Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The clouds hung in the air here, like hovering, grey gods that looked down upon a sombre little town with something almost foreboding. The town itself was sort of okay, Gillion supposed. It wasn’t anything like the great city across the sea where he grew up, All-Port. The shabby shacks with holes in their doors couldn’t hold a candle to the shining lights of a grand city at night. The city that Gillion loved to look at as a child, because it was a source of comfort in his otherwise very dark life.

Now, everything was dark.

It rained here a lot. It never rained back home. In the city, there was always a warm haze and the rumble of cars in a hurry to get somewhere, and people in a hurry to be something. Here, the only buzzing was cicadas and the itch under his skin to get up and do something, lest the boredom consume him whole. And he really feared that it would. 

Not that he particularly wanted to go outside, either. All-Port had its cold seasons, obviously, but the cold there was never like the cold here. Here, the wind got into his jacket and pierced his skin. Here, it was biting and made his cheeks hurt as the wind lashed him. He had to stare at the ground beneath him whenever they went out. Which really never happened, because he hated the feeling of the wind getting into his eyes, making them water. 

He supposed that he didn’t really even have a reason to hold his chin high anymore. The Tidestriders were no longer nobles. They were just… ordinary people. A few Tritons living in a coastal town, instead of the city known for their people, or even in the ocean. Gillion didn’t even have any memories of the Trench, if he was honest. When he was really bored, he’d try his hardest to conjure up any sort of image about his place of birth, but he never could. The only thing he could ever imagine was the things that Edyn described to him. She remembered a little bit; certainly more than him. 

The house creaked as the wind picked up, making Gillion wonder if a storm was coming in. It wouldn’t surprise him, considering how often it had already drizzled here. Nothing like a real storm, though. He wasn’t sure he'd ever been in a proper storm before, now that he thought about it. 

A glance through his bedroom window told him that the sky was darkening, and the trees were being tugged by the wind. Surely a storm, then. Maybe not a big one, but rain nonetheless. He hoped it didn’t interrupt whatever Edyn was doing. She was in town somewhere, probably exploring and making new friends, the way she always did. This must not be too much of a change for her, he realised suddenly. She’d always been less… involved than the rest of the family. While they went to all the important political discussions and helped run the city, upholding an ancient position within the court, Edyn had always been off on her own. She went to a regular school, and made regular friends. She was known as Edyn first and foremost, and as a Tidestrider secondarily. 

He was surprised when she followed them out here. She easily could have stayed in All-Port, living on her own and leading her regular life. Their exile didn’t even have anything to do with her. If she’d laid low, the Elders wouldn’t have had any reason to bother her.  And yet, she followed. She uprooted her life just to follow the parents she had little connection with and the brother she was forced away from for years. 

The days she spent with him the past month or so showed him how much she cared, though. Spending time with him seemed to be her way of telling him that she cared and wanted to be a part of his life, despite not seeing him for so long. 

It was appreciated. 

He expected that she was disappointed with who he turned out to be. Maybe that’s why she was out today, so that she didn’t feel trapped in this tiny house with a silent brother. It was just easier that way, to be silent. Easier not to piss people off, because people didn’t like hearing what he had to say when all he was supposed to be was a chosen one. He wasn’t chosen for his opinions, is what they would say. 

And now he wasn’t even chosen. 

It must not be any fun to hang out with him. There was a term for people like him, who held no joy and brought nothing of interest to the table. Something about sticks and mud. 

Speaking of, the branch of the tree next to Gillion’s window kept smacking into the house as the wind tousled it, and it was beginning to annoy him. He could go into another room of the house to avoid it, but he didn’t particularly want to accidentally run into one of his parents. Gods knew where they were, and it was entirely possible that they weren't even home, but he couldn’t be sure. 

Maybe he’d go out to the beach. It probably wasn’t the greatest idea, considering the storm rolling in, and the fact that no one knew where he’d be. On the other hand, he hadn’t been to the beach here yet. He’d gone all the time when they lived in All-Port, but there it was always crowded with people, humans and tritons alike. Here, he’d imagine that it would be very quiet, and void of all people. 

