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There is a vast, glittering ocean that touches the border of a nation once split into two; Ostania and Westalis. Long ago, when the kingdoms were at odds with each other, the ocean was a treacherous battleground and any man that set to cross it risked his life. There were the sudden storms that rocked the waves and the rumored monsters that lurked in the deep, but the true danger lay in the threat of being boarded by pirates. There were many legendary crews that emerged from the tall tales whispered among sailors. However, there were none more feared or revered than two pirates in particular.

They were known to all as Captains Thorn Princess and Twilight respectively.

The legends surrounding the two vary greatly depending on where you hear their stories. Records from old Ostania hail the formidable Thorn Princess as a loyal fighter for the crown, a hunter that purged western scum from the waters and Twilight as a thieving and conniving fox. Across the way, Westalians remember him instead as something of a beloved folk hero and the Thorn Princess as a monster from the east.  Which was the actual paragon of morality and which was the loathsome pirate has been debated for centuries. As such, their stories and details change based on the source; however, three things are universally agreed upon.

One: Captains Thorn Princess and Twilight were real.

Two: While they were alive, they absolutely hated each other.

And three: In the end, they met their fate by the other’s hand.

It’s fitting that the stories of two adored and hated figures such as them are intertwined with one another, so much so their endings meet at a single point. It would be romantic if it weren’t so tragic.

Anyway, the legends say they met for the first time on a sunny, clear day when the waves were low and the wind was favorable. Captain Thorn Princess was aboard her vessel, an impressive schooner called Ostanian Rose, patrolling a route frequented by western sailors. Because it was so clear, she spotted a ship from her spyglass when it was a mere dot on the horizon. It was a modestly sized brig with a blue trim and furled sails flying the Ostanian flag upside down, signifying that the crew was in distress. She lowered her spyglass with a concerned frown.

The thing about the Thorn Princess was that she wasn’t truly a pirate, she was a privateer. She worked independently, but was commissioned by the Ostanian government to take down Westalian ships. She was good at it, too. She quickly made a name for herself for her ruthless efficiency and dogged persistence. 

Her first mate, a spry, older man waited patiently by her side.

“Your orders, captain?” he murmured. 

It very well could’ve been a trap, but she was still human and wouldn’t turn away from someone in need, especially a fellow Ostanian. Perhaps her still-soft heart was her only flaw.

“We approach,” she said, “But keep the guns at the ready to run a shot across the bow if she tries anything. I want to be the first to board.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach as they drew closer to the unfamiliar ship. She floated in the water like a corpse; where most vessels always had a flurry of sailors running to and fro, her deck was empty and lifeless. It was unnerving. As soon as Ostanian Rose pulled beside her, Thorn Princess boarded with a swift, catlike leap. Still no sign of life on the ship, only the sound of the wind rustling the sails.

Then, the faintest sound of footsteps coming from below the top deck.

Thorn Princess drew a golden dagger from her coat. Other pirates preferred heavy cutlasses or blunderbusses, but she only wielded long custom-made, brass-plated knives. She kept three of them on her at all times. Three was all she needed to take down her opponents. It became a signature of hers.

A haggard looking man with wild eyes emerged from the belowdecks. His loose linen shirt and pants indicated that he was a simple seaman. At the sight of Thorn Princess, he nearly collapsed from relief.

“Oh, thank the heavens!” he cried, “I’d given up all hope of being rescued!"

Thorn Princess lowered her knife but didn’t put it away.

“What happened?”

“It was terrible!” The man lunged at her with uncanny speed and desperately grabbed her arms with all his body weight. He began deliriously babbling about the ship’s plight. “We had just left port from Hugaria when a squall hit and knocked us far off course–a quarter of our men fell overboard including our navigator. We were only meant to sail to Mϋnk but we’ve been adrift for over three weeks!”

“Alright, alright,” Thorn Princess attempted to calm the man down and to gently wrench his grip from her arm. She signaled to her crew eagerly awaiting her command aboard Ostanian Rose that the coast was clear. Regardless, the man continued.

“Oh, it was awful, we ran out of water two days ago! Then there was that terrible, terrible sickness that started picking us off one by one!” He tried to tug her towards the lower decks. “Please, I’m the only one left–but our cooper is still barely holding on. He’s terribly ill, please, he needs help!”

She tried to shake him off as calmly as possible. “I’ll get you our surgeon, just let me go.”

“No, he needs help now! Please, come with me!” the man insisted.

That uneasy feeling hadn’t left Thorn Princess, it had only multiplied since boarding this unknown ship. There was something about it she didn’t like. Her gaze swept the deck once more, searching for some sort of tell, an explanation for her apprehension. Finally her eyes caught on one of the chase guns at the bow of the ship. This alone wasn’t unusual; piracy was common and any ship preparing for an extended voyage had to be outfitted with at least a few cannons. Rather she noted the unique craftsmanship of the cannons’ barrels. She turned to the man who was still desperately trying to direct her to the below decks.

“What business does a respectable Ostanian vessel have with Westalian cannons?” she asked, her words cold and sharp. 

The man’s grasp on her arms froze. All panic in his eyes evaporated instantly, leaving behind a calculated emptiness.

She should’ve recognized him earlier.

His face was on the wanted posters hung in every coastside pub in Ostania. Even in some Westalian bars from what she heard. All of the accounts varied slightly, but they all reported a slender man with golden hair and pale blue eyes.

Captain Twilight; supposed champion for the Westalian commonfolk, known thief and plunderer.

His hold on her was suddenly around her chest and shoulders. She felt a familiar prick against her neck. The bastard had managed to lift one of her knives when he was holding onto her earlier. He swung her around to face her crew, who all instantly raised their weapons in retaliation. Twilight simply tutted and pushed the knife further against her neck. She felt a piercing sting and the roll of hot blood against her skin.

“If you wish for your captain to remain in one piece, you will lower your weapons,” he announced to her crew, loud and confident. Monotone, even, as if he were simply reading out a roll call.

The crew of Ostanian Rose were a good, reliable bunch. Thorn Princess had picked them herself. They reluctantly lowered their cutlasses and guns but kept their eyes trained on their captain, waiting for her command. It would be foolish to assume she would remain incapacitated for long and they knew better.

Before Twilight could utter another word, Thorn Princess pitched forward and threw him over her shoulder, sending him tumbling to the ground. He managed to roll back into a standing position, but it was enough time for her crew to launch their attack and board the vessel. At their descent, Twilight’s own crew came thundering from the underdecks to push them back. It was a dirty trick to hide one’s hand like that, but Twilight was never known for fighting fair.

In the fray, Thorn Princess leapt after Twilight and tackled him to the ground, one hand pushing him against the deck and the other around his grasp on her knife.

“Please release my knife,” she said cordially, as if she was asking him to pass her something out of her reach, “Your filthy hands have no place sullying its handle.”

“I recognize this weapon,” Twilight replied with great effort. His grip on the golden knife shook against her immense strength. “Do I have the honor of battling Captain Thorn Princess?”

“You will have the honor of being slain by her,” she answered plainly. She twisted his wrist and directed the blade down toward his face between his eyes. Despite the precarious position he was in, Twilight’s expression didn’t belie any panic.

“Forgive me, but I cannot have that, Captain,” he murmured coolly.

He swiftly pulled his knees up to his chest and kicked her square in the stomach, slamming her into the mast with an echoing crack! Just as she managed to blink the stars away from her vision, she saw him pulling a flintlock pistol from his sash with practiced ease. With a practiced somersault, she dove out of the way when the gun’s muzzle exploded into smoke and a bullet whistled past her ear.

He still had her knife in his hand. Her mouth turned into a frustrated frown.

She twirled her remaining two knives into her grasp and charged at him once again with precise, lethal swings. Twilight staggered back in the face of the assault, barely dodging the blades as they danced closer and closer to his flesh.

“There’s a pretty bounty on your head among Westalian sailors, Captain,” he grunted while blocking an attack, “We could resolve this peacefully. You let me keep your knife as proof of your defeat and I’ll give you half the money.”

“I’ll have no hand in your schemes,” she answered, “I don’t align with thieves.”

He caught her wrist just as she was bringing down her blade, drawing their faces uncomfortably close to each other.

“You are a thief as well, are you not?” he challenged.

“I serve my country. You serve your own selfish desires.”

His eyes narrowed. “You serve a king who lives in a castle high above the peasants that die in his name. You are no hero.”

Thorn Princess’s calm demeanor finally snapped into annoyance. How dare he speak of her like he knew who she was? She wanted to rip his throat out of his neck with her bare hands. Pull his eyes from their sockets. Snap every one of his bones. Before she could act on any of her gory fantasies, a deafening explosion sent both of them tumbling sideways. The world instantly turned a blinding white and a sharp ringing reverberated through her skull. When Thorn Princess opened her eyes again, she found the ship’s deck engulfed in scorching red flames.

“Captain!” she heard a familiar voice call out over the groans of men also caught in the explosion. “Captain! Where are you?”

“I’m here, McMahon,” she coughed as she pulled herself from the floor. Her first mate emerged from somewhere in the flames. His spectacles were cracked and his white hair was covered in soot. “What happened?” she croaked.

“A gunpowder explosion, ma’am. I believe a stray bullet got caught in one of the storage barrels on deck,” he quickly explained. “I must recommend we make a tactical withdrawal, Captain.”

