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Chapter Text

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Peggy knew something was off the moment she set eyes on her targets. They were not as described at all, and the repetitive lapping of water against the stones below only increased her irritation at the situation. 

She’d been prepped and trained for a mission in the Eastern Mountains, that’s what she had packed for and where she’d expected to be sent, but last minute, Stark had sent out an alarm to any agent in the area, that if they were close, this was priority. 

She’d received the note and the tidy sum of gold, and it had been enough to squash her concerns initially, but now that she was here, wrapped in a too warm cloak, with a crew who was not as described, she was having second thoughts. 

One of the men turned her direction, and even though she knew she was completely hidden from his sight, she still ducked further, hiding any traces of her presence. He turned back, laid a barrel on its side, and began rolling it up the gangplank. 

The smell of roasting meat, stables, and seawater were not the most agreeable of smells, and she held a handkerchief up to her nose to stymie it. 

She carefully pulled out the sheet of instructions she’d been given. Seeing the mark of the Red Skull on top made her stomach curl, but it was a necessary deception. If any guard caught her, then this paper would not incriminate her or her group. 

She was one of the few gracelings fighting the regime of King Johann Schmidt. He’d come to power forcefully, using his grace. She’d never seen it in person but it had been described to her as formidable. No one could ever fully explain it to her. Some said he was impossibly strong, or impossibly fast, could read minds, or jump incredible heights, but even that might be overcome by an army, However, his second in command, graced with a knowledge of the sciences, had created a weapon that made people disappear in a bright flash of blue. Her brother had been killed by these weapons, and despite her parents pleading, she had joined the cause of The Reserve soon after. A world held in terror was no world to live in. She would fight to rid the kingdom of this menace, or she would die trying. 

And so here she was, crouched behind a wooden barrier, eyeing the men moving back and forth on the deck and up and down the gangplank, loading the ship with supplies. The item she was looking for was supposedly already on board. She had to sneak on deck, find the artifact, and escape with it, undetected. The ship was scheduled to leave at dawn, so she hoped that would be enough time before the sailors awoke in the morning. 

She studied the drawing Stark had included, it was a small seemingly innocuous cube that glowed blue. A group of soldiers had attempted to steal it from the King’s castle, but they were captured and placed in the dungeons. Peggy didn’t know the whole story, but some far-fetched version of the tale had a lone soldier knocking on King Schmidt’s gate, infiltrating his castle and releasing the hostages. She had always doubted this version, but true or not, the cube had disappeared during the ensuing battle and the soldiers had disappeared out of their cells and off the map entirely. 

Gaining this artifact could change the tide of the war. It was rumored to be the source of power for the deadly weapons, and if so, Stark could use it to create either a protection against it, or weapons of their own. That’s why she’d been willing to volunteer at such short notice, this was not a mission that could fail.

The sound of boots clipping on the cobblestones nearby had her halting her breath. She closed her eyes, so they wouldn’t give her away if for some reason the person wanted to look through the cracks in the wooden fence. A graceling’s eyes were a dead give away, each iris colored differently set them apart from the ‘ungraced’. 

The boots passed her and did not hesitate as they started up the gangplank. 

“Welcome Aboard, Captain,” someone shouted. The commotion stopped and she couldn’t hear the response, but the flurry of activity restarted and increased in pace. 

She risked peeking over the ledge, hoping to see them settling the ship in for the night but she froze. They weren’t settling in, they were shipping out.

She watched as moors were cast off and the anchor was being pulled up. She cursed her luck. Of course a ship with this rare of an artifact wouldn’t stay on schedule. She stood there, cataloging her choices. She could let it sail and try to catch up with it, she knew its next port, but there was no guarantee it would stay the course. She could run up and plead with them to take a poor helpless woman, running from some unfortunate circumstance. That usually worked in many cases, but one look at the dark brooding man who stood watch over the coming and going of the men on deck told her that that wouldn’t be the case this time. So stealth it would be. 

She waited until they had opened the sails, and the ship had started to creep out of its port before she sprinted from her spot. She was grateful for the minimal moonlight that hid not only her eyes, but her form from sight. She ran along the edge, and with a daring leap, she vaulted herself, catching the top edge of the captain’s window, and hauling herself up, so her feet wouldn’t be in view. She clung to the narrow ledge and worked her way to the overhang where there was more room. She flung a rope up, threading it through the wooden slats of the deck and fastened a harness, tying it securely so she wouldn’t be in danger of falling to the sea below. 

The thump she’d made upon landing was considerable, but hopefully the flurry of activity above deck, and the unlikelihood of the Captain being in his quarters when they were setting sail, would mask her arrival. 

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It was several hours of sailing before she dared venture further. The deck above had gone quiet and she carefully pulled herself up, hand over hand until her eyes were just peering over onto the deck above her. 

She waited, longer than she probably needed to, but she wanted to make sure there was only the one man she saw patrolling the deck. His huge burly frame passed by her every 10 minutes or so. When she was sure he was alone, and he’d just passed her, she untied the harness and silently pulled herself overboard. 

On a normal mission she would knock the man out and complete her job, but now that they were at sea, she was at the mercy of the tides. She couldn’t commandeer a ship this big on her own, so her presence needed to go undetected until they made port and she was safely off the ship. 

She crawled across the deck, using all her prowess to not make a single sound. She avoided the rocking light the lanterns created as they swung gently on their hooks. Somewhere in her mind she was grateful for the multiple points of access on the deck. Some ships had only one door down to the lower decks, but this ship had three. She mentally mapped out the ship and guessed which one would take her to the storage rooms.

A creak and the sound of door hinges sent her scrambling for cover. She slid in between three barrels and pulled her dark cloak over her. She dared not breathe as she heard another set of footsteps join the patrolman’s. 

“You should rest, Captain.” A gruff, but amused voice said. 

“You know I don’t need much.” The voice was deep, and melodic. “I always have trouble on the first night at sea.” 

“I know, but with what we face, you need to rest. You never know when we will meet them face to face.”

A sigh whispered it’s way into Peggy’s ears and the Captain’s voice softened, she strained to hear it. “I don’t want to wake him.” 

“Ah, I see. Well then we shall say no more about it.” 

“I’ll take patrol, why don’t you head below decks and get some rest? I’ll let you make it up to me tomorrow.” 

“Aye, Aye, Captain.” 

The heavy footsteps thumped past her and the hatch leading below decks creaked open. 

She shifted her cloak, pulling it just enough to let one eye peak out. She could only see the glint of blonde hair leaning over the railing as scanned her surroundings. 

When it became apparent that the man didn’t intend to do any actual patrolling, she decided to settle in. She shifted, as quietly as she dared, lying on her side and pulling the cloak around her, falling into a half-sleep, prepared to rouse at a moments notice if the opportunity arose to steal below deck. 

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Chapter Text

Approaching dawn found her in the same position. The Captain had only moved once or twice in the last few hours and she’d had no opportunity to move. She’d drifted off a bit deeper than planned and had awoken to the sound of boots. She was stiff and sore from being in the same position all night. 

The creeping sunlight made her nerves dance. If the sun came up and she was still there, she was sure to be spotted. She shifted slightly, peering out again and looking for the man. When she saw no one, she stretched a bit further, glancing around to see if it was safe to extricate herself. 

She took the chance. She crawled out, keeping low and hooked her rope back over the edge, repelling off the side of the ship and crawling back to the small ledge that protruded off the back. She kept her footsteps light and didn’t move other than to adjust her harness. She shimmied back against the side of the ship. If anyone looked over the rail and down… well, there was nowhere to hide, but she would try to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

Not much later there was growing movement above deck. She kept her ears alert for any noise that would signal her discovery. 

“Did he sleep?” A voice above her said. She stiffened and flattened herself as far as she could against the ship. 

“Barnes.” The same gruff but amused voice from the night before spoke. 

“So he didn’t. You let him take your patrol again?” 

“He’s our Captain. And he said he had his reasons.” 

“Dugan.” 

“Barnes.”

“He needs sleep.” 

“And so do you.” 

Silence. 

“You need to stop blaming yourself.” The amused voice turned serious. 

“It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t you who did those things.” 

“I still did it.” 

There was a silence that felt weighted. And for some reason Peggy was more curious about this conversation than she’d like to admit. How could someone do things and it not be their fault? 

“You’re hurting him by hating yourself,” the gruff voice said softly.

“He’s—“ the voice cut off and Peggy could hear the crunch of wood from the railing above. 

“He’s happy you’re alive.” 

A deep sigh had the amused voice named Dugan chuckling.  

