apartment and met at the Armada station, where she received her new uniform. It wasn’t the dress she’d worn before, which was nearly identical to Deacon’s design, but it followed his crew colors and insignia. She was allowed to use her old mask and zendale, which made her elated. 

She joined the crew on the docks and got familiar with them as they waited on their new ship. It was more reminiscent of The Erebus, judging from what she heard about it. It was spacious and had a hefty brig. She’d been in a conversation with one of the soldiers when she heard the other crew members exclaim in surprise. She turned around to see Deacon himself had finally made his appearance. 

‘This is the first time he’s ever been late ,’ She mused to herself. 

He instructed them to line up on the ship and they did as they were told. She stood at the head of the line with a proud stance and salute, which earned an appreciative glance from her Captain. He gave them a little speech similar to the one they’d given their own crew back in the day: 

“ Buongiorno. My name is Deacon, the Armada’s Emissary and Spymaster. I will be the captain of this vessel. You are to answer to my command and keep our ship in good shape while we arrest any undesirables and sail the Spiral.” 

He moved his gaze to Reyna, who perked up under his attention. 

“-You shall also answer to my first mate, ‘Dea’, and carry out her orders. Direct your concerns and questions to either of us. For the glory of the Armada!”

They repeated this exclamation proudly. The spymaster dispersed his crew, who busied themselves preparing the ship and getting it ready to sail. Deacon motioned for Reyna to follow him, and she happily obliged. They stepped off the boat and walked a bit on the deck until they met with Kane himself. He crossed his arms and addressed them with a strong stance. 

“Welcome back, you two. As of today, you are back on duty and will return to all your duties. Your main goal is to catch your last escaped criminal. I want that pirate brought back alive. Dea, you will serve as Deacon’s first-mate during this time, and I expect you both to perform appropriately and in-line.” 

“Yes, sir.” They nodded in unison. 

“ Bene . I shall expect better progress this time. Do not let me down.” 

Her captain bowed his head. “Of course not.” 

The Supreme Commander dismissed them and they were sent back to their ship. Deacon excitedly led Reyna by the hand to the cabin. It was a little different compared to their last arrangement - as this one only had one bed, but it was a size bigger than the usual singles in Armada cabins. She raised an expecting eyebrow as they entered the room and he gestured around

“Consider yourself quite fortunate, because you get to sleep with the Captain.” He tapped his cane on the floor.

“I’m assuming not every first-mate gets to have this privilege?” She placed her hand on her hip expectantly. 

“None of mine have, until now .” There was a playful glint in his eye. “You can put your things around here if you’d like. I won’t have much beyond my books.” 

She sat down on the bed to test its springs. “What’s the difference between a ‘co-captain’ and a ‘firstmate’, truly?” 

“The title. Co-captain is in coexistence with an Elite, because you were technically at my level. Now, you’re a reporting officer.”

“Right - a demotion. How could I forget? Kane said it himself.” 

“Yes, but not in my eyes.” He leaned down and rested the forehead of his mask against hers. “You’re going to help me track down this pirate and arrest them once and for all. I have complete faith in you.” 

“Oh? Is this the mighty Deacon, telling me that he isn’t going to work alone ? How long did it take you to come to this decision?” 

He moved forward and hugged his girlfriend tightly, inhaling under his mask so he could enjoy her perfume. This was the first voyage of his he would go without his pack of cigarettes, and he was quite proud of it. He wouldn’t need them and he could find peace in something else now. He was going to sleep beside her every night. He couldn’t believe his job could get any better - but it did. 

“As long as it took me to find you,” He whispered. He dearly wished he could take off his bauta and kiss her right about now, but they had work to get to. He let go and stepped back, giving her room to stand from the bed. “We should set sail now. We have a prisoner to catch.” 

“A prisoner to catch together.” She corrected him. 

He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Of course.” 

He clapped off the remaining dust from his gloves. “I can take you down there if you’d like.” 

“How are we going to get there without a ship?” 

“I have a personal boat. Shouldn’t take more than an hour to get there, I think.” 

She moved to him and clutched his hand, swinging it playfully as she led them both towards the door. “-Then let’s go!” 

----

Deacon showed her a smaller boat he had docked at the estate. She got a chance to look at the other Elite’s personal crafts while she was there. She felt a little overwhelmed with these demonstrations of their wealth. On one hand, it made perfect sense that the Armada would be well-funded and the Elite received good pay for maintaining one of the strongest and reliable armies in the Spiral - but she wasn’t used to facing such a reality. It seemed that the wealthiest in Monquista only had a fraction of what Kane’s family did. 

Still, she enjoyed the ride back to the city. It was nice to be on a smaller vessel with more privacy between her and Deacon…not that they did much besides look at some noticeable landmarks, where he told her a bit more about Valencia.

When they were on land, she led him straight to her residence - grabbing the key she’d had on her person for so long and unlocking the front door. It opened to a small flat that cost her nearly all her savings. Another thing she was grateful for was that the Armada took care of their soldier’s expenses, including the rent that she owed on this place. She’d been relying on that fact when she moved here - as she wouldn’t be able to afford an apartment otherwise. 

“ Mi casa ,” She gestured around, hoping he wasn’t feeling too claustrophobic. 

He shrugged off his cape and coat, hanging them on the rack by the door. He folded up his cane and rested it against the wall and adjusted his gloves as he took everything in.

“It’s a nice place you got here, you’re in a good area,” He complimented. 

“It was kind of stupid to put a down payment on it before the Armada accepted me,” She huffed as she took off her boots. “I was planning on moving back to Monquista before Queen got back to me.” 

He was getting a better look around her living area, eying the quaint couch and coffee table. Her apartment was nearly the same size as their cabin was back on The Executioner. He was well-acquainted with small spaces, as he usually had to rent single rooms and sleep in tiny cabins while he was out and about. He navigated her space easily and took a brief glance at the kitchenette. 

“Get comfortable. I'm going to go look for what to wear tonight.” 

She went to the closet, shifting through her hangers and humming lightly under her breath. Deacon enjoyed the sound while he walked around, chuckling when he spotted a film of dust on her things. He hadn’t been the only one away from home for awhile…he flicked some specks off his knuckles before stumbling on some framed pictures she had sitting on a table. 

He held his breath then, fearing that he’d find a picture of Dea, but he wasn’t greeted with that sight. At least…he didn’t believe so. The pictures were of a woman and three children, with a handsome man behind them. They were posed in typical family portrait fashion. Upon closer inspection, he noticed one of them had handwriting on the bottom of the picture - written in pink ink, reading: “We’ll miss you, Aunt Reyna!” 

He studied them for a long time, so deeply lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear footsteps coming up from behind him. 

“Deacon?”

He whipped around - his heart doing a strange leap when he noticed she changed out of her dress. She was wearing something more casual now, a long sleeve with a pair of black sweatpants, still donning her mask and zendale. His eyes lingered on her petite form before he forced himself back to the present. She followed his gaze and found the pictures herself. Sadness washed over her eyes as she hugged herself with her arms. 

“I’m assuming this isn’t you ,” He pointed to what was written in a lighthearted manner. 

She laughed softly. “No, that’s my sister. Kind of obvious, isn’t it?” 

She leaned forward and grabbed the portrait he’d been studying. Her eyes glossed over her nieces and nephew before sighing melancholy. 

“...I don’t recall you ever mentioning your family.” He confessed after a moment. 

“You didn’t talk much about your own, either.” She tilted her head at him coyly. 

“ Touché ,” He muttered softly. 

She took a deep breath then, bracing herself for what was surely going to be a hard conversation. “I don’t have a good relationship with my parents anymore. But my sister still stays in touch with me.” 

She turned on her heel and moved to the couch. He followed after, joining her on the cushions and keeping himself close. This seemed like a complicated matter, so he was willing to listen to whatever troubles she may have. 

“What happened?” He asked curiously. 

“We argued over the whole ‘leaving the Monquistan army’ thing.” She winced at the memory, setting the frame down and looking away. “They weren’t exactly fond of me joining the Armada, but they sure as Hell weren’t happy with me leaving, either.” 

Deacon noticed a change in her demeanor as she focused on the hard tiles of her floor. She continued before he could interrupt: 

“They had this expectation that I’d be married and have kids by now, but I wanted to train and fight. Most women my age are happy to settle down, but…I wasn’t . And I think that infuriated them, honestly. They gave my sister more support because she met a nice guy and had kids with him.”

“So, you didn’t do what your family wanted?” He surmised. She nodded. 

“She understood why I quit the army.” Her shoulders slumped. “But my mother told me I should’ve dated one of the men who put their hands on me. She said I was a coward for fleeing to Valencia, and I would never find a man there for me.”

She narrowed her eyes, anger momentarily uncurling within her. She clenched her hands before relaxing them again. “...My sister gave me these photos before I left. She told me to never forget my family, but it’s hard not to, you know?”

“I can imagine so,” He spoke softly, reaching out his hand to hold hers. She gripped back wordlessly. “I’m sorry your parents couldn’t understand.”

“I thought I might be able to make a family out of the Armada.” She inhaled deeply and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad I met you.”

He finally closed their distance. She melted in his grip, burying her face into the crook of his neck and letting the tears fall from her mask. She meant everything to him at that moment. There wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do for her, he realized. 

“If it’s any assurance, my family isn’t the greatest either.” He whispered quietly.

Her eyes fluttered open, thinking back to what he told her. “I’ve never considered how hard it must be for a military family.” 

“That’s only part of it.” He huffed. His hand traveled down her waist, smoothing the wrinkles in her shirt. “I feel like I’ve never lived up to what Kane has expected of me. I fear I will always live in the shadows of my brothers.”

“You mean…like Rooke?” 

“Him especially .” The strength in his posture fell. He lowered his head. “I could never be as successful as him. And I believe that’s all Kane thinks of me.”

She moved her hand underneath his bauta until her fingers collided with the underside of his jaw. She stroked the side of his face that she could not see. He had stubble there...a beard, maybe? Her mind went wild imagining what he looked like based on this small detail. 

“ Espía , remember what I said…you are smart and incredible in your own ways. I see it and I admire you for it.”

His eyes remained on hers before he nodded weakly. On the inside, he was wrestling with his insecurities. What could possibly be incredible about him? He struggled to understand what Dea saw in him and what could have possibly lured her this far…but he was ever so grateful for it, whatever that may be. 

She hesitated before withdrawing her touch, fingertips stroking his cheek as she pulled away. He frowned at the loss of contact, unbeknownst to her. She returned the picture to its place and excused herself to get her outfit ready for tonight. He drummed his fingers on the armrest of her couch in the meantime - feeling conflicted yet hopeful about the events that were soon to transpire. 

They spent a little more time hanging around her flat and talking together. They exchanged stories, some jokes, and even tales from forgotten times. They were drinking in each other’s company and prolonging this conversation for as long as they could. There was no telling how long this period of rest would last. 

For now, they simply smiled at each other. Expressions neither of them could directly see - but knew it existed, from the way Dea tilted her head and how Deacon chuckled from under his bauta. It was unique to know someone so intimately yet have no clue what they looked like. For him, he experienced this regularly around the Armada, but Dea was pleasant and a welcome change of company. 

“My nephew would love you,” She leaned forward to drink from her glass. She freely tipped the mask with her head away, comfortable in knowing he wasn’t trying to steal any glances. “He’s into those comic books with the caped superheroes and villains.” 

“I am neither of those things,” Deacon scoffed. 

“Ah - but you wear a cape, you carry a cane, and you have a mask. That’s a villain getup if I’ve ever seen one.” Something seemed to click in her mind as she eyed him. “You know, I’ve never asked this before, but…why do you wear that cape?” 

There was a good pause. “...I thought it looked fashionable.” 

“Your jackets and gloves - fashionable. The cape? A bit much…” 

“Don’t YOU wear one?” 

“It was given to me and it barely goes past my shoulders! Yours almost touches the GROUND!”

“Rooke wears a cape, too. Do you think he’s lame?” He teased her. She didn’t miss the way he fidgeted with his hands at this question, appearing a little embarrassed with this topic. 

“I thought you two were going for a matching thing, honestly.” 

“Well, that’s not wrong…he got his cape after I did. He liked how mine looked and wanted one for himself. Kane barely let him get away with the one he has. Any longer and it would snag on something.” 

“ Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery ~” Dea sang under her breath, earning a small laugh from him. He glanced outside her window and she followed his view - eyes widening when she noticed the sun retreating into the horizon. 

He stood right away. “We should get going. We’ll make a quick stop at the estate, then we can head to dinner.” 

“Good, I’m starving.” Dea dramatically sighed as she rose from her seat and washed her glass in the sink. She grabbed her bag of things and met her partner by the door - who gladly escorted her out and began their trip back to his home. 

----

Deacon instructed her to change in their restroom while he figured out his own ensemble for the night. Dea happily obliged after seeing the most extravagant washroom she ever stepped foot in. She spent more time gawking at the gorgeous mirror and sink than she did slipping into her dress and putting on her jewelry. When she checked her reflection to fix the straps, she paused upon seeing the white mask staring blankly back at her. 

..Should she? Shouldn’t she? 

She clutched at the end of the marble with white knuckles, struggling with this internal debate. Deacon knew her name, where she lived, her troubled history, and even learned a bit about her family. The privacy of her face seemed so insignificant now. Why was she still hiding? He called her beautiful without ever seeing her…and she doubted that would change, if the catcalling and inappropriate fondling had revealed anything in the past. 

She took a deep breath before unclipping the zendale and slowly removing her mask. She was met with a highly-defined reflection of her face. As her eyes observed her pores, she was filled with insecurity. She checked through their cabinets for anything to freshen up with - and thanked the Gods when she found some mascara, lipstick and exfoliating cream. Expensive brands she didn’t own personally, but was thankful to find, nonetheless. 

‘These might be Queen’s’, Dea thought to herself as she applied the mascara. ‘I’ll have to thank her later…’

A knock on the door startled her. She nearly smudged the makeup that she was applying. 

“Are you alright in there?” Deacon’s voice asked from the other side. She realized how long she was taking and blushed in shame. 

“I’ll just be a few more minutes..!”  

Not intending to rush her appearance, she finished putting on what she could and took one final inspection of herself. She wished she had time to properly treat her hair…all she could afford right now was brushing it. It looked alright... Agh ! Why didn’t she plan this better before asking Deacon to take her out!?

With a defeated groan, she exited the bathroom with her mask in hand. Deacon was in the other room - dusting off the surface of his piano while he waited for her. She stopped in her tracks the moment she saw him.

She’d only ever seen her partner in his usual uniform and the Cool Ranch disguise - so it was safe to say she never imagined him in formal wear. But the double-breasted vest he wore hugged his thin frame just right , and the numerous pockets it had screamed ‘Deacon’ to her. He wore a long sleeve dress shirt underneath, complemented by slacks and dress shoes. He was missing his cape again…as much as she teased him for it earlier, its absence bothered her more than she thought. 

