Lucian stood over the washbasin, taking a break after usurping the Woodhearts.
He chose the cleanest cabin, which smelled like woman, but it could be because of the dried flowers under the pillow.
He removed his outer layer of clothes, keeping only his pants on. His muscles screamed in protest as he moved, bruises forming on his skin, 'You said winning will feel great, but I don't like the loss that comes with it, Voice.'
The Glory had been around for seven years, and there was never an instance where someone had died during a battle. Today, he lost fifty men. It could have been less if he prepared them better, or used a different strategy, but he didn't know any other way.
His leadership skills were lacking, and even the pirates looked at him weirdly for mopping the deck with the rest of them.
The idea of him cleaning up after his own mess was probably absurd to them, but Lucian felt responsible for the blood on the deck, and the fallen.
It was his job to make sure they didn't die in vain, as it was thanks to their sacrifice that they were able to win.
'Being ungrateful is a disease I should never catch,' Lucian told himself, wincing at the aftereffect of using the shackled form.
There was a cost of choosing his opponents. He couldn't just show up and say, 'Hey, I want to take over your fleet, so let's battle.' That would make him the aggressor, and Lucian preferred to be the defender.
'People are more accepting of a man who defends what is his, rather than a man who goes out to steal it,' Lucian sat on the bed, keeping his mask on, his exhausted body surrendered to the eerie creaking of the ship's hull.
Getting into dangerous situations was asking for trouble, he knew, but if people were good in the first place, the situation wouldn't have been dangerous at all. So, who was in the wrong?
Lucian was looking for ways to defend himself against his parents in the afterlife, not to justify his actions, but to convince them to not hate him.
He still thought he would be able to visit them one day, but the more he fought the more he thought he would end up in hell, and he wasn't too keen on burning for all eternity.
'I'm thinking about death too much for someone who hasn't even lived properly yet. I defeated an emerald rank. I should be celebrating.'
The pride of such an achievement kept being washed away by the fact that it became easier to kill a person than to save them.
For someone, who was trying to save himself, Lucian thought he should be doing the saving to see hope, not take it away.
'I miss Celine,' Lucian lay back on his back, closing his eyes to block the sunlight coming through the porthole, 'I wish she was here.'
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Hundreds of miles away, that exact same glaring sun pierced through the heavy curtains of Celine's bedroom.
'I wish he was here,' Celine thought as she sat in front of her vanity mirror.
The maids were preparing her hair and face for the Fall Festival, where her engagement would be announced.
The ocean waves perfectly mirrored the heavy strokes of the maid's wooden brush moving through Celine's silky hair, sending a phantom sensation of Lucian's fingers combing through them.
The thought of him being away from her, and not being able to see her all dressed up for him, brought a frown to her face.
"Lady Rochefort, this is the second time you have sighed today," the maid said, her hands pausing in her work, "You must be really looking forward to your engagement. Don't worry, the Crown Prince won't be able to resist you once he sees you in this dress."
Celine's gaze moved to the golden dress that was hanging on the mannequin. She didn't pick it for the Crown Prince, but for a certain someone who treated every woman like a princess but his own.
She chose it show to whom she belonged, and what color was on her mind. Even if he wasn't around to see it, people would talk about her and carry the message to him.
"Who said I'm nervous about my engagement? I'm more worried about the crown not fitting my head," Celine gave the usual brainless excuse.
She could not say she was worried about her lover, who was out in the sea, staging his own defeat against pirates. Even the thought of it made her want to bang his head against the wall. As much as she hated it, she loved it to the point of insanity.
He was a liar, but a capable one, so she wasn't worried about him getting himself killed, but more about it going to his head. A second victory would turn him into an even more conceited bastard than he already was.
And her stupid heart would flutter again. He could act like a stupid cat and she would still swoon over him.
'Did he also think about this scenario?'
'About an engagement being announced, with only me being present for it?'
'How much more shame does he want me to bear?'
Just because that crown prick was chasing a pink rat somewhere in the south, didn't mean the announcement would be postponed.
'What am I even doing?'
Her hands tightened into fists, before she placed them on her knees, gathering her skirt into her palms.
An unwanted woman...that would be her new official label when they announce the engagement before the whole kingdom. When all she wanted was to be chosen by the one who claimed to love her.
Standing up, the two maids helped her put on the dress. With each buckle being fastened, she felt the weight of her future pressing down on her.
When they finished, she let her arms fall to her sides, feeling the hem of her dress drag on the floor behind her.
She was done with her preparations just in time for the grand doors to open. The Duke of Rochefort stepped over the threshold, bringing silence into her room with him.
The maids bowed their heads and retreated, scurrying out of the room like frightened mice to escape his stifling aura, leaving Celine entirely alone.
"My beautiful daughter," he said with pride, his footsteps sucking the air from the room, "you look stunning."
Her father offered her his arm, which she took, her eyes deadpan.
"Your expression is giving you away," he whispered to her, looking straight ahead, "Remember who you are and what is at stake."
"Of course, father. I'm more worried about your expression. It's too smiley for someone who is giving away his only daughter," she replied, not hiding the distaste toward her current situation.
"Lucian Arclight," he said, making Celine's heart skip a beat, "Is the man who made you like this?"
"Like what?"
"Weak. Scared. Defeated,' he began to list, stabbing her in the back with each word.