For ten years, the ships pulled into harbor as they always had. The sailors came and went, the cargo loaded and unloaded as need be. Husbands returned home, wives sobbed with joy as they were lifted into tightening embraces. Children welcomed their fathers with smiles. But the one ship meant to come home never did.
Maria and Dominick stood at that port for months until they realized Father was never coming home. A lost ship, the sole explanation given to the grieving children that was never once believed.
A solution for their troubling times never came to pass, leaving them with a kingdom left in ruin with no one to make up for the empty throne. The financial struggle left the people in shambles, but at least they had their families. That was more than Maria.
While Dominick gave up on waiting for the ghost of their father to return early on, Maria lost hope when her mind was drowned in a bubbly pint. A distraction that became an addiction, a bad habit in kinder terms. A pastime to make the days float by without a second thought. In the palace alone, Dominick prayed his sister was not out doing anything too stupid.
But, as expected, she was. Dominick sat in his room with an open journal in his lap and a pen in the other hand. A page sat between his fingers. He had not turned it for close to an hour. He had been staring at nothing, thinking of everything. On the eve of his coronation, awake too early for the sun to have peaked far above the horizon, he could not relax.
From his window, he saw the ships coming and going as they had every morning. In front of that, he could see the scattered homes of his people left abandoned or in disarray. Homes they could no longer afford and a kingdom soon to be left with nothing.
In Dominick's trembling hand, a rattling page sat. The ink had since dried. He had completed a morning entry, as per his own habit. Yet, as he held his physical thoughts in his palm, Dominick's eyes locked on the financial ruin left behind for him. His mind flashed back to the throne he would take, the weight of that responsibility placed on his untrained, unprepared shoulders.
He jumped when he heard a light knock on his door. "Sire?" his valet said.
"Yes, come in."
Opening the door was an older man who had served Dominick's father. The years of stress were displayed on his face with every wrinkle and the tender compassion he held for the absent king had been passed to Dominick.
"Your Highness, I have come for your fitting."
"Yes, thank you, Vincent."
Dominick stood, placing his book to the side. Vincent stepped inside, holding a royal garment and shoes. He approached the prince in silence, a tenseness between them that neither could place. Dominick rubbed his hands together, so much so his skin turned red.
Vincent, noticing this, smiled. He placed a gentle hand on Dominick's shoulder. "You seem nervous."
"What gave that away?" Dominick snapped. Vincent did not take offense, Dominick huffed with guilt. "My apologies."
"You need not apologize, Your Majesty. This is normal. Your father was no different when he took the throne."
"It would have been better for all of us if he never had. Not that I'm much better. I can only delay my inevitable failure for so long."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, sir. You will make a fine king."
"If you say so. Can't be any worse than the mess we were left with."
Dominick walked toward the window, leaning against it. His eyes grew misty as he fought not to cry in front of Vincent.
"It would have behooved me to have become king sooner. Take earlier action. I could lose my home because of my cowardice."
"Your Highness, asking a child to ascend the throne would have solved nothing."
"But leaving it to the counsel has proven as ineffective." He sighed. "I cannot worry about my own well-being when my people suffer the most. Selfishness is unbecoming of me."
"But fear is natural, Sire," Vincent stated. His voice was soft, reassuring. "No one is asking for perfection or valor. They simply ask for your best. You have the heart to do that."
"…thank you, Vincent."
"And I will still be here, as I was for your father."
Dominick turned to him with a smile. "I suppose you will. That is more than I can say for some."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"I wish my sister shared your principles is what I mean."
"Ah, yes, the princess. I wouldn't worry too much, sir. In time, she will come to accept her circumstances. We all heal at different rates."
"That's what you keep telling me," Dominick mumbled. "Will she at least be here for the coronation?"
"I can't say, Highness."
"Let me rephrase the question. Are you going to make sure she is here for the coronation?"
Vincent sighed with defeat and a hint of uncertainty. "I can most certainly try."
"That seems to be all we do with her. Try, try, try. I wish she would do the same."
"Sire---." Vincent's voice was cut off as the doors swung open, hitting the walls beside them.
In the doorway was a woman younger than Dominick. Her carrot curls were in a tight, neat bun, but she herself looked affright. A sweating, frantic mess panting in the prince's room. Dominick and Vincent exchanged a confused look before addressing her.
"Annie," Dominick said, "is something wrong?"
Panicked, her narrow eyes shot up to the prince. Her smile was forced, failing to hide the sheer unease in her expression.
"Not at all, my prince," she squeaked. She corrected herself in an instant, her voice returning to normal, albeit with hastened words. "Nothing is wrong, nothing whatsoever. I was, um, wanting to see you."