Still…her eyes couldn’t stop roaming over him. His getup was the familiar yellow-and-blue colors she recognized. When he turned around, he dropped the duster in surprise and hurriedly turned away from her. 

“Ah - I apologize, would you like a bauta? I kept one for you if you needed it-”

“No,” She interrupted, stepping forward and smiling. “I won’t be needing a mask tonight.” 

He paused, slowly turning on his heel to face her again. She watched as his blue eyes observed every inch of her, his focus mainly being on her face before he remembered that she changed. Then he admired her dress - it was a purple empire waist that covered the small pair of heels she was wearing. Silver earrings and a necklace adorned her look, but the centerpiece of it all was her smile, radiant and beaming. 

She could hear the grin in his voice. “Che begli occhi. ” 

She batted at his arm. “I take off my mask and all you can compliment are my eyes!?” 

“I’ve loved them ever since I first saw them,” He confessed, reaching out to cup the side of her face with his gloved hand. This action made the breath hitch in her throat. “You look amazing.” 

Her look grew nervous. “-Still beautiful?”

“You always will be,” He replied before withdrawing his touch and hesitating. “..I assume you want me to take mine off as well?”

“Not necessary, espía. I just realized…I was still hiding from you even though I don’t want to anymore. I will respect your mask, should you choose to keep it on tonight.” 

He scoffed, taking her by surprise. “We’re in my homeland right now. I’m more than fine with taking it off.” 

To emphasize his point, he unclipped his zendale and took the bauta right off before her eyes. Dea’s jaw hung open in shock. Before she knew it, she was facing his true face for the first time. 

He wasn’t a model, but he didn’t need to be. The first thing she noticed was his stubble beard that she’d had the privilege of feeling over an hour ago, and the tired eyes that regarded her kindly. They hadn’t been getting as much sleep as they needed to, so she wasn’t surprised to see the bags there. He had black hair that fell to his shoulders and was just as messy as hers had been before she fixed it up. She had the strongest urge to run her hand through it until she could detangle the strands herself. 

Upon her scrutinization, he shifted his weight to the other foot. He mirrored her reaction from minutes earlier. “-Still handsome?” 

She laughed. “Of course, you silly man.” To prove she meant it, she stepped forward and cupped his face into both of her palms. “I was never wrong about that.” 

He sighed, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her wrists. “That’s a relief - I was fearing I would have to wear this thing for the rest of our relationship.” 

She giggled at him. Her eyes traveled to his lips and her expression suddenly fell. Her body was acting quicker than she could think, moving to stand on her tiptoes to close some of the distance between them. She was about to kiss him, but stopped herself short when she was a few inches away. Begrudgingly, she stepped back from him and returned her hands to her sides, nervously looking towards the door.

“..We should go now.” 

His gaze lingered on her, filled with the same confusion and longing that she was feeling. He cleared his throat and grabbed his jacket from the rack, offering her a small coat to keep her warm in the meantime. Their reservation was coming up soon - it would be unwise to dilly-dally and miss it. 

“We shall.” 

----

They were seated in a luxurious restaurant near one of the windows. The place was filled with Valencian guests and families, who laughed and clinked their glasses together as they talked the night away. Dea enjoyed the live music being played and observed some of the musicians - pausing when her eyes landed on the violinist. She admired the woman far longer than usual, trying to imagine her date playing that instrument like he’d done for her earlier today. 

Deacon brought her attention back by tapping on the table. “Are you comfortable?” 

“Incredibly so.” She rested her back against the cushioned chair with a content sigh. “Are all places like this?” 

“Most of them are. You can find a few casual eateries here-and-there, but they’re not very popular.” 

Her eyes narrowed when she looked at her pristine plate. The words left her lips before she could think about them. “What is it like to live in such luxury? Is it as nice as everyone says it is?”

Her date paused at the question. She realized how inappropriate it was in this setting, and was about to take it back before he shrugged. He took a look at the people around them, gesturing to others with a dip of his head. “For everyone here, it is part of their normal lives - they’re used to these restaurants, these prices, and clothes. They’re privileged and live well, so I’m sure they spare no second thought.” 

“-But what about you ?” She prompted. “You have this lovely house and plenty of gold…but this is the first time I’ve ever seen you off of a ship. Is there a reason you’re away from Valencia so much?” 

Despite the severity of the question, a smirk grew on his lips. Dea hadn’t realized how thankful she was to finally be able to read and see his expression like this. It was a luxury she was indulging in more than the expensive restaurant itself. 

“My job keeps me from here most of the time. I move around a lot because I need to. But…I do find that I avoid coming back, whenever I’m given the chance.” His expression fell as he pondered on it. “I just don’t feel like I belong here.” 

She raised an eyebrow, about to inquire more about that detail before she was interrupted when their waiter came around with their appetizer. He refilled their glasses and nodded politely to them before walking away. She took a quick sip before turning back to Deacon, whom she caught admiring her again. 

“Eyes up here, espía,” She pointed to them and he rolled his eyes lightheartedly. Her tone grew soft. “What did you mean by that? You don’t belong here?” 

“Obviously, I do. I was born and raised in Valencia. But we weren’t rich, not at first, anyway.” He paused to try one of the pieces of escargot. It was Dea who requested the appetizer, saying she never had it before. He gave a satisfied hum before nudging the dish to her. “-Here, try one.”

She didn’t appreciate him dodging the question so much, but tried it anyway. Despite everything her friends had told her…it was pretty good. But she expected that, with such a big price tag on it. He looked pleased to see her eating and continued: 

“Growing up, we had to work for what we had. Kane was away in the military most of the time, so it was me and Rooke working jobs. I learned a lot of things in my time doing manual labor…I got to see firsthand how privileged Valencians are and how oblivious they can be. I did a lot of my own studying, and I learned about our society and how so much of it is attributed to wealth and ignorance.” 

He reached for his glass, checking to ensure no one was eavesdropping on them. She was surprised to hear such a response…but it made sense. He was smart, so of course he knew how things worked.

“I arrest criminals and undesirables every day. I’ve seen the worst in humanity. I do not live in gold and ignorance like most Valencians do. To go to these places and live in luxury like they do…it just doesn’t feel right to me. I feel I must work to deserve what I have, which is why I’m never quite home.” He paused before adding, “-The military training also worked, to humble myself.” 

She nodded slowly and tittered at that last comment. She dropped the subject for now, working on their appetizer and enjoying his company. Her question hadn’t ruined the mood, thankfully. She had always been a little afraid to approach such a topic, wondering if Deacon would grow defensive about his family’s wealth. He was more open-minded than she presumed. 

“I must ask, why did you ask me to come here? You were pretty specific on where you wanted to go tonight.” Deacon looked at her seriously. She shrugged in return and sipped from her glass. 

“I just wanted to see what Valencia is truly like for myself. I hear they have the best pasta around.” 

“That's true - and remember to twirl it when you get your food.” 

“Does that really bother people here?” 

“You’d be surprised how much it does.” He shook his head knowingly. “Tell me, is Monquista any better? You know my feelings on the place.” 

She snorted, which was unbecoming, but made him chuckle even more. As she went into detail about the judgemental servers and treatment back at her home, they received their main courses. Dea had - obviously - ordered the pasta, and he went with a personal pizza. He let her try a slice before she even asked, knowing she wanted more than a bite of his food. She enjoyed everything they tasted and even requested tiramisu. This was the second time he treated her to new cuisine - and she had the feeling it wouldn’t be the last. 

As he took care of the bill, he unfolded his napkin and set it on the table. “Dea-”

“-Reyna,” She interrupted. He did a double take, and when she refused to say more, he relaxed and corrected himself.

“- Reyna . Are you ready to head back, or is there something else you’ve been dying to do in Valencia?” 

She thought about it, but it didn’t take long to settle on an answer. “No, I’d like to head back home with you and relax.” She waited a bit before adding, “-And I believe you owe me a drink tonight.” 

“Right.” He hadn’t forgotten about her excitement with their bar back home. He stood to his feet and helped her out of her seat like a gentleman, then bid goodbye to the waiter whom he tipped generously. He always did so when he was out.

“..Was that our last source of communication?” Dea asked with a wince, somehow already knowing the answer.

“It was. But it’s my fault. I should have known better and charged it when we were back on land.” 

“Don’t blame yourself. There was no way we could have seen this happening.” 

He hung his head down and slumped on the board of wood he was sitting on. She was currently sitting across from him - having to hunch over due to the short amount of chain on the cuffs between them. Her back was starting to hurt, so she had been thinking of moving to the same seat as him. When she noticed he wasn’t making a single noise, she moved to console him. 

“ Espía . It’s alright. We made it out of there together, didn’t we?”

“Dea,” He choked out. It sounded like he was on the brink of crying, and it pained her to hear him this way. “We just lost our ship. Our crewmembers. Each and every one of those prisoners we’d been capturing for months.” 

She tensed, not knowing exactly what to say. 

“... I lost my ship and my prisoners. Twice .” He removed his hands from his mask. His eyes were watery. “There is no way I am not losing my job.” 

“I’m sure all Armada vessels get plundered by Pirates. That’s the norm, isn’t it? And Kane is your dad. He’ll understand-”

“-You don’t know anything about Kane.” He interrupted unkindly, his words starting to waver. “I’ll be lucky to make it out alive after he hears about this.” 

She moved closer until their hips were touching, attempting to reason with him. “I’m sure he’ll understand it was out of your control. Boochbeard and Gandry came out of nowhere - they had more people than us. We were outnumbered. Surely, he’ll-”

“-That means * nothing *.” He turned to her, his voice dropping. She shivered at the new sound. “I told him all of that before - I was outnumbered, unprepared, the prisoners conspired together - and he still held me on standby. I am expected to do better. To fail TWICE? That’s unacceptable.” 

Her lips pursed in thought, attempting to understand what he was saying. That cruelty made sense towards a soldier like her, but weren’t Deacon and Kane family? Why was it so different with the Supreme Commander? 

Deacon seemed to be reading her thoughts and sighed, dropping all hostility towards her. His gaze fell to the floor so he didn’t have to look at her. “You were right about me. I am unfit to be an Elite. To keep pressing my luck like this…it will end in my unemployment.” 

“..What? That’s not true,” She shook her head. “I was wrong-”

“-No, you weren’t.” He rested a hand on the forehead of the mask, shaking as he continued his words. “I’m not strong like Rooke is, not as smart as Bishop, and not as useful as Phule. The only reason I’m an Elite is because my brothers were enlisted and I wasn’t. I was given the easiest job out of all of them - and I still can’t do * that *.”

“Deacon!” She grabbed ahold of his blue sleeve, trying to get him to look at her. “You’re more than capable of being an Elite-” She paused to smile under her false visage. “When I was offered this job, I did my research on you, espía. And you know what I found? Every single person I talked to about you told me how great of a Captain you were, how you were the only Armada Elite to actually listen to his employees and care for them. Everyone wishes they could work for you - which made me feel lucky.”

“Me being ‘well-liked’ will not stop Kane from firing me.” 

It was infuriating to listen to him brush off her words. She could feel herself getting annoyed and impatient, which reflected in her next words: 

“You can’t tell me he has NO sympathy for you? You're his kin - he can’t just fire you for making a mistake-”

“Dea. Please understand…” His tone softened, which made her regret having raised her voice at all. “It’s not any better that I share his blood - in fact, that makes things * worse *. Since the Elite are his family, he expects more from us. He taught us everything we know - and because he did, he thinks we will make no mistakes. When we mess up - we face those consequences tenfold . The fact that I’m his son is probably the last thing on his mind when he’s reprimanding me.” 

“I…” She lost her voice at this deeply-personal confession. “I’m sorry…” 

He stared at the bottom of the boat for a few seconds before shaking his head and reaching for the oar again. He began paddling in the direction they’ve been floating, taking his compass out of his pocket and looking around. Dea noticed the other oar sitting on the floor and grabbed it to help him out.

“So…what do we do now?” 

“We head this way until we reach an island. We were shifted off-course during the struggle, so…it will take a long time. And that’s if we even make it.” 

She shouldered him playfully. “At least we have each other?” 

“We’re probably going to die.” 

“-But we’ll die together !” 

He rolled his eyes. She hoped he was smiling under that mask. 

----

They struggled for a bit with their coordination; rowing with their non-dominant hand wasn’t an easy feat, especially when it was the only one they had to work with. They eventually got used to it and made a good pace, but something about their close proximity was making Deacon feel dizzy. He had that headache and the pain in his chest, but when he smelled her perfume this close…it was numbing in a good way. There was something advantageous yet annoying about being cuffed to her like this. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink, would you?” 

Dea had stopped rowing and looked at him with desperate eyes. He reached for the flask he kept in his front pocket. He shook it to check for any liquid before handing it to her. 

“There’s a little left. You should finish it.” 

“And let you go thirsty? No, we should share it.” 

“It’s better if one of us is hydrated. Just drink it.”

“Deacon, you lost some blood. You need it more than I do.” 

“What I need is a shot of whiskey. Stop arguing with me.” 

“ Ugh! You are an insufferable man, you know that!?” 

Despite her annoyance, she was clearly grateful for the few gulps of water he handed to her. Deacon’s throat felt dry and god-awful, but she was more important right now. He was sure his death sentence was already signed for the moment he’d step back in Valencia. 

He reached into his other pocket and grabbed a few pouches of snacks he kept on-hand. He was glad he hadn’t been eating them lately, as they sure came in handy now. “-There are these, too, if you’re hungry.” 

She grabbed a helping of trail mix and started to pick through it. When he reminded her not to be picky, she snorted at him. He helped himself to a bag of cashews in the meantime, relieved that this would carry them on for a bit longer and they wouldn’t have to starve out here. 

“I know you shared something personal about yourself with me, so….would you like me to return the favor?” 

He shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“You’re sure you don’t want to know why I’m here? What was I doing before I joined the Armada?” 

He was selfish to have wanted to know so much about her before. He learned that when he made the mistake with his journal. It dawned on him then, and he started patting around his coat in search of the book. He relaxed when he felt the rectangular indentation in his biggest pocket. It carried a few confidential details he’d written down. He was glad those Pirates didn’t have their hands on it. 

Dea didn’t notice him searching around, too busy working up the nerve to talk more about her past. He gave her his full attention the second she calmed herself down. 

“Monquista’s army is full of sexist pigs,” She spat out spitefully. “I knew there weren't many women in the field, but I thought that…maybe, I could help break the standards and inspire other girls out there. I wanted to be successful, make a name for myself. But I quickly learned * why * women don’t typically join Monquista’s service…”

She went quiet for a minute, her attention focused on her lap. Her handcuffed hand was clenching as she struggled to continue. He wanted to move even closer than they already were, but her body language suggested some space. Which was a hard feat in their position right now. 

