With shaky hands, Ray'ven poured the little bit of water she had procured from the leaking crack in the wall into the bowl she had found underneath the cot. She had tested it beforehand, hoping it was fresh and thankfully it had been. Rain water.

It had been two days since the bastard had left, one since Strel had fallen into unconsciousness and she only seemed to be getting worse. Dark splotches had formed on her pale skin, bruises underneath her eyes.

The wound in her chest was still bleeding, if not slower than before. She doubted that she looked any better. It had become hard for her to wake, but she forced herself to for the sake of her cousin. She didn't know what she would do if she awoke to find her dead.

Sweat beaded her forehead as she worked. Her limbs felt heavy and she had long stopped trying to wipe away the blood that crusted onto her face from where her nose had begun to bleed. Lethargy threatened to take her consciousness, but she shook vigorously in an attempt to stay awake.

Placing the now empty bowl back at the seeping crack to refill it. Ray'ven tore off another strip from her skirt, replacing the other blood soaked one she had made as a makeshift bandage with the fresh piece before dabbing Strel's forehead with a different damp piece of cloth.

Ray'ven hummed brokenly as she worked, a lullaby that her mother had often sung to her when she was sick. So engrossed in her work, she never heard the door open.

"Is she still alive?" James's soft voice came from the entryway of the prison level of the ship.

Ray'ven jumped at the sound of the unexpected voice from behind her, dropping the cloth with a curse. Turning she glared at the blond haired pirate who had been there two days before. He had hit Strel on the orders of that bastard man.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Why do you care?" she hissed. "Worried about not getting your fair share of sols?" Her voice was rough and cracked as she spoke.

What she had said plunged the sharpness of her words into his heart with a relentless twist. He deserved that, but he kept the gentlest of smiles on his face. "Stand up, step back, arms up and face the wall."

His captain told him how the dark haired one had tricks up her sleeves. She nearly killed his brother two nights ago. That wouldn't be him. But then again, she'd find out that he could fight far better than that of his brother.

"Matter of fact. I won't risk it. I don't feel like taking any other lives." Kneeling on one knee, James rolled one vial beneath the small crack beneath the vertical bars. She would do well to use that while he stepped over to the other door. He opened it and stepped inside.

The sight of the chestnut haired woman caused his heart to ache. He felt as though someone fist had enclosed around his chest, squeezing and squeezing, and squeezing until his breath came whistling past his lips.

While his gaze traced over her cracked and chapped lips, the voice of himself said: you did this. And as they caught blotches of darkness marring her arms, he shifted his gaze elsewhere.

That elsewhere was the beads of sweat across her forehead. He would've wiped them but the princess was watching. Instead, his arm slid behind her back and pulled her from the bars. Limply, her head fell off to the side.

She probably wouldn't drink the water. So that meant she wouldn't take the medicine. The cure, Synch root seaweed found in the south of D'treroh by Alsh Bay. The medicine had to be grounded into powder. If one was poisoned, it'd cure them. If one took the cure and wasn't, they'd grow sickly for a few days.

He lifted the second vial against her lips, but she wouldn't drink. Had her soul felt him sitting there although she was unconscious? Could she feel her enemy, him? Repositioning her head with the palm of his hand, he tilted his own head back and took the cure into his mouth.

This is all I can do for you. You can hate me if that means you want to live. Even if you wish to live only for the revenge of your family, your father.

He thought this as he pressed his mouth against hers. Using his thumb to press down on her cheeks until her lips parted, she allowed the medicine inside. He had only needed to blow once against her nose and the daughter of Rogan swallowed.

"She should be fine by first light." James wiped his mouth and lowered her back down. He left the cell without making much noise. Soundless.

Ray'ven watched the man work. He held Strel with a gentleness that belied his former actions. He cared, but why? She waited until he left to take her own vial. The liquid was bitter in taste and she grimaced as it hit her tongue. It sent a cool sensation through her, soothing in a way. Crawling back over to the cell wall, she settled against it, watching as Strel rested.

Her breathing had already eased. SIghing, she closed her eyes, her mind taking her away from the cell and back home. How she wished to return to Hedgequill and escape the hellish place that they were in now.

She would stay strong, as her father had taught her, but she knew not how long she could last. Slowly, her body relaxed and she allowed her mind to drift off until sleep claimed her for the first time in two days.

 ***

After a week he thought they should be done healing, so he entered the prison level of the ship holding a bucket of cold water. When he reached their cells he doused them both. "Rise and crimson fucking shine. We have things to do prisoners." Razmyr smirked.

Strelitzia rose, sputtering and coughing from the rude awakening. The water leached the small bit of warmth from her bones. She clung to her wet clothes, teeth chattering. She sent a nasty glare toward Razmyr but said nothing.

"Good morning to you, dear." Ray'ven snarked as she sat up, long dark tresses sticking to her face. She glared at him as he stood there smirking at them.

"If I could show you that I gave a damn, I'd apologize for what's about to happen. But I don't," He stepped back and two guards opened both of their cells. "And don't even try it, princess. I'm not Pudge, your bones in your arm will be shattered and dangling like a silken dress in the wind if you try to attack me or my men." Nodding, they threw them both trousers and tunics. "Now follow me you filthy bitches. I hate the pirate women who've volunteered to bathe you. You'll soon know why."