Thorn Princess held a palm to her forehead where she’d struck her face in the explosion. Her head hurt terribly and the thick smoke made it impossible to see. Ideally, she would’ve loved to eliminate every last enemy sailor and take their cargo, but that clearly wasn’t an option. Who was to say how many of her own crew had been injured?

“Tell the men to fall back,” she coughed, “We’re abandoning ship before she sinks.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

McMahon disappeared once again to round up the men. Thorn Princess covered her mouth with the sleeve of her coat and searched the ground around her, hoping that at least Twilight dropped her third knife. Much to her frustration, it was gone, as was Twilight. He must’ve been knocked further back in the explosion. She hoped he fell overboard. Instead, she found a spent flintlock pistol, the very same one Twilight had used. She snatched it up and fought her way through the fire.

Thorn Princess and her crew retreated to Ostanian Rose and left Twilight and his ship burning in the water. It could hardly be called a cowardly maneuver as only a foolish man would choose to stay on a flaming vessel. 

However, Twilight had no choice but to be a foolish man. When he came to, Thorn Princess was already gone and he was in the process of being nearly burned alive. He and his crew scrambled for the rest of the day to put out the fires and when they finally did, he found his entire top deck and sailing masts an unusable, charred wreck. 

He was furious.

He ordered whichever idiot incorrectly stored the offending gunpowder barrel to be flogged and then shut himself in his office which thankfully had survived the fire. Twilight was not the type for public outbursts or exaggerated expressions, but even he had a limit. He fell to his desk and rubbed his temples. Fixing the ship alone would cost a fortune and that was only if they managed to make it to port with a few of their remaining intact sails. In the meantime, he would be losing profits while his ship was out of commission; profits he needed to pay his crew and supplies. The whole point of this piracy business was to make money, not hemorrhage it like blood from a split pig. His mind spiraled into circles of how he was going to pay all his dues and what needed sacrificing.

Then there was the matter of his pistols. 

Like Captain Thorn Princess, Captain Twilight had a reputation for his weapon choice. Ever since he was a boy he had the gift of marksmanship. He could shoot a coin flipped in the air before it fell to the ground. As such, his most prized possessions were three custom-built flintlock pistols with carved handles made from stained hickory wood. As all pistols from that time, they each held a single round, but Twilight could settle most problems with three shots or less. He always had them on his person, which is why it was increasingly irritating that he could only find two of them at the moment. He was very particular about his belongings and to not be able to locate one was incredibly irksome.

He sighed and decided to leave it be for the time being. There was one small victory to come out of this. Upon his desk sat a long, golden dagger. Its usual gleam was dulled by ash, but any self respecting sailor would recognize it in an instant.

Perhaps he knew how to pay for his ship repairs after all.

***

The legends say that the next time Thorn Princess and Twilight crossed paths, it wasn’t on the water, but rather in a tavern. The ocean between Westalis and Ostania was, as stated previously, a near constant battlefield. However, in a miraculous feat of diplomacy, Westalians and Ostanians managed to agree on one thing. There was a little island just outside the jurisdiction of either country where independent sutlers and businessmen set up their shops. Absolutely no fighting of any kind was to take place on or around this island. Any ship was allowed to port as long as the crew obeyed this one sacred rule.

About four months after Thorn Princess’s first run in with Twilight, she found herself docking Ostanian Rose at this island. Her original voyage was only supposed to last a few weeks but rough weather had stretched the trip out longer than anticipated and the ship needed to stock up on supplies. McMahon was handling most of those transactions, leaving her with a free evening. There was a popular tavern perched at the top of the hill overlooking the small town. She enjoyed a good round of grog like any other pirate, but she still hesitated. Fighting was forbidden, yes, but she was still a well-known figure. It was likely she had run in with at least a few of the seamen here.

But it was also dull around the ship when she was docked.

And she liked that tavern’s rum.

So a quick drink couldn’t hurt, could it?

With these justifications, Thorn Princess’s shadow promptly darkened the doorstep of the tavern.

The pub was crowded and a bit rowdy, but she paid no mind to it. She politely but firmly pushed her way through the crowd of patrons to the bar where it smelled of grilled meat and spilled alcohol. She had a full tankard lifted halfway to her lips when a tipsy sailor leaned in the seat beside her.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am,” he slurred, sloshing mug in hand, “Has anyone said you—hic—look exac’ly like Cap’n Thorn Princess?”

Thorn Princess sighed and set her tankard back down. She really hadn’t wanted to be recognized tonight.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Y’know, Thorn Princess. Y’look like her.”

It couldn’t be helped. She had a very distinct, and some might say memorable, face. Her red eyes were large and doe-like, incorrectly leading some to mistake it as a sign of innocence or weakness. She kept her long dark hair pinned up most of the time, but when it was down it flowed wildly to her waist.

“I mean no disrespect, ma’am, she’s a beau’iful lady,” the sailor muttered.

Some people thought that as well.

“I’s jus’ a shame she’s dead, tha’s all. Was the pride o’ Ostania.”

Thorn Princess froze.

“Dead?” she almost squawked.

“Captain Thorn Princess was killed earlier this year,” another voice beside her helpfully supplied. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “Sometimes word travels slow.”

She swiveled around in her seat to find a face she never wanted to see again.

“Twilight,” she murmured.

He looked quite different now compared to when she first met him, presumably because he was trying to pass off as an unsuspecting sailor then. Now he wore a crisp broadcloth shirt and tailored waistcoat dyed a deep, royal blue. Tucked in his leather shoulder sash were two expensive-looking pistols with ornate handles, though curiously there was a slot clearly meant for a third weapon. She’d met captains with much more flamboyant get ups, but Twilight’s choice of clothing harkened the kind of respect that was discovered, not announced. Unlike other mariners, his hair was purposefully cut and maintained. He could’ve been mistaken for royalty.

His expression was, as usual, neutral. He offered her a courteous nod.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said.

“W–What do you mean I’m dead?” she demanded.

Twilight took a seat beside her and called for a drink.

“A few months ago, Ostanian Rose had a run in with a certain Westalian pirate,” he explained, “There was a scuffle and Captain Thorn Princess was killed in an explosion.”

Internally, she shuddered at the memory. Her hair had reeked of smoke for weeks.

“The Westalian pirate took proof of her demise, her prized golden dagger, to some very important men who paid him handsomely for the deed,” Twilight concluded his tale. “The sum was useful in repairing the extensive damages done to his vessel.”

Thorn Princess’s mouth twisted into a pout.

“That’s incredibly dishonest of you, Twilight.”

Her words went over him like water on a duck.

“Half of that treasure could’ve been yours,” he said simply.

“What will those important men do when they discover you’ve tricked them, Twilight?” she asked.

“Then they will join the hundreds of men already after my life.”

“That’s a dangerous game.”

“Such is the nature of our business.”

“Stop lumping me with your kind, there is no ‘our business,’” she said with great frustration.

He remained infuriatingly passive and unimpressed.

“Well, then I suppose I shall keep your golden thorn for as long as it nets me a profit,” he said, “And when the ruse no longer works, I’ll sell it to a collector. Or perhaps I could make a few imitations from copper and sell those instead.”

Before she could stop herself, Thorn Princess lunged at him, grabbing for his collar so she could throw him across the room. She would’ve if it weren’t for the thick butcher knife that came swinging between them. 

“Cut that out!” the barkeeper shouted. “If you’re to fight, then take out on the water, not in my tavern!”

The bartender was a little man with coiled black hair, perpetual stubble, and a snippy attitude, but he was well respected by sailors of all nationalities. Thorn Princess withdrew her hands and formed them into fists before she could do anything else stupid.

“Forgive me for losing my composure, Franky,” she said as Twilight smoothed out the wrinkles in his waistcoat, unruffled by the experience.

“Twilight, you too,” Franky ordered. Twilight furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I saw you provoking the good lady, now apologize for trying to start a fight.”

By now, the outburst had drawn the attention of several of the other patrons who recognized the two famous pirates. Twilight clearly disliked this negative attention. His mouth set in a small frown and pink dusted the tips of his ears.

“I apologize, Franky,” he said stiffly.

“Good,” Franky said with a nod, “Now keep out of trouble.”

He turned away to resume pouring drinks, disappointing the crowd who had obviously hoped for a fight. Thorn Princess took a small sip of her drink with a huff.

“The next time I see you, I’ll burn your ship for good,” she muttered to Twilight.

“Then you’ll certainly never get your dagger back,” he murmured back.

She fought the overwhelming urge to kick his knees backwards. Instead she looped a finger through the empty slot in his sash and pulled him towards her.

“And you’ll always have a missing pistol,” she said, “It makes for a good paperweight on my desk.”

Finally a hint of anger flashed through his passive stare.

“You wench,” he seethed.

“Better a wench than a petty thief.”

All at once, he shoved her away and she instinctively reached for the knives tucked in her belt. She pulled out one long blade to throw and he drew a pistol and cocked it. Their efforts were once again interrupted, this time by a strike up both of their heads.

“What did I just say?!” Franky roared, “I turned my back for only a moment! No fighting in my tavern!”

Both pirates clutched their heads where he’d struck them but neither let go of their weapons.

“She’s continually insulted my honor,” Twilight said with a wince.

“You have no honor,” Thorn Princess shot back.

“Shut up!” Franky slammed his fists on the bar, silencing any remaining chatter in the tavern. “One more raised fist from either of you and I’ll have both of your ships banned from port!”

Thorn Princess carefully lowered her knife but kept her eyes trained on Twilight. She couldn’t let this go so easily.