“Every day I got whistled at and told these… things, by my superiors.” She looked into the ocean. “At first, I thought it was all talk. They were hitting on me. So what? It happens every now and then. But…I was working hard to get promoted. I wanted to become the first female Monquistan officer. To impress Queen Eleanor..! But that wasn’t what those men wanted. There were several who were aiming for a higher position like I was, and to be threatened by a woman was…not acceptable.” 

Deacon felt his stomach sink. He knew where this story was going and it was starting to make him sick. He was about to interrupt Dea, insisting that she didn’t need to keep going, but she suddenly hunched over and began crying. 

“They cornered me one day and took advantage of me. There were four of them. Three were my fellow soldiers and the other one was my… superior . They had their way with me that night, warning what would come if I kept trying for a promotion. They ridiculed me the entire time - telling me women had no place to protect the King and Queen. I was so scared that I begged to be discharged. They let me go, but tampered with my file after I left.” 

She took a moment to sniffle, slightly lifting her mask to wipe at her eyes. He could only imagine the mess she was making underneath that right now. Like he had been earlier, talking about his insecurities with being an Elite. 

“I moved to Valencia the moment I could, since I heard good things about the Armada. I was upset when my application got denied - they saw what was marked on my file and told me I didn’t meet their qualifications. I was ready to move back until I was approached by…Queen, of all people. My denied request had gotten her attention somehow.

She looked into the case and noticed my discharge from the Monquistan army. She must know a few things, because she asked me why I had done it. She seemed so kind to me, so I spilled the truth about why I left. She was enraged to hear what happened to me, and must have felt some pity that I never got accepted. So she brought me in and later promoted me herself.” 

Deacon’s eyebrows raised, his longtime questions finally being answered. 

“She told me I could work with one of the Elites. It was a huge honor…but I was scared. When she told me I’d be lodging with a man, in the same room for three months …I was terrified what happened to me would happen *again*. She said it wouldn't because she knew you personally. I decided to take her word for it, and…”

She thought about something before a laugh escaped her lips. Deacon knew it was forced - a way to ease the tension from the story. The sound still blessed his ears, nonetheless.

“...You’re a really nice guy. You never made one wrong move towards me. I was surprised how comfortable I felt around you. I was so scared of being taken advantage of that I didn’t want to give the impression that I’m some dainty woman like all those men told me I was. So if I was a little hostile to you in the beginning...it was only because I was trying to protect myself.” 

She faced him and averted her gaze.

“-But I didn’t need to. I know that, now. And I’m sorry that I did.” 

He stared at her, trying to figure out what to take exactly from this confession. All those times she’d been difficult were for a reason. Her trust in the workforce had been tainted by a few bad apples. He couldn’t blame her, and was just happy that he could turn things around for her. He didn’t even do that much beyond showing her basic human decency. But she’d been rejected propriety before. 

“I’m sorry for what happened to you. I figured as much when you told me what you did.” He reached for her hand but stopped himself short. “But they were wrong. You’re an incredibly beautiful, strong, and talented woman. To take advantage of you like they did showed that they were the true cowards, who could not meet the expectations for that promotion like you did.” 

She was as red as a beet under her mask. “..You’re sure about that? Beautiful?” 

“I don’t need to see what you look like to know that fact,” He insisted. 

His heart was pounding in his chest from saying this. Little did he know hers was going crazy as well, causing her to rub her legs together nervously. He just told her he thought she was beautiful - and not from her face or body that those men ogled at, but from her personality and what she proved she could do. It was incomparable to anything she ever heard before. 

“And I think you’re just as handsome,” She met boldly. “Deacon, you’re such a smart guy, and I wish you wouldn’t think otherwise. You know a lot of things I don’t, you’ve read so many books and passages…I don’t care what Kane or anyone else thinks about you. You’ve proved to me that you’re intelligent, despite your poor decision-making just now.” 

He audibly groaned, clearly embarrassed with the mistake that led them into their current position. She didn’t want this detail to deter from her point, so she continued: 

“Stop undermining yourself. Things happen out of your control, and you do the best you can. We could’ve been imprisoned or even killed , had you not thought on your feet to get us off that ship. So what if Kane is a hardass - I’d promote you myself after everything I’ve seen happen!” 

She could hear the smirk in his voice. “Bold of you to call him a hardass.”

“I don’t think we’re getting promoted anytime soon, so I’ll say whatever I want.” She replied firmly. 

Something softened in his eyes as he looked at her. He leaned to his side to hug her again, and the only thing that surprised her was that he initiated it this time. His hold on her was gentle but ever so needful, and she gladly met the embrace with similar intentions. She lifted her chin to rest it on his shoulder.

“You really think that?” He asked quietly. 

“Of course. They were right, you know. I really am lucky to get to work with you like I have,” She nestled her face deeper in his cape, not caring if it gave her away or not. “Thank you for putting up with me all this time.” 

His figure stiffened and he pulled away to look her adamantly in the eye. “You have got to stop doing that. I never ‘put up’ with you. You’ve been a blessing in my life, to give me your friendship and company. I’m forever grateful, Dea.” 

…None of this was turning out how either of them thought. 

The fact that they could not physically pull away from each other added to the closeness they felt mentally. He spilled about his long-hidden insecurities to her without even knowing if she would show any sympathy, and she trusted him enough to tell him about a terrible time from her past. In doing so, they revealed just how much they trusted each other, and desperately wanted to lay their souls bare to one another. 

Deacon could think of no other person he minded being handcuffed to. He mentally cursed and thanked Boochbeard at the same time. 

Her mind seemed to be on the same subject, as her eyes drifted to the metal between them. “...I’m guessing you don’t have the key to this, otherwise you would have used it by now?” 

He shook his head.  “The key is on the chain those rogues have right now.” 

“No backup?” 

“I carry nearly 40 keys on that ring. No, I don’t have any ‘backups’.” 

Her eyes drifted away despite never releasing her hold on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have done any of that.”

“I know. It was a careless mistake.”

“No, I mean…you don’t have to prove yourself by doing something that…risky .” Her tone was akin to scolding. “What did you have to prove by taking down Boochbeard? The fact that you went and re-captured almost everyone you lost was impressive on its own. You didn’t need more than that.” 

He shrunk down on himself, both ashamed and defensive. “He has no idea how much he’s taken from me. I wanted to have revenge for what he did.” 

“And in doing so, you nearly lost everything again. You should prioritize what’s more important.” 

He looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes scanning her up-and-down. “You’re more perceptive than usual. How long have you been keeping this from me?” 

“I’m tired of holding so much back from you,” She felt exhausted. “We’ve been working together so close and yet share so little. I’m at fault for that, too.” 

He stared at her a little longer before finally removing his hands and reaching for the oar. She took the message and grabbed hers, helping him paddle and falling into their previous rhythm almost automatically. 

The air was light between them again - but there was still something lingering about. A subject that would have to be addressed, but neither of them did not dare bring it up. 

----

They spent a good 20 minutes paddling. By now, the sun was starting to set and the wind was getting chilly. Dea was glad she had layers on, but her head felt colder than usual. She looked over at Deacon and felt jealous for his overly-layered uniform and cape. There was no doubt he was as warm as ever right now.

She prudently scooted closer just to steal some of his heat. He looked over in surprise and noticed she had stopped moving her oar. She rested on his side and looked out at the sea.

“If we do make it back…what do you think you’re going to do?” She asked. 

“Have a very unpleasant chat with the Supreme Commander,” He muttered.

“No, I mean afterwards. If we lose our jobs…what would you do?” 

He thought about this question carefully. He was more focused on redeeming himself when things went awry, rather than coming up with a back-up plan. He never thought of what else he would do if he wasn’t an Elite. It just seemed like something he was supposed to do. It wasn’t until Dea came around that he ever entertained the idea of something else.  

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly.

“I still think you would make a great musician,” She hummed, leaning more on him than she realized. “I could see you playing instruments at those fancy balls, or even for a movie.” 

“I would like that.” He waited a moment before turning to her. “What about you? What would you do?” 

“Knowing my luck, I’ll probably end up as a servant for some rich Valencian woman.”

He tut-tutted at her. “You should aim higher. You could sing for me, and I could play for you. We’ll be a wonderful duet that makes lots of gold.” 

She giggled at his playful tone, picturing this idea in her head and finding that she… didn’t dislike it. That would be the best outcome, wouldn’t it? To still be with Deacon after all of this?  And do something that they both loved to do, with each other ? The blush returned to her cheeks and she hastily sat up. 

He felt the loss of her presence and turned in surprise, hoping he hadn’t offended Dea. 

Her eyes were locked on something behind him. He turned around and his jaw dropped in shock. Coming towards them was a ship - and not just any ship, but an Armada frigate. He jumped to his feet and began signaling to them. Dea forced him down with her wrist to rummage around for the flare kept in the escape boats. As soon as she found it, she let it off, jumping with glee as they turned in their direction and began sailing to them. 

“Yes!” The Emissary cheered in relief, tears forming at the ends of his eyes. 

-----

“No!” Deacon exclaimed, seeing who it was that picked them up. 

Dea looked ahead once they were on the safety of the deck. A colorful man was approaching them, dressed in blue and red and wearing half of a theater mask broken into two sides of comedy and tragedy. He was wearing a jester’s suit, carrying around his own marotte and making a jingling sound as the bells on his hat swayed to and fro.  

“Deacon!” He extended his arms in kind. The spymaster clenched his fists as they closed the gap, stopping not too far in front of him. 

“Why in the Spiral are you captaining a ship this late?” 

“Someone doesn’t sound grateful that I rescued them,” The man’s voice was expressive and teasing. “Might I ask what * you’re* doing in the middle of the ocean at this hour?” 

Deacon groaned, clearly not wanting to disclose why, but was unsure how to avoid the subject. “..My ship was taken by Boochbeard and Mr. Gandry. Dea and I escaped, but our crew are being held hostage by those pirates.” 

His eyes went to her. Her first notice was that he had heterochromia. His right eye was blue, similar to Deacon’s, while the left was brown. He smirked then, and she realized this was the first person in the Armada she met wearing a mask who she could also see emoting. It was gratifying to see. 

“Ah! I’ve heard so much about your little ‘partner’ here,” He moved to her and pointed his marotte in her direction. “How is it working with my brother? Completely unbearable, I presume?” 

“Phule,” Deacon warned.

His eyes moved down to the handcuffs keeping them together. His eyes widened and he shortly fell into laughter. 

“Phule!” He was pleading by this point.

“How in the Spiral’s name did THIS happen? No, no, wait. Don’t tell me. Boochbeard did it?” 

“How do you know?” Dea finally spoke up, looking at him curiously. He was quite a character. At least his playful attitude reflected the costume he wore. 

“He’s got a wild sense of humor. It’s only ever funny when he plays with Deacon.” He passed his younger brother a knowing smile before glancing back at the handcuffs. “Quite a pickle you two are in, I must say.” 

“You wouldn’t happen to have any keys to this, would you?” Her partner mumbled. 

“Me? No. Sometimes I get the privilege to arrest people, but that’s your job.” He shrugged. “Sorry, fratellino. I can’t help you.” 

“Then we have to get back to Valencia. Can you take us?” 

“Sure I can. But it’s getting late, and my crew have to rest, so we can head out tomorrow.” He looked between the two, seeming to think about something. A mischievous grin grew on his lips. “You must be exhausted…if you’d like, you can use my cabin in the meantime.”

“How are we supposed to sleep with this on?” Dea asked, holding up their handcuffed wrists to make her point.

“There’s one bed. You do the math.” 

Deacon was offended. “That is highly inappropriate–” 

“Your choice! The floor or my bed.” 

The two exchanged a weary glance. They’ve shared a cabin together, where their beds were not so far apart. It wouldn’t be a big deal…despite the butterflies in Dea’s stomach and Deacon’s sudden inability to breathe properly. When they nodded to him, Phule clapped his hands in delight - in which Dea noticed he was only wearing one glove - and he happily showed them to his small cabin.

“Try not to be too noisy,” Was his last remark before he slammed the door. 

Deacon turned, about to yell at him, but noticed he was long-gone. He rubbed his temple in frustration as they looked around the room. The bed wasn’t terribly big and there was a window above it, which enabled the moonlight to hit the mattress and make it harder to sleep. Besides a small table and a chair, that’s all there was to the quaint cabin. 

Dea realized how privileged they had been to receive a roomier space in comparison. She considered herself lucky they were offered this right now. 

“Sorry about him,” The man beside her grumbled. “He’s an idiot.” 

“That’s your brother? Phule?” 

“My older one, yes.”

“...You hinted to me that Rooke is your brother, too. Is he not older than you?” 

“Rooke and I are the same age,” He responded, acting like this was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re twins.” 

Dea struggled to receive this information. “You two look the same?” 

They took this opportunity to sit on the bed, forced to be close as they awkwardly hung their legs over the edge. This arrangement would not be easy to figure out. That seemed to be the last thing on her mind, as she continued to sputter at him. 

“But he’s so much taller and bigger than you!”

“Thanks for pointing that out. I had no idea,” He quipped sarcastically. 

She shrunk in on herself. “Sorry…I just can’t believe it. It explains a lot.” 

“What does it explain, exactly?” 

“Twins are closer than other siblings. You get along with him better than you seem to do with Phule.” 

He opened his mouth to refute, but she made a good point. He was closer and more familiar with Rooke than his other kinsman. Being twins had a lot to do with that - not to mention they naturally got along better. He clenched his teeth imagining the eventual judgment he’d have to face from him and Kane. Again.

“I still feel so embarrassed,” Dea brought up shyly. Deacon looked at her and curled an eyebrow under his mask. 

“Embarrassed for what?” 

“How I acted around Rooke. I must’ve looked so stupid. Do you think he thought less of me?” 

Something ached in his chest at this subject. He’d forgotten all about her fawning over his brother. The memory wasn’t pleasant to remember. He suddenly felt ridiculous for ever having feelings for Dea. Rooke was a much better - and more fitting - suitor for her caliber. 

“No. He thought you were cute,” He sighed in defeat. 

“Did he..?” She laughed, but it sounded too nervous to be genuine. “I can’t believe I had a crush on him. Although, I guess everybody does, huh?” 

“You had a crush on him?” Deacon feigned surprise. Dea flinched and turned away. He hadn’t anticipated that reaction and regretted making the comment. 

“I’m sorry for acting like that,” Her mood dropped. “He was talked about so well, too, but not in the way you were. I think everybody who hasn’t worked with Rooke just likes him because he’s big and strong. And that must be pretty unfair to him, isn’t it?” 

“Again, that’s an insightful comment you’re making,” He told her in shock. 

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I feel so bad. I knew nothing about him but I still acted that way. If you ask me, you should’ve been talked about like he was.” She said sheepishly. 

“Me? No. I’m…I'm not like him.” 

“You’re not and I like that.” She confessed, looking at their hands. “You’re just as impressive as he is. If everyone knew that, I think they’d say the same things about you.” 

