It was difficult to recall the way back to the ship. The echo of slow footsteps on marble. Swaths of yellow. Flashes of greenery. The feeling of someone else’s hands on his arm, pulling him toward the destination. Dark, soft hands, a glint of gold, a red jewel on a ring. He had been aware of himself in the moment. Samson was certain of that. During the walk back, he had known what he was doing. He had been trembling but upright. Looking at it in the retrospective was the hazy part. His head pounded and fog swirled inside his skull.

This was how it always was. He could manage well enough until he was back to safety, and then his thoughts pulled away from his mind, leaving him empty. It was good that it was the same this time. At least, hopefully it was. If this time was just like the last, then it meant that this power, whatever it may be, wasn’t lessening. It didn’t feel as if it were stronger than before, either, but he supposed it was difficult to compare this sort of thing. Last time it had been a bullet, running straight through his lung and out his back. Nothing had remained lodged inside long enough to make his entire nervous system feel as though it was being ripped from his flesh. They were different deaths. The sameness of recovery was, he hoped, a good sign. Consistency was good.

Samson took a breath. His chest was sore, but only as much as it might be while recovering from a cold. He was on his back, a familiar mattress beneath him. Everything was normal, save for the hand ghosting over his thigh. Samson peeled his eyes open, blinking.

His trousers had been rolled to his upper thigh, the wood and leather of the prosthetic revealed. Elias knelt on the ground, fingers fiddling with the fastenings. He looked up quickly, as if trying to assess if Samson was still asleep, and his body went rigid.

“I–” He started, pulling his hands back. “You shouldn’t sleep with this on. I didn’t mean to– Sorry.” His eyes darted away, and he pushed his glasses back up the ridge of his nose, turning his head.

Samson raised a hand, waiting for Elias to turn his gaze sheepishly back and follow it. “I appreciate it.” While it wasn’t ideal to know that he could sleep through the sensation of someone touching him enough to mostly detach his leg, it was a kind gesture. He swallowed as he took in the sight before him, his prince on the ground, embarrassment painted on his face. “I will take the chair. You should rest comfortably, Your Highness.”

Samson pushed himself to sit, taking slow breaths. As long as they were somewhat shallow, they didn’t hurt at all. He busied his hands with removing the final strap from his leg, and quirked a brow when Elias spoke.

“Are you insane? You just– Please lay down.” Elias rose, stepping back to find the chair across from the bed. “I’m comfortable enough here. I just…” He paused, sighed, and made another attempt. “Are you alright?”

Samson nodded.

This entire thing, he realized, must have been rather distressing. To have someone attack him, for his protector to nearly die in the process, to see the attacker lifeless; all of it must have been difficult for a prince to handle. Violence like this wasn’t something a man of his position should witness.

“I’m sorry that you saw all that.”

Elias’s mouth fell ever so slightly open, his thick brows scrunched together. “I don’t know what I just saw. Your First Mate won’t tell me what’s happening, you’ve been asleep for three hours.” His voice was louder than Samson had ever heard it. Even upon being kidnapped, the man had sounded less terrified. “You died.”

The door to Elias’s left opened, causing the man to jump. In stepped a tall, tanned woman who wore a long braid and a serious look.

“Natalia.” She didn’t look at him, instead focused on an envelope in her hands.

“Your Highness, I didn’t tell you because this is not my place to speak.” How long had she been listening at the door before coming in? The woman didn’t look up. “Captain, this came for you.” She placed it on the desk. “Cheng and I decided to take a scenic route toward Kremal. If you were attacked because of His Highness’s presence being known, it’s better to lose anyone who might follow us on a direct route.”  She sighed, finally facing Samson. “You’re well?”

He nodded. “Thank you for taking care of everything.” To leave the entire crew and Elias without his own guidance while he recovered was not ideal, but having Natalia always made things easier. He could rest if he knew that she was in charge. Avoiding anyone who might take the easier, more logical route to Kremal in pursuit of them was smart– it was the choice he would have made if he’d had the wherewithal to make any choices at all.

“Of course, Captain. I’ll return to the crew and inform them you’re awake and well.” She pushed a hand through her hair, pushing stray strands away from her face before turning and making her exit.

Elias watched the door for a moment, as if waiting for someone else to come through. All he received for his diligent post was the turning of a lock to allow them privacy. Natalia did truly think of everything. As it clicked into place, he looked back to Samson. His face was hard to read, lips pressed straight and his brow narrowed.

“It’s alright, Your Highness.” 

“Is it? Because you had a sword through your heart a few hours ago. What happened there shouldn’t be possible. You should have died.”

Samson nodded. “I should have died several times now. This is the fourth time.” The less he said, the better. Too much was going to be more overwhelming than this situation already was and the last thing he wanted was to upset Elias further.

“How is that possible?”

It was a question Samson expected. Elias was brilliant– he wasn’t going to just receive half an explanation and accept it. There were going to be questions. “Allegedly, I’m blessed by Krella for my devotion.”

“Your devotion to her wife.” Elias placed a finger on his chin, dropping his eyes to the floor as he thought the explanation through. “I suppose adoration of the person she loves most would be rewarded.” He looked back up. “So, what, you just get to keep dying consequence free?”