The branch knocked against his window again, and this time he flinched. A clock ticked loudly downstairs, and he suddenly became very aware of how suffocating it was in this room. The walls were bare, and the bed was nothing special, but it made his chest squeeze suddenly. 

It almost felt like the ocean called to him, and the storm made him restless. 

Sighing, he pushed himself off his bed to grab a jacket hung over the back of his desk chair. A backpack sat on his desk too, and he paused for a moment, looking at it. It didn’t have much in it, considering he didn’t have many things to begin with, but maybe he could find something to bring back. No, he’d leave it here for now. He wasn’t even sure what kind of things he could find that he’d want to keep. 

He didn’t really know how to want, let alone how to keep. 

He shoved the thought out of his head. A problem to think about another day, he decided. If it was even a problem at all. Maybe it was better that way; he wouldn’t get attached to things that he couldn’t have forever. 

Either way, he had all the time in the world to do nothing but think now. There was no training, or meetings, or diplomacy lessons. Just him, his thoughts, and the wind. 

Descending the stairs quickly, he listened for any sign of life within the house and found none. The steps creaked as he jogged down them, and no one stopped him as he stepped into the sitting room, the door staring at him from across it. He took a deep breath as he nodded and started towards the door. It opened without much effort, and no one popped out of the shadows to ask where he was going or for what purpose. The door shut behind him with ease, and the wind started pulling at his clothes and hair immediately. 

There wasn’t much to look at here, a few sparse bushes and trees dotting the landscape. He could see the town in the distance, down the hill their house was situated on and a little away from the ocean. The sand slipped under his feet as he wandered down the path that wove through brush. It split off halfway down the hill, one path going towards the town while the other ended at the beach. He followed the latter, turning his back to the town and letting the wind tug him ever closer to the sandy shore. 

One upside of moving here, he supposed, was how fresh the air was. In All-Port, one could always smell traffic, or people, or animals, or smoke, or a number of other smells. Here, the air smelled of the brush, and the ocean, and the storm brewing to the south, over the sea. Taking a deep breath of the cool air, he let himself smile slightly at the freshness of it all. 

Untouched. By people, at least. 

The wind picked up as he made his way down the hill towards the beach, arms out to catch him if he slipped. Something about the wind made him feel alive. He could imagine it whispering to him, before yelling full-force into his face as he grinned. He thought about what it might tell him- stories of adventures, and pirates from long ago, or a sister who was making friends elsewhere. Perhaps the wind would tell him of the future, or what-could-have-beens. For now, it just yelled at him, and tugged him closer to the waves that grew choppy as the wind picked up. 

Briefly, he wondered if he should even be out here, or if he should be inside, monotonously wondering about where his sister was, or what he might be doing had the family not been banished. 

The wind seemed to snatch that thought up, though. It carried it off into a distant direction, pulling with it any sense of fear he might have had. Not that he did. Training as the Chosen One beat any fear out of him a long time ago. 

There were rocks scattered across the beach, some of them no larger than pebbles, and others big enough for him to climb. There was a pile of them that stretched out, into the waves. A wave breaker. 

As he looked out across the sea, he wondered what lay beneath the waves. Discarded toys, maybe, or clothes that got whipped off drying lines. There were almost definitely bones buried there, of animals who died on shore, or fish in the area. Maybe there was treasure. Treasure dropped from a pirate ship or goods dropped from a settlers ship centuries ago. 

Settling down on the sand near a rock, Gillion tugged his jacket closer. The storm was moving in, and Gillion almost thought he could feel the beginnings of rain. 

The sound of the wind in his ears, and the waves crashing onto shore just a little ways down the sand, pushed out all of his thoughts. Leaving it empty, the sounds were almost soothing. He wondered briefly how much of it was simply in his nature as a Triton to take comfort in the sea. 

Carefully he laid down, hoping that he wouldn’t end up with too much sand in his hoodie later. There would definitely be sand in his hair, though. The sky above him drenched on for miles, blanketing the world in a darkish grey. It blocked out most light, and stared down at him, almost as if it were expecting something. Or perhaps it was just waiting for something to happen, watching carefully for a change. 

He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes, revelling in the sort of peace that he’d found here. Sound crashed all around him, and wind tugged at every inch of him, but in the midst of it all, his thoughts stopped, and he found a bit of reprieve.