His eyes had gone to their hands as well, noticing how close they were. Just nearly touching but not enough. He wanted to move but didn’t dare risk anything. “I wish that were true.” 

Did she know about his other insecurities? Why else would she say these things? Was Dea aware of how Deacon constantly compared himself to his brother, always feeling like he was under-performing? That he wasn’t enough? It bothered him, sometimes, that they were twins - similar in every aspect except their size, which seemed to matter the most apparently. It was assumed that Rooke was the oldest because he was the biggest, but that wasn’t true. Even Phule was offended each time he was referred to as the ‘younger brother’. 

Rooke was humble and always gave credit where it was due. He was the best family Deacon could ask for. He was just tired of everyone putting him in his shadow when Rooke gave every attempt to make things different. 

He gave a smile that Dea could not see. At least she understood. 

“Alright…you take off your shoes first, then I’ll do mine.” 

He looked at their hands and then to their feet. He did as was told, allowing Dea to lean down afterwards and peel off her boots. They would have no other choice but to sleep in these clothes tonight…Deacon brought his hand to unclip his cape from his shoulders and set it aside, followed by his hat. He expected Dea to do the same until he remembered about the missing part of her apparel. 

“By the way, how exactly did you lose your hat?” 

“Fell off my head and into the water,” She replied sadly.

She hovered her hands over her mask. She didn’t want to sleep in the thing, it was disgusting when she woke up in her drool and sweat the last time, but she had little choice. It was bugging her now…to have to worry about her mask of all things. Why couldn’t she just take it off since Deacon thought her beautiful regardless of it? Would it even change anything? 

“Are you alright?” He asked. 

“Thinking how we’re going to manage this,” She lied. 

“My left hand and your right are cuffed. You sleep on that side, I sleep over here. If we lay on our sides, then we don’t have to worry about our arms locking up.” 

There was one problem with that idea –  They had to lay facing each other. 

Dea’s eyes traveled down to his last layer of clothing, feeling it intimate to see him like this so closely. His eyes were open as well - not trying to look at her, but the wall behind her. When they made contact, she was embarrassed to have her wandering eye caught. 

“I’m sorry about today,” He spoke in a hushed whisper.

“About losing our ship and all our crew?"

“I’m sorry things turned out like this. I…” His mouth sounded to open for a few seconds before she heard it shut. “If there’s a way I can make it up-.” 

“I just want them back. I want everything back.” She confessed sadly. 

“My name it is Maria, a merchant's daughter fair

And I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year

Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be-”

“Did you know there are actual sirens out at sea?” He interrupted. 

Dea stopped singing and turned to him in surprise. She sounded apprehensive. “You mean like mermaids?” 

“Yes.” 

She stood up and walked over to him. “They’re not real.” 

“Oh, but they are.” He responded, pleased in knowing he had her full attention. 

She looked at him with unimpressed eyes. “..Mermaids?” She began to tsk . “I think you’ve been reading too many fantasy novels, espía.” 

"It’s true; I saw them for myself. It’s the closest to death I’ve been so far.” 

Her look changed at this news. She appeared concerned, but still doubtful. He decided to indulge her.

“When a group of our sailors failed to report back to the Armada, we went to investigate their last known position in Aquila. I was assigned to captain the crew. We found the vessel shipwrecked on an island. Before we could search for any survivors, a group of sirens swarmed us and sang their song.” 

Dea’s eyes were glued to him. He stopped speaking to admire how adorable she was, completely engrossed in this tale he was telling her. His silence prompted her to question him. 

“So, if you ran into the sirens yourself…how did you survive?”

"I happen to have special earmuffs in my zendale, to soften the sound of my gun and the ship’s cannons. They just barely protected me, so I made haste in leaving.” 

“..Did your crew make it out alive?” 

“Many of them jumped overboard to try and pursue them. The Armada has made it a regulation for sailors to have wax in their ears, should they be in Aquila.” 

Dea took time digesting what he told her. He admired the gleam in her eyes. He was glad he could still entertain her amidst the small time they had left together. 

“I don’t know if any of that was true, but you’re a great storyteller.”

“If you should learn anything from it - make sure to stuff your ears with wax, if you’re to be on Aquilian waters for long.”

“ Ooo, scary… ” 

“Dea, I genuinely mean that.” 

“Then where are the pictures of these mermaids, hmm ?”

“Ah, yes, my priority clearly was to grab my camera while my crewmembers jumped overboard into stormy waters…” He rolled his eyes. 

“And where is the rest of this so-called ‘crew’ to validate your story?” 

“How should I know?” 

“ Hah ! You were lying.” 

“I’m not going to argue with someone who doesn’t believe in mermaids.” 

“ Deacon! ” 

She smacked him playfully and he let out a good laugh. As he turned back to face the sea, something caught his attention. He gestured for her to take the wheel as he reached for his spyglass. He held it in front of an eye hole of his mask - confirming what he believed to see. One of their soldiers came running to them. 

“Captains!” He exclaimed, out-of-breath.

“I see it,” Deacon replied, motioning for him to leave. “Tell the crew to take their position.” 

Dea was clearly lost in what was happening and looked in the direction he was staring at. She could make out something from afar, but not clearly. She swiped the spyglass out of the Emissary’s hands and took a look for herself. It was a pirate ship sailing quickly in their direction, with red sails and a blue octopus figurehead. She didn’t recognize the sight as well as her partner did. 

“Boochbeard..” He muttered. 

“Boochbeard?” She repeated. He grabbed his spyglass from her and returned it in his coat. “Isn’t that your arch enemy?” 

“ Quel tipo è proprio uno stronzo.” He gritted his teeth and stomped back to the wheel, urging her aside. “He and his accomplice sank my last ship. They’ve been a thorn in my side for a long time.” 

“Why? Do you guys have history?” 

“He just always seems to be around, causing me problems.”

She watched as the pirate ship grew closer and more clear in their view. They weren’t turning around or moving off course at all. She began to get worried and fingered the gun in her pocket, trying to remember the last time she loaded it with any bullets.

“Are we not going to avoid them?” She asked.

“This is personal ,” He seethed. 

“Deacon – it’s not worth the trouble. We have so many prisoners onboard, we shouldn’t risk this..!” 

“You don’t know what he’s taken from me!” He snapped. She stepped back at his outburst. “I nearly lost my job because of that idiot ! It’s time to show them who they’re trifling with.” 

She tugged on his caped shoulder to move him away from the wheel. He wasn’t budging. “You don’t need to do this! Don’t do anything stupid !” 

He moved his arm to shove her away. “Stay out of this and take your position.” 

“¡Qué demonios!” 

There was no point in fighting him, so she prepared for the inevitable. She ordered their soldiers to prepare their cannons and load the rest of their weapons. She watched anxiously as the oncoming ship advanced on them. It was clear they intended on plundering them. They unloaded their cannons in their direction - a few landing on The Executioner and jolting it harshly. She stumbled forward and grabbed onto the railing to keep her balance. They launched cannonballs right back at them, equally damaging the ship and closing the distance between the two. 

She bit her lip when she spotted rope being thrown and pirates sliding down to board their craft. Fortunately, their crew were prepared and took care of the trespassers. Dea listened to the sounds of gunshots and the clashing of blades below her. She warned her people of the influx of pirates coming from above, ordering them to make sure they did not access the brig. 

“Dea, take the wheel!” 

She turned her head to find Deacon grabbing his pistol from his sleeve and folding in his cane. He was preparing to join in on the commotion below. As he turned to leave, she grabbed his wrist and forced him to face her. His blue eyes widened in surprise at her display of authority. 

“Just where do you think you’re going!? We have a crew to take care of these Pirates - we need to stay back and make sure they don’t reach our prisoners!”

 “I have some unfinished business with his ruffian,” He scowled under his mask, whipping his gloved hand out of her grasp. 

“Deacon, you got us into this mess, don’t make it any worse..!” She grit her teeth. “And don’t leave me alone –!”

Her attempt at reasoning with him was futile. With a dramatic wave of his cape, he went down the steps and joined the battle. Dea wanted to slam her head into the wheel out of frustration. Why was he so willing to engage these Pirates? This was * not * what they needed right now..! They were almost finished with their mission…they shouldn't have gone looking for more trouble! 

“Estúpido,” She shook her head. “What a stubborn man…” 

Her goal was to maintain control of the ship, but she noticed their soldiers were starting to struggle. They were growing outnumbered as the seconds went by. It was embarrassingly obvious that they had been unprepared for a sudden attack like this. She called the nearest person to take hold of the wheel and surfaced her gun, running down the steps and aiding in the fight. 

----

She attacked any rogue who threw themselves at her and kept her distance from those with swords and daggers. It was hard to stay back in the midst of this scuffle. She suffered tears in her clothing and a blow to her mask. The hit threw her head back and she watched as her tall hat flew from her head and drifted into the ocean. She took a second to grieve this loss before shooting the man who had hit her - watching him fall to the floor in pain and stepping over his body to continue her defense. 

‘Where is Deacon!?’ She thought as she scanned the crowds. She could find no trace of him until someone flew above her, riding on a rope and laughing loudly as they landed on the crow’s nest. He was a short man wearing a blue admiral’s uniform, equipped with a red sash and a golden badge. 

“What do you zink of zat, you fiend?!” The man gloated, waving around a cane in his hand. Dea realized it was Deacon’s - which was now being paraded around like a newly-acquired prize. “‘Zis will be ze last day you capture anyone! Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité!”

“Gandry!” She heard Deacon exclaim from below. He was attempting to climb his way to him. “This is the last time you scoundrels will ruin my plans!” 

“Ohoho, I think not!” Another voice joined in on the scene. Dea watched as a larger man in a red coat swiped at Deacon with his sword. The spymaster groaned as he was forced to grab hold of a nearby net so as to not fall off the ship entirely. “Every soul yer’ holding deserves a right ta’ freedom, and pirating! Yo-ho-ho!” 

“They deserve a right to a trial and proper questioning,” He countered, grabbing his gun and firing at him. He missed as Boochbeard heaved himself out of the way. He took this opportunity to lower himself back to the safety of the ground. 

Dea ran from her position and aimed at the crow’s nest, firing at who she presumed to be ‘Gandry’. The man jumped and swung on the rope elsewhere. He went so quickly she couldn’t properly aim her barrel in his direction. She looked back at her co-captain and found him face-to-face with the pirate, who thrust his sword forward, and he dodged in return. Deacon was too close to shoot him and was desperately trying to gain some distance. 

Something swelled in her stomach seeing him cornered, so she shot at the bearded man. She didn’t anticipate him crouching at that second, so her bullet only went through his black hat decorated with a jolly roger. He heard the sound and turned in surprise - his green eye that was not obscured by an eye patch meeting with hers. 

“And who is zis?” Gandry’s voice asked from above. He was perched on one of the masts. Boochbeard's laugh brought her attention back down. 

“I see ye’ got yerself a mate! She wouldn’t happen ta’ have the keys…would she?” 

‘Keys’? What keys? She looked to her partner - who was finally backed up enough to fire at him. He managed to shoot a crate nearby, which exploded upon impact, effectively throwing him and Boochbeard back onto the main deck. 

“Ahh! Oh, that one hurt.” The Pirate rubbed his bum in pain. Deacon hissed through his teeth as he returned to his feet. Gandry finally dropped down, landing right in front of Dea. He unsheathed his sword and aimed it at her, grinning as they finally met face-to-face.

“She is definitely from ze Armada, no doubt.” He commented, eying her outfit from head-to-toe. Dea clutched the handle of her gun, attempting to back up a bit, but he took a step forward to meet her pace. “Tell me. Are zere any pockets in zat dress of yours?” 

She twirled the gun in her hand tauntingly. “I don’t know. Is this gun loaded?” 

“Haha! I like her.” Boochbeard looked over his shoulder at the two. “Gandry, check for some keys, would ye’?”

“On it!” 

He jumped forward and Dea fumbled to step back in time. He pushed her onto her back and perched himself on top. She was uncomfortable with this position and went to knee him in the crotch, only for Gandry to see this move and throw himself aside to dodge it. He pounced on her afterwards and ran his hands along her dress, which only added to her detest with this situation. 

“I do not see any!” He soon exclaimed. While his head was turned, she threw her elbow back into his face, knocking him off of her and face-planting him into the floorboards. 

“Ooh! That had to hurt!” Boochbeard winced.

Deacon took his distraction to advantage and pistol whipped him on the side of his head, sending Boochbeard onto the floor beside Gandry. Dea rushed to his side to check him for injuries, but had no time before the two recovered quickly, sprinting to their feet and taking a fighting stance across from them. Dea and Deacon returned the gesture, circling away slowly. 

“What ‘key’ are they talking about?” She whispered. 

“The key to the brig.” Deacon was clearly irritated. “They’re here to take our prisoners.” 

“See!? Didn’t I tell you-” 

“So!” Boochbeard’s voice broke them out of their hushed conversation. “How’s about giving us those keys, matey?” 

“How about I arrest you two for infiltrating an Armada ship?” He retorted. 

“It is disgusting how you proclaim ‘justice’, yet arrest whoever you want,” Gandry spat near their shoes. “We will be taking zose prisoners, whezer you like it or not.” 

“Good luck with that,” Deacon replied, aiming his barrel behind them and shooting another explosive crate that happened to sit in their vicinity. 

The blast threw them in different directions, but Boochbeard and Gandry received the worst of it. Dea coughed as a cloud of smoke surrounded her. She took control of her breathing before standing and looking around for her partner. She found Deacon physically wrestling with Boochbeard, who was missing his sword this time. He was unable to stop him from tearing off a large keyring from the side of his hip. 

“Got it!” He boasted, holding them up high. 

As Dea ran to help, Gandry was above them swinging on a rope again - grabbing the keys from Boochbeard’s hand and flying off with them. His laughter rang loud throughout the ship. 

“Shit!” Both she and Deacon swore unanimously. 

Right as she arrived at the scene, Boochbeard managed to snag something else from Deacon’s pocket while he was distracted. She pointed her gun at the menace until he spotted her, then did something that took her by surprise. He grabbed her wrist and attached something tightly to it, before yanking Deacon with his other hand and fastening the same thing to him. 

They stared at each other, dumbfounded, before glancing at their wrists. It took a second to realize what it was: 

Deacon’s handcuffs. 

Boochbeard chortled and began making his escape. They tailed after him until Gandry made his appearance again, running down the staircase that led to the brig. Dea went to pursue him while Deacon was still chasing Boochbeard, which caused the chain to tighten and send them both tumbling to the ground. Their fall was graceless and made them scuff their knees. 

He shot her an aggravated look under the bauta. “We need to catch him before he escapes!”

“No! Gandry is the one with the keys! We need to get to the brig before he–” 

Before she could finish, they were interrupted by the sound of metal bars clanking together. It was followed by the collective noise of whooping, hollering, and footsteps. They realized what this meant far before their prisoners came running up the steps and joining the fight above deck. They were now impossibly outnumbered. 

