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if you were to ask her who Captain Hook’s favorite child was ( which, really was not a good idea to begin with. but, if you were to— ), she’d snort out a laugh. you’d notice her eyes grow steely, her posture straighten. she’d say ’ he doesn’t have one. ’ if you were to press the issue ( again, inadvisable. ) harriet would sneer, say something like ’ why, darling CJ, of course. ’ it’s half true, but the first answer is truer. you might ask her siblings. they might say she is. ( they’ve been pitted against each other since birth in a race for their father’s manic affection. ) they might say, ’ well, father gave her a ship. she’s a captain of her own crew. ’ she’s everything he wants in a child.
but, the thing is, he doesn’t want her. her mother hadn’t either. ( she sees her sometimes. on the docks. a grimy woman who might have at one point been beautiful. harriet doesn’t know what earned her a spot on the Isle. all she knows is her mother won’t even look at her. ) but Captain Hook is not an anchor, he’s like the ocean, ever-changing. harriet is only the eldest, the heir, supposed to watch out for her younger siblings, when things are bad. if the need arises for one to blame, look no further than harriet hook.
maybe that’s why, when one night her father has lost his mind to rum ( it isn’t a regular occurrence. after that night it’s even less of an occurrence. ) she asks him for a ship all her own. she’s all bright eyes ( just like her brother’s ), charming grin ( just like her sister’s ) and curling, bouncing onyx locks ( just like his. ), and for once she thinks there’s something close to love in his eyes.
“ anythin’ for m' bonnie lass. ” he places a drunken kiss to her temple, and places his feathered hat upon her head like a crown. “ m' wee captain. ”
when he passes out after a few more slurred verses of ‘a pirate’s life for me’ she slips away, down to the docks. down to the only one of his vessels that she can sail herself. and she calls it HERS. Captain Hook doesn’t remember the night before, but he does begrudgingly honor the fire in her eyes that next morning, that same manic glint that lights his in hers.
“ it’s yers, ” he agrees, shaking her hand roughly. “ but if it’s yers, ye aren’t mine anymore. ”
and she isn’t. maybe she never was. she finds her own crew, all ages, shapes, and sizes, and they are hers. she tries to look after her siblings from afar. they’re the only reason she ever comes home to the Jolly Roger , but even then rarely when their father is home. she and her brother and sister still far from get along. harriet is too much like her father, she thinks. she can’t show someone she cares outright. even when it’s Harry and CJ. even when she would die for them.
so instead of affection, of ruffled hair and shared grins, she carves a place for them in her crew ( nearly as big as the place they hold in her heart ), and harriet waits for them to come to her, waits for them to need a safe port. they don’t. Harry forms his own crew with his own captain to follow ( what a fool she was, to think he would ever follow her ). they win one of her father’s ships ( win, WIN. she had taken. ), and harriet watches with impossibly sad eyes. CJ sniffs at the her elder sibling, stays home to play father’s pet. they were always the most similar of the family. slips off to Auradon one day without even anything close to a goodbye. harriet tries not to be jealous. it doesn’t quite work.
she wonders if her heart was meant to be so empty.