"Okay? For what reason, might I ask?"
"Uh." She took in a sharp breath. "To say hello?"
Dominick lifted a brow. "Hello? Forgive my rudeness, but what did you really want? Are you sure nothing is wrong?"
"No, nothing, nothing at all. Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness. I should be leaving now. I have to find your sister and---."
She rushed her hands to her mouth, silencing herself. It was too late. The damage had been done. Dominick's eyes widened and he darted to Annie. He took her by both her shoulders and shook her.
"Where is she?" he said in a hushed and urgent whisper. "Where's Maria?"
"What do you mean?" Annie tried to laugh it off. "She's exactly where she's meant to be. You know, somewhere safe."
"Then where is she?"
"…somewhere safe?"
"Unbelievable."
Dominick let her go and stormed to his wardrobe, grabbing a coat before stomping out of the room. Vincent and Annie rushed behind him, but his gait kept him ahead by several feet.
"Highness," Vincent shouted, "please, you need to stay put. I'll have guards sent out to find her."
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll take two for myself and save the effort."
"I must protest. If the princess is lost, you can't leave the palace. It's for your own safety."
"If she were actually lost, dear Vincent, I would agree with you."
"But sir---."
"If I can promise you one thing, let it be this. She's not lost, just being stupid."
*** *** ***
Annie wasn't lying in full. Maria was somewhere safe, but somewhere she was not supposed to be, more so in the early morning. As the kingdom woke up, there was one spot that never went to sleep in the first place. The Benbow Tavern. Every sailor's favorite spot upon arrival, and a princess's most imperfect stress reliever.
Though the kingdom went through the night in peace, the cheers and shanties of drunken sailors never rested. The pints and bottles sliding down the bar, the tables used for dancing, and chairs under constant strain as more and more bodies piled on. And the voice that rang higher than all of them was a blonde girl in a loose fitting dress holding yet another drink.
Maria stood atop the center table dancing in time to the energetic band in the corner. Their musicians switched, but the music never ceased. Maria shared in that enjoyment, changing her dance partners when they could no longer keep up.
No one had noticed the sun rising nor did they care. All it meant for them was another day of freedom and careless antics. Maria downed her bottle and motioned for someone to bring her another. Not one to disobey "orders", one of the sailors did as she asked. As he handed her the drink, she kissed him in drunken gratitude.
"And another bottle of rum," she shouted. The tavern cheered in response.
The band played a series of shanties with the sailors singing along. Maria joined in and out as she either forgot the words or was too inebriated to process them. One the sailors, a younger gentleman, hopped onto the table and took her by the waist. They danced together, their drinks spilling.
To her surprise, Maria was lifted onto his shoulder and spun around. Her stomach threatened to upchuck the contents of the night, her laughter distracted her from the nausea. To further ignore her body's cries for rest, she sang above the crowd. Lucky for her, it was a shanty she had a special liking for.
"Fifteen men of the whole ship's list."
"Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum," the tavern answered in a gruff, slurred, and rowdy manner.
"Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist."
"Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum."
Maria jumped from the sailor's shoulder and paraded around the tavern, still drinking and singing. "The skipper lay with his nob in gore where the scullion's axe in his cheek had shore. And the scullion he was stabbed four times four."
She leaned in close to another sailor, putting her mouth to his ear but maintaining volume.
"And there they lay, and the soggy skies. Dripped all day long in up-staring eyes. At murk sunset and at foul sunrise…" Her voice drowned out, the tavern falling quiet with her until…
"Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum." Their collective shouts shook the tavern, the bottles clanking on the shelves serving as proof of their power.
They cheered to their successful crescendo and burst into hardy laughter. Maria slumped down beside sailors she could not name and sipped away at her bottle. From the corner of her eyes, she took notice of a dark figure sitting in silence. She giggled as she stared at him.
Such a grungy man. Filthy, unwelcoming, and she could smell him from her position. His eyes were downcast to his drink, a drink he had not touched from what she could tell. The man looked up and saw the princess. She smiled and waved with a limp hand, but he did not react. Offended, Maria sauntered over.
"You don't seem friendly," she stated with slurred speech. "Why is that?"
The man snickered. When he spoke, his breath almost sobered Maria on the spot with its foul stench. "And you don't seem polite. Why is that?"
"I asked you first."
"Yes, but I don't feel like answering."
"Well, neither do I." She pouted and plopped in the seat next to him. "I can do this all day, buddy."
"I'm sure you can, girly."
"Hey, don't call me that. I have a name."