Dea was fuming while Deacon struggled to get them to their feet. “Why didn’t you listen to me!? Now we’re-”

“-I’m aware of the situation!” He yelled back, looking around and thinking of what to do. 

She wasn’t entirely sure on what move to make herself. Their priority was to get themselves out of sight, slipping through the mass and moving to return back  to the wheel. As soon as they reached the staircase, both Boochbeard and Gandry were at the bottom waiting for them. There was enough distance and time for Deacon to grab his pistol and shoot at them. 

…Only for the bullet to miss entirely, ricocheting off the armor of a nearby soldier and landing elsewhere. 

Dea stared at him in astonishment. He was a better shot than her - how in the hell did he miss at point blank? The Emissary held his position for several seconds before lowering his weapon.

“How could you have missed them? They’re right there!” She derided. Deacon snapped right back at her.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but I’m left-handed.” 

It was then she realized which of their hands was currently locked in the handcuffs. His right side was the one that was free, while her left remained unencumbered. This worked to their disadvantage, as she happened to be right-handed, and him the opposite. She’d miss even worse than he did if she tried shooting at them now. 

There was little they could do as Boochbeard and Gandry captured them, tying the two of them to the bottom of the main mast of the ship with bulky rope. Since they were handcuffed together, Dea and Deacon were forced to sit closely. The fact that their hands were hindered made the possibility of escape even more difficult. The rest of their crew was missing - and she had the faintest feeling they were in the brig below, locked behind bars like their convicts once were. 

Boochbeard and Gandry rounded up the newly-freed prisoners together and took a hold of the wheel. The Executioner was now in their control - and the captains completely in their hands. 

“Well! Thank ye’ for cooperatin’ with us! I think we got everybody.” Boochbeard grinned as he peered down at them. He leaned down to pat Deacon on the shoulder. “Maybe next time, buddy?” 

The Armada Elite was not happy. “Vaffanculo.” 

“They seem a little sour,” Gandry commented as he joined his friend’s side. “Shall we leave zem be?” 

“Eh, they ain’t going nowhere. Full speed ahead, Dominick!” 

The pair laughed as they returned back to the wheel. They were now surrounded by the ones they had captured, who looked at them in disdain. The tension was unbearably thick and Dea began wiggling her fingers nervously. Were they going to kill her and Deacon? Torture them? Like the Armada was planning to do to *them*? 

She gulped when a large man came over and stopped in front of them. He looked at her for a second before redirecting his attention to Deacon. Then he grinned - displaying his crooked teeth wickedly.

“Doesn’t feel good when * you’re * the one captured, huh? Asshole. Do you remember everything you’ve done to me!?” 

The spymaster had little to say to that, so he kept staring at him. This only angered the man, who quickly succumbed to his rage and slammed his boot hard against his chest. Deacon began coughing and wheezing, shifting in their constraints uncomfortably. Dea turned her head and saw the trail of blood falling down his neck - the only part of his skin she could really see with his uniform.

‘Jesus,’  She mouthed. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it!?” The man bellowed. The veins in his neck were protruding - he was pissed . “How about I take off that mask so you can look me in the eye? Like you did with me?” 

He crouched downwards and reached out to grasp the bottom of Deacon’s bauta. Dea knew she couldn’t stomach what was about to happen, nor had to see his face like this, so she turned away and tightly shut her eyes. Things were quiet until she heard a loud bump, followed by the man’s exclamation: 

“Fuck!” 

She opened her eyes and turned around. A bruise was forming on the man’s forehead while some blood had splattered on Deacon’s white mask. It was still in its place and the man clutched his face painfully - giving Dea the impression that her partner had just headbutted him, rather than allowing him to reveal his face. 

“That’s it! Motherfucker–” 

“-Korbin! Stop!!” A man stepped forward, holding him back to prevent him from pouncing on their once-warden. “Remember what’s going to happen to them? You don’t need to do anything!”

“You think that’s gonna’ be enough ? These two deserve a good-” 

“-Come on, man, let’s put something on your head and have you lie down.” 

Korbin was led away, making Dea internally sigh in relief. The prisoners around them regarded them one last time before leaving to attend to other things. She assumed they were robbing their gold and taking whatever they fancied. She thought about the cabin she and Deacon shared, and frowned to think it was being rummaged through right now. 

She glanced to her right to see her partner laying against the wood, eyes closed. She could hear him slightly wheezing as he breathed.

“..Deacon?” She whispered, nudging him with her hip. “Are you okay?” 

He slowly opened his eyes and regarded their surroundings before looking at her. He gave a slight nod, but did not say anything. 

“That looked bad…are you sure-” 

“Let’s not worry about me right now,” He whispered back, continuing to eye what was around them as the ship sailed to who-knows-where. Something caught his attention. His eyes brightened and he turned back to her eagerly. “Dea, my cane is right over there. Kick it towards me.” 

“Your cane?” She inquired, looking for herself and finding his cane sitting across from them. Gandry must’ve dropped it at some point. “How is that going to help us? We can’t reach anything.” 

“There is a knife under the handgrip. If we unscrew it, we can cut through this rope.” 

“Oh, my god,” She scoffed, reaching her leg out and catching the end of the handle with her boot. “Of COURSE you would have one of those.” 

He watched attentively as she kicked it towards him, then used his shoe to push it near enough for him to grip the handle with his fingers. He spun it around and took the time to discreetly unscrew it. Dea kept an eye out for anyone watching them in the meantime. It wasn’t long before she heard the cane drop to the floor and felt some movement on the rope holding them down. 

“Is it working?” 

“Yes. Just a little more-”

“-Hey! What are you two doing!?” 

Their heads shot up to spot one of the prisoners pointing at them. Deacon rushed through the rest of his cut and managed to snap off the rope. He used the knife to slice the brute’s face, sending them off their tail. He started running and Dea allowed him to take the lead - not wanting to struggle and fall like they did last time. 

“Where are we going!?” She squeaked.

“Escape boat. I’m afraid we have little choice right now.” 

He slowed down once the boat was in sight. He wasted no time in preparing to release it. They heard some shouting coming from their left and glanced up to see more of the prisoners running in their direction. He threw them onto the boat together and slashed the final rope - sending them falling unceremoniously toward the waters below. 

Their landing was rough and caused the breath to escape both of their lungs. Once they recovered, Deacon sat up and reached for the oar - starting the tedious act of paddling away from the ship. Dea lifted her head to see the men huddled above watching them. The large outline of Boochbeard joined them, and he waved off in their direction, dispersing the crowd and allowing them to escape. 

Under that were notes on her history. Particularly, her dismissal for insubordination and past misdemeanors. The rest of the page was filled with questions, unfinished thoughts and scribbled theories. It was amusing to read someone speculating about her, but utterly terrifying at the same time. Where did he get this information? How long had he known? 

This page did not look like the others. The writing in here was rushed and almost sloppy, like he’d written it in a hurry. Had he been desperate to write this all down? Her body trembled and the writing became a blur in her vision.

A voice scared the living daylights out of her. 

“Reading again?” 

She whipped around. The door to the cabin was open and a figure stood in the doorway. Deacon shut the door behind him and took a step further into the room, engulfing them both in darkness. He approached her with such silence that it added to the tension in the air. 

Not a single world managed to come out of her mouth. The Emissary stood in front of her and took a glance at what was in her hand. He clearly hadn’t been expecting to find her with his journal, but he was playing off his surprise rather well. 

“You know,” He began, plucking the book out from her gloved hands. “If I wanted to sift through someone else’s things, I’d wait until they were off the ship. Then I wouldn’t get caught.” 

“How…” Her voice was unsteady. She was still quivering. “..How do you know my name?”

There was a heavy pause. “You told me.” 

She had no memory of this. “When?” 

He lowered his head and studied something on the floor. The coldness was gradually turning into heat - she was getting angry. It wasn’t good if he couldn’t look her in the eye. 

“We were in Don Rodrigo’s mansion when you had a concussion. You seemed to have trouble remembering things, so I asked if you knew who you were. And that’s what you told me.” 

Tears began to well up in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. It was disgusting to sob in a mask; she couldn’t wipe the moisture away without taking it off. Her hands balled into fists instead, the anger fluctuating between herself and Deacon. 

“That doesn’t explain the rest of what I saw,” She spat. She couldn’t stop the venom from dripping in her words. 

Deacon turned to drop his cane on the bed and unclasp his cape from his shoulders. Dea grew more furious as the seconds ticked by where he didn’t say anything. Did this mean nothing to him? Had he no idea what impact this would leave on her? He faced her and held his hands together like they were exchanging something formal.

“...I searched for your files with your name. That was everything I found.”

“-You did what ?” She raised her voice. Her eyes narrowed and her throat was hot. She moved towards him until they were inches apart. She pointed a finger angrily in his masked face. “How…how could you!?” 

“Anyone with the clearance could access what I saw. Why is this a problem?” 

“A problem !? It’s more than that! I made it clear I didn’t want you to know my identity. Why the hell would you go and look for my * file *!?” 

He took a large breath and exhaled slowly. His eyes tore away from hers to gaze back at the journal. There was guilt and obvious regret in his voice. 

“I didn’t look for anything more-” 

She turned on her heel and angrily paced around the cabin. She wanted to rub her temples, but couldn’t reach them under her zendale. She couldn’t think of a single way to soothe herself right now. She was angry, scared, and humiliated. Her trust for Deacon had been shattered. Her whole world was crumbling apart. She tried so hard to hide all of this… he wasn’t supposed to know ! 

“Dea?” His voice sounded from across the room. She spun around and stomped over to him, forcefully jabbing a finger into his chest. It was a nearly identical situation to the day they’d met. 

“How would YOU feel if I dug around and found records about you!? Things you never wanted anyone else to know?”

He motioned her hand away, pressing closer to look her earnestly in the eyes. “Listen-” 

“ Cállate la boca ! You think you have any right to speak to me? You went behind my back to do this. I was in the hospital at the time, wasn’t I? So I couldn’t do a damn thing about it!?” 

Another pause. She knew she was right with the way Deacon squared his shoulders. She turned her attention to the window and gazed helplessly at the moon. They had such a good day together…she’d been thinking of trusting him more, to reveal more of herself…would it have been pointless? 

“...I’m sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder to find him staring fixedly at the wall. “I know you wanted to hide everything, but I didn’t understand why until I saw it.” 

A sob involuntarily left her throat. She quickly covered her masked face and turned away. She couldn’t succumb to her emotions. She was stronger than that. He couldn’t see any weakness in her. It would ruin everything she had built for herself. She stiffened her jaw to stop the tears and lifted her head. 

“I don’t get it.” He continued. She could hear his footsteps falling in her direction. “How do you have so many offenses? The Armada should have never hired you.” She tensed up after that comment. “What exactly happened?”

“Why should I tell you? So you can know everything about me?” Her voice cracked. There was little care in her eyes as she addressed him. “It’s not fair that you can do all this research on me whenever you please, while I barely get to know you in return…And I’ve wanted to. At least, I thought I did.” 

“I…” His words were failing him. “I didn’t realize.” 

“There. You know everything now. I was insubordinate and got into a lot of trouble. Is that what you wanted to learn?”

“No.” He was clearly struggling. “I just don’t understand. You’ve never shown me or the crew any trouble. Disobedience is the last thing on my mind when I think of you.” 

Her eyes softened. She was so close to losing her composure…it was taking all her will to hold herself together. She didn’t want anything more about herself slipping just because she was vulnerable again. She’d had enough of it. Deacon didn’t deserve the privilege - he’d done all this without her permission to start with. 

“Maybe it’s better if you never know,” She managed after a minute. “And…maybe it’s for the best if I don’t get to know you, either.” 

“Don’t say that. I’m fine if-”

“-That’s the thing. I don’t think I want to anymore.” Her hands fell to her sides. “Why would I want to learn more about a man who is just going to hurt me? I was starting to trust you, Deacon. And then I find this…and the worst part is, I know you would’ve never shown it to me.” 

The silence stretched on painfully. He didn’t know what to say. He had no practice in handling these situations. He’d never been in the wrong…he wasn’t close to nor cared about the people he gathered intel on. There wasn’t any reason to worry about what anyone else thought of him. He rarely ever did.  

But Dea was different. She was his equal. And when he had the opportunity to betray her trust, he took it despite knowing how wrong it was to do. How could he justify his actions? He wouldn’t even try. He had more dignity than that. 

He realized he was holding his breath. After a second, he told her, “I don’t hate you. I never did.” 

Her eyes lowered. She murmured. “..Is that something else I told you?”

He nodded solemnly. His tone softened. “We may have had our differences, but I’ve learned to live with our situation. I’m…sorry for showing you such annoyance before. I wasn’t used to having a partner, and I certainly took your help for granted when I shouldn’t have. We work together, and I don’t want that jeopardized-” 

“--That’s all we’ll ever be - work partners. And when we’re done with our mission, we’ll go our separate ways. You won’t have to deal with me for very long.”

Her tone was emotionless. She came to terms with how this changed their relationship and was willing to let go, no matter how hard it was. A part of her still wanted to fall to the floor and weep the night away, but she wasn’t going to do that. 

He bowed his head before replying, “..If that’s what you want.” 

She sighed and moved to sit on her mattress, peeling off her boots and removing her gloves. She could feel the effects of the wine lingering and hoped it would help her sleep tonight. If she were anywhere else, she’d be crying herself to exhaustion. But she had to endure the pain - despite how she felt about it. 

Not another word was uttered between them as they prepared to sleep. When the cabin was completely quiet, Deacon’s blue eyes were trained on the ceiling above. His chest felt agonizingly tight and a wave of sadness was gradually washing over him. He cursed at himself for leaving his journal wide open and not securing it before Dea returned. He regretted everything he had done. He could’ve easily lived without knowing about her history. 

You idiot. 

----

When the spymaster got up the next morning, he pulled back his privacy sheet in exhaustion. He hadn’t slept well…constantly plagued by his self-loathing and remorse. ‘I’ll never escape this’ , he thought depressingly. He groggily rubbed his eyes under his bauta before lifting his head and noticing that Dea’s bed was empty. 

…Huh. 

She never woke before him. He checked outside the window and confirmed it was morning when the sun had barely risen over the horizon. He wasted no time lifting himself to his feet and changing into his uniform, finding his routine was a little more rushed than usual. He felt uncertain - wondering if Dea had found her way off of the ship and back to Valencia. He wouldn’t blame her if she left…but he’d appreciate a notice.

He climbed onto the deck. When he approached the captain’s wheel, he sighed in relief. Dea was sailing their vessel confidently. There was a soldier by her side assisting with the navigation, which was usually * her * job when he was behind the wheel. He climbed the stairs and greeted them both. His soldier saluted him while Dea nodded in his direction. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. She cast a quick glance at him.

“Practicing my sailing.” 