————-

Peggy slept, tied to the railing and window in a makeshift rig that kept her from moving. She needed to be awake tonight to scout out the ship. She knew taking the artifact too soon would cause havoc, so she just wanted to find out where it was, and plan on how and when to steal it. 

A man with an accent Peggy didn’t recognize, spoke rapid fire to another man who sounded like he was from the same town the Peggy grew up in. She listened carefully as they passed the deck above her but she couldn't place the voice. 

She ate, listening to the noise above as she chewed on soft bread. She’d just finished the last bite when voices returned above her. 

“Has he eaten?” A new voice asked. 

“Not since yesterday.” 

“He was told he needs to eat more, why won’t he?” 

“He says it’s because he doesn’t now how long the journey will last. He wants to ration it out wisely.” 

“We have plenty. None of us will starve.” 

“Yeah, but he’d rather make sure, say’s he can go without for a while.” 

“He’s a fool,” the voice said with a warm affection that didn't match the words. 

A laugh sounded and Peggy’s curiosity at this ship’s crew grew. 

The sounds of working filled the hours. They narrowly avoided a crop of rocks that were hidden in choppy waters. Dusk began to fall and she waited until she heard a patrolman making rounds before she attempted to scout. 

The patrolman passed her and she waited just a beat before she pulled herself over the railing. She crawled over to the door she has assumed led down to the larder and storage rooms. She carefully pulled the door up and slipped down the first few ladder rungs. She set the door back into place carefully and crept down further. A lantern hung at the bottom and she scanned the room to make sure no one was in the room with her. 

As her feet landed on the wooden floor she crouched, keeping low and hidden in the dark corners of the room. She saw nothing but sacks of grain and barrels of water and mead. 

Her hands ran over wooden crates and canvas bags, searching for anything that might be holding what she was looking for. 

She came up empty in the first room, and moved quietly into the second area. The amount of food in there was staggering. 

How long was this trip going to be?  Her mind raced. This amount of food could last a ship’s crew at least a month! She couldn’t survive hanging outside for that long. And she only had provisions for a few days. The next port this ship was supposed to dock at was only a 2 days journey. She cursed Stark silently and carefully picked a few food items she hoped they wouldn’t notice missing. She stuffed the items into her bag and kept searching. 

After the 4th room she almost got annoyed. A ship with this special of an artifact and no one standing guard in any of these rooms? 

Then she slammed the palm of her hand against her forehead. How could she have been so stupid to believe Stark when he said it would probably be hidden as a normal item in the storage rooms. Her jaw clenched and she realized she’d probably been above the artifact the whole day. 

She carefully retraced her steps and waited till she heard the boots pass by before slipping back out onto the deck and over the railing. 

She harnessed herself in a new position and slid over the edge, head first. She allowed gravity to pull her lower until her eyes just passed the glass edge of the window. 

She scanned the Captain’s quarters and noticed two things. One, it was incredibly neat, and two, there on the desk, in a glass case, was the glowing blue artifact she was looking for. 

Surprised at how little effort had gone into concealing it was quickly overshadowed by her smug assurance that they would regret their overconfidence. Schmidt would have this crew’s hearts for losing this and she was all too happy to be the cause. 

Now that she knew where it was, her plan was simple. Wait until they were distracted and about to dock, smash and use the window for entry, grab the artifact and jump into the water, swimming to make her escape. 

She’d never met anyone who could outswim her, and she knew she wasn’t going to fail this mission. Tying herself secure to the ship, wrapping her cloak around her to keep out the chill, she settled back and fell asleep with a smug smile on her face. 

Chapter Text

The next few days were as monotonous as they were stressful. Finding moments to steal below deck and take food when she needed, or hiding along the outside of the ship, hanging onto whatever harness she could manage to arrange. 

They’d been at sea for 6 days when she heard footsteps over her head. She pulled the cloak lower and settled against the ship. She’d been wearing the cloak for most of the days now as it kept her from being exposed to the sun for hours on end. Sure it was too warm to be comfortable, but it was better than being burnt. 

“We’re within a few hours of port, Captain.” 

“Then drop anchor, Denier.” 

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Why would we drop anchor if we are so close, sir.  Won’t he be waiting?”

Peggy still hadn’t seen any of the sailors up close, she’d only seen flashes of hair or hands as they leaned over the railings. Or glances of them in the Captain’s quarters when she peeked over the ledge. She had yet to see the Captain there though. She tried to imagine him now, the man who she had seen the least of this entire trip. She was pretty sure he had blonde hair and deeply tanned skin. But she knew nothing  else about him, other than the sound of his voice. 

“I have my reasons. Drop anchor.” The smile in his voice felt pointed, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that those words were said a bit louder than necessary. She shivered at the breeze that ran across the back of the ship and curled up tighter.

“Aye, aye sir.” 

———————-

She heard the commotion and the hollow thump and splash of the anchor being dropped. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding, something like fear prickled at the back of her neck and she knew her time was getting short to complete her mission. 

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As dusk fell, she arranged herself so that she was hanging over the ledge, eyes locked on the glass case resting on the thick wooden desk. 

After spending the afternoon planning, she’d decided that while swimming it the whole way to port was not ideal, and she wasn’t sure how well she would fare against the sea, she had to try something. If she was able to get a hold of it, and get out of the ship, then she would. If worse came to absolute worst, she could use her grace. She shuddered at the thought, she hated using it like this, but she knew it was the choice between her own feelings and saving the kingdom. The kingdom won out. 

She grabbed her knife, clutching it upside down as she watched someone in the Captain’s quarters move around. He had dark hair, parted and swept to the side. He wore a thick blue leather vest, fitted tightly and a shiny silver sword hung at his hip.  He turned, looking over his shoulder and almost catching her out the window, she pulled back and held her breath. 

He couldn’t have seen me, She reasoned. Booted footsteps approached the window and she could hear someone’s fingers rapping against the glass. She didn’t move, or breathe until the footsteps receded. 

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When night fell completely, she waited until the Captain made his nightly rounds with the crew. She’d grown accustomed to him asking each of them how they were faring through the journey and making sure they were getting enough water and eating well. She’d heard them respond earnestly and ask him the same question, to which she always heard his voice soften and say that he was plenty fed.  

She had noticed that the food in the hull had been disappearing at an alarming rate. A stock that could have lasted a normal crew a month, was over half gone in just under a week. 

Something about their interactions threw her. She couldn’t place why, other than the fact that they seemed… almost like a family. She would have assumed they were if she hadn’t seen the man with skin so dark and smooth it reminded her of molasses and another of olive tone. Peggy reached out and wrapped her satchel across her chest. She had little hope of swimming if she was holding the artifact in one hand, so she would have to bring her bag to make sure she had somewhere to store it. 

When his familiar footsteps were heard on the deck above, she paused for one moment more, checking that the captain’s quarters were empty before arranging her position. 

She slid down onto the narrow window frame, cloak tied to the railing and left on the ledge above. As much as she would want for the warmth, and hated losing something her mother had made for her, she knew trying to swim quickly with its water-sodden weight around her was ill advised. 

The heels of her boots hung over open water as she grabbed the frame tightly with one hand. She clutched the hilt of her knife and waited. As she heard one of the hatch doors lift, she timed her hilt hitting the glass as the door slammed close, hopefully masking the sound. The glass in front of her cracked heavily and she cursed. She could wait and hope someone else would use the hatch or she could take the risk. 

A shout on deck had her kicking the glass in. Now is not the time to get caught . 

She shoved through the hole in the glass, shattering the window and stumbling as she slipped on shards of it. She was at the desk in an instant, grasping the glass case and shoving it into her bag. A creak had her running back to the window. Her hands grasped the frame and she was about to jump into the open ocean when a pair of hands grasped her from behind and yanked her backwards. 

She tried to stay on her feet but the strength exuded on her had her sitting down heavily. She flung herself back up and stared at the man in front of her. It was the same man who she had seen here earlier. His dark brown hair was swept to the side and his chest heaved from adrenaline. But his eyes, his eyes found hers and there was mutual surprise. Her green and blue eyes caught his black and silver and they both stood stock still, poised to fight. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said quietly. Putting every effort into sounding calm but dangerous. “Let me go.” 

“Give us back the artifact you stole and we will let you go,” his voice was smooth but something in it terrified her. 

She lunged past him, using her considerable speed to make it past his grasp and out the window, hands on the ledge ready to hoist herself up and out. But a hand grabbed her ankle, crushing it with more force than a man should have, and she cried out. 