What it was that he ran from, he didn’t know. But laying here, without a worry or thought of all that happened around him… it felt nice. 

He wasn’t sure when he’d last been able to truly relax like this. 

Relax so much that he found himself losing track of time as it passed around him. The wind continued to howl, but he’d reached such a state of calm emptiness that time didn’t seem to exist at all. It was almost like he’d entered a state of existence outside himself, outside of the real world, outside of time. He didn’t think about anything, he didn’t recognize anything going on around him, and he wasn’t even sure he was fully conscious. 

And he didn’t know how long he stayed like that. Until the wind died down- though, he couldn’t remember how long ago that was, he wasn’t paying attention. Until a voice sounded from nearby, and he recognized the feeling of being rocked. 

Cracking his eyes open, he noticed how much brighter it was now than it had been earlier. And there were- ropes? Above him? And there- a sail? 

A particularly strong rock made his eyes snap open all the way, and he took in the rest of his surroundings. Warm wood lay beneath him, and hundreds of ropes tied to masts and sails above him. If he looked out, through a railing made of the same wood that he laid on, he could see the ocean surrounding him. The sky above the sails and ropes was blue, and the sun beat down upon the ship.

Confusion choked his thoughts. He hadn’t fallen asleep on a boat, nor in the middle of the ocean. And he certainly hadn’t fallen asleep wearing a black, skin tight, sleeveless turtleneck and baggy blue pants. Navy blue, he noted, like the colour of the depths of the sea. 

The voice called out again, though this time, he processed the words fully, “Oi! I asked who you are.” 

Sitting up to turn around, Gillion was met with the image of a boy- probably 16 or 17, only a year or so younger than him- with scruffy brown hair and a freckled face. The boy wore a white shirt that laced closed at the collar, and tucked into black and grey striped pants that were torn at the cuffs. Scuffed and falling-apart brown boots protected his feet from the deck.  He eyed Gillion with a suspicious look, eyes squinted and lips set in a thin line. 

He continued talking when Gillion gave no response, “I’ve never seen you before, and I know everyone on this ship. What’s your name? Where’d you come from?” He didn’t even wait for Gillion to answer before rambling on some more, relaxing slightly from the suspicious expression. “I’m Chip. I was supposed to go find some potatoes for the cooks. Did you see a barrel around here?” He glanced around, squinting against the sun. Looking back at Gillion, he held out his hand to help him up. “Come on. You can help me find them.” 

Gillion blinked, trying to take in all of the words the boy threw at him. Clearly, this was some kind of strange dream that just felt a little too vivid, he thought. He wondered what had prompted this strange dream. 

Taking the offered hand and pulling himself up, he decided that maybe it could be fun to just go along with it. Sure, it wasn’t like he was making a real friend, but it might give him something new to think about when he woke up again. 

He wasn’t even sure he’d know how to make a friend, if this was real. 

But the boy, Chip, smiled and pulled him down a ladder into the ship. Chatting as he climbed, Chip kept pointing things out- the cannons on the gun deck, despite this being a merchant’s ship, and the ladder that descended further into the hull where food and stock was stored. Gillion didn’t speak at all, content to just listen to this strange dream-boy from another century. Then again, Chip didn’t seem to notice the one-sided conversation. 

What a strange dream. 

Chapter Text

“We stopped on an island a few days ago,” Chip pointed out, sitting on a barrel and kicking his feet idly. The mission to find potatoes had long since been abandoned when the boy found something new to focus on. “Did you sneak on then? I was a stowaway too, y’know.” The boy watched him with interest, the sort of sparkle in his eye that people get when they’ve stumbled across something new. “Hey, what is your name? We’ve been hanging out for like- half an hour and you never told me.” He levelled Gillion with an unimpressed look. 

It certainly hadn’t been half an hour, but Gillion found that something almost like amusement sparked in his chest. 

Gillion let out a breath of air. “Gillion Tidestrider.” He hesitated as he cut himself off there. The words hung awkwardly in the air, an unfinished feel about them. There were no extra titles anymore. His name wasn’t something he was entirely sure he should actually give out, considering he didn’t know where he was or why. He’d assumed this was some kind of strange dream, but the longer this went on, he almost wasn’t sure. Maybe it was triggered by the fact that he fell asleep on the beach, wondering about pirate treasure below the waves. 