“You must allow at least a duel, Franky,” she said, still and even, “He’s stolen something of great importance from me and I must reclaim my dignity.”

“You forget so soon that you too have stolen from me,” Twilight murmured.

“There will be no duels,” Franky declared. He cracked a wide, devious grin. “If you desire a competition, I’ll only allow a drinking contest.”

The tavern began to buzz with whispers and anticipation at the declaration. Drinking contests were a favored pastime of sailors in those days.

“N–No, absolutely not,” Thorn Princess immediately stammered. All fight in her voice evaporated in an instant, “Y–You only want to pad your own pockets, Franky.”

“I’ll supply the drink for free,” Franky countered easily, “It’s not often I host two famous sailors such as yourselves.”

She felt her hands frantically waving for him to stop trying to justify this madness. “No! I–I–”

“I’ll do it,” Twilight announced as he crossed his arms. The excitement in the room built at his words. “I don’t fear a little bit of ale.”

The crowd murmured a collective oooh and all eyes fell onto Thorn Princess.

She swallowed.

She was doomed.

Captain Thorn Princess was a lot of things. Strong. Fearsome. Stubborn. A bit clumsy.

Lightweight.

It was a sore point for her. She went to great lengths to conceal this truth. Every other sailor could drink alcohol like it was water, but she had to pace herself lest she turn into a wobbly mess. Even now after a couple sips of her rum she already felt a faint heat in her cheeks. She would fold faster than a paper flag in a squall during a drinking game. 

However, her dignity was at stake in this moment and she would rather die than let Twilight hold this over her. Her desperate mind raced for a solution.

Then she had it.

“I accept your challenge,” she proclaimed, chin raised, hoping her voice hid her anxiety.

The tavern broke into rowdy excitement. Franky’s grin broadened.

“Excellent!”

He ordered for two small kegs of rum and a fresh tankard. Thorn Princess’s stomach twisted at the sight of the kegs. Each was about the size of a human head and filled with enough hard rum to get a hardened sailor black out drunk. Franky slapped both of the barrels with a mischievous smile and addressed the eager crowd that had gathered around the bar.

“This is a simple contest of endurance,” he announced, “The first to finish his keg wins, the first to pass out is the loser. Understood?”

Twilight rested his hands on his hips, once again unafflicted by the ordeal.

“Understood,” he said. He regarded Thorn Princess with a sideways glance. “How about we agree that the loser must return the other’s stolen weapon?”

“Fine,” she complied, “But I want to inspect the keg first before we drink.”

Franky looked scandalized. “What? Why?”

“I don’t trust Twilight. H–How do I know you aren’t in cahoots with each other?”

“We aren’t!” the barkeeper insisted, “This keg hasn’t been opened since the day it was sealed!”

“Just allow it, Franky,” Twilight said. He pushed his keg towards her. “I can assure you that I have had no hand in tampering with it whatsoever.”

She smiled but a cold sweat settled on Thorn Princess’s brow. If she were to emerge victorious from this contest, then this is where she had to secure her victory. She felt for a small leather pouch in the pocket of her trousers and extracted some of its contents.

A few weeks ago she had found one of the ship’s surgeons hanging up plants to dry in the lower decks of the ship. Thorn Princess knew the surgeon had an interest in herbs, but she had never seen most of these plants before.

“There’s a lot you can do with herbs,” the surgeon had said as she ground some leaves in a mortar and pestle, “Lots of healing—lots of harm, too.”

She’d given Thorn Princess a little bag of herbs that could help with infected wounds.

“Mix it with a salve, but don't ingest it. Otherwise you’ll learn what it’s like to drink an entire barrel of wine at once,” she warned.

Thorn Princess silently thanked the surgeon for unknowingly preparing her for this moment. All she had to do was to find a way to drop the herbs into Twilight’s tankard and the taste of rum would mask its taste.

She made a show of inspecting her keg first, turning it this way and that. Honestly, she had no idea what she would even look for in an actual instance of tampering. The other patrons in the tavern began murmuring among themselves as they grew restless. She took her time and dragged it out as much as possible, hoping that the crowd would be sufficiently too distracted to notice her slip something into Twilight’s tankard. Even Franky drummed his fingers impatiently on the bar.

But all the while, Twilight’s pale eyes tracked her every move.

This wouldn’t do. The herbs were tucked in the palm of her right hand, held in place by her pinkie and ring finger. Releasing them would be hardly a trifle, but at the rate Twilight stared at her he would notice it. She moved onto inspecting his keg under his gaze while frantically going through her options. If she couldn’t bore him, then she would simply have to distract him.

“You’re staring at me, Twilight,” she said.

“I’m merely making sure you don’t try anything, Captain,” he replied.

She took a chance and reached a long, slender finger to his chest where there was a missing pistol in his sash. His stony gaze followed her.

“You should’ve watched your pistols with the same care,” she said as smugly as she could muster. Her own tone sounded alien to her, “Or else you wouldn’t be in this position.”

She walked two fingers up his shirt and tapped his nose, causing him to flinch.

“Would you, Twilight?”

He suddenly looked incredibly displeased like he was biting his tongue and glanced away. 

Quick as could be, she deposited the herbs into his tankard, her stomach twisting with anxiety.

“I’m ready,” she announced to the tavern, “Let’s begin!”

Their tankards were filled, the countdown chanted by the eager crowd, and the contest was on. The moment Thorn Princess brought the cup to her lips, her senses were immediately assaulted by a stinging sweetness. It burned her throat as she swallowed, leaving behind a spicy, vanilla taste in her mouth. The feeling was welcome, but she didn’t enjoy drinking so much at once. She had to pace herself long enough for the herbs to take effect on Twilight, but not so slowly that it was suspicious. Already her face felt flush and her limbs were lighter somehow. She had to be careful.

Beside her, Twilight slammed down his tankard to be refilled. Fellow pirates slapped his back in encouragement.

“Just getting started,” he said to them.

This was bad; he didn’t seem affected in the slightest whereas she was already beginning to feel tipsy. She drained the last of her cup and swished the liquid around her mouth before reluctantly swallowing.

“You gotta go faster, Captain,” Franky urged as she refilled her tankard, “I’ve seen Twilight outdrink men twice his size.”

“I have a plan, leave me be,” she replied before returning to her drink.

That was how the contest continued; Twilight drank as easily as he breathed while Thorn Princess did her best to hide her inebriation. The crowd egged them on with every empty tankard. A betting pool between the pirates quickly formed, the sums of which rapidly grew to ridiculous proportions. By now, Thorn Princess’s mind felt fuzzy and the world tilted slightly beneath her feet. When she raised her hand to drink, she saw three cups in front of her.

“I’ve nearly finished, Captain,” Twilight said. His face was flushed pink. “Resign now and spare yourself the headache tomorrow.”

“I’d…” Her mouth felt as if it were full of cotton. “I’d rather drink bilge water,” she tried to say without slurring her words together.

She forced herself to take another long drink of the rum. The pleasant sting of alcohol had quickly lost its novelty and she decided she would never touch rum for the rest of her life.

But she was so close. Twilight had to be close to collapsing, surely he did. 

Unless the surgeon was mistaken?

Or was she misremembering the side effects?

Twilight raised his tankard.

“This is the last pint,” he declared. To prove his point, he tipped over his keg which bounced hollowly to the ground. Surrounded by a horde of cheering sailors, he brought the cup to his lips.

Panic struck Thorn Princess like lightning. What was she to do? She had at least half of her keg remaining.

She watched Twilight take a long drink from his tankard, then pause. He lowered his cup, brows pushed together as if confused.

“How strange…” he muttered.

“What is it, Twilight?” Franky asked from behind the bar.

Twilight leaned forward slightly, unsure and perplexed. His eyes lazily wandered from his tankard to Thorn Princess. She tried to match his gaze but it was a bit difficult when she had to grip the bar with one hand to stay upright.

His mouth opened and closed several times like the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat.

“You…”

Twilight took two careful steps toward her. He was only a bit taller than her, but she felt like she had to crane her neck to look at him. He hovered over her, thinking and calculating, as his warm breath washed over her face.

“You…” he tried again, but whatever internal battle he was fighting won out over his words.

“Me?” Thorn Princess offered.

He squinted at her.

She held her breath.

He squeezed his eyes closed and swayed on his feet ever so slightly.

Had it worked?

She reached out and pushed his chest, applying the barest amount of force.

He toppled backwards to the floor, still as a dead man.

A stunned silence fell upon the tavern. No one dared move or speak as they waited for Twilight to stir. One sailor dared to nudge him with his boot. He lay perfectly still, sprawled out on the floor.

Franky slapped the bar.

“Thorn Princess wins!”

The tavern erupted into a riotous frenzy. Thorn Princess fell back into a chair, more relieved than ever. Sailors grabbed her shoulders and shook her in excitement while others cursed and overturned tables. She was too far gone to register either of these facts. The world was a dizzying blur of colors and lights and all she wanted to do was to lie down.

But then—

“Wait!” 

She leapt to her feet. She’d nearly forgotten the point of this contest!

She stumbled over to Twilight. The floor of the tavern was filthy; it was sticky with spilled drink and other unknown fluids, but she didn’t notice.

“Hey!” She knelt over him and shook his sleeping body. “Wake up! Gimme back my knife!”

Twilight was out cold.

“Wake up! Gimme back my knife so I can kill you with it nex’ time!”