He clicked his tongue. “Seeing as we’re not stranded on an island, I’d say you’re doing a good job.” She didn’t even react to his comment and kept her stare straight. It made him slightly lose his confidence. “..Are you okay?”

“I’m working.” She hastily replied. “Why don’t you check on the crew? I didn’t have the chance to talk to them this morning.” 

“Alright.” 

A pang of rejection hit him as he walked away. ‘Checking on the crew’ was busy work. They employed capable people. No one ever goofed off or needed assistance. That was a benefit to working in the Armada…he never had to worry about trivial things. He had no quarrel with working alongside rookies, but he preferred the more experienced officers to work for him. They never caused any issue. 

He looked over his shoulder to watch Dea sailing the ship. She was entirely focused on the task at hand. He apologized to her last night, but it clearly wasn’t enough.

The communicator on his wrist alerted him of a message. He curiously checked the notification, only to feel conflicted when he read what had been sent to him.

----

“...Dea, you should have a break. I’ll take over for you in the meantime.” 

She grew defensive when he approached her with this suggestion. He was fiddling with his gloves behind his back - hoping that they wouldn’t argue and she would cave in to his request. He needed her away from the wheel right now, if he was to follow orders. 

“No, I have this.” 

“I insist. It gets boring after a bit.” He stretched his hand out. She hesitated before letting him take it. He smiled under his mask.

“Thank you. I have some tea prepared in the cabin if you’d like? It’s peppermint.” 

She quirked her eyebrow at the mention of her favorite flavor. He must’ve done that intentionally. She was more than happy to take a break, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “...As long as it isn’t poisoned.” 

“It’s not. There’s some fresh bread in our pantry if you’re hungry.” 

She thought about it before leaving. She obtained the slice of bread and applied some fresh butter to it. Sailing overseas may not be ideal, but…the Armada stocked themselves on high quality items every now and then. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. She sat herself at the table and sipped from the tea. It tasted amazing and the bread hit the spot. She took this time to simply think.

…She was still angry at Deacon, and equally hurt from his actions. It was hard to be around him with these feelings, so she chose to get up early and find a distraction. She needed some practice with sailing. The act itself was a delight. She embraced the cold ocean air that dried her tears. She felt calm, like she was back at home watching the sun rise over the mountains. That was until Deacon joined her, and their distance was short-lived. 

Her grip on the cup tightened. 

She was humiliated that her history had been accessed - by him , no less. The last person she wanted to find out about everything. It felt like he had personally driven a knife through her heart, and she struggled to articulate why she felt this way. Was it because she didn't have a choice ? Would she have ever told him on her own? She had a feeling she wouldn't, but now she would never have the option.

…She worried that he thought of her differently. That this news would completely tarnish her reputation in his eyes. But it was like he refused to believe this information, and that was the only thing Dea was holding onto. That he could look past what was written on her records and to the person she actually was.

Hope bloomed in her heart, but she was uncertain of what to do about it. 

It was still painful. She wished for this to subside so they could work together until all their prisoners were captured. Then she could leave and never have to face this Armada Elite again.

The thought made her feel empty. The time would inevitably come, and frankly, no matter what she said…she wasn't looking forward to it. It felt like there was so much unsaid between them. He was still a mystery she wished to solve…but was it worth it if he refused to share anything about himself?

She finished the rest of her tea with troubled thoughts. 

----

“Deacon? Why are we stopped?” 

It took a few minutes to register that the ship had stopped moving. She made the realization when she looked out of the window and was greeted with the sight of buildings instead of open waters. When she climbed the stairs, The Executioner had been docked at Valencia City. The crew was currently tying her to its post. Deacon was casually leaning on the captain’s wheel, turning his head in her direction when Dea made her appearance. 

“Someone would like to see you, and requested for us to come here.” He replied.

Her confusion was immense, but ultimately temporary. At that moment, a figure boarded their vessel holding a mask to her face and clutching the ends of her dress to allow free movement of her feet. When she was onboard, she wasted no time climbing to the quarter deck and embracing Deacon. She pulled away to present a small gift, which she placed in his hand. 

“ Buon compleanno! ”

“Oh,” He was surprised at the sight. He withheld from opening it and instead bowed to her. “..Thank you. I had nearly forgotten.” 

Dea gaped at the sight. She rushed over to meet with them both, turning to the tall woman in amazement. She couldn’t believe who she was seeing. “Queen?” 

“Dea!” The woman happily turned to her and cupped the side of her masked face with her free hand. “I have a gift for you as well.” 

She searched her dress’ pocket and offered a new mask. It was identical to her old one, except this one was made with something stronger than the previous plaster. The material was more reliable and didn’t bend under her fingers. There was a new addition to it…the left side was a collection of golden-and-gray artificial feathers. The form of it even felt more feminine-fitting, like some minor adjustments had been made to its previous design. 

Her fingers smoothed over it several times. She nearly choked. “Thank you…” 

"I’m just happy to get that horrid thing off of your face.” She trailed her finger along the crack, clearly unhappy with the sight. “I made sure my husband put extra care into your new mask.” 

“Right.” She looked around with uncertainty before dipping her head. “I'll change into this.” 

“When you’re done, return right back to me. We have a full day ahead of us!” 

“..What?” 

Queen gave Dea no chance of questioning her, politely patting her back as she left for the stairs. She was staring at the mask held in her hands the entire way…admiring it and loving it. She had been expecting a standard replacement and not an improvement. Not many Armada soldiers were granted the privilege. She felt exceptionally lucky as she changed into it and eyed herself in their mirror. She felt better. 

When she returned above, Queen and Deacon had been chatting to pass the time. They ceased their conversation the moment she came into view. Queen jumped from her seat and approached her. Even though a mask hid her features, it was clear she was beaming from behind it. Dea wondered why she was in such a good mood and what could possibly be awaiting them.

…She mentioned having a ‘ special day’ together. Has the time come so soon? She wasn’t prepared for anything, especially not now -

“Don’t be so tense, bella . What’s going to happen is nothing but fun.” Her gloved hand rested on her shoulder in assurance. Dea found herself suddenly relaxed. “Are you ready?”

“Well…yes, but-”

“-Deacon, make sure you return this afternoon. I’ll tell you when we’re ready.”

The Emissary nodded, but didn’t move. It was clear he was not coming with them…which both relieved and worried her. 

Dea didn’t have a chance to say goodbye, as she was already being nudged off the ship and brought to Queen’s side as they strolled into Valencia City. 

----

Dea wanted to ask where they were going, but it was better not to question the Armada’s Queen. It was universally recognized that those who did faced extreme consequences. So she was content with letting her lead the way, more familiar with Valencia than she was. She gazed around at the houses and canals, constantly in awe at the sights and luxury that the people lived in. 

She looked up at the sign of the building they were approaching. It was a spa. A nervous feeling settled in her stomach when they walked in and greeted the clerk. Apparently, Queen had booked them both for a spa day, including a manicure, pedicure, and massage session. She hadn’t been treated to anything like this in a long time. She was speechless when the Elite motioned for her to follow along. 

They were getting their pedicure done first. Dea was asked to take off her boots and socks, then led into the most comfortable chair she ever sat in and dipped her feet into water. Queen rested in the one beside her, holding her mask and perching her other arm comfortably. Dea felt numb when they began to work on her feet, wanting to squirm in her seat under such attention. 

“...You don’t have to do all of this,” She insisted weakly. “I’m fine with a simple manicure, really.” 

“No, I won’t allow it.” Queen countered. “We’re getting the royal package. I wanted to have a girl’s day out together.” 

“I-” She flinched when they started to scrub her sole, only to lean back in pleasure. “..I have to ask…what brought on all of this?” 

She didn’t respond right away, watching the women work for a minute or two. “I usually get my beauty done with the royal court, but they’re into too much gossip at the moment. I know you’ve been in need of a break…so why not now?” 

She exhaled in surprise. It was so thoughtful and generous; she didn’t know how to receive it exactly. But she was thankful, nonetheless.

“I thought about booking us for a hair treatment, but I didn’t want to take up your day. If you like how this goes, we can return later and get that done.” 

She was overwhelmed by the kindness, and decided not to speak while they enjoyed their treatment. She settled on a french pedicure with a flower design. The ending result was gorgeous and she couldn’t stop looking at her nails. When they were finished, they chose what they wanted for their manicure next. As for Dea, she stuck to her usual light blue color, but allowed a glitter application when Queen insisted she add some ‘extra flair’. 

Soon, they were in a room waiting for their massage. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything too wild - a simple aromatherapy for Dea and a hot stone massage for Queen. Both of their masseuses were incredibly skilled and thorough. She had never been this relaxed in her life. They were given a minute or two to recover - and Dea found it an ideal time to speak again.

“Queen?” A noise emerged from the figure across from her, showing she was listening. “...You’ve shown a lot of interest in me lately. But these extra things, they’re not necessary, are they?” 

“What are you asking?”

“What exactly do you see in me..?” 

She lifted her head and Dea copied the gesture. “I suppose I see some of myself in you. We have the same name, don’t we? When I first went into the Armada…it was to prove myself, much like you. I was determined, but I didn’t have the obstacles you had. And I didn’t want to see you not get to pursue your ambitions.” 

“That doesn’t justify the spa day,” Dea brought up shyly. 

“You’re a nice girl. I want to make sure you feel safe and welcome in the Armada. Every woman needs a beauty treatment every now and then.” 

She held her tongue on how extravagant their visit was. She was thankful she hadn’t been booked for a facial…she desperately needed one, but the mask was a respected part of presentation here. Not once had they been asked to remove them. She looked into a nearby mirror and smiled at the new sight. 

----

Queen took them out to a local gelato shop in town. She got herself a petite cup of the hazelnut-flavored dessert while Dea had a scoop of dark chocolate in a waffle cone. They sat at a table outside to enjoy the warm weather. They removed their gloves to admire their manicures and eat without hassle. Queen kept a hold of her mask while bringing small spoonfuls to her lips. Something occurred to Dea as she sat there, causing her to look around suspiciously. The older woman noticed her stiff posture.

“Something the matter?”

“How do you know Deacon hasn’t followed us?”

“He has better things to do than tail two women around. I still asked him not to. He has that terrible habit of tracking people…”

She waited a minute before unclipping her zendale and removing her mask. She set it down along with her hat and sighed in pleasure when a breeze passed through her hair. It had been ages since she removed it in public. As her eyes met with Queen's, she felt…comfortable. 

She took a bite of her gelato and sat up in delight. "This is delicious!"

"They have my favorite flavors here," She picked up a spoonful and 'mmm 'ed. "It's the best I've had."

Dea indulged a bit more in the ice cream and took a look around. A group near them burst into laughter while a couple at another table took a picture together. She’d been separated from the public for so long that the sight almost felt foreign. She looked at the clear sky above them and sighed pleasantly to herself.

Queen leaned forward and sweetly placed her hand over her own. “I know you’ve been through a lot lately, hun. If you need to vent about anything, I'm here for you."

Her eyes lowered as she looked away. Queen made her feel safe. The whole reason they met was because she was concerned with what happened to her. She went out of her way to provide Dea with an opportunity that she would forever be grateful for. The way she spoke always sounded considerate - comfort laced in every word. She wanted to protect her female colleagues. That was something she'd never seen in Monquista, beyond Queen Eleanor. The army was a male-dominated field there, as unfortunate as it was. She was relieved to meet a woman with high status in the Armada.

She wished her own mother had cared about her like Queen did. Her fists clenched as she thought about her discharge. Her family had been disappointed despite what she went through. To have her mom look her in the eyes and tell her that she was a 'coward' for fleeing to Valencia…

She held her breath to steady herself. “Deacon and I got into an argument last night. I’ve been a little fussed about it.” 

She sat up attentively. "What ever did you two argue about?” 

Dea hesitated to disclose their quarrel, but she could use an outside opinion. She was desperately seeking advice on how to handle this whole thing. “I wasn’t in the right mind when I had that concussion, and told Deacon my name. He used it to take a look at my file, then found ....well, you know.” 

Queen sighed. She understood how dire this was and what it meant for her. “I’m sure he doesn’t think of you any differently, bella .” 

“I don’t think he does. But I’ve been angry with him for doing that behind my back. I was told my identity would be kept safe and we wouldn’t know anything about each other, but it's too late now.” 

The other woman seemed to be deep in thought. From her posture, Dea felt like she was frowning behind her mask. “...You know, when Kane and I started our relationship, I did something similar. I wanted so badly to know about him, since he didn’t really tell me about himself. So I went against his wishes to learn something about his past, and he was furious with me when he found out.”

Her green eyes widened at this information. She kept silent so Queen could continue this small story. Her brown eyes met with hers and a soft exhale shortly left her lips. 

“I didn’t have bad intentions. I was just so frustrated that he didn’t share a lot of himself with me. I only wanted to understand him better. To know where he came from. It seemed harmless, but in doing so, I ruined his trust. I worried I would never get it back…but we were able to reconcile.”

“...So, you think Deacon regrets what he did?” 

"I'm positive. He might've just wanted to know more about you.” 

“That’s the problem.” Dea groaned, momentarily slumping in her seat. "I know nothing of who he is or what his past is like.” 

“I think he gets that from his father,” Queen muttered sadly. 

Dea perked up. “You know his dad?”

She tilted her head. “...Yes, I’m married to him.” 

A long pause lingered at the table. The cogs were slowly turning in her head. She eventually pieced two-and-two together and gasped at this news. “Kane is his father !?” 

“Oh, dear.” Queen tapped her fingers on the table. “I guess he has kept a lot to himself, hasn’t he?” 

She let out a frustrated noise and moved her attention to her gelato. There were several questions running through her head. Why didn't Deacon tell her? She never really asked him about it, but still! They worked for Kane! He couldn’t have mentioned that their boss, the Supreme Commander of all the Armada, also happened to be his father? Her eyes narrowed as she continued to dwell on it. Queen tsked at the expression.

“If you want to know about him, you really should be asking more questions.” 

‘Maybe I will’ , she thought determinedly, already knowing the first thing she’ll address him about.

“--It is his birthday today. Have you gotten him anything..?”

It dawned on Dea that Queen had given Deacon a present before they left. She was so shocked to have seen her that she didn’t register what she said at the time. She must’ve wished him a happy birthday. She remembered him looking surprised at the gesture – like he hadn’t been expecting anything. Her heart began to hurt thinking of how she’d treated him since this morning.

Their confrontation last night couldn’t have been more poorly-timed. 

She nearly dropped her waffle cone. Her lips fell into a frown. “...No. I didn’t. What should I get him?” 

“Hmm. This can be a great opportunity for the two of you to make up.” 

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “He never mentioned his birthday to me. I don’t even know what he’d like.” 

“That can be our next thing to do - finding a present for him. The fun part is looking until you spot the right thing.”