“I don’t know the specifics.” It wasn’t a lie. If there was a limit to what he could endure, he had never been told, but he was sure there was something that would sever the tie. Samson had an inkling of suspicion as to what the breaking point would be, but if he was right, it would be a nonissue. Loss of devotion wasn’t something he could imagine himself facing– not when it came to Elias.

Elias pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re practically immortal. No wonder my mother considers you an asset to the kingdom.”

Samson shook his head. “She doesn’t know. I can count on two hands the number of people who do.” He swallowed. He was in no position to ask favors of Elias. It would be one thing if he were still a citizen, seeking a request from his prince. But as a pirate, and as someone who had stolen him from Kremal and forced him to witness something as horrendous as he had, it wasn’t right to ask anything of him.  Still… “It is up to you, but I would prefer this remain hidden.”

“Of course.” Elais nodded instantly. “I would never– I owe you my life. I know this entire situation is rather odd and unsavory, but you risked your life for me.” He paused. “Even if you knew you’d survive that, I cannot imagine the pain you felt.” His tone was more somber than it had been moments ago. “I am indebted to you.”

“No.” Samson sat straighter. “Your Highness, you owe me nothing.” His throat felt tight. There was often a tangible lump in it when he tried to speak to Elias, but it now felt constricted in his desperation. “I appreciate the gratitude. But really, it’s alright.”

Elias looked as though there was more he wanted to say to argue, but he closed his mouth, instead rising to take the letter from the desk. His fingers brushed over the paper, and then came to a sudden stop as he turned it over in his hands. “My mother’s seal.” He passed it forward, not attempting to open it. “You ought to read it first. It’s addressed to you.”

Samson took the envelope, biting his lip. That was odd. Even though he had taken rather drastic measures, he hadn’t expected such a quick response. If Her Majesty was so quick about it, she was either truly worried about Elias being on the ship– which struck Samson as strange, as he had shown time and time again that he was more than capable of protecting a kingdom, a much more difficult task than protecting one prince– or the urgency of bringing him home to wed was much more severe than he had thought.

Samson’s fingers moved over the seal that was keeping the papers shut, a deep burgundy rose, the insignia of the royal family. It was wrong to hesitate. This was Elias’s ticket to freedom. To return home would be the safest, most comfortable thing for the man. To prolong his stay, even by seconds, with this hesitation was cruel. Still, as Samson glanced up toward the prince, his hands froze.

A shout outside the door broke Samson’s concentration. It was common for the crew to spend nights being a bit rowdy. Shouting was normal. The sea could grow incredibly boring, and to roughhouse and play on deck as the evening drew to a close was no cause for concern. One shout was nothing. But it was followed by another, and then the slamming of footsteps on the deck. “Captain! We’ve been fired at!”

Samson’s eyes shot toward the door and opened his mouth to call back, but found himself unable once again. Shit. Usually he could manage to find words at least until he was aboard an attacking vessel, but with Elias’s panicked face in his view, they were gone. He reached for his jacket, hanging beside his bed– had Elias taken that off him as well? It was clean– and pulled the key to his door from it. He tossed it in Elias’s direction, and listened as it clattered to the floor, causing the man to jump before taking it.

“Stay inside here. Keep the door locked.” Samson reached for his prosthetic, pulling it taut and adjusting the fastenings. The process slowed him down more than he would have liked. Hearing absolute silence from the other side of the door when they were being attacked and he’d returned covered in his own blood couldn’t be comforting, even if Natalia and Cheng could handle preparing for a fight without him.

“You can’t be serious right now,” Elias snapped. “Are you planning to actually fight someone right now?” He clutched the key in his hand, scrambling to his feet. He stood between Samson and the door, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re injured.”

“Not anymore.” The buttons of his shirt were barely done. Looking at the skin over his heart, there was nothing but a white scar. The rest of his torso was littered with similar marrings, and though the image offered evidence that there was no open wound, it did make Samson’s stomach churn for Elias’s eyes to graze over the rest.

“No, you need to rest. Can’t your crew handle this?” Elias asked, shaking his head.

Refusing the man went against all of his instincts. But abandoning his crew wasn’t an option. Samson reached for his sheath, finding it missing. No matter. He would be able to borrow a sword easily enough. He turned to Elias. “They could. But I’m their Captain. Surely you understand that a leader sometimes must put himself aside for the sake of the people he protects.” He met the man’s eyes, almost pleading. It wasn’t that he needed permission to leave this room and join the fray. But he did need understanding.

Elias was quiet, turning his head away. Strands of thick black hair fell over his face, obscuring part of his expression.Wordlessly, he set the key into the doorknob, unlocking it. “Thank you for protecting me again.”

Samson didn’t have time to question the words as he passed through the door and listened for the turn of the lock. It was an odd thing to say– there was no need for such gratitude. It was his job to protect this ship, and it was equally his duty to ensure Elias’s safety. Still, there was just a twinge of warmth in his chest. Elias didn’t need to thank him. But he had.