When he didn’t stir, she slapped him hard across his face.

“Get up!”

His eyes fluttered open with a groan, but his gaze was clouded and unfocused. His head lolled towards her, making his unkempt bangs fall across his forehead.

“Knife!” she shouted, “Where’s it?!”

He observed her for a moment then closed his eyes once again.

“Hey!”

“Don’ have it,” he mumbled. Thorn Princess grabbed his shirt and pulled him off the ground.

“Whaddya mean you don’ have it?!” she demanded.

Twilight opened one eye slightly to look at her and shut it.

“Sold it.”

Her grasp went slack and he fell unceremoniously back to the floor.

The world pitched under her knees.

Her knife was gone.

“You—!”

She raised a drunken fist to pummel him into the earth but Franky easily caught it.

“Beating a fallen man is still fighting, Captain,” he warned her.

“But—”

“Captain.”

She scowled but let her fist drop. She glared at the unconscious man before her with all the lethality she could muster. His chest rose and fell as he slept without a care in the world. She had half a mind to say to hell with it and slit his throat right now.

But Thorn Princess had more honor than that.

The next time she saw him, she would make him pay.

***

The ocean is wide and vast, but somehow their paths simply kept crossing after that. It was as if fate had decided to keep bringing them together. 

Thorn Princess made good on her vow to hunt him down every chance she got. She would spot his ship on the horizon and push her crew to the absolute limit to chase him down. She got close a few times. Sometimes their ships would trade a few volleys. A couple hits even landed.

But, blame it on unlucky winds or Twilight’s maneuvering, she never managed to catch him. It was simultaneously infuriating and impressive how he was able to slip away every time.

Normally Captain Twilight would engage any ship he came across in battle for the sake of loot and glory, but he had deemed Thorn Princess a risk he was not willing to take. Truth be told, when he woke up, head pounding and stomach churning, on the disgusting floor of the tavern, he considered himself lucky for still having all his limbs and blood. He recognized Thorn Princess as a woman with decorum, but he wouldn’t have blamed her for killing him in his sleep. He decided right then that, despite the theft of his pistol and the burning of his ship, Thorn Princess was a worthy, respectable foe. 

That being said, he still didn’t want to face her in open combat.

***

He was in luck, for the next time he met her face to face neither of them were in the position to start a fight. The stories are a bit muddled on the details, but it begins with Twilight in jail.

Some say he was caught while smuggling illegal goods across the channel between Westalis and Hugaria. Others swear that he was cornered in battle and he offered his life for the freedom of his crew. Either way, he was captured by the notorious Admiral Wheeler of the Royal Westalian Navy.

The admiral had been all too pleased with himself when he paraded Twilight clad in heavy, rusted cuffs to his comrades. When he deemed the pirate sufficiently humiliated, he took him to the cellar of his military outpost and kicked him into a dank cell. There Twilight lay for several long minutes, feeling the cold, hard floor against his bruised skin and waiting for the jingle of Wheeler’s keys to fade as he left. When he was sure the admiral was gone, he slowly, painfully sat up.

All things considered, he’d been held in worse prisons. At least there was a hay mattress. The last of the sunset rays slipped through the barred windows and illuminated the other inhabitant in the cell across from his. She was sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. He squinted, suspecting his eyes were playing a trick on him.

“Thorn Princess?” 

At the sound of his voice, her eyes flew open. By now, he’d recognize her anywhere. They’d only met face-to-face twice so far, but that didn’t account for how physically close they had gotten in those encounters, the sheer multitude of drawings he saw of her on wanted posters, or the many, many hours he had spent the helm seething at the the thought of her using his pistol as a paperweight. Her tanned skin had a slight sickly shade to it and her round red eyes were sunken. The admiral and his men had evidently stripped both of them down to their shirts and trousers, but she still somehow commanded an air of authority.

“Twilight,” she murmured with a disapproving frown, “What’re you doing here?”

“I’ve been imprisoned,” he grunted as he struggled to his feet to inspect his cell.

“Are you not a Westalian citizen? Why are you imprisoned?”

“It’s possible to be both a citizen and a criminal. The government doesn’t appreciate my choice of pastime," he replied absently while he looked around. He nudged a particularly weak-looking bar of his cell but found it wouldn’t budge.

“The bars may look old, but they’re still secure,” Thorn Princess said. He ignored her.

“What about you, Captain?” he asked instead, “What brought about your capture?” 

“You needn’t know.”

Twilight gave up on the bars and moved onto the lock of his cell. He recognized the type. If he had the right tool, then maybe he could pick it.

“If I’m lucky, they’ll announce our crimes when they hang us both. I’ll learn then,” he mused.

“They’ll announce your crimes but not mine.”

“You have a way out?”

She looked away with annoyance like she had said something she hadn’t meant to share. “I shan't tell you. You’ll only rat me out to Wheeler.”

“I can assure you I will not.” Twilight patted his pockets for anything he could use as a lockpick. There was none. “Wheeler has held a grudge against me for many years; it would be beneficial for his ego if one of his prized quarries were to escape—even better if two.”

Thorn Princess seemed unimpressed. “The list of men in pursuit of you grows every time we meet, Twilight.”

He raised an eyebrow to her.

“Are you not one of them?”

She did not like that.

“Perhaps it is your ego that could use some improvement,” she said as if she were scolding a child, “Maybe you’ll learn your lesson at the gallows.”

Provoking her was not his smartest move, he could admit that. He tried a different approach.

“So you’ll escape by yourself? How do you plan on getting past the outpost walls? There are guard towers and patrols,” he asked, “Do you know when the men change guard?”

“Do you?” she challenged, “You speak as if you have been imprisoned here before.”

“In a way I have,” he confessed, “I was stationed at this outpost when I was a sailor for the Royal Westalian Navy.”

Her mouth hung slack. 

“You? A soldier?”

“It was a long time ago. Listen,” he leaned against his bars to look at her directly, “We could help each other escape. I’m sure we could do it. I know the way around this outpost.”

Thorn Princess’s brow furrowed but it was clear she was considering it. For such a feared pirate captain, she was awfully easy to read.

“I’ll cut your throat out if you so much as consider betraying me,” she finally warned.

“Of course, you have my word.”

“And I’ll still hunt you down once we’re out.”

“Naturally.”

She closed her eyes hard, as if she couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay, okay...”

She opened her eyes and addressed him. “I can pick our locks. Is now a good time to begin our escape?”

Twilight nodded. “The sun is setting. Most of the soldiers will be eating at the mess, so there will be fewer guards until the bell tolls the night shift.”

With this information, Thorn Princess extracted a long pin from her hair and immediately began picking the lock of her cell. The small pink of her tongue stuck out of her mouth as she quickly worked.

“Did the guards not check your hair?” he asked in disbelief.

“They got most of them, but my hair is thick and they are careless, it seems.” The door to her cell swung open with a creak.

“How fortunate for us.”

With a quick fidgeting of the pin in his lock, he was free. Once out of his cell, she looked at him expectantly.

“Now what?”

An absent hand rubbed his ribs where Wheeler had kicked him. “There are two guards on the other side of the door, but when they’re brought their meals they’ll be easily distracted.”

“Where do they hold our belongings? I will not leave without my knives.”

“I believe there is a storage room on the second floor that holds such confiscated items.” As they walked up the steps from the cellar, he noticed Thorn Princess’s unsteady gait. “Are you injured, Captain?”

“N–No!” She quickly corrected her posture. “I’m fine!”

She was lying and he knew that, but he ignored it and carried on.

It was just as Twilight had said; there were guards sitting in a detached room adjacent to the cellar door loudly talking and arguing as they ate. On tiptoed feet, the two prisoners snuck past them and into a long stone corridor lit by tall windows. Twilight motioned for Thorn Princess to follow him. The sound of waves crashing against the fortress walls and soldiers shouting and laughing echoed through the fortress.

“Are you quite sure about this?” Thorn Princess whispered, “I thought they were supposed to be eating right now.”

“There will be soldiers everywhere no matter what time of day it is,” he murmured back, “But I can assure you that–”

The door they were in the process of creeping by swung open, revealing two soldiers in the middle of conversation. Four sets of eyes locked on each other, mouths open mid-sentence, limbs frozen in stride.

In an amazing display of unspoken coordination, Thorn Princess struck one soldier’s throat and Twilight swung at the other’s head. Both soldiers crumpled simultaneously, falling on each other at the same time with such synchronicity it was comical. With a knowing nod, Twilight and Thorn Princess dragged the soldiers back into the room from which they had just emerged and tied them up for good measure.

“Will this be a common occurrence in our exit?” Thorn Princess asked as Twilight double tied the knots.

“I would hope not, but it is not within my power to decide such things,” he replied. Quietly, however, he wondered if the way she clearly favored one foot over the other and winced when she walked would be troublesome in their escape.

While ducking under windows and waiting behind corners, they made their way to the second floor of the fortress. Despite having only practiced once before, they took out the soldiers guarding the storage room with ease. Once inside, they were greeted by the sight of rows of shelves, crates, and chests. Twilight cracked a smile, the first she had ever seen from him.

“Excellent,” he muttered with great satisfaction, “This is where they keep all the valuable things. Medicine, records, maps, things like that.”

“We’re not here to steal, Twilight,” Thorn Princess admonished, “Are our belongings in here at least?”

“Yes of course. They would be around here somewhere.”

They pulled open chests and scoured shelves for anything that resembled their belongings. More than once Thorn Princess caught Twilight flipping through ledgers or pocketing something.