A face appeared above her on the railing, watching as she clung to the wooden ledge, she kicked and finally felt the man release her ankle. She scrambled up onto the ledge, wincing at the protest her ankle made and was about to jump off when a voice from above her spoke. One she was familiar with by now. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

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Chapter Text

She considered jumping anyway. She was a fast swimmer, and she had the artifact, but something in the voice made her pause. The way it settled over her shoulders, like a command. 

Her hand gripped the smooth wooden ledge and she looked up. The moon illuminated a few figures standing above her on the deck. Besides the man who she had fought with below, there were 6 more men on the deck, 7 in total. 

“If you jump, I’ll have to jump after you, and I’d prefer not to.” 

She couldn’t see who had said it, but the way it was said, so calm and matter of fact had her snorting in derision. 

“Oh, you’d prefer not to?” She mocked. “Shouldn’t have stolen something that wasn’t yours then.” She made to jump and heard an annoyed huff. Her foot had just left the ledge when an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back. 

“Let go!” She shouted, punching her elbow backwards and trying to struggle out of the grasp. Her eyes caught sight of the face and she realized in shock that the man had crawled out the window after her. 

“Stop struggling.” He said calmly, “you’ll throw us both over.” 

“That’s preferable to this!” She spun quickly, and shoved with both her hands hard against his chest. Her palms protested and he barely moved an inch backwards, she stared up at his face, and a roguish smile was visible in the moonlight.

Before she could process what was happening she felt herself being dragged up, and thrown over the railing. She landed with a thud, her hip protesting at the impact. She sprang to her feet and drew her knife, a small wickedly sharp blade she kept in her boot. The men stood at ease, calmly looking at her. 

Her eyes were drawn to the incredibly tall man who stood just off center. His hair was tinted blonde, with a bit of red, and his mustache covered his top lip. 

“Let me go and I won’t harm you,” she commanded.

The man who threw her over the railing appeared behind her, climbing up himself. She sidestepped backwards, wincing at her ankle, to put her back to the railing and keep all of them in front of her. 

“Listen—“ a voice said in annoyance, her eyes caught a shorter man, black hair, and a salt and pepper beard. “You’re not leaving here with that.” His eye dropped to her bag and she clutched it closer to her on instinct.

“You have no say in what I do.” She stepped forward, putting her face in direct moonlight and made sure her eyes were visible. She expected something, maybe a gasp, or for them to step backwards. But no one moved. In fact, she saw smiles appear on their faces. She watched as all but the giant man with the mustache moved to be in the line of light. 6 pairs, including the man who had thrown her above deck, of mismatched eyes stared back at her, and for the first time, she felt truly afraid. 

——————————

“You’re all graced?” She swore out loud and heard a chuckle in response. She would pummel Stark for his idiocy on sending her to a ship with 6 graced sailors. Had he known? She assumed not. Didn’t save her now. 

“As are you.” The man whose skin was as dark as the night around them spoke and leaned forward. “Care to tell us what you’re doing on our ship?”

She kept quiet and the men just continued to wait. 

“Captain? What would you like to do?” The voice of the man who sounded like he was from her region spoke. She looked at the tall mustached man, waiting for him to respond. She briefly wondered what his threat to her would be. She didn’t want to use her grace, even against Schmidt’s sailors, but she wouldn’t fail this mission, so she would if she had to.

But the voice came from someone she did not expect. A small man, the shortest of them all, stood off to the right, his hair shining almost silver in the moonlight. Her eyes caught his face as he stepped forward. Sharp cheekbones and bright blue eyes, one pale like the sky, and the other deep like the sea. He looked calm and composed, his hands resting on his leather belt. 

“You’re the captain?” She snorted, eyeing him in disbelief. 

Six men took a threatening step forward, swords being drawn and murderous looks on their faces. The man pulled up his hands in a quick motion, halting them. He raised his eyebrows at them and they all sheepishly replaced their weapons and relaxed again, all except the dark haired one that she fought, he was still glaring daggers at her.

The small man stepped forward, his boots making almost no noise as he paced towards her on the wooden boards. 

“I let you stay on the ship,” he said with mock affront, “I even let you take food from our stores, and watch us as we patrol. And here you are, betraying us.” 

Her eyes widened at his words and she was not the only one surprised as she heard someone else speak up. 

“Wait, you knew she was on the ship this whole time?”

The captain’s unsettling eyes watched her, “Of course I did.” 

“Why didn’t you catch her out right away?”

He smiled at his men, “I was curious.”

The one who she’d fought with stepped closer to the Captain, “I told you we should have told them.” 

“Sorry, men. Didn’t mean to keep our little stowaway a secret, just wanted to see what she had planned.”

“You can’t have known.” She finally found her tongue. “You’re bluffing.” 

Something sharp settled in the captain’s eyes and he stepped forward, closing the distance until there was only a few feet between them. As he approached, she felt herself tense. Why did she feel so scared of someone who was shorter and looked weaker than she?

As he stepped closer, more details of his face came into focus. Her eyes caught on the scars, one just below and to the right of his right eye, a small crisscross. One leading from the corner of his lips dragging across his left cheek, a smaller one on his bottom lip, a pink line almost to his chin, and the last, a looped scar above his left eyebrow. 

Her eyes couldn't seem to look at anything else and he noticed her stare. His eyes tightened and he stood firmly, feet planted, and a deep red cloak hanging off his thin shoulders. 

“I’m not bluffing. You made quite the entrance jumping off the dock and onto the window’s ledge. I chose not to say anything, because I wanted to see how you would try to steal it.”

“Why?” She sneered, finally bringing her eyes back to his. “And I have taken it. It’s in my possession.” Her fingers clutched the knife handle and the leather satchel. 

The Captain eyed her and his eyes landed on the bag. He smiled and his eyes found hers again. “For now.” 

Chapter Text

She bristled at his words and stepped further into a defensive stance. Her opponents mirrored her moves, ready for a fight but the Captain just stayed relaxed, standing calmly in front of her. 

“Don’t make me hurt you,” she growled, ”I don’t want to, but I will if I have to.” The threat in her tone was clear, but the men made no movements, waiting for their Captain’s orders. 

“Hand me the artifact, and we’ll call it even,” he finally said. 

She snorted in derision. “I’m not giving you anything.” 

“You’re not leaving this ship with it, so I suggest you hand it over to me now.” The deep rumble of his voice threw her off. It didn’t match his body at all, and yet, the icy stare she was receiving and firm set of his shoulders, thin as they were, made her think he had something up his sleeve. She idly wondered what his grace was. 

“It would seem we are at an impasse,” the man who spoke like her said. 

“No, I just haven’t decided if I’m going to swim, or ask you to take me to shore.” Her implications had the tall man with the mustache smiling. 

“Oh, you’d be sorely disappointed with our ability to follow directions, my lady,” he replied in a deep and amused voice. 

“I’m sure I can manage, I can be very convincing when I need to be.” 

She watched the Captain’s eyebrow raise at that and she huffed in annoyance, “Not what you’re thinking.” 

True annoyance crossed his face. “I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort,” he said sharply, “I was more surprised by your confidence and bravery to be honest.” 

The sincerity of his words took her back and she watched as he stood there calmly, no hint of mocking on his face. 

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” she retorted, “I’m leaving here of my own free will and with the artifact.” 

At her declaration, the Captain sighed and she watched as his stance widened, ready for a fight. 

Her eyes narrowed and she pushed the bag so it rested on her back instead of hanging in front of her. She crouched and waited. Three of the men stepped backwards, removing themselves from the fight. She didn't pay much attention to them, if she needed to use her grace, she could use it on them as well if they came back into play. 

The Captain, the dark haired man she had fought down below, the tall mustachioed man, and the man whose accent matched hers stalked forward just a step. She shifted her knife and they eyed it warily. The dark haired man flexed his fingers, rotating his arm in a way that seemed unnatural. She eyed the gloved hand as it seemed to emit a mechanical sound. His silver and black eyes stared back at her, unwavering. 

For one brief moment she contemplated jumping. She could probably make it over the railing before they could catch her. The Captain saw her eye the railing, and she glared back at him as he turned toward the dark skinned man who had stepped out of the fight. 

“Jones,” is all he said before a giant thunderclap startled her and rain began to pour down, soaking them all to the skin. “Maybe avoid the deck?” The captain said again calmly. At that, the rain ceased, but she looked towards the railing and noticed that it was still raining, just not on the deck of the ship. 

She gaped at the man in the back with wide eyes. His one brown and one gold eye twinkled back at her. 

“You can control the bloody weather?” She asked, the words coming unbidden. 

“Name’s Jones.” 

She cursed inwardly, there was no visibility now. In that type of storm she would get lost and drown before she even got close to port. 