But a tiny part of him wondered if he somehow did actually end up in the past, giving out his name could change the present. Or maybe he was thinking too hard about it.

“That’s an interesting name.” Chip started rambling off something about never having met a Triton before, and how cool it was. The bright sky framed the image of him, sitting atop the barrel with messy hair and a half grin plastered on his face. “Hey! Do you want me to show you around? I can introduce you to the crew, too. They’re all pretty cool. Except the captain and first mate. Well- they’re cool, they just probably wouldn’t be very happy about you being here.” 

Furrowing his eyebrows, Gillion tilted his head at the other boy. “Why not?” The idea of someone being unhappy about his presence made something uncomfortable settle in his chest. He’d never been shown anything but the utmost respect and excitement. That was simply how people had always addressed him, as the Chosen One.

Chip rocked his head from side to side, thinking. The boy was almost constantly moving, GIllion had noticed, especially when speaking. “Well- it’s just that she didn’t love the fact that she had a stowaway onboard when I first came here. She’s super nice, but she’s under a lot of pressure right now, and I don’t wanna stress her out.”  The boy smiled at him. “Don’t worry, everyone is pretty nice here. Mostly you just have to worry about running into the Navy. We’re not doing anything bad, but they like to storm onto the ship and look around anyway. They’re jerks.” 

Raising his eyebrows, Gillion tittered. Chip grinned at the half suppressed laugh and kept going, something in his eye sparkling. “Especially Ferins. They’re the worst. They’re stuck up and think they’re better than everyone.” He hopped off the barrel and began strutting around with his nose in the air. 

This time, Gillion laughed, something lighthearted filling his chest. He’d never really made a friend before, let alone experienced anything remotely similar to this- with or without the extra part about being on a 1600s merchant ship. Which- he wasn’t actually sure he could name as such. He didn’t know very much about nautical history, but it certainly seemed old. Regardless, something immensely happy filled his blood, and he couldn’t recall the feeling spreading in his gut before now. He couldn’t even attempt to call it familiar. It was anything but that. It was-

Foreign. 

But welcomed. Gillion couldn’t imagine not welcoming such a nice feeling. 

Chip had stopped his humorous impersonation and was now just smiling. He offered a hand to help Gillion up as he said, “Come on, I’ll show you around some more.” He pulled Gillion down the steps from a raised area of the ship. He explained as they walked, “That was the quarterdeck, if you didn’t know. It’s above the captain’s quarters, and most captains spend their time up there, commanding people. Our captain is busy in her cabin right now, though. She’s got a lot going on.” 

“What’s her name?” GIllion asked, noting the way Chip hadn’t let go of his hand. 

“Captain Kira. Commander of the fluyt ship, Asphodel . We’ve got a cargo full of things to sell in the Americas.” He grinned. He continued pointing out different parts of the ship, naming them and describing their uses to Gillion. After a few minutes of talking about the ship, Chip led them to the side of the ship, where a grid of rope was tied between the gunwale and the yards- the poles that held up the sails, Chip explained. “The ratlines are my favourite part of the ship. They’re kind of dangerous if you fall, so you have to hold on tight. They’re made so that crew members can climb up into the masts and make sure everything is still tied securely and whatnot. They’re also just fun. And not many people go up there unless they absolutely have to, which makes it a great spot to just sort of hang out without other people.”

Grabbing part of the rope, Chip began climbing up, pausing for a moment to gesture for Gillion to follow. Climbing the rope was a little disorienting, but after a few minutes of struggling to balance and get a hold on the ratlines, he steadied out and it became a little easier. It wasn’t difficult to pull himself up the ropes, considering how strong he’d become from his training. This, however, required a different sort of skill set than what swordplay had given him. Chip glanced down at him with an almost proud smile, and it made Gillion’s stomach do a little flip. He wasn’t used to friends, and he was much less used to people looking at him like he was doing something well. No one looked at him and held something like pride in their expression, only ever respect. Or in the Elders’ case; disappointment.