Dea was happy with this suggestion and eagerly agreed to it. They finished their gelato before setting out to a nearby local mall. There, they spent a couple hours window shopping in search of the right gift. Dea was in a constant struggle to find something she thought Deacon would like. He had plenty of books, carried very little with him, and didn’t have the extra room to keep any knick-knacks. He was the hardest person she ever had to shop for. She sought Queen’s advice on the matter, who suggested a more practical gift. With that in mind, Dea found something she thought was perfect.

----

“Before we part, I have a couple of questions for you.”

She was holding a small bag that contained Deacon’s present, carrying it with her back to the docks. They had a mile or two to go until they’d reach her ship. Most of their conversation had been about her mission with Deacon and what interesting gossip Queen learned back in Valencia.

“Go ahead,” She tipped her head in permission. 

“How exactly do you feel about Deacon after all this time?” 

“...He’s quiet and hard to read. I feel like I annoy him more than anything, but…he told me that’s not the case. I still think my company isn’t the best thing in the Spiral.” 

Queen waved her concern off. "He's always in a bad mood."

She nodded, only a tad reassured.

“He’s not that bad when you get to know him,” Her lips moved without her consent. “He always seems to know what he’s doing. He’s pretty smart, and I’ve never seen a man handle the stormgates that well. He’s impressive with a gun, too.“

A memory came to mind that she hadn’t talked about. She laughed. “We were in Cool Ranch some time ago and he played the piano. It was one of those ridiculous ragtime beats, but he played it perfectly. I sat there watching him, and I…I think that was the first time I realized he was attractive.”

Shit! Why did she say that? Queen’s shoulders hunched as an obvious smile grew on her concealed face. 

“Go on,” She purred. 

Dea suddenly felt like she revealed something she wasn’t supposed to. She gulped and fidgeted with the handle of the shopping bag. It felt like she was confessing something she hadn't realized herself. A fact she’d been denying and putting down for awhile now…

“I thought he was going to be like the others. I know you told me I shouldn’t worry, but…I was scared of what would happen if I didn’t guard myself. And I really wish I hadn’t, because I just got on his nerves.” 

She winced at the memories of their first weeks together. How much she teased him and the way she talked…the regret instantly filled her chest. 

Queen hummed. “You were a victim of something terrible. You needn’t be ashamed of protecting yourself.” 

“But I was so rude to him..! I didn’t know what he was going through at the time. I even said he wasn’t fit to be an Elite. I regret that so much…I think it was the one comment I made that seriously upset him.” 

“It sounds like you need to communicate better. Apologize for the things you’ve said when you were cautious. He’ll understand, cara.” 

She frowned, her eyes glued to the floor. Something cold spread in her heart just imagining Deacon knowing the full truth. Who she was and how she came here. What material exactly laid behind the redacted parts of her file. Information he would never know unless she directly told him…

"What would he think of me?" She whispered. "That I was weak? Some sort of coward?"

"He isn't like that." Queen slowed her steps. "I think you'd be surprised how kind he really is. He's helped me in a few rough spots before."

"He didn't even tell me it was his Birthday. Did he think I wouldn’t care or something?" That thought hurt her. Maybe she deserved it, with how she’d been acting lately. “He apologized to me last night, but I didn’t forgive him. Do you think I should?” 

“If you want to move past this, then you should consider it.” The ship was coming into view and they knew their time together was running short. “I don’t think he ever meant to hurt you. Sometimes we think our truths are better hidden, but opening yourself up to other people isn’t always a vulnerability, Dea.” 

“That’s pretty wise,” She remarked. 

“I just want to see the two of you happy,” She replied sadly. They were standing in front of The Executioner now. “Thank you for such a fun day. I hope you don’t mind if I tag you along next time?”

“I don’t think I would.” She grinned under her mask. “I wish I had met you sooner.” She could have used Queen in her life a long time ago. 

“We met at the right time. Now go give him his gift.” 

She was about to leave until she stopped herself. “By the way…how old is Deacon?” 

Queen giggled. “I can’t reveal all of his secrets, dear. Ciao.” 

She gave a graceful wave of the hand before leaving. Dea watched her go sadly before she climbed aboard her sanctuary. She greeted her crew and kept an eye out for her co-captain. It was about time they moved past this so things could go back to normal. They had no reason to needlessly bicker in the meantime. 

----

She searched until she found Deacon where she kind of expected him to be - in the back of the ship with a cigarette in his mouth. When she appeared out of nowhere, he jumped up and extinguished it. She was grateful for the action, but felt guilty for imposing it.

“Hi,” She greeted. He nodded to her, discarding the stick elsewhere. 

“Have a good time with Queen?” He asked.

"The best, actually.” She looked down for a moment, fidgeting with her sleeves. “…I didn’t know it was your Birthday. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would you care?” 

She winced. She recalled a date she’d recently seen. He’d written her birthday in his journal, among the other notes he had about her. He took the time to do it so he could remember the day…she felt even worse from this, which obliged her to hand him the bag.

“I got this for you while we were out.” She felt that was underwhelming and added, “ Feliz cumpleaños.”

He gave her a look before taking it and reaching for what was inside. He surfaced a box. He opened it and found two objects inside. They were exquisitely decorated halves of a gear. It was the most costly purchase she’d made in Valencia, but it somehow suited him, what with his job in the Armada and love for reading. They were obsessed with clockwork, she noticed. 

“Bookends,” He said, weighing them in his hands. She scrambled with a need to explain her gift.

“I noticed you kept your books on the shelf in the cabin, but they kept falling off when the waves were bad. I don’t want any of them getting water damaged, so…I thought you could use these. To keep them together.” Her face was hot with a blush as she worked herself up. “I-If you don’t like it, it’s fine, I can return it-” 

“No, I’ve been needing a pair, actually” He admired the details. It looked like something his father would’ve crafted - had he ever the courage to ask him. “Thank you, Dea.” 

“Oh.” Her heart was beating intensely at his approval. She smiled, relieved that her gift hadn’t been a failure. “...I’m glad. And, uh…how old are you?” 

He snorted and shoved the bookends back in the bag. He sat back down and she got annoyed at his avoidance. “-Since you know so much about me, it’s only fair that I get to ask you some things. Don’t you think?”

“Fine,” He breathed, allowing her to sit beside him. It was a little close since their knees were touching, but neither of them minded. “Take a guess.” 

“40.” 

He was immediately insulted. “Davvero? Fourty?” 

“Mentally, I think so.” She responded proudly. He rolled his eyes and looked away, shaking his head. She was back to toying with him - so maybe that was a good sign. 

“I’m thirty years old.” 

She was pleased. He waited a few seconds before asking, “-Shall I guess yours?”

“Of course. Nothing bad ever comes from guessing a woman’s age.” She jabbed him in the side. He snickered. “I’m as old as you, more or less. Still pretty young in the eyes of my superiors, I guess.” 

“Hmm.” 

They sat like that for a bit, watching the ocean and the movement of the waves. Dea was the one who eventually broke the silence. She did so with a serious tone:

“I just want to know why you looked for my file. What were your intentions, espía? Be honest with me, please.” 

He hung his head. “I was curious. All my life I’ve been working completely by myself, and then one day, I’m assigned a partner whom I’m not allowed to know at all. I wanted an idea of who you are because I’ve never quite met anyone like you.” 

Whatever she was going to say failed to leave her lips. She was taken completely by surprise. He seemed to think about something before turning to her.

“What I found doesn’t matter. Anyone can accuse their subordinates of whatever they want, whether it’s justified or not. And it doesn’t take much for something to land on a permanent record. I’ve seen plenty of cases where this happens. Whatever happened to you, Dea, I wholeheartedly believe was not your fault.” 

Her jaw fell open. How smart could one man be? All she implied was that she never wanted anyone to see her history. She was worried her records looked too professional; that no one would ever question their validity. She felt stupid to think so with Deacon - it was his job to read through documents, so it wasn’t far-fetched that he would recognize something like this. 

She swallowed, finding her throat dry. “..Thank you. That’s…all I really hoped for.” 

“You don’t have to tell me what they were. It changes nothing.” He crossed his leg over the other and moved his eyes back to the ships sailing around them. “I just hope you can forgive me for overstepping your boundaries.” 

A smile grew to her cheeks. She thought of how to take advantage of this situation. “You know what? I’ll forgive you if you can answer three questions” 

“Shoot.” 

“-Why didn’t you tell me Kane is your father?” 

He blinked a couple of times. His tone sounded disappointed. “So Queen told you.” 

“Isn’t she your mom..?” 

“Not biologically, but she’s the closest thing to one.” 

“...What happened to your mother, then?” 

“Is that your second question?” He asked teasingly. She paused, thinking hard on it, before firmly telling him ‘yes’. He sighed helplessly. 

“I don’t know. I was abandoned at birth, so I never met her.” 

She took a few seconds to think. "Maybe you can find her? You’re an expert at tracking people, right? I bet you can locate her, see where she is and meet her-” 

“-I don’t really care. Kane was the one who raised me and it’s always been that way. Apparently, my mother wanted nothing to do with me. She wasn’t interested in having children."

She shrunk in on herself. “I’m sorry to hear, Deacon.” 

“Don’t be.” He drummed his fingers at her silence and prompted, “-Your last inquiry?”

“...Why exactly do you smoke?” She realized it was a personal question and backpedaled. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” 

His posture loosened at this subject, clearly not pleased with it. He had to take a breath in preparation before being able to answer. “..Because I’m constantly stressed, and it’s the most convenient way to keep myself relaxed.” 

“It’s your job, isn’t it?” Her tone fell. She recalled their conversation in the hospital, remembering how touchy he had been with this. 

“Yes, and when anything else doesn’t go according to plan. Like losing my entire ship with the prisoners I’d been capturing on it for half a year.” He tensed when he exhaled, clearly relieving the exhaustion he’d felt. “I’ve tried other ways, but this is the only thing that works for me.” 

“Are you happy with it?” The words left before she could think about them. She was about to retract her question until a thoughtful expression crossed his eyes.

“...Not really. I’ve been wanting to quit for a long time, but right when I do well without them, everything falls apart again and I need them."

“You can try chewing gum,” She suggested. He muttered something about trying that before, so she made a second suggestion. “How about each time you get restless, you can pop a stick or two, then…I don’t know…talk to me about what’s bothering you? A distraction is good to get out of the habit.” 

He scoffed. “You really want to hear about my problems?” 

“Why not? I know you’ve been through a lot, so I want to support you. We’re partners, aren’t we?” 

He glanced at her from the side. His tone was knowing. “What if I’m boring?” 

“I’ll endure.” She sighed dramatically. That got a chuckle out of him, earning a grin from Dea. “If it helps you, I’ll be more than happy to do it.” 

He clasped his gloved hands together and tapped his knuckles. He appeared to be seriously debating this option, which elated her. She expected him to shrug it off or make a sarcastic comment, but she genuinely did mean it. If he could turn to her in his times of need, trust her a little more, then she was glad to listen to him rant. He’s worked alone most of his life, so he never had anyone to turn to with his problems. She wanted to be his new exception.

“I’ll try. But don’t complain when you hear something you don't like.” 

“I’m sure listening to you venting about your favorite book isn’t going to be that awful.” 

He was clearly amused. He quipped right back. “I have real problems, you know.”

“-Like a bad ending and regressive character development?” 

“I trust Deacon has kept you all in line?” She asked.

They nodded eagerly. She hadn’t been expecting anything less. She playfully tapped the Emissary’s arm, who tsked in return. After checking in on their crew, the two captains dismissed their officers and prepared the ship for takeoff. Dea didn’t know where they were going, but she intended on asking about it as soon as possible. She gave the spymaster a nod to start their departure - only for him to hesitate. 

“Would you like to steer the ship?” He offered. 

Her green eyes widened in surprise. Her expression changed to skepticism. “...Really?” 

He took a few steps back and motioned with his hand. She looked at him twice before moving forward and clenching the wood. She shifted under his attention and glanced at him. 

“You’ve never offered me to sail before.” 

“Consider it a present for not dying.” She snorted at that before looking back at the wheel. Her posture was rigid as she drummed her fingers along the handles. “...You *do* know how to do it, don’t you?” 

“...I don’t have much practice with it.” She confessed. Her arms tensed as she looked away. He knew this was a touchy subject and moved to her side with careful precision. 

“It’s not that difficult. What you’re doing is turning the rudder to obstruct the ship’s stream. When you do that, the stern moves the opposite.” 

“... Sí , but that doesn’t really help me..?” 

Deacon motioned for the crew to set sail. Their ship started with a jolt and Dea panicked. Her anxiety was eased when her partner grabbed the wheel and guided them away from the docks. His hand moved just beside hers and she heard his voice from above her. 

“Watch the stern behind us. It will move the opposite way from the wheel.” 

She turned around to check, but Deacon was right behind her, caging her in between himself and the wheel. Her heart was racing at their close proximity. He noticed he was obstructing her view and moved out of her way. She attempted to calm herself with a deep breath. She saw the stern was now to her right, then watched as he turned the wheel to the left. 

“See?” He asked. She nodded slowly. 

“..Let me try.” 

He moved aside. He directed her to keep it straight and she followed his instruction. She had never been allowed to captain a Monquistan vessel, so she missed the opportunity to sail her own ship. She completed a small test while enlisting for the Armada, but the experience was nothing like this. The Executioner was bigger and more elaborate than the test ships lended to them…

Something clutched her hand and she jumped in surprise. Deacon was removing her grip from the wheel and opening her palm, which he slid his compass into. It was the most beautiful tool she’d ever seen. Was everything in the Armada this detailed? She gawked at the device and was brought back to reality when Deacon tapped it with his finger. 

“Start heading east. We’ll be arriving at Aquila.” 

“Speaking of which…” She paused to steer carefully, then looked at him. “What’s our plan of action? Are we still doing what we discussed before?” 

“We’ll get this done sooner than anticipated. I don’t want to jump into anything dangerous.” 

“...Are you worried about me?” 

His eyes snapped over to her at the question. She looked a little amused. He let the silence linger before he sighed. 

“I would rather not have you injured again, if that's what you mean.” 

“What makes you think I would be the hurt one? You’re not made of steel, espía.” 

“No, but I have much more experience than you. It’s been a long time since I've gotten hurt in my line of work.” 

“Oh, really?” She crossed her arms. His hand shot out to grip the wheel out of instinct. She was too busy eying him to really care. “Tell me, Mr. Invincible. When was the last time you were wounded?” 

“If you really want to know, I had both my wrists broken from a run-in with a…rather strong criminal.” He shifted his gaze in shame. “But I’m extremely cautious otherwise. I always wear a bulletproof vest.” 

“-Under all *that*!?” She exclaimed, motioning to his cape, two coats, and layer of clothes. “How in the Spiral have you not had a heat stroke?” 

He met her inquiry with smug silence. She shot him a look and hastily took back control. She returned her focus to steering the ship and making sure they were headed the right way. With his compass, it was easy. It was only when they started heading towards the familiar whirlpool that Deacon moved to take the wheel from her. She allowed him - but with some reluctance. She didn’t want to stop so soon. 