She clenched her jaw and regained her footing, sinking into a fighting stance. 

“Then I suppose I don’t have the option of swimming, which just leaves you to follow my orders.” The Captain laughed and his joviality irritated her more than words could, so she growled in anger, "let me go. Last warning." 

Which pulled him up short. “Why do you need the artifact?”

She stayed silent and his eyes narrowed again, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. A flash of lightning illuminated the ship, his mismatched blue eyes, and his scars in a ghostly hue. It made her breath hitch in fear. 

"Tone it down, Jones," the man said calmly, "leave the dramatics for later." The dark skin man grinned and the storm lessened, just a heavy rain all around them. 

How can someone so small seem so frightening? How are all these huge and powerful men following this small man? But then her brain caught up and she realized that his grace was still unknown. Maybe he had them under his command by force, their free will taken. She’d heard of graces like that. It was one reason she hated using her own, but she would if necessary. 

“Give us the artifact and we will let you swim away,” the man she fought said with mocking menace coloring his tone. 

“Buck,” The Captain warned. “We’re not letting her leave until we know why she came here.” He looked towards her and held out his hand, as if he actually expected her to hand it straight to him. She laughed, a mocking sound, and clutched the bag tighter. 

“Over my dead body,” she spit out. 

A resigned expression appeared on his face, and his eyes flashed. “So be it.” 

He stepped forward, quicker than she would have thought a person could move and without thought she threw her hands forward, pushing her grace out like a wave. 

The Captain froze, her grace halting him. He seemed surprised and she felt smug. But for only a moment. She watched in disbelief as he grit his teeth and took another stilted step forward. She gasped, she couldn’t help it, no one had ever broken through her grace before. She pressed out harder, forcing him to stay where he was, her eyes flickered to the men who were watching the silent exchange in awe. She saw them tensing, ready to jump in.  

"Just let me go," she commanded trying to slow the captain down more as he kept trying to move towards her. 

When no one responded verbally but they all seemed to shift as if to move forward, she extended her grace to them, holding them in place.

She cursed silently as the storm continued to wage. Holding them all motionless would wear her out to quickly. Maybe if she killed them... The thought was repugnant, but she wasn't sure what her other options were. Shock and anger were apparent across the crews' faces as they realized they no longer had control over their own bodies. She focused on keeping them all in place, deciding what her plan was from there when the Captain took a deep breath and pushed forward, looking like he was swimming through molasses as his movements were slow and forced. 

She couldn't believe it, she watched as his movements became jilted, the image of him almost flickering as he struggled against her. The rain was falling in torrents on the deck now, Jones was either mad enough to want her to suffer or no longer in control of the storm he started. By the look on his face it was the former. It fell around them in thick icy sheets. She was freezing, shivering, but she didn't relent her control. If they moved, she'd be too tired to fight and the mission would be truly lost.

Long moments passed as they stood at their impasse. But he was still moving. Achingly slowly, but he was still moving. Her mind panicked as he started to take the last step that would close the distance between them. She tried to take a step back but the amount of energy keeping 7 grown men at bay was too much. She couldn't move.

She hated it. She hated knowing what she must do to make sure this mission was successful. But she clenched her jaw and did it anyway, pushing the primary aspect of her grace out, only allowing it to touch the Captain.

His eyes widened and then crinkled in pain. His mouth opened and a gasp of choked pain escaped. She watched as 6 pairs of eyes snapped towards him. They were still frozen in place but their mouths were free. 

“What are you doing to him?” The man the captain referred to as Buck, snarled.

“Let the Captain go!” The tall man bellowed. 

She didn't respond, just focused on keeping every one still and the pain only on one man.  Everyone experienced her pain differently, so she was not sure what he was feeling, but she knew it wasn't pleasant. 

The Captain snapped his eyes back open, glaring at her with a fearsome determination she'd never witnessed before. Searing disbelief filled her as began to pull his leg forward, like it had been nailed to the ground and he was having to pry it free. 

“Who are you ?” She seethed, teeth clenched together from the effort of struggling to keep hold of them all. Fury and awe filled her.

His teeth were also clenched in pain, but he hissed through them. “I’m the one who isn’t going to let you get away.” 

Panic set through her and she increased the pain level to stop him from moving. She had only ever had to utilize this side of her grace a few times, and never for very long. She hated doing it, but she couldn't allow these sailors to take the artifact back to Schmidt, she couldn't. 

He stumbled then, knees hitting the deck and hands clenched against the wood. 

She heard the furious shouts from the sailors around her but she wasn’t listening. Instead she was watching, enraptured as the man in front of her shook from the pain, but was still trying to get back on his feet...

“Captain!” Someone called desperately, “Captain!” 

“I’m okay,” called the hoarse voice of the man kneeling in front of her. 

She scoffed at his words and took a shaky step back towards the railing. She wouldn't have any energy to swim, but she'd already wasted too much time staying where these men could take the artifact back. She needed to get out of here, but the storm was still raging, ocean turbulent.

Her thoughts raced as she weighed her options. She couldn't swim in this weather, but she couldn't stay on this ship, not when someone could fight against her. Her eyes traveled to Jones. His eyes were locked on his Captain. 

She adjusted her gaze and sent pain in his direction. If he was distracted, then perhaps the storm would break and she could escape, praying she would have enough energy to make it. 

Jones immediately cried out and hunched inward, the pain taking its toll. The rain stopped immediately. 

She stumbled closer to the edge of the railing. But a thought struck her. Once she jumped, she wouldn't be able to keep her hold on them. At least not very well. The energy and focus would exhaust her. They could start the storm again with her trapped in the water. The dread of her situation had her looking back towards the crew. Their gazes were split between the Captain and Jones, both clearly in agonizing pain. 

Then the captain's eyes met hers. “please stop,” he asked in a rough voice. “You can send all the pain you want to me, but let him go. Jones, when she lets you go, do not bring the storm back.” Jones didn't answer, he was too much in pain to do anything. But the Captain turned back to her. “please let him go." When she didn't, he snarled at her, "let him go. Now.” 

Surprise flitted through her. But she found herself drawing the pain back, releasing Jones and watching as he exhaled in relief, his breathing shaky.

The Captain took a relieved breath, eyes still sharp with pain, and turned his face towards her. “Thank you.” 

She recoiled. “You’re thanking me?”

“You let him go, for that I’m grate—” He didn't get to finish. While she still held him in place, she stepped forward, reaching her hand out and yanking him forward by his cloak. She whipped him around, pushing him against the railing. She heard shouts behind her but she just stepped back and lifted her foot, kicking him in the chest and sending him over the railing. 

His eyes, instead of being afraid, or angry even, displayed a clear annoyance as he toppled over the edge and disappeared down into the water below. 

She extended her grace, hoping to keep his limbs frozen from this distance as she turned towards the crew. 

Their faces were mutinous, especially the man she fought. 

“You will sail this ship to port and let me go.” She demanded, holding them steady. “If you don’t, I will throw you overboard one by one, holding your limbs frozen until I’m sure you’ve each drowned.” 

The threat passed over her tongue with a wave of distaste. She would hate to do such a thing, even to Schmidt’s thugs, but the kingdoms were at stake and she would do as she must. 

Chapter Text

Their eyes narrowed and she waited for them to either accept her offer or try to fight against her control for having killed their captain. They do neither. 

She shifted her weight, waiting for their response, and when none came she clenched her jaw in annoyance. Having these men test her resolve so immediately was unusual. 

“Alright,” she said with an air of annoyance. “Who volunteers to die next?”

The men still do not speak, and she reached out her hand, pointing at Jones. “You,” she said as she pulled her hand back and he stumbled forward onto his knees. Then she dragged him to the edge of the ship, dread in her stomach at having to kill another human being, but unable to let this mission fail. 

She pushed her grace out, the pain making him writhe against the railing and groan. She looked over the edge. The captain was nowhere to be seen. With his cloak and lack of ability to use his limbs, he was probably sinking and dead by now. She pulled her grace back and released it, then focused on the remaining men. "Last chance?"

No response. Her face turned grim, and using her considerable strength and his lack of bodily control, she pitched him overboard. Holding his limbs still so he couldn't swim. 

The men’s eyes stayed hardened on hers, and she narrowed her eyes back. Daring them to fight her any longer. 

When still they did not offer their allegiance or bow to her demands, she turned to the black and silver eyed man. He looked at her so viciously she was sure he would kill her the first chance he got. "Fine." She huffed, "you next." 