And yet here he was, pulling himself up onto the circular platform of the bird's nest with a boy that watched him with a smile and pride in his eyes, just because he’d done something sort of hard. Balancing was a tricky thing, but Chip kept his arm out to catch him, just in case. They sat on the platform, their legs dangling over the edge and the main sail to their back. Ropes were tied around them, both from the shrouds they’d just climbed up, and the ropes that created a sort of fence around the nest, made up of more ratlines that ended at the very top of the mast where the sail was tied. 

They looked out over the ocean together, watching the trail the ship made in the sea. Chip pointed out a few more parts of the ship, once again naming and describing them. A few crew members appeared on deck, and Chip promised to introduce them when they climbed back down. 

Gillion closed his eyes, and let Chip’s words surround him as the wind tugged on the clothes he’d woken up in. The shirt obviously didn’t move much, the soft fabric fitted to his skin. The baggy pants, however, moved with the wind and attempted to snatch his ankles away. Looking down at his clothing, and taking some of the fabric between his fingers, he noted that it was soft, but not stretchy. And while it seemed slightly more accurate for the 1600s than, say, a t-shirt and jeans, it didn’t really seem like something sailors would wear either. 

He wasn’t exactly an expert on 1600s fashion for seamen. 

Briefly, he wondered what Undersea fashion looked like during the time period. Perhaps his clothing fit that more than what Chip wore. 

“You should tell me about yourself,” Chip’s words interrupted his thoughts. “If we’re going to be sailing together for a while longer, then we ought to get to know one another.” He smiled before glancing out to the sea. “The port from a few days ago was the last stop we’d make before crossing the ocean. So, you’re stuck here for a month or two while we cross. Unless you wanna hop overboard and swim down to a Triton settlement. But I don’t know where any of those are.” 

Laughing quietly, Gillion shrugged. “I suppose that a risk you take when boarding an unknown ship is being stuck on it for weeks.” At least, that sounded like something that would make sense in this context. He didn’t know how to lie, and while that wasn’t really a lie, he wasn’t sure what he’d do when he needed to when Chip started asking questions about his past. “There isn’t much to tell about me.”

Chip snorted. “Surely not. Everyone has some kind of story to tell.”

They sat in silence as Chip’s words settled. After a moment, he said, “I guess I’m the only one without, then.” It still wasn’t really a lie. He had a story, of course, one of being chosen and trained, but it wasn’t one worth telling anymore. 

Something about the words made Chip glance back at him, his brows creased with something like pity. “Even I have a story, and I was always told that I wasn’t much of anyone. Just another face in the crowd to be forgotten. But it’s still a story.”

So, Gillion deflected. “Tell me about it.”

A simple request that had Chip’s lips tightening and his eyes unfocusing as he thought. Gillion knew what he was doing. He wasn’t exactly good with his words, but a large part of his training was reading people to determine whether or not they were a threat. Determining what their weaknesses were came with that, and Chip seemed like the type to be more than happy to share about himself when given the opportunity. If anything, the boy almost leaped at any opportunity to speak. 

Gillion wondered at the implications of that, what might have made Chip the way he was. 

“Well, I never knew my family,” Chip began, and Gillion found himself watching Chip out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know where I come from or why. All I know is that for as long as I can remember, I’ve been on the streets. I’d steal food from shops, or sometimes someone would take pity on me. Never enough to give me a home, though, only ever enough to feed me for a night before turning around and calling me a rat.”

Gillion wondered what that felt like, to be looked upon with nothing but disdain. He wondered what such a nickname would do to him, how it would make him feel. Realising suddenly how opposite they were in the way they were raised, Gillion felt a pang of something in his chest. It wasn’t exactly pity, but it was painful, and it made him slip back into the mindset of wanting to do nothing but protect. Only this time, that protection was directed towards a singular entity, and that was new. Glancing over, he wanted to protect this scruffy sailor boy who lived in a different time.  

The other didn’t seem to notice, and he didn’t even seem to have much sadness on his face. Under a carefully crafted mask, GIllion could see it, but he was trained to see such things- gaps in armour. To any other person, it wouldn’t look like Chip even cared about the story he told. “I’ve always been a rat. Street rat, they called me. I didn’t know what else to be.” Chip shifted, looking down and playing with his fingers to distract from what Gillion imagined to be painful