“It's different when you’re in a stormgate,” He explained, slipping his compass in his pocket and taking a tight hold of the wheel.

“But I’ve watched you sail through these several times,” She argued. 

“It’s not as easy as it looks.” He could sense her upset look and exhaled deeply. “Dea, I promise I will let you practice when you’ve sailed some more.” 

“Fine…How do you do it, exactly?” 

“Track the storm and head where the waves are shallow and the winds are low,” He recited. “Keep the bow towards the waves and momentum forward. Luckily, the storms in these gates last only a minute. But they’re difficult all the same.” 

She bit her lip. That did sound a little hard to do. She’d seen him maneuver through these with ease. Anyone would think from watching him that it was a walk in the park. But he sailed all the time, so he had plenty of experience. She felt shameful for having so little practice in comparison.

----

Deacon expertly sailed through the stormgate and they arrived timely in Aquila. Their business here was - in his own words -  'not complicated', on the account that their target was already apprehended and was merely waiting to be picked up. When Dea asked how this had been done, he claimed that he "knew people". This confused her, but it didn’t matter. They had their criminal. All they needed to do was get them and then leave. 

She watched with attentive eyes as they docked at one of the cities and took an eager look around. He noticed her perked up posture and made a comment once they were moving on land.

“Have you ever been here before?”

“Aquila? No.” She shook her head. “I’ve never traveled that much, actually.” 

“And why is that?” 

“…I couldn’t.” She turned her head to admire the mountains. “Valencia’s the fanciest place I’ve ever been to.” 

“Aquila is wonderful. I like coming here for the food and the literature. I’ve made quite a bit of friends in these parts.” 

She quirked her eyebrow under her mask. “-So, is it one of your ‘friends’ that's holding our prisoner?” 

“Yes, but I plan on taking a small detour on the way there. It won’t take long.” 

“A detour? But, you didn’t mention anything about-” 

“-Don’t bother asking. Just wait.” 

Dea was puzzled. If she didn’t know any better, she would think Deacon was trying to give her a headache, now that he safely could. She looked at the rest of her crew and gestured helplessly to them, but none were willing to expose their captain’s secret. She groaned and rolled her eyes, already predicting the smirk was hidden on her partner's face. 

They hiked through the mountains until they eventually reached a village with beautiful architecture, surrounded by a breathtaking view. Dea followed her men and women while looking around in awe. There were tourists currently taking a walking tour of the area, but they were ignored as Deacon strolled past them and led his own crew through the sights. 

She was taken by surprise when he began to tell them about the significance of what they were looking at, as well as some historical facts about the buildings. It sounded like he was reading out of a textbook, reciting everything clearly and without a pause. If Dea didn’t know any better, she would mistake him for a tour leader. He provided more detail than what the nearby groups were listening to. He was also clearly well-versed in his knowledge of Greek mythology and culture.

She knew he was an educated man, but witnessing it in person was something else. Her face felt hot, but she blamed that on the weather. She clearly wasn’t wearing appropriate clothing. Why hadn’t he told her he was bringing them somewhere like this? She would’ve been more than happy to change out of her uniform into something more...accommodating.

They stopped at a beach, where a few members left to dip their feet into the water. She marveled at the pink-colored sand and clear blue sky above them. Deacon had stopped beside her and planted his cane on the beach, side-glancing at her and tapping his fingers. Almost anxiously.

“Do you like it?” He finally asked. She turned her head but quickly flicked her eyes down. 

“I love it. But why did you take us here?” 

“The crew wanted to do something special for you. Since we’re a little time-crunched, I thought a scenic walk through Aquila would… suffice.” 

He appeared a little nervous, adjusting his cuffs to avoid looking at her. She got some pleasure out of it and wanted to tease him about this whole thing, but she couldn’t. It really was a gorgeous place and it served as her true first tour in another world. She thought Cool Ranch was interesting, but they were there for business and it was nowhere near as magnificent as this village. She had to thank him - but when she opened her mouth, a knot twisted itself in her stomach and the words had a hard time properly leaving her tongue. 

She chose to ask something else instead. “How do you know so much about this area?”

“I’ve read books about its cities and sights. I just haven’t had the time to visit them all myself. Most of the papyrus I keep in our bookshelf are collections from Aquila.” 

She fidgeted with her gloves. “It’s…neat how you know all of this stuff. I wish I was as educated as you.” 

He stared at her and she was starting to feel nervous. Why did this feel so difficult? It wasn’t the first time she complimented him! She wanted to stomp the butterflies that were roaming around in her stomach. 

“-Really? You’re not going to make fun of me for it?” 

“No. Why would I do that?” She snapped. She felt bad for it and withdrew herself. “I like how you’re smart. It would be awful to work with someone stupid, that’s all.” 

“Well, I *am* an Elite.” He reminded her. 

“And what are the qualifications for that? I assume the bar is pretty low.” 

“...Ah. I knew that was coming.” 

She nearly shrunk in on herself for that comment, had he not laughed at it. It beckoned her to join in, giggling along his deep chuckles. It was then she realized something strange. It didn’t feel like she was in the middle of work, rather, she was spending quality time with a good friend. Then it dawned on her. When had she ever considered Deacon as a friend? Some would call their situation work partners, possibly even forced-roommates, but it was never unpleasant to her. There was nothing but mutual respect and an understanding shared between them. 

He was the only person she’d grown closest to in these few months. Maybe he WAS a friend. One she could trust to respect her boundaries. Perhaps, if time served them well, she would share more of herself with him. 

…The smile fell from her lips as she stared at him.

 If time was good, maybe she could learn more about *him*, too…

. . . 

. . .

A couple of hours were spent at that beach. Dea eventually shed her jacket and joined in with the others, laughing and splashing along with them. Deacon refused to set foot anywhere near the water and opted for watching from afar. She huffed in frustration. Would it kill him to have some fun? He rarely joined in on the crew’s game nights and wouldn’t stay for long when they celebrated in a tavern. He was always sitting elsewhere, indulging in a book or writing something. She’d only ever seen him working and never actually caught him enjoying himself, beyond the time he played the piano in that saloon. 

…Would giving the crew a tour count as ‘fun’ to him? That was a little lame, in her opinion.

When they moved on, it was nearing sunset and it took a good hour until they reached a decently-sized home a couple villages away. This must be the place where their desired lawbreaker was held, judging by Deacon’s urgency to reach it. When they arrived at the door, they were answered by a large man wearing a blue chlamys and a laurel crown. He greeted his friend kindly and allowed the rest of the group inside. Dea looked around in an attempt to find what they came for, but was greeted by a beautiful interior and couldn’t help admiring things for the sake of it. While she was preoccupied, Deacon and his friend exchanged a brief conversation in Greek before the rest of his company was addressed. 

“Ah, I see! You came all this way, you must be hungry. Please, have a seat and I will serve you the meal I prepared.” 

This caught Dea’s attention. She spun around and began approaching the two while Deacon rested his cane against the wall. 

“You prepared something?” He asked. His friend nodded. 

“Of course, I would not be a good host if my company was in need of nourishment-- Oh ! Who is this?” 

Dea was in his sight when she walked up behind Deacon. He looked over his shoulder and relaxed, moving aside to introduce them. He gestured to his co-captain, then to his friend. “Theodore, this is my new partner, Dea.” 

She offered her gloved hand and Theodore shook it kindly, offering her a polite smile. He seemed like a good man. He had good taste in interior decorating and was willing to hold their prisoner for them. If Deacon trusted him…then she did, too. He had good judgment as far as she was concerned.  

“I hope it isn’t rude if I don’t eat tonight, but-” 

“--Right! Your mask. I assume you don’t want to take it off.” He clasped his hands together as he observed her face. She felt a little embarrassed that the reason had been guessed so quickly. A thought must’ve occurred to him, as he held up a finger and dismissed himself from the room. 

In his absence, Dea looked at Deacon, who shrugged in return. They had just enough time to remove their shoes before Theodore shortly returned with something in his hand. A bauta mask from Valencia itself..! She could tell from the quality of the item as he placed it in her hands.

He turned to Deacon and rubbed the back of his head in shame. “I hope you don’t mind, my friend, but your appearance always fascinated me. I took a trip to your homeland and picked one up for myself…I’m afraid it doesn’t suit me well, but I’m going to start a collection of your beautiful masks.” 

He moved to Dea and nodded at her. “You’re free to wear it while we eat. I would hate for you to miss such a delicious meal, and valuable time with your people.” 

She was left speechless at the sudden thoughtfulness. Deacon looked surprised as well. She recovered from her shock when Theodore directed her someplace she could safely exchange her mask. When she took her usual one off, she ended up staring at the large crack that dominated its once beautiful features. 

…She’d almost forgotten about it, what with such a good day she’d been having. She cringed realizing that everyone had been looking at this the entire time. She wondered how Deacon must’ve felt being so close to someone with a ruined mask. It was frowned upon in the Armada as it was, but she couldn’t imagine the expectations the Elite held as well. It made her feel self-conscious, and she prayed her new mask from Queen would be arriving soon. 

She kept it close while slipping on the bauta. When she looked up in the mirror, she nearly stumbled backwards in surprise. For a split second there, she almost thought Deacon was in the room! She quietly swore at herself for losing her cool and buttoned her zendale back on. 

---

She must’ve spent quite some time in there, because when she left, she could hear the sound of chatter and clinking utensils coming from the dining room. She scolded herself for taking so long and wasted no time rushing towards the noise. When she stepped in, she found her crew seated at a long table, unmasked and talking with each other, with Theodore at the head and Deacon right beside him. She noticed the empty space next to her co-captain and her heart began to beat nervously at the idea of sitting so close to him. 

..What was the big deal? They shared a room, for Spiral’s sake! 

She took a deep breath, shaking off her jitters and approaching her seat. She tried to make her arrival as discreetly as possible, slipping onto the cushion and sitting up straight. Theodore noticed her presence and clapped his hands excitedly. 

“Marvelous! Now, we can dig in! We’re starting with horiatiki salad, a little bit of saganaki, then a great bowl of giouvetsi.” 

“You really needn’t go all out like this,” Deacon replied, grabbing his fork. “We were only stopping by.” 

“-But you have so many mouths to feed! Besides, you know how I love to cook for my guests. Remember all the tiropitakia we’ve shared?” 

“...What was any of what he just said?” Dea whispered.

When Deacon turned to reply to her, he froze in his seat and stared at her face with wide blue eyes. She didn’t know what warranted such a reaction until she noticed his eyes were repeatedly scanning her new mask. 

She feigned offense. “You don’t like my new look?” 

“...It’s a little odd,” He responded, fixing his posture, but not wiping the surprise from his eyes. “Almost like I’m looking at a doppelganger.” 

“But I looked like you before.” 

“Yes, except...the mask.” 

“Don’t other Armada officers wear bautas? Like your spies?” 

“...This is different.” He argued. Before she could refute, he remembered her question and struggled shifting his focus. “...Ah, we’re having a salad, some fried cheese, and a stew.” 

She tore her attention away from him to the petite bowl sitting before her. The rest of their company was already eating and complimenting the salad. She took her fork and hesitated before trying some. It was nothing like the usual salad she was accustomed to, but she loved the new flavors. She offered her praise to Theodore, who was relieved and wasted no time bringing out the saganaki when they were done. 

As Dea was digging into this new cuisine, she overheard the conversation next to her. Deacon and Theodore were speaking in Greek again. She was overcome with fascination and attempted to eavesdrop despite having no clue what they were talking about. She ended up doing this quite a few times during dinner - enjoying the food and the words around her. She forgot all about what had happened to her and wished she could enjoy this for just a little longer. 

Theodore returned with small cups after they finished the stew. It was a baklava sundae - she was amazed with how it tasted. It easily landed itself as one of her favorite desserts of all time. When all was said and done, they were finally brought to their desired escapee - who had been securely hidden in Theodore’s basement. Deacon did a thorough job making sure their departure looked as natural as possible, and kept their criminal out of sight. 

Dea was walking alongside him on their trip back to their ship. She spent the first few minutes admiring the night sky before sighing longingly. “I miss that bauta. It was refreshing to eat without having to worry about my face."

“That’s what they’re made for - to be convenient and secretive.” Deacon agreed. 

She turned to him and grinned. “You should let me use yours, then.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? I bet you have more than one.”

“...Your point?” 

“Let me borrow one so I can eat with you, espía. It was…pleasant, not being alone for dinner.” She didn’t have the courage to face him anymore, and shifted her gaze elsewhere. “..You think so too, right?”

He was still looking at her. Something in his chest burned pleasantly. “If you promise not to ruin it, then I might let you have one.” 

She lowered her head. She was feeling warm and giddy from today. She wished they could do this more often, rather than working all the time. They could spare some free time, couldn’t they? “-It’ll be for the best. This crack is starting to bother me…”

His look changed to something sentimental. He decided to focus on something more positive. “Did you have a good time..?”

“The trip was beautiful and your friend was nice.” She paused, thinking of something. “Had you planned that dinner all along..?”

“No, I told Theodore I’d have my crew with me and he must’ve gone all out. We were going to have some local takeout, anyway.”

“I should find some way to thank the crew. It was awfully nice of them to want this for me.” 

Deacon was about to mention that he played a big part in planning this little trip, but held his tongue. She was happy and that was what mattered. He reached for something he’d been hiding behind his cape and pulled out a bottle of malagousia. Dea’s green eyes lit up at the sight. 

“Theodore handed this to me before we left. This should be a nice gift for them, if you think we should indulge tonight.” 

She didn’t hesitate. “Absolutamente."

----

The crew had a good time, officially welcoming Dea back with a small celebration of their own. She was thankful for everything and had no trouble expressing it. They enjoyed a glass of wine and played a game together - which, to Dea’s surprise, even Deacon participated in. She excused herself when she started feeling exhausted and chose to retire for the night. 

She returned to the cabin and realized she was the only one there. Deacon had left sometime earlier - she assumed he was taking one of his smoke breaks on the above deck. The place looked spotless and all of her belongings were left untouched. She didn’t expect anything else, really, Deacon was organized and liked to keep things that way. The only difference she found was that her bed was neatly made and the sheets had been recently cleaned. She was grateful for that…she’d have to thank him when he came back. 

She yawned and changed into her nightwear, ready to pass out then and there before something caught her attention. When she yanked back the privacy sheet, she found a book propped open on the desk. She assumed it was one of Deacon’s novels he’d been reading that he must have forgotten to close. Something compelled her to get a closer look at it.

When her eyes began skimming the pages, she quickly realized it was Deacon’s journal he regularly wrote in. Her breath hitched in her throat and she looked around again. She was still alone in the room…and the journal was still sitting there, completely opened. 

Dea bit her lip before slowly grabbing the item from the desk and reading what had been recently written.