"Not that I've heard," he teased. "I've heard you say a lot of things in the last several hours, but not once did a name come up."
"Then you weren't paying attention. I'm Maria. Princess Maria to you."
"Ooh, a princess. Last place I'd expect to see someone like you."
"It's the only place I can hear good stories anymore," she admitted, taking another drink. "Ah, yes, them sailors have some good stories. What of you, stranger? Any stories?"
"None a girl like you should hear."
"I assure you, good sir, I will not remember anything you say after a few hours," she hiccupped. "Tell me. What stories you got?"
He laughed, smiling and looking at her with fascinated eyes. They were a dull brown, but there was a soft glimmer in them. He leaned closer to the princess and spoke in a whisper.
"Well, don't go telling nobody, but I have seen a few things, girly."
"Oh, like what?"
"I ain't one to brag."
"Well, you should, if for no other reason than my entertainment," she giggled. "What have you seen?"
He hesitated, letting the suspense sink in. "I've seen uncharted territories. Lands so vile no man could survive their shores. I've seen monsters in the depths that almost took my life on too many occasions. And, above all, I've seen treasure beyond your imagining."
"Treasure? Have any?"
"No, but I do have something better." He spoke softer. "Something more valuable than any gem."
"An entire island of treasure? Like the stories?"
"Ah, you've heard the stories."
"You seem surprised. I know loads of stories. Granted, none of these men can tell them as well as…" Maria's voice trailed off, her mind sobering if but for a moment. In a blink, she returned to her gleeful expression. "That's not important. So, tell me of this island. You know of it?"
"Can a princess like you handle it?" he teased.
"I've handled worse. Oh, and might I say you have really proper speech for a sailor."
"I try to be polite when ladies are present."
"You've a name, Mr. Polite?"
He laughed and rolled his eyes. "They call me Bones. Billy Bones, Your Highness." And as he extended his grimy hand for her to shake, their attention was drawn to the sound of oncoming horses from outside the tavern.
In seconds, Dominick stomped inside with two royal guards by his side. Maria, with enough alertness to act, hid behind Billy. The noise of the tavern died as all turned to see the annoyed, angered prince. His eyes skimmed over the crowd, not seeing Maria anywhere.
"I know she's here," he shouted. "Tell me where and I'll go."
The sailors glanced around, but no one could find her. Billy, despite having this knowledge, remained silent. Maria gripped his jacket with an unfounded belief it would hide her more.
Yet, as she did, she saw the corner of some paper fragment peek out from his pocket. Her hand went to grab it. And as she pulled it out, she saw the scribbles of a map.
Maria saw nothing more as Billy stood and stepped aside. Still holding onto him, Maria was dragged out into the open and presented to Dominick in her disheveled state. When he spotted her, he huffed while she waved and giggled.
"Hello, brother dear."
"Not in the mood."
Dominick walked to her, lifted her with one arm, and threw her over his shoulder. It was so smooth the tavern wondered if he either rehearsed it or was used to collecting his own sister. With what little strength she had, Maria waved to every sailor.
"Until next time," she cried.
They wished her well, waving and cheering as she left. When she glanced to Billy, he smiled and nodded.
"You still owe me a story, Billy," she shouted to him, but he shrugged.
"Until next time, Your Highness."
Once outside, Dominick tossed Maria onto his horse and climbed up beside her. She leaned back into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Taking the reins, Dominick snapped the horse forward.
Maria tilted her head back until she was looking at him upside-down. "You seem angry."
"If that's what you think."
"Want to talk about it?"
"When we put you into bed."
"And if, by some chance, I fall asleep before then, would you still want to talk about it?"
"Depends."
"Oh, good." In an instant, Maria went into a "deep sleep", snoring as loud as her voice would allow. "I'm definitely asleep."
Dominick, without hesitating, took a sharp turn into an uncrowded space and raced through the streets. When the opportunity presented itself, he had his horse jump, turn, and halt with no warning or gradual build. Maria was jerked in every direction, almost falling off once or twice.
It took several extra minutes for them to reach the palace. Entering the stables, Dominick jumped down and looked at his pale, struggling sister. She glared at him. As she fought against vomiting all over him, she also humored the idea by acting out the motions. Dominick remained undeterred.
"And yes, I still want to talk," he stated. He offered his hand to her.
Rolling her eyes, Maria accepted his hand and fell from the horse. Dominick caught her and carried her inside. At the entrance, Annie and Vincent were waiting, relieved to see the princess safe and well, for the most part.
"I hate you," Maria mumbled to Dominick. "That was uncalled for."
"But so satisfying."