As she took a step towards him, a thud against the side of the ship made her pause. Then the sound of wood crunching. Slowly, she turned back towards the railing where the men's eyes had also shifted. Without warning, a shape came sailing up. Her eyes widened in their sockets as Jones soared up and over the railing, thudding onto the deck in front of her. She gasped and stepped back away from the body, her back hitting the railing, and shock gripping her lungs.  

Before she could recover, a cold hand grasped her wrists, pulling them behind her painfully; she was pushed forward as the person climbed over the railing and onto the deck. She gasped at the pain and then another hand appeared at her neck, holding a dagger so close to her skin she can feel the freezing cold touch of the metal. He was giant, his shadow casting over her and onto the deck. The new crew mate was sopping wet, water pooling around their feet and soaking through her clothing.

She tried to struggle free but the grip on her wrists tightened and she felt her arms and shoulders protest in pain. The dagger pressed closer to her neck and she tried to lean away from it. 

It pressed sharply against her and she stilled and took in her surroundings. The men were still standing there, frozen in place. It was harder to keep them frozen without the use of her hands, but not impossible. Jones laid still on the deck in a puddle of water but he was breathing and conscious. She couldn't see the man behind her but she could tell that he was significantly taller than anyone else and his body radiated heat that was causing steam to rise off their damp clothing. She squirmed in his grasp but he just sighed and pushed the dagger tighter. 

“Where were they hiding you all this time?” She sneered, sounding more confident than she felt. “Are you just the brute monster they let out when the poor boys up on deck are in trouble?” She meant it to be insulting, to mess with his ego, but the body behind her just shook, he was laughing. And as she watched the men in front of her, still frozen, laugh as well.

Her pride bristled and, in annoyance, she sent out pain to him. His muscles convulsed, the grip on her wrists hardening to a vice and the dagger slicing against her neck as his body shook from the pain. 

She felt it start to bleed.  "Stop." he gasped, "stop--" She released him, gasping herself at the pain and exertion.

He yanked the knife away from her neck, "I could have killed you,” he snapped into her ear, still behind her. 

The annoyance in his voice confused her. Why would he be upset at having killed her?

But she didn’t have time to think about that because he was speaking again, softly. "Please let the men go." 

“No,” she scoffed. “You really think a please will get you anywhere?”

“Never hurts to ask politely,” he said flatly. The men reacted as if that was a sort of familiar jest. 

Peggy yanked at his hold on her wrists, “let go of me, and I won’t kill you,” she threatened. “How's that for asking nicely?" 

“Ah,” he said, sounding as if she’d just commented on the weather instead of threatening to kill him. “You’ve already tried that once. Didn’t stick.”

Her brow furrowed and she tried to twist around to see him, but he was out of her peripheral vision. 

“Who are you?” She hissed. “When did I try to kill you?” She thought back to previous fights. She couldn’t remember any giant, overheated sailors, but that didn't mean there never had been one. 

In one fluid motion he whipped her around, reclaiming her wrists in front of her and crushing them together in the grip of one hand, the dagger point pressed neatly against her the soft flesh of her neck. 

“Just now,” he said with a hint of amusement. 

Peggy took in the man in front of her. Tall enough to make her neck crane upwards. His arms, legs, and torso all thick and muscular. Blonde hair wet and dripping down the sides of his face. But what sealed it were his eyes and scars. 

She gasped in realization. The two blue eyes staring at her were irrefutable proof. The scars looked even more menacing on this face than his thinner. “How—“ she gasped. 

He laughed, a deep chuckle that she could feel. “You know how. Just like every other grace. How are any of us possible?” 

She didn't respond, she didn't have any words.  The despair that she may truly fail this mission filled her. Never had she met a grace that altered a physical being.

In a last ditch effort, she threw out her grace towards him, yanking her head back to avoid his blade. She doused him heavier than she'd ever inflicted on another person, hoping to surprise him and escape. 

She watched as he shuddered, muscles constricting and eyes pinching closed in agony. But still, he didn’t release her. So she upped the energy, knowing the power of the pain she was sending would cripple any other human. His jaw cracked, teeth gritted together and a groan of pain escaping him, his whole body shaking. She tried to yank her wrists out of his grasp, but he held on, eyes tight with pain as he glared at her through slits “Is the artifact worth dying for?” He hissed out, voice rough with tension. 

“To get it out of your hands, yes,” she rasped, her vocal cords betraying the fear she was feeling.

She had to figure something out. With the energy expenditure needed to incapacitate him… she would be exhausted in minutes. So she needed a new plan. He had responded most when his crew was in pain. So she lessened the pain on him and threw it out to the crew, making them all make sounds of pain and discomfort. But holding seven men still and causing them pain was wearing her thin very fast. 

“Hey—“ he growled out, using her wrists to shake her to get her attention. She looked back at his angry expression and swallowed roughly. The thin man who she had thrown overboard had been intimidating in his own right, but this man, this monster was terrifying.

“I will kill you right here and now if you do no let. My. Men. Go.” He cut every word sharply with a sense of commanding power, "Let them go."  She felt herself following his order without her permission, relaxing her grace and letting the men free. She was staring at the captain but she heard them stumble or adjust behind her, sighs of relief and groans from tight muscles were heard. 

“Thank you,” hesaid tersely. “Morita. The bag.” 

She felt the strap of her leather satchel be cut and the weight of the artifact disappeared. Anguish must have crossed her face because he studied her with an accusing glare. 

“You won’t be giving that to Schmidt anytime soon,” his voice said firmly.

Her mind tried to process what he’d just said… Wait… Schmidt? 

“I don’t work for him,” she gasped out, suddenly a sense of hope rising. No wonder this crew was different! They weren’t even his sailors— 

A disbelieving huff sounded and she heard the crinkle of paper. The captain looked behind her, seeing what was being shown and looked back at her, anger in his eyes. He whipped her around yet again, her back pressed tightly against his front and the full blade of the dagger pressed against her neck. “You were saying?”

Dread filled her as her eyes found what he was looking at. 

There, held up in Morita's hands, clearly visible, the paper that had been hidden in her bag, with the description of the artifact and Schmidt’s royal symbol at the top.  

————-

Chapter Text

Peggy didn't fight against them as she was chained at the wrists and feet. She was brought to the captain's quarters and she wrinkled her nose. 

“I would rather be in the brig,” she said haughtily. "I know what captains are liable to do with their female prisoners."

The captain eyed her and glimmering annoyance crossed his face. “You will be where we put you. And trust me, no one wants anything to do with you.” 

His words should not have stung, but somehow the disgust on his face surprised her and made her mad. 

The man who she had originally fought with, led her to a chair and then dragged the chair to the side of the room. He used his gloved hand to lift her chains against the wall. She was confused about what he was going to do to secure her against the bare wood, but his silver and black eye gleam and suddenly there was a metal hook wrapped around her chains, attaching her to the wall that wasn’t there before. 

Her eyes widened as he just looked at her flatly, with no emotion. 

The captain sat behind his large wooden desk and his hulking figure dwarfed the quill in his hand. He scribbled something onto a piece of paper.

“Take this to Morita.” He said, “have one of his friends take it to shore.” 

The words made no sense to Peggy, but the dark haired man nodded and disappeared. 

The captain looked at her and then shook his head, writing something else down. She'd been looking down at her new cuffs, wondering what they were made of, when she heard a hitch of the captain's breath. Her eyes flicked up and she watched in shock as his image shimmered and suddenly he was back to the form he had been before, slim shoulders and sharp angular cheekbones. She gaped at him but he just continued to study the parchment like it contained a difficult mathematics equation.

“So, how did Schmidt find out we were on this ship?” He asked icily, looking up at her. 

“He doesn’t know. Or maybe he does, I do not know, because I do not work for him. ”

“You just happened to have a royally stamped document, detailing the artifact and the crew members who were supposed to be on this ship?”

She sighed and glared at him. “It is a forgery! I did not want to be hanged if I got caught.”

“Convenient,” he said, not giving her an inch. 

“Ugh!” She growled out. “how am I to explain to you that I am who I say I am!” 

“You could have tried to do that before you stole it and tried to murder me and another one of my men.” 

She huffed, “would you have listened?”

“Yes,” the way he said it, so calmly, and with the ring of truth had her recoiling in surprise. But she didn't give in. 

"Liar,” she sneered.

His face turned dark. “How dare you call me a liar. I have known you were on this ship the whole time. I have let you eat our food, and listen to our conversations, I have not let any harm befall you even though my second in command wanted to kill you straight out. And you insult me?”

“How do I know you have known? You could be lying about that too!”