“What does Admiral Wheeler hold against you?” she asked as she pried open a crate.

“It’s but a petty matter.”

“He was quite pleased to kick you around. It doesn’t seem like a petty matter.”

Twilight kicked the lock off a wide chest and opened it. “Wheeler would’ve hunted me down with the same fervor if I had accidentally scuffed his boots on the streets. Here, catch.”

She expertly caught the familiar fabric of her clothes wrapped around her two knives.

“I don’t suppose they found you with my pistol, did you?” Twilight asked as he pulled on his waistcoat.

“No, it’s still holding down my maps back in my office, I fear.”

Twilight sighed and nimbly whirled two pistols around his fingers into their holsters, the third still empty. “Next time, then.”

With the return of their clothes and weapons came a small return of normalcy. They looked more like their normal selves, more like enemies again. Even in this small time working together, Twilight had somehow forgotten that Thorn Princess had nearly killed him dozens of times before now. But as he watched her turn her graceful neck as she slid the missing pins back into her hair, he could not help but feel some sort of kinship with the fellow pirate, rivalry be damned.

He wanted to say something; something that would draw a line in the sand to define their odd relationship, but a loud disturbance outside the storage room interrupted him. The bells from the tower noisily clanged over and over, stirring up a frenzy of shouts among the soldiers. His body began to move without a plan.

“That’s the alarm,” he answered before Thorn Princess could ask, “Either they’ve found the tied up guards or discovered our empty cells.”

“Then we’ll have to fight our way out,” she said gravely as she withdrew her knives.

“There’s too many. We have to at least try a stealthy escape,” Twilight reasoned, “At least they don’t know where we–”

A series of several harsh slams kicked the storage room door in its frame. Had they not locked it before, it would’ve smashed open from the sheer force of the yelling soldiers. A curse hissed through Twilight’s lips. 

“We can still salvage this,” he growled as he wracked his mind for possible escape routes.

“Twilight, here!” Thorn Princess threw an elbow through the glass of a small window at the far end of the room. “Can we go through this way?”

By now the sun had fully set. Cool, salty air rushed through window frame from the inky darkness beyond the fortress walls. Twilight frantically searched his memory, trying to piece together a map of the fortress in his mind and remember where they were.

An explosion of wood and smoke burst through the door behind him. The soldiers had taken to shooting the door. They were backed into a corner; there was no choice but to go through the window.

“I’ll go first,” Twilight decided, “There should be a ledge between the wall and the cliffs that we can walk on.”

The fortress was situated on an island connected to the mainland only by bridge. The surrounding land around the massive building was nearly nonexistent. 

“I think I saw some rope in one of these crates,” Thorn Princess muttered anxiously and turned back to the rest of the storage room but Twilight caught her elbow.

“There’s no time for that. We need to go now.”

Behind them, the door lurched with the pound of a battering ram.

“But how will we climb down?!”

“There’s a support beam near the window. It should be able to hold our weight,” Twilight said as he kicked away the stray glass from the ledge and swung a leg out. 

Sure enough, there was a tall wooden beam parallel to the fortress wall supporting the walkway soldiers used to patrol the top of the fortifications. There was barely enough clearance between the wall and the beam for him to wriggle his arm through and secure his hold. The wood was rough with scars and fungus and smelled disgustingly sour and rotten. Years of standing in direct contact with the powerful waves had clearly taken a toll on its integrity. When Twilight pushed off from the window and wrapped his legs around the beam, it creaked in complaint. 

Gritting his teeth, Twilight half slid, half climbed down the beam, his heart lurching in his chest every time the wood groaned under his weight. His back was almost immediately soaked with saltwater as every time a wave slammed against the rocks below it sent a cold spray into the air. Above him and through the crashing waves, he heard the distant bang! of wood smashing. 

“Twilight!”

His head snapped up to see Thorn Princess reaching for the beam from the window. Through the faint light of the window danced the shadows of soldiers storming after her, guns and bayonets raised.

The ground was as stiff and cold as a dead man under his feet. However, his eyes were fixed on Thorn Princess’s figure clinging to the beam. The soldiers hadn’t spotted him yet and instead were focused solely on her. There were two of them leaning out of the window brandishing their guns and shouting. Thorn Princess was hesitating despite the barrels pointed at her. Even being so far away Twilight knew the source of her faltering. Her ankle, which, from what he observed, was certainly twisted or sprained, had finally had enough of being ignored. He could only imagine how painful it would be to climb with such an injury.

While watching her, a thought which had first wormed itself into his mind at the beginning of their escape made itself known. It would be very easy to leave Thorn Princess behind right here. Let the soldiers capture her and perhaps that would be enough to distract the soldiers long enough for him to slip by. He didn’t need her to escape anymore, she had served her purpose. If anything, she would slow him down.

The idea lingered for a heartbeat.

“Twilight?!”

Her voice was tense with worry as if she could hear what he was considering.

He sighed, cursing the ache in his chest.

“Let go!” he called to her.

“What?!”

“Let go!”

The crack of a gunshot echoed into the night and she yelped with fright.

“I’ll catch you!” he called again.

In the distant glow of the window, he could see her head anxiously whip back forth between the soldiers and him.

“Captain, please!”

Thorn Princess let out a pained, begrudging groan and looked down to him, her brow creased and eyes wide. With all the might she could muster, she shoved away from the beam and into the darkness. 

For one heart stopping moment she fell through the air, her long locks of hair trailing behind her like a bird’s wings. He ran after her with outstretched arms and suddenly he realized he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to catch her.

She fell into his arms hard. One moment he was light on his feet and the next he was shoved into the narrow strip of dirt between the fortress walls and the cliffs. He was sure his arms had been ripped from their sockets until he still felt them wrapped around something warm and firm. An undignified sound, a combination of a gasp and a grunt, escaped them both upon impact.

“Twilight?” she panted.

“...Got you,” he muttered through shuddering lungs. After catching his breath, he managed to rise with cracking knees. “No time to wait around.”

“Y–You can put me down now,” she stammered.

“Your ankle is injured.” He continued forward and found his footing on the precarious ledge. Above them the soldiers continued to shout. Small pillars of dirt erupted around his feet as they shot at him. “I’ll just carry you.”

“I–I can walk, p–please don’t worry about me.”

“We may be beyond that now, unfortunately.”

He felt the lithe arms around his neck tighten, not in a threat to harm but rather in self-consciousness. Even in the darkness he knew her cheeks burned that lovely pink he had seen back at the tavern. 

The fortress continued to roar with soldiers barking orders and bells ringing. Huge fires lit from the towers illuminated the dark sky where watchmen scoured the night. The fugitives in question were merged into one shadow darting across the cliffs and into a concealed overhang away from the search lights. Soldiers poured from the gates like bees from a hive, waving torches and pulling sniffing dogs to search the night.

Unbeknownst to them, a shallow cave nestled among the jagged rocks just out of reach from the waves held two huddled figures. There was scarcely space for the two of them; they were practically entwined around each other, ignoring the thundering they felt in the other’s chest.

“Is it wise to stay put while they search for us?” Thorn Princess whispered directly into his ear after a soldier’s torchlight passed over their hiding place.

“No, but it would be even more foolish to run with so many soldiers about,” he murmured back. “They’ll look for about an hour more, then turn their search to the bridge and the surrounding land.”

“Wheeler must really want you.”

“He also searches for you, Captain.”

Twilight allowed himself to adjust his hold. His arms were around Thorn Princess, but he held most of her weight on his legs. The position was undoubtedly intimate, but neither dared move lest the change in shadows reveal their hiding place.

“What did you do to him, Twilight?” she asked again.

He leaned his head back to the cold rock with a long exhale. It would seem they would be stuck here for a long while. There was no way to dodge her questions.

“We were brothers in arms in the navy long ago,” he explained quietly, “Though it would be revisionary to say that there was not a bit of a rivalry between us. During the third year of the war, he was promoted to Lieutenant Commander and placed in charge of our unit’s rations storage.”

He fell silent as the sound of footfalls ran past the cave. Below him, Thorn Princess sucked in a breath and held it until they had left.

“We had just finished a raid on a series of villages on the Ostanian coast. The crop must’ve been good that year because our storage was past capacity,” Twilight continued. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I wanted to distribute the surplus to the people in the nearby town who had suffered a plague. Wheeler told me no. It was confiscated by the military and therefore was for the military he said.”

“You stole it,” Thorn Princess muttered. He shot her a look, but he doubted she could see it in the dark.

“What else was I to do? We were fighting for the good of the Westalian people, so why were we starving them?” Twilight unconsciously tightened his hold around her. “There’s a little island with lots of good hidden caves southwest of here, just outside our jurisdiction. I secretly passed on the surplus to local sailors who would hide the food there and distribute it.”

“You’re very good at finding those. Secret caves, that is.”

His chuckle was warm against her skin, a stark contrast to the chilly damp air.

“Anyway, when I was found out, I barely escaped with my life. I heard that, because I had gotten away, Wheeler took the majority of the blame and was punished severely for it. Apparently it took him years to gain the higher ups' trust again. As for me…well, here I am.”

He felt Thorn Princess turn her head to look at him in the faint moonlight reflecting off the water. “And what about you, Twilight? You make yourself seem like a hero.”

He frowned. “I may not be a hero, but I can only do what I feel is right. And if taking back what belongs to the people is what is right, then so be it. I cannot rest until every mouth is fed and every child is safe.”

