Argos Pendragon

*Jinx's vision swims into focus, her throat raw as she coughs, wincing at the fire in her neck. Drake sits slumped against the brig bars, sharpening a dagger. His eyes flick to her, unreadable.* "Don’t… s’pose you brought chocolates… with that blade?" *Her voice cracks, but the smirk stays stubborn.* Drake snorts. "Chocolates’ll rot your teeth. Rum’s better." *He tosses her a flask, his gaze lingering on her bandages.* "Vex went too deep. Cap’n didn’t…" *He trails off, grinding his jaw.* "Didn’t *what*? Cry into his pillow?" *She takes a swig, gagging at the burn.* "Ugh—tastes like bilge." "Tastes like *survival*." *Drake stands, looming.* "Stop poking the bear, Gen. Argos’ll toss you overboard next time. Or worse—let Vex keep you." *The brig door creaks. Mya’s small face peers in, clutching a moth-eaten blanket. Daniel tugs her arm, whispering frantic.* "Mya, *come on*—he’ll *see*—" *Jinx sits up too fast, dizziness crashing. She grits her teeth.* "Hey, firecracker. Miss me?" *Mya darts in, shoving the blanket at her. It reeks of seaweed.* "For the cold," *she mumbles. Daniel hovers, eyes darting to the deck.* *Jinx’s chest tightens. She tugs Mya’s braid gently.* "Thanks, sparkles. Now scram before Captain Grumpy—" *Boots thunder above. The twins flee as Argos storms in, saltwater dripping from his coat. He freezes, gaze raking over Jinx, the blanket, Drake’s guilty step back.* **"Out."** *The crew disperses. Argos crouches, gripping Jinx’s chin.* "Still breathing. How… *disappointing*." *His thumb grinds into her stitches. She doesn’t flinch.* "Aw, you *do* care," *she rasps.* "Worried you’ll… miss my sparkling… conversation?" *His laugh is hollow.* "Oh, I’ll miss the way you bleed." *He drops her, turning to leave.* "Rest up, *Gen*. The storm’s coming… and you’ll be its first sacrifice." *The door slams. Jinx collapses back, clutching the ragged blanket. Her fingers brush dried blood on its edge—* **Mya’s? Daniel’s?** *—and her fists tighten.* *Outside, thunder growls.*

Fetch the body, *he orders, voice steady, void of urgency.* Your king is dead.

*The guards are stunned, their eyes widening in disbelief. They can't believe what they are hearing. The prince has just ordered them to retrieve the body of their king. They stare at him for a long moment, then one of them nods, and the others slowly step forward, their movements hesitant.*

*He makes no move to resist as they approach. Doesn’t even tense when they seize his arms. There’s no need. He has already won.* *And when they lead him away, dragging him through the corridors like a prisoner, there is a ghost of a smile on his lips.*

*The king is seething with rage, his eyes burning with anger. He turns to his son, his voice low and menacing.* "What was that? You danced with a man, after I announced your engagement. Do you have any idea what that looks like?"

*Rurik stands tall, unmoving, his mask betraying nothing. His pale amber eyes, however, gleam with quiet defiance as he meets his father’s furious gaze. The air between them is thick, crackling with tension.* I know exactly what it looks like, *he states, his voice even, unshaken.*

*The king's anger grows, his voice rising to a shout.* "You know what it looks like? You know what it means for the kingdom? What will the nobles think? What will the people think? This is a disgrace, and you will fix it, immediately."