He rolled his eyes and stood, grabbing a chair, placing it close enough that she was almost insulted at the lack of concern he had for her powers. She narrowed her eyes at him as he looked out the back window of his quarters. 

“You first heard me relieve Dugan of his patrol, correct? When you hid between the barrels? I stood there practically all night, waiting to see if you would move. But you did not, and I was impressed. Then, once you had dozed off, I let you go, I walked away so you could escape before anyone else saw you. It took my second in command longer to discover your presence. I believe he was also talking to Dugan. He came to tell me straight away but I told him to be patient. Then when you snuck below deck without alerting any of my crew, I was again impressed with your skill. My crew is the best of the best, and your stealth and fortitude to hang from the side of a ship for days was something to be impressed by and I was.” 

She said nothing. It was clear to her now that he had in fact known of her presence the whole time, and she hated knowing that. That he could have caught her out at any point but didn’t. Not until she made the first move.

“Who are you?” She hissed, pulling at her chains even though she knew they wouldn’t budge. 

“I am surprised Schmidt did not prepare you beforehand with information about us.” 

“I would never work for that tyrant,” she ranted. 

“And yet, here you are, with his royal documents.” 

“If I worked for Schmidt then why would I steal the artifact from a ship full of his soldiers!” 

“We are obviously not the soldiers described in your document. Schmidt must have learned we had replaced them and sent you after us. And now, being caught, you are trying to pretend otherwise.” 

The logic of his argument made her furious because she could see why he believed that, and she didn't know how to get him to believe her.

She was about to speak, to possibly mention Stark’s name in hopes they would recognize it, when the dark haired man walked back in. 

“Message has been sent.” 

“Thanks, Buck,” the captain rubbed his hands together. “Is Denier starting the evening fires?”

“Yes.” 

“Good, can you tell him to light mine this time?”

The dark haired man’s eyes flashed. “You can not possibly be thinking of keeping her in here,” he hissed. “She is dangerous.” 

Finally, she thought, someone who understands.  

The captain turned to the man he called Buck and smiled, “You trust her alone in the brig? Or with one of the other men? I do not. We know I can resist her grace, and therefore I do not feel it is fair for anyone to have to be put in harm's way when I was the one who let her stay on board this long.” 

“What if she incapacitates you in your sleep? What if she sends you pain and kills you? Or escapes with the artifact?”

The captain gave the man an annoyed but amused expression. “The artifact is hidden, correct?”

“Yes, we have—“

“Good,” the captain cuts him off. “Then I am not worried about her escaping with it. As for the pain,” he turned towards her. “Does your grace have a limit? Or does it continue to increase until the victim dies from shock?"

The question threw her off, but she shrugged, "I assume it has a limit. I have never used it to kill. Only incapacitate and it usually doesn't take much."  

"Would you be willing to use me as a test subject?" 

She startled back at the same time as the other man shouted, “Steve!” in disbelief. 

The captain, whose name she had just learned, smiled at him. “Bucky, I will be fine. And it is better for it to happen here, in your presence than when I am alone or with one of the other men, do you not agree?” Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but Steve held up a hand to quiet him. “Captain’s orders.” 

“You are a fool,” Bucky snapped back at him.

Steve chuckled, “well, that we agree upon.” 

“Steve—“

“It is the best choice, I need to know if I can handle this.”

“There has to be some other way! Why does it always have to be you? ” 

“I am the captain, you and the men chose that--” This comment surprised Peggy, and yet… maybe it didn't, not as she continued to watch this argument unfold. “--so, yes, this does fall on me, and if up on deck is any indication of who it should be—“

“No, Steve—“

“Bucky--”

"Steve, you cannot just--"

"Buck, stop!" The commanding tone in his voice was there once more and Bucky’s voice died in his throat. His eyes widened and to Peggy’s surprise so did Steve’s. 

“Bucky? I am sorry, I did not mean— Damn it!” Steve said, angrily, “It is happening more. I can’t— please, forgive me.” 

Bucky let out a pant of breath as if speaking took effort, and shook his head. “It’s fine, I’m alright, Steve, I know you did not mean to. It is fine.” 

“I would not. You know I would never—“

“I know,” Bucky cut him off, “I know.” The dark haired man nodded in Peggy’s direction and backed away. 

Peggy's eyes were wide as Steve turned back towards her. Her mind replayed the whole scene.

“Please excuse our sibling squabble,” Steve said lightly, his voice clipped and very nonchalant as if he was trying not to trigger the commanding tone in his voice. 

He can order people to do things, Peggy’s thoughts realized, that is why I let the men go when he ordered me. She wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t, her power was much the same, stripping people of their free will. But she’d never seen a reaction like the one she’d just witnessed. The man hadn’t meant to control him, and his palpable anguish and disgust at himself for doing so was immediate. She eyed the man with new eyes and decided she must earn his trust. 

“Would you please,” he emphasized the please and Peggy watched as Bucky rolled his eyes, “utilize your grace against me? I would like to know if I can withstand it.” 

Peggy looked at him warily, “are you positive? It is very unpleasant.” 

Steve eyed her and he nodded. “I remember. Do you need to have free access to your hands?” He asked. 

She saw Bucky opening his mouth to protest but she held up her hands in the chains and said, “no” very quickly. She wanted to earn their trust. “No, I do not.”

Then she decided something else. 

“I promise I will not harm you in your sleep.” She tried to convey honesty in her tone. “I do not work for Schmidt and I will not harm you. I believe you now. You are not on his side.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed and he glanced backwards. “Either she is telling the truth or part of her grace is lying because that was very convincing.” 

Bucky snorted but said nothing. 

Steve turned back towards her and he walked closer, standing just a foot or two in front of her chair. “I would like to believe you, but I still do not trust you at the moment. Will you use your grace on me to test my limits?”

“If you would like me to,” she said simply, unsurprised that he didn’t accept her admittance.

“Alright then. Please begin.” 

“Okay,” she said, stretching out her fingers. “Would you like full strength? Or would you like me to start slow?”

He pondered for a moment before saying, “start slow, but build up quickly. I want to feel your full force.” Her eyes caught Bucky drawing a dagger. It was clear if she went to far he would dispatch of her without remorse. 

Peggy couldn't deny she was curious, never having tested her full limits. She doubted she’d get there before he begged her to stop, but she would do as he asked. 

She nodded and concentrated on him. Her first effort didn’t draw a reaction out of him and she increased rapidly. She had reached about a quarter of her power when he finally grimaced. Briefly she wondered if him having felt it before meant he was more accustomed to it. But as she continued to increase, and his face shifted accordingly, she couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face at finally having gotten him to show pain. She didn’t like being underestimated. 

He stayed standing at first, although his face started to get drawn out, and his fists were clenched. She was reaching about half way on her power capacity when he groaned and stumbled, doubling over. Bucky lurched forward to steady him. 

“Stop!” She said, “If you touch him it will hurt you.”

“Buck,” Steve rasped, hand shakily held up to stop him, his voice like sandpaper, “stay, I am alright, It is more difficult because I am trying to stay in this form. Leave it.” 

Bucky backed off but the concern on his face was striking. 

“Would you like me to continue increasing?” She asked, teeth pressed together, concentrating on talking and holding that level of pain.

Steve was hunched, face pinched, the scars even more apparent on his pale face, “keep going,” he rasped out. There was a layer of sweat on his forehead, but he looked at her and those blue eyes never wavered. "More." His knees hit the deck, bent over, hands on the wood, panting. 

"I should stop." 

"No,” he gasped out, "keep going." 

"Steve--" 

"Keep going,” he demanded. 

She was shocked but she focused back in, increasing the level higher. 

He groaned out, fingers digging into the wood beneath his hands, arching his back upward until she recoiled at the sight. His body was shimmering and suddenly his body shuddered violently. With a blink his massive form was back, chest heaving from the change and the pain. 

“I should stop,” she said, worry clouding her voice. But her own breathing was rapidly increasing. The exertion to this level was exhausting. 

“Do not stop,” he panted, holding a hand across his ribs. The he used the large wooden desk for support and stood, “I can do this.” 

She looked at Bucky who was just staring at Steve with disbelief and frustration on his face. 

She nodded slowly and increased the level again, higher and higher until she knew she had reached a level she’d never tried before. Her own energy siphoning out of her. 

A strangled sound exited his lips and his knees hit the ground again, his fists were pressed against the floor. She could see his muscles spasming under his shirt and cloak. He slammed his fist into the floor, causing the wood to dent. But she continued to increase it, reaching her limit. She felt her heart racing and lungs beginning to burn but she watched him in fascination as he trembled and groaned but stayed conscious and on his knees. Finally, she could hold it no more and she sagged back against her chair, releasing the flow of energy. 

He visibly drooped, his body trembling against the wooden floorboards. When he looked up at them his nose, ears, and eyes were dripping blood. 

“Steve!” Bucky shouted, lurching forward and kneeling beside him. 

“I am alright,” he huffed, waving his friend off. “I am fine.” He wiped at his face, smearing the blood and being surprised at the wetness he felt there. “Oh,” was all he could say at the sight of his own blood. He looked up at her and panted, his breathing irregular as he addressed her. 

“Was that—“ he sucked in a sharp breath and winced, “—your full strength?”

She nodded, a sense of exhaustion she’d never felt before in her bones making her unable to verbalize her answer.

“See? I will be fine,” Steve explained, looking expectantly at Bucky. His friend looked skeptical but he just nodded tersely. 

“I am staying here,” Bucky replied, eyeing her and then Steve with a determined look. 

“I would expect nothing less,” Steve grinned.

—————-

She didn't speak for the next couple hours, annoyed that soon after being in agony, Steve was able to get up and move around, having recovered and regained his strength. He and Bucky left her in his quarters and only Steve returned a while later having shrunk to his smaller size, and carrying sustenance. He offered her a sizable amount of food and water and she accepted it gratefully.

Her fingers picked apart the dried meat and she watched him almost awestruck at the fact that he could move fluidly and with grace after having suffered the most intense pain she’d ever bestowed upon someone. Not even a hint of a grudge against her. Then he was gone again. 

The men came and went from his quarters at will and she realized that while he may be Captain in title, he hardly ever pulled rank and they all seemed to work on even footing. 

Eventually, the man called Bucky came and released her from the wall, readjusted her chains so she could lie down comfortably. He instructed her to lay on a covered straw mattress that the tall mustachioed man brought for her. She complied, grateful for a comfortable bed after a week of poor sleep. 

Bucky resecured her chains against the wall and was about to leave when she finally spoke. “Metal manipulation? Is that your grace?”

He eyed her, and he looked back at Dugan who was not looking at them but clearly able to hear their conversation. He reached and removed his glove.  Shiny metal fingers revealed themselves and he flexed them, making her gasp.

“You could say something like that,” he responded, the first smirk she had ever seen from him playing on his lips. Jones came to get Dugan and they walked out, cloaks billowing behind them. The door cracked shut and she startled as she felt a cold hand wrap around her forearm and squeeze. It was unpleasant, but not painful. She looked up at the man, whose face had darkened considerably in his friend's absence.

He stared at her with such an intensity that she flinched backwards, now afraid he might harm her. But he simply leaned close and spoke with such force that her blood ran cold, “If you ever hurt him again, I will kill you.” Her brown and green eyes stared into his black and silver and fear shuddered down her spine. 

“Understood,” she responded quietly. 

He nodded firmly and straightened up, walking out the door, following after the other men.

——————————

Chapter Text

Peggy had intended to stay awake until they’d returned so she could attempt to convince them that she really was on their side. But the energy she’d spent all day wore her out and the gentle lull of the ship rocked her to sleep. 

_____________________________

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I am.” 

“You’ll believe her on say-so?” 

“Yes,” the captain said with a sigh.

“But you can’t--” 

“I'm not going to behave as if I believe her. I’m just saying that I do.” 

“She stays chained.” 

“You say that like it stops her grace. She could have chosen to send it to you and I would have released her to get her to stop.” 

“That’s a horrid jest.” 

“That’s because it isn’t one.” 

“You could command her to stop. You could--” The man’s voice grew soft. “You could command her to tell the truth.” 

There’s a long pause and then a deep sigh, “I suppose that’s true. Would you believe her then?” 

A resigned sigh, “yes.” 

“Then we can do that when she wakes.” 

Peggy was so exhausted she wasn’t even sure she was awake at the moment. She was perfectly relaxed on the straw bed. Heart and breathing slow, mind in a haze. Perhaps she thought the voices were calling to her from the recesses of her exhausted mind, but no… they were real.

“Why didn’t you stop her from kicking you over?” 

“She caught me by surprise--” 

“Liar.” 

“I was,” the captain explained, “her grace held not only my body but mind in its grip. It was like swimming through tar. You felt it.” 

“True…” 

Of course it held the mind as well. That’s how she affected them with pain. She wasn’t causing real physical damage, it was all in their minds. But the mind was a powerful tool.

“I suppose I could have shifted and perhaps kept my bearings but in truth she did catch me off guard. While she’s definitely a threat I didn’t necessarily think she was a killer. If I had thought that…” his voice grew somber, “if she’d actually ended up hurting one of the men…” 

“I let her stay aboard undetected too,” Barnes responded quietly. “And she didn’t hurt any of them.” 

“Perhaps because she knew if one was found maimed or killed we would scour the boat and find her.” 

Barnes’ voice was light, “I thought you said you were the one who believed her.” 

A tired, “I believed Sitwell too.” 

Someone hissed and she was pretty sure it was Barnes, “don’t.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Bastard.” 

“Me or him?” 

“Shut up, Steve.” 

A soft sleepy chuckle emanated from the captain, “aye aye, sir.” 

“Get some rest.” 

And even sleepier, “aye aye, sir.” 

_____________________________

Peggy remembered the conversation when she woke up. And she felt a strange trepidation at being forced to tell the truth. If she wa smistaking these men for good… they could make her spill Reserve secrets that couldn’t be shared with the enemy. 

The man named Morita came in, set down a plate of fruit, cheese and bread. 

“Sleep well?” He asked. 

She looked up at him in surprise and nodded, “yes… thank you…” He seemed to be waiting for something, “and you?” 

He nodded, “sleep best at sea.” Then he crouched to match her level, “born graced, or gained?” 

She frowned, “what?” 

“Were you born graced? Or did you gain it?” 

“You can… gain a grace?” 

He nodded, “yes. It’s rare but it happens.” 

“I was born graced.” 

Then he sat, cross legged and stole a piece of cheese from her plate. She widened her eyes and began eating. Worried that if she didn’t, he would eat all her food. “When did you reach full strength? At the changing?” 

She scoffed in disbelief and then chuckled, “my you’re a curious one.” 

“Born that way,” he said in jest, then leant back against the Captain’s desk, “new graces fascinate me. And yours is quite impressive.” 

His kindness and humanity made her feel guilt. She rolled a grape between her fingers, “I’m sorry, you know… for causing you pain. I thought it necessary.” 

He shrugged, “it’s good to be reminded I’m vulnerable now and again. Sometimes us graced get comfortable. Then we get stabbed in the back.” He nabbed another piece of cheese and this time it made her smile. 

“I’ve never seen a crew quite like you gentlemen. If I couldn’t see with my own eyes I would assume you were blood.” 

He smiled, “that’s the captain’s doing. He somehow took a bunch of ruffians and made us a team.” 

She bit at her lip before looking back at him, “he… he said his grace was getting worse. Does that mean he wasn’t born with it?” 

The man raised an eyebrow at her, “shall I divulge crew secrets?” 

She frowned, “my apologies, I didn’t mean to pry.” 

Morita laughed and then waved his hand, I jest. No… No, the captain was different. He was born with the mark of the graced. His eyes dual shades but for many years no one knew what his grace was. I did not know him then, but I heard from Barnes who has known him his whole life, that Steve and his family waited many years before they knew what it was.” 

“Was it the shape shifting?” 

Morita grinned, “no. It was artistry.” 

Peggy frowned, “artisty?” 

Morita grinned and then stood up. He rifled through the captain’s desk which made her blink in surprise. Such an action with any other crew would be cause for execution. 

“Ah-ha!” Morita handed her a thick parchment. She gasped at it. The most lifelike rendering of a meadow. She could practically see the butterflies moving and the creek gurgling as it passed by. 

“THis is impossible--” she breathed out, “amazing.” 

He smiled, “Steve thought so too. He had many years of painting nd drawing that led him to be able to support himself and those he loved.” His face grew somber, “until Schmidt of course.” 

He held out his hand, and she handed back the parchment, almost sad to see it go. “What happened?” 

“Barnes grace… do you know what it is?” 

“Metal manipulation?” 

Morita nodded, “organic material manipulation, but yes, his specialty is pure metals. Well…” he sighed deeply, “Schmidt heard of his skills and demanded he work for him.” Her eyes widened, “of course he refused.”  Something dreadful curled in her gut. “But if you know about Schmidt… he does not like being told no. So in the middle of the night--” 

“No--” 

He nodded, “yes. Barnes was taken hostage and held at the castle, tortured until he obeyed.” 

She winced. How horrible…

“And Steve--” 

She looked up, “he fought to save his friend?” 

Morita nodded, “he stormed the castle with nothing but his father’s sword.”

She grinned, “and I’m sure commanding the guards to open the gates helped.” 

Morita’s face went somber. “No… no he didn’t have that grace then.” 

Her eyebrows drew together, “what do you mean?” 

“When he stormed the castle… he was his usual size. No great strength or fighting skills. He could wield a paintbrush better than a sword at that point.” 

“But then…” she could hear them walking above deck, “how?”

“When Steve’s invasion ultimately failed, and he was thrown into a cell--” she blinked, “one of Schmidt’s advisors came to him.” His face was thoughtful, “turns out that the man was a spy for the reserve, placed deep within Schmidt’s courts to try to help unseat him.” 

Her eyes widened in realization, “Erskine.” 

Morita raised an eyebrow, “you know of him?” 

“I do, he… the rumors that surround him are many.” 

“Yes… Well, they were true. Erskine’s grace was something unfathomable to most. He could lay hands on a person and change them. He allowed an old man to become a great black bear. He took a poor infant who had died and gave her new life as an oak tree that now stands over 100 feet tall. And he laid his hands on Steve--” they stopped as the door opened and Dugan popped his head in. 

“Got a messenger for you Morita.” 

“Just a minute.” 

Dugan left and he turned back to her. “He transformed Steve into a massive force to be reckoned with, but he was killed by the guards before the transformation was complete.” 

“Which is why he can shape shift back to his former size.” 

Morita nodded, standing up and brushing off his trousers, “the last words Erskine spoke to Steve were ‘speak power’.” The man sighed, “Steve doesn't know if that was what caused him to be able to command people or if perhaps it was part of Erskine’s original plan.” He shrugged, “either way. Steve rescued many prisoners that day--” he gestured to himself and then the deck above. 

“All of you?” 

Morita nodded, grabbing the now empty plate and cup, “and then--” 

The door opened and Barnes walked in, “Morita?” 

He grinned, “coming. Just grabbing the plates,” He winked at her and left. 

Peggy looked at the man who still regarded her with a slight suspicion, “thank you for the food.” 

“I didn’t elect to give it to you.” 

She stayed quiet. 

He left.

_________________________

She heard the sounds of the port. The cawing of the gulls and the yelling of the men on the docks. After a while, the door opened and Steve and Barnes walked in. 

She knew what was coming. 

Steve walked over, his smaller form crouching down to her height on the bed easily. Barnes stayed standing, hand on the dagger of his hip. 

“I’m going to command you to tell me the truth,” Steve told her bluntly. “That way we know if you are to be trusted.” 

She nodded, “alright.” 

Steve’s face went calm and his head tilted forward so his gaze was piercing hers. His blue eyes almost seemed to glow with the sunlight streaming in from the thick glass windows at the back of the ship. 

“Who do you serve?” 

“No one.” 

He grinned, “Alright. Where does your allegiance lie?” 

“The Reserve--” the word was pulled from her mouth. 

Steve’s eyes flicked to Barnes’ in an amused expression. Barnes rolled his eyes. 

“Who leads the Reserve?” 

“Phillips--” she said in a huff, not liking the way she had no control. 

“And who is your contact?”

“Stark.” 

Steve’s eyes widened and he turned to Barnes. They exchanged a glance. 

Steve turned slowly to her. “Who told you to board this ship?” 

“Stark sent out a summons to whatever agent of the Reserve he could reach.” 

Steve stood suddenly, “watch her! Don’t let anyone in--” he pointed at James, “do you understand?” Then he was out the door in a flash. 

She looked up in surprise, “what? What happened?” 

Barnes’ face was rigid, “our lines of communication have been compromised.” 

She heard commotion and then the sound of a cannon being fired. 

Wood and heat blasted past her and she hit the deck, covering her head as hot splinters shattered through the room. 

An almighty clap of thunder rolled over head and he heard the telltale sign of rain pouring down. 

Barnes couldn’t reach her with all the debris, but she heard a, “stay here!” shouted in her direction. Then he was gone. She looked at her chains in fright. As if she had any other option. 

Thankfully they had some length and he stood shakily, looking out the now gaping hole. And only had seconds to duck before the next cannonball obliterated where she stood. 

____________________________

Something was grabbing her. Roughly at first and then softer. She felt in a haze and then a soothing balm coated her insides making her relax and fall into unconsciousness.

_________________________

When she next awoke, she could tell they were sailing again. The sea breeze dragged her hair and she opened her eyes to see the holes in the sides of the ship and gaped at the way she could just jump into the open ocean from the captain’s quarters if she wanted. She briefly wondered how much damage the ship had taken. 

Which was when she realized she wasn’t chained any more. She rubbed at her wrists and looked around. Most of the debris of the ship had been cleared. The desk still stood fine and other than deep gauges in the floor, from where the cannonballs must have landed, she was able to cross the floor to the door easily. 

It creaked at her and she had the strangest impression of sneaking out of the cottage as a child to see the stars when her mother had told her to go to bed. 

She walked up the steps and out onto the deck where the men seemed hard at work. That’s when her eyes caught on Barnes, holding one of the cannonballs in his metal hand and scooping out a glob of it’s metal with his flesh hand, as if it was made of mud. 

“She wakes,” a friendly voice called. She turned to see MOrita with a bird in his palm. He let it flutter away and she nodded. 

“What happened?” 

“Schmidt’s crew was waiting for us at port,” Dugan responded, hauling the anchor chain with a show of amazing strength. 

“How?” 

“Schmidt.” 

She turned to see the Captain at the wheel of the ship on the high deck behind her. He was staring at a compass and clearly navigating them in some new direction. “When you told me about your summons from Stark--” he snagged the parchment with Schmidt’s royal seal on it, “I realized that that didn’t make sense. Why would Howard send you on a ship that was already under the Reserve’s control.” 

Her eyes widened, “Stark didn’t send me?” 

Steve nodded, “indeed. Take a look at this royal seal--” the parchment fluttered down to her, “this is no forgery. This is his real seal.” 

She stared at it in disbelief. Her mouth was still parted in surprise when she looked back up at him, “I can’t believe I didn’t see this.” 

He shook his head, snapping his compass closed and tilting the wheel just so, “it’s meant to look real. He’s been up to worse and worse tricks. He almost managed to get this artifact back.” 

She looked around the ship, “we managed to get away, I see.” 

“Thankfully the docks were high and therefore the cannonballs couldn’t perce our hull where it mattered. The damage will be fixed with--” Dugan jutted his fingers towards Barnes and Denier. 

“Organic matter,” she pointed to Barnes, “so you’re able to fix the wood and irons?” 

He nodded. She looked at Denier who grinned at her. His hand lit up in a blaze and she gaped, “you’re a fire grace?” 

He nodded, tossing a fireball in the air and catching it behind his back. 

“Denier,” Barnes grumbled, “come on.” She watched as Barnes held the metal in place, manipulating it into whatever shape he needed and the Denier lit it. Heating it and sealing it in place. 

“How’s the arm?” She looked up to see the capitan looking at her. 

She looked around and then he gestured to her. “Me?” she asked, “my arm?” 

“Told you,”  the man who spoke like her said. 

Steve nodded, “good.” 

She turned, “I don’t understand?” 

“You were burnt and scrapped heavily by the last blast,” the man said, his green and gray eyes staring at her, “I healed you.” 

“You’re a healer,” she said in awe, “such a rare grace.” 

He bowed, “names Monty. Are you from chatterson's village?” 

She grinned, “I am. And you?” 

He grinned, “the far side, closer to the water. But yes. I thought you sounded like home.” 

She smiled in return and looked at the entire crew. “A fire grace, healing, weather, strength and command, manipulation--” she pointed to Morita, “and you?” 

Morita raised his hand and made a sound. The next thing she knew, a bird was landing in his palm, fluttering as if to settle and rest. Morita petted it, scratching behind its neck and it cooed at him. Then he said something else she couldn't understand and it took flight. 

“You can speak to animals!” 

He grinned. 

She looked at all of them, “and you were all imprisoned by Schmidt because of these phenomenal graces…?” 

They all nodded somberly. “I see.” She turned to Steve, “since we didn’t make port, where are we headed now?” 

He looked down at her and seemed more serious than he had even when she was torturing him. 

“We’re headed for the Kingdom. His reign of terror ends now.” Then his eyes pierced hers again, “with your grace… we just might be able to win. Will you help us?” 

A smile spread on her lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”