“The sailors you rob are people too, you know,” Thorn Princess pushed back, “I do not wish I had to hunt down people like you, but I have my people to protect as well.”

“Those sailors are not starving as so many are,” he said, “But, as I said, I do not claim to be a hero.”

A large wave below crashed into the cliffs, pausing their conversation and soaking them in a mist of brackish water. They sat still, listening to the waves for a long minute.

“I wish,” Thorn Princess finally whispered, “that the world you desire existed, Twilight.”

He sighed and flexed his grip.

“As do I.”

It’s impossible to know how long they waited huddled and shivering in that little cave. But when they did emerge, it was with an unspoken understanding that there was a new, reluctant yet undeniable respect between them. A recognition that, while their methods opposed, they sought the same thing.

Under Twilight’s guidance, they crept along the cliffs and to the fortress docks where he located a neglected dinghy. With the cover of night to protect them, they pushed off and rowed against the choppy waves. Thorn Princess insisted that she man the oars. Her strong and powerful strokes propelled them away from the fortress until it was a mere glowing rock upon the horizon.

“Will you stab me in the back when I turn to leave once we reach the shore, Captain?” Twilight asked. His body rocked with the swaying of the dinghy.

“It’s very dishonorable to strike a man when he’s not looking,” she said with a pointed frown, “I would never do such a thing.”

Twilight nodded in agreement. “Then I’ll save my bullets until we next meet.”

They hit land outside a small beach village. Together, they hauled the dinghy under some low trees and covered it with branches. Already Twilight was planning his next moves. He had a contact in the town over. Once he procured a horse, he would go there and find his crew.

“Until next time, Captain,” Twilight said with a courteous nod.

“Next time,” Thorn Princess echoed.

He stole away into the darkness, leaving her standing on the beach to watch him leave.

There was no way he could have known she too wished they would not have to trade blows the next time they met.

***

Somehow, after that day, Ostanian Rose lost a bit of its fight. When the captain spotted Twilight’s ship on the water, she shot a single warning. Then they parted ways.

***

The legends say much about the two pirates, but there’s even more they exclude. For example, they do not mention that Thorn Princess owned a little home in an Ostanian city that kissed the sea. They fail to explain that during extended shore leaves she would nestle into the modest cottage and pretend she wasn’t a bloodthirsty privateer who stalked the waters.

After a long stretch at sea where the months that rolled by on the waves felt like years, she had taken up residence in her house. It would only last for a few weeks; long enough for the stormy season to pass and for her crew to shake the taste of salt water from their senses like a wet dog. She had bought the house three years ago, but had only spent about six months total actually living in it. As such, it was a place that felt familiar, but not quite like a home. Her things were there; she had chosen the simple furniture and stocked the pantry with her food, but it just wasn’t the same.

She wasn’t exactly sure what could’ve made it feel like home. Some might suggest that it didn’t feel that way because it didn’t have the rock of waves or the creak of wood. But Thorn Princess wouldn’t agree. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she really had a home anymore.

Night time found Thorn Princess leaning over her desk lit by candlelight. The flames were reflected back in the metal of her spoon which lay in a bowl containing the meager remains of her stew dinner. In one hand she held a letter written on thick paper and in the other she held a pen poised, ready to write a reply. Indecision paralyzed her, so much so that her pen kept drying as she hovered in uncertainty over her own paper. Heavy rain slapped a constant rhythm against the window above her desk and roof.

A knock at her door startled her from her thoughts. She immediately snatched up one of her knives from the table and looked to the door. No one knew that the great Thorn Princess lived in this unsuspecting neighborhood, so technically she should’ve been perfectly safe from assassins sent from the west. But she was still a woman living alone in the night.

She crept towards the entrance, candle and knife in hand, her slippered feet quiet on the wooden floor. With a stalled breath, she opened the door a few inches, just enough to see who was her guest. The flickering light of the candle fell on a figure hunched on her doorstep. Alarm shot through her veins and she nearly threw her knife at the visitor’s head.

“T–Twilight?!” she gasped, “What are you doing here?!”

“Captain,” he greeted evenly, as if appearing at the door of your sworn enemy in the middle of the night was a common occurrence, “I hope I…haven’t disturbed you.”

“You can’t be here!” she said, “I shall have to sell my house now that you know where I live!”

“You needn’t do that. I…come bearing no ill will,” Twilight said. His lips were drawn tight in a polite expression, but his eyes seemed wild.

“What are you planning?” Thorn Princess asked suspiciously. He didn’t appear to have any of his weapons and his hands were empty. In fact, one of his arms held onto his side and he leaned his weight to one foot like he was disappointed at her disbelief.

“I…have come to turn…myself in. Without a fight,” he declared. His voice was frayed as if speaking the words caused him great pain. Thorn Princess blinked at him, still unsure if what she saw was real.

“Turn yourself in? Right now?” she asked.

“Yes. Right now,” he replied.

If this was a joke, she didn’t understand it. She scanned him from head to toe, searching for any sign of trickery. He wore a long, thick coat, collar turned up, that bounced rain water off his shoulders. His hair was drenched and plastered to his forehead and his skin seemed pale, even in the faint candlelight. Only then did she notice the tremor in his hand holding his side.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked carefully.

 “I’m quite—”

A wracking cough ripped through his words, forceful and angry, like he’d tried to swallow it back one too many times.

“—A—Alri—”

Suddenly it was like he couldn’t get enough air and he kept heaving in and out, greedily chasing whatever he could. His posture crumpled further and he doubled over, grabbing the door frame for support. In horror, Thorn Princess watched as he withdrew his hand from his side, revealing slick blood running thin from the rain.

“What happened?!”

“I–I was also shot–” he managed between gasps, “But no…matter, I’m simply here to…”

He swayed forward like a drunk man and Thorn Princess had no choice but to catch him. He felt like ice against her skin. Her instincts evaporated in an instant and she froze, Twilight slumped in her arms. Finally, she heard a weak voice muttering in her shoulder.

“I…need you…to…”

The drumming rain and her own pounding heartbeat drowned out the rest of his words.

***

Twilight awoke to the feeling of his insides being torn apart. It was as if a vulture with talons and a beak made of fire had decided to make him its meal and was pulling at his flesh. His eyes flew open with a gasp but a hand quickly stopped him from turning away.

“I can’t work if you’re moving too much,” Thorn Princess’s voice quietly warned. Her warm breath fanned across his clammy skin.

The fierce, stabbing pain pierced his side again. He cried out in agony but the burning did not cease. Instead, it plunged further into his skin with a brutal, ruthless digging motion. Twilight squeezed his eyes shut again as the world turned to hot white behind his eyelids, teeth clenched until ringing filled his ears.

“I’ve got it,” Thorn Princess murmured.

The presence in his flesh pulled away and the pain subsided a miniscule amount. When his eyes slowly pried open, he saw Thorn Princess holding a smashed piece of bloody metal with a pair of equally bloody forceps.

“I have to clean it now.” She held up a brown glass bottle. “Do you want some?”

Too wracked with pain to speak, Twilight nodded his head. With shaking hands, he accepted the bottle and drank. It was disgusting. The burning liquid was horribly pungent and mixed terribly with the taste of copper already on his tongue. He nearly spat it out. Before he could ask what it was she had just given him, Thorn Princess gingerly plucked the bottle from his hands and poured it straight onto the gaping hole that he just now realized was in his stomach. Liquid fire scorched his skin and ate away at his insides as if it were acid. He barely bit back a scream.

“If you had gone to a proper surgeon, this wouldn’t hurt as much,” Thorn Princess muttered. Her tone sounded as if she wanted to be harsh, but a twinge of empathy belied her callousness. 

For what was surely several excruciating hours, she pried the rest of the bullets from his body, cleaned the wounds, and stitched them closed. She gave him a sour-tasting rag to bite on, but it hardly helped. He had one foot in the land of consciousness and another in black nothingness and was constantly wrenched back and forth between the two. All the while, Thorn Princess silently worked, warm hands moving nimbly and carefully.

Finally, the pain subsided to a faint but manageable stinging and Twilight trusted himself to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. He lay on a table in a small, modest room with wooden walls and floors. Behind Thorn Princess was a brick fireplace casting a glowing halo of light around her as if she were a celestial being. But, considering the blood dripping from the table and her splattered hands and clothes, she was hardly an angel.

“How did you find me?” she asked plainly upon seeing his wandering gaze. She was now gently wiping away at his wounds and stomach with a wet rag.

“I have my sources,” he croaked.

She paused and pinned him down with a disapproving stare.

“I saw you return from the market yesterday,” he confessed, “and put the pieces together.”

“So you did come to capture me,” she said with a frown.

“No, I had unrelated business here, I did not expect to find you in this town, Captain, I promise you.”

“And what business does a Westalian have here?”

Twilight winced as she roughly dragged the rag across his stitching. “I may be Westalian by blood, but my enemy is not Ostania,” he grunted, “It is the monarchies that plague both of our nations, you know this. I work with Westalians and Ostanians alike.”

Thorn Princess did not immediately answer him. Instead, she continued cleaning in silence. Twilight couldn’t deduce if she believed him or not, but he had been speaking the truth. He hadn’t intended to find her here. She stood and turned away to wash her hands in a basin of water.

“Why did you come to me then?” she asked quietly.

He turned his head toward her.

“Sorry?”

She did not look at him. “The soldiers in town would be more than happy to present you to the courts if you wanted to turn yourself in that badly,” she said, “We are not on the water, Twilight, you needn’t settle our feud here.”

Twilight let out a single, barking laugh. The movement hurt his stomach terribly. “The soldiers would not care to stitch me up. You are ruthless, Thorn Princess, but you are also fair. You would make sure I was alive for my day of judgment, nor would you find honor in slitting my throat while I slept.”

His original plan for being this far into Ostania was to coordinate some shipments with a local businessman, but after his meeting some sailors on the street had recognized him. There were too many and for once in his life he wasn’t quick enough. While bleeding out in an alley and listening to the sailors shout for him, he had made up his mind. Even if she did decide to kill him, it was by Thorn Princess’s hand that he wanted to die.

Thorn Princess did not respond to this. She washed her instruments and wiped them dry without a word. It was then that Twilight realized he didn’t know where she had placed his belongings. He struggled to sit up on his elbows and looked for his pistols but to no avail.

“Can you stand, Twilight?” Thorn Princess asked.

He slid his feet to the ground and tested his weight. His stomach took the change of direction poorly and he nearly collapsed. An arm carefully wrapped around his torso and pulled him up. In a different context Twilight would’ve found the support humiliating, but now leaned into her.

Thorn Princess guided him to a small, simple room and sat him down on a bed which sagged under his weight. She opened a chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out a clean shirt and trousers. The clothing undoubtedly belonged to a man.

“You have a husband, Captain?” Twilight asked when she handed the clothing to her. Her cheeks quickly turned pink and her mouth flattened to an embarrassed line.

“A brother,” she replied shortly.

“I see.”

“Do you have a wife?”

He gave her a wry smile. “No, I do not. No brothers, either.”

“They are wonderful but tiresome creatures,” she said with exhaustion dripping from every word. “Change and give your wet clothes to me. I’ll wash them for you.”

Before she could close the door, he stopped her.

“When can I expect to be taken to my judgment?” he asked hesitantly. She hovered in the doorway, indecision clear across her features.

“In seven days,” she said at last, “when you can stand to receive it.”

With his sentence given, she closed the door and left him in the dark.

***

His current cell was not so bad after all. The bed, while a bit saggy, was the nicest among all the prisons he had been held in. Daytime light streamed through a glass window where he could see out in the street, but rain constantly ruined his view. It was not a problem for Twilight. When not on a ship at sea or in a poorly insulated jail cell, listening to the lullaby of raindrops was rather favorable.

His warden was quiet but surprisingly hospitable. She left three meals a day and a pitcher of water on the little bedside table. He could tell when she gave him something she had bought at the market and when she supplied the food herself. Thorn Princess could chop a man to pieces, but she was rather hopeless in any other practical use of a knife.

On his second day, he broke out into a fever and his wounds began leaking foul-smelling, yellow liquid. Thorn Princess became a permanent fixture at his bedside, changing his bandages, cleaning his wounds, and placing wet rags across his burning forehead.

“It would be easier to let me die, Captain,” Twilight murmured deliriously while she worked.

She didn’t respond, but instead looked rather upset at his words. He regretted saying it.

In the late afternoon of the fourth day, he woke to her sitting by his bed, arms crossed and her chin touching her chest in sleep. The rag across his forehead was dry, but for the first time in two days he didn’t feel like he was burning up from the inside out. Carefully, he sat up and drank from the cup on his bedside table. While he did, he watched her.

Even in sleep she looked tired. Her eyes always seemed to carry weariness in them. The sleeves to her sweater were rolled up, revealing her powerful arms and the thin lines of scars that stretched across them. The night he showed up at her doorstep was the first time he had ever seen her hair down. Now she had one of her long, dark locks tucked behind her ear while the other had fallen loose. Absently he wished he could tuck that one back as well.

While setting his cup down, he accidentally startled her awake. She sat up with a gasp and reached one hand to her side, presumably where she kept her knives.

“Good morning, Captain,” he said as she came back to reality. She sighed upon finding no danger and her gaze met his.

“How do you feel, Twilight?” she asked.

“I think my fever has gone,” he answered truthfully. She leaned forward and covered his forehead with her warm palm.

“So it has,” she said with relief, “Remove your shirt, I’ll change your bandages.”

“You should sleep. You look tired.”

“The infection will return if your bandages are soiled.”

He frowned but obediently followed her instructions. She gently unwrapped his dressings and inspected the wound. The swelling was gone and his skin was no longer an angry red. Satisfied, she began her routine of carefully cleaning the stitches.

“You have a tattoo. On your arm,” she said, breaking the quiet that usually accompanied this procedure.

“I do,” Twilight muttered.

The black lines were fuzzy on his skin, like charcoal words smudged on paper. It was hardly legible.

“What does it say?”

He turned his arm to look at it, then leaned back and closed his eyes.

“It’s the name of my daughter.”

The only thing that gave away Thorn Princess’s surprise was the slightest tense in her hands against his stomach, but she remained quiet.

“She’s not my flesh and blood, but it makes no difference. She’s mine,” he explained, “Her parents are gone. Wherever they are, I do not know, but I’ve cared for her since she was an infant. She can’t be older than eight now.”

“What’s her name?”

The question slipped out as easily as water flows, as if this weren’t a conversation between two enemies, as if this information couldn’t come back to hurt him.

“Anya,” he answered without hesitation. Thorn Princess smiled.

“That’s a beautiful name,” she said.

“It is. She’s a beautiful little girl.”

Thorn Princess cleaned her hands in the basin and reached for new bandages.

“I have not seen her in nearly a year.”

She began wrapping the cloth around his torso.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“I’ve chosen this path that keeps me away from her,” Twilight assured her, “I’ve no one to blame but myself.”

“But it is a father’s nature to miss his daughter.”

He sighed and nodded. “It is. I…I miss her very much. She’s a good girl. A bit too curious for her own good, but a good girl nonetheless. She worries me sometimes.”

To his surprise, Thorn Princess chuckled. “It is also the nature of a daughter to worry her father.”

“Then she fulfills her natural duties splendidly,” he laughed, “I imagine you do as well.”

Thorn Princess didn’t reply. She kept working as the easy grin on her face faltered and fell into a melancholic smile.

“My parents were killed while they were traveling at sea when I was ten,” she said. “Pirates.”

“Oh.” Twilight languished in the awkward moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry. No child should grow up without their parents.”

“No, but some do anyway.” Her words were bitter but her voice was gentle. “And what of your parents? Were they swashbucklers as well?”

“Not at all. My father ran the local tavern and brewed his own drink. My mother worked as a servant to the ruling family of my hometown.”

“Is that how you can drink rum like it’s water?”

He smiled. “Perhaps it is.”

Some of his earliest memories were his father forcing him to sip from a cup to learn the taste of correctly fermented beer. Then his smile wavered.

“When I was a boy, they were killed in the Ostanian invasion. I joined the navy to spare others my parent’s fate.”

Thorn Princess finished tying the bandages and handed him his shirt back. The air was thick between them. One wrong word could break the fragile peace they had somehow built.

“It seems neither of us were able to live the life we were promised,” she murmured.

“No, but perhaps the children after us will.”

Twilight did not mention the irony that they mourned children without parents when Thorn Princess planned to rid Anya of her father. It was on both of their minds, though. In their twisted judgment, the other had to die to further their goal which was one and the same.

“Twilight,” she said faintly, “Do you ever…wish to give up this life? To be something other than a pirate?”

He traced the wrappings on his stomach. “I often do,” he confessed, “But, as I have told you, how could I rest when I know there are still so many children left to be saved? The crown will not, so I must.”

“You have saved at least one little girl’s life.”

His hand paused. “I suppose,” he whispered, more to himself rather than to her. He cleared his throat and met her gaze. “What about you? Do you ever grow tired of privateering?”

There was no more left to be done to clean Twilight’s wound, but she still sat beside him, hands clasped on her lap. She swallowed.

“I took up the blade when I was a child to protect my younger brother. I never told him about my second life as Thorn Princess,” she said, “Now he is a man, off in the capital to study at the academy. Yet I continue to fight. Perhaps my time is over but I doubt I’ll be able to walk away so easily.”

“He doesn’t know you’re a privateer?” Twilight asked with disbelief.

“H–He’s very, er, sensitive, I didn’t want to worry him,” she quickly explained, “I mean, have you ever told Anya about your piracy?”

His smile returned at the thought of the little girl. “I swear she knows anyway. I cannot hide a single thing from her.”

Both of them laughed quietly at this.

“But no, I’ve never told her. I just wish for her to be at ease and to grow up in peacetime,” he said at last. Thorn Princess beamed with such fondness his chest throbbed at the sight.

“She is lucky to have you for a father, then.”

He nudged her knee.

“And your brother is lucky to have you for a sister.”

***

On the eve of his last day in Thorn Princess’s home, Twilight did everything in his power to pretend he wasn’t anxious about the inevitable. Perhaps he had grown fond of his conversations with Thorn Princess. Perhaps he didn’t mind when she tended to his wounds even though they hardly more than ached now. Perhaps he had preened when, that night, he finally felt well enough to stand that he cooked dinner for her and she had been absolutely delighted.

But it didn’t matter. He tossed and turned on his cot, ignoring the soreness in his side that complained with each movement. Sleep didn’t usually come easily to Twilight, but it seemed particularly evasive now. It was difficult to sleep when the woman he had somehow grown so close to this past week had intended all along to lead him to his doom. It was such a shame it had to be like this. If only she was born Westalian or he Ostanian. If only things were different.

He only realized that he had fallen asleep when he woke up. Pale gray light seeping through the window spoke of an early morning drizzle. There was an unusual cold in the air. He closed his eyes to try to will himself to sleep, to catch a few more hours of peace before Thorn Princess came to him, but his mind roared to life like a hungry furnace as soon as he awoke. There was nothing left to do but to face the day.

Twilight sat up in bed, rubbing the morning blur in his eyes away, before noticing something on the desk across the room. He stared at it for a moment, rubbed his eyes some more, then squinted. Still disbelieving, he rose to his feet and hobbled towards it.

On the smooth wooden desk where Thorn Princess typically kept a wash basin was his now clean and mended clothes folded in a neat pile. Next to that was everything he’d previously had on him; a pouch of coins, some folded documents, a tin of tobacco, and, of course, two pistols now gleaming with the shine of a recent cleaning. There were also a few things he didn’t recognize, like a large chunk of wrapped bread and a roll of unused bandages.

He blinked, staring at the objects as if expecting them to disappear. They hadn’t been there the night before, so why—

A small creak of rusted hinges whispered in the morning air.

He whirled around to see that the window was slightly ajar, like someone had simply undone the lock and then changed their mind about opening it.

Twilight studied the window then the clothes. He let out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. He had to give it to Thorn Princess, she knew how to keep him on his toes. Without any more hesitation, he set about getting changed.

***

About an hour later or so, Thorn Princess carefully opened the door to her makeshift cell to find it empty. The bed was made, the used clothes folded on the desk, and the window creaking open and closed with the breeze.

But instead of cursing at the discovery of the disappearance, she only smiled.

***

By coincidence, they always seemed to be drinking at Franky’s tavern at the same time after that day.

***

There are many more fantastical tales about Captains Thorn Princess and Twilight, but all stories must come to an end.

Their end began with anger and outrage.

Thorn Princess was summoned to the office of the government liaison who had initially hired her for privateering. She cautiously considered the older man to be a friend. Today, however, he was anything but.

“Why does Captain Twilight continue to live?” he asked without preamble. His face was a mask of indifference, but his eyes burned with fury.

“You have never demanded a specific target, just that I patrol the merchant routes,” she answered carefully, “I am not a bounty hunter.”

“No, but you work for us. Twilight has plundered three of our ships this month already. Four the month prior and six before that. All of it under your watch.”

He threaded his fingers together and leaned against his desk. 

“Are we mistaken in placing our trust in you, Thorn Princess?”

Her eyes widened with fear. “N–No! Not at all, I can…I can take care of Twilight,” she quickly stammered.

The liaison stared at her, picking her every movement apart piece by piece. Finally, presumably pleased with what he found, he smiled.

“Excellent.”

Across the ocean, a similar confrontation unfolded.

Twilight’s massive network of piracy, or as he called it, redistribution, did not come without great costs. His revolution was expensive and complicated. Thankfully, he had backers in the form of influential leaders of the people.

His most powerful backer was his very own mentor, the woman who had saved him from total despair when he was an orphan. When he returned from sea with a shipment of stolen goods, she yanked him into her office by the collar like he was still a boy.

“Thorn Princess captured Nightfall’s ship a fortnight ago,” she hissed.

“Nightfall is plenty capable. If this was a fortnight ago, I’m surprised she hasn’t escaped already,” he replied as he readjusted his shirt.

“She has, but that isn’t the issue, it’s that the rest of her shipment was taken. We needed that food and medicine,” His mentor rubbed the space between her eyes. “Thorn Princess keeps picking off our fleet one by one. Why haven’t you stopped her yet?”

“Thorn Princess is not to be taken lightly. She’s utterly ruthless.”

“And so are you!” she roared with a slam to the table, “Forget Nightfall, you, Twilight, could sink any ship you choose! So why haven’t you chosen Thorn Princess yet?”

Twilight swallowed. He inspected the rest of the room wearily, careful to avoid her eyes.

“Then I shall choose her,” he said at last.

***

The legends go back and forth on who was the one to throw down the gauntlet. Perhaps it was Thorn Princess who sent out the decree. Maybe Twilight used his network of contacts to make sure the memo reached her ears. 

Either way, the message was this: Our rivalry ends with a duel.

They arrived on a little island in the southwest sea at a predetermined time and date. A crowd of onlookers–curious sailors who had heard the rumors mixed with their respective crews–stood on an open cliff overlooking the sea, murmuring among themselves. A salty gust of wind ruffled their hair and flapped their clothes. Before them were the two pirates, standing tall and proud as if they couldn’t feel the chilly breeze.

Twilight approached Thorn Princess, hand raised in a temporary truce, and held something out to her. With some confusion, she took it. Her eyes widened when she recognized the golden glow in her hands.

“I thought you sold it,” she muttered with disbelief as she held up her third knife to the sun. It was still warm from his touch.

“I lied,” he confessed. “I was irritated that you cheated in that drinking game.”

Thorn Princess looked scandalized. “You knew?”

“I figured it out too late,” he said with a shrug.

“I really had no choice. Here.” She reached into her coat and pulled out a pistol with an intricately carved handle. “It’s only fair.”

Twilight took it, relishing the familiar cool weight in his hand. “I hope it served you well,” he said gratefully.

“I shall miss its presence on my desk,” she replied with a small chuckle.

For a moment, they caught each other’s little smiles. But, as if the reality of what was to come finally descended upon them, their smiles melted away to melancholic determination.

“Anyway, it’s time,” Twilight whispered with a slight nod to their audience who was growing restless.

“Indeed,” Thorn Princess breathed wistfully.

There was more to be said, just neither the time nor the right words to say it.

Every pirate knew the rules of a duel by heart, but an arbiter announced them anyway. No soul other than Thorn Princess or Twilight were to raise a hand in this fight and it would only end when one of them was dead.

The arbiter raised a starting pistol to the air.

Thorn Princess and Twilight stood poised, ready to lunge, eyes locked.

The shot rang through the air like an explosion.

They charged forth, guns and knives pulled.

And thus marked the start of the end.

***

Twilight made the first shot. It barely grazed Thorn Princess head. She dropped low and made a swipe at his legs. It only tore fabric.

The crowd watched with bated breath as Twilight leapt from her reach. She pounced after him, a storm of bladed strikes evaded only by his wits. She threw a wide swing, providing a small opening where he shoved his boot against her ribs.

Thorn Princess flew back with a grunt and yanked another knife from her belt, which she flung in retaliation. It tore through the flesh of his arm in a spray of blood.

Undeterred by his wound, he shot at her again, this time lodging a bullet into her calf as she jumped to dodge. She fell to the ground with a somersault, by her teeth clenched so hard she tasted iron. She descended on him again, slicing him with cut after cut of her knife. Twilight staggered back with each blow until they were dangerously close to the cliff’s edge. He caught her wrist when she swung and twisted, causing her to release the knife clattered over the edge with a cry of pain.

She used the leverage to throw him to the ground, but he held on fast to her, dragging her along with him. They wrestled upon the rocks, kicking, pulling, and yanking, like two feral dogs fighting on the street. 

Finally, Thorn Princess pinned Twilight down, their arms entwined in a deadlock, faces hovering mere inches from each other. They panted bursts of hot air in tandem. One could not move without allowing the other to get the upper hand.

“You could shoot me right now, Twilight,” Thorn Princess murmured between pants.

Twilight’s cold gaze searched her face. He flexed his jaw before saying softly, “I have no more bullets, Captain.”

She stared back hard, recalling how many times he had shot her just moments before. Her brow unfurrowed slowly.

“And I have no more blades,” she whispered.

The rest of the world disappeared for a brief moment. There was no horde of shouting pirates, no rush of wind on the cliffs, no raging water below. Only the consuming realization that there was no way to win, for either outcome would spell defeat for both.

What happened next is immortalized in song and story. 

The onlookers watched in disbelief as the two pirates struggled upon the ground for a brief moment, before one of them–no one knows who–rolled them over the cliff’s edge. The sailors scrambled after them and peered over the precipice, straining their eyes to see if they could spot the red of Thorn Princess’s coat or the gold of Twilight’s hair. 

But there was nothing save the foamy waves churning against the rocks.

Thorn Princess and Twilight were dead.

***

That’s where the legends end.

They say that Twilight and Thorn Princess fought until they ended each other’s lives, unwilling to let the other have the last strike.

They say that, from the moment they laid eyes on each other, it had to be this way, that their allegiances demanded they kill the other.

They say that, perhaps in another life, they would’ve been the most fearsome duo the ocean had ever seen if only things were different.

However.

The legends do not say that there was a little cave at the bottom of that cliff, its entrance concealed by the tide.

They do not say that two people, soaked and bruised, dragged themselves to the beach of that cave and clutched each other, resolute to never let go.

They do not say how, when they finally–finally–embraced with a kiss that tasted of salt and blood, they broke away only to laugh in each other’s arms and kiss again and again.

They do not say that a fisherman rescued a couple from that island some days later, limbs tied in bandages but firmly grasping each other's hands.

And they do not mention the fate of a little girl hidden away in the Westalian countryside who came running down the road when she saw her father riding on a horse. How he picked her up and swung her around and introduced the kind woman who accompanied him. How, just like that, they were a complete family.

And that is fine. 

Legends are only legends. The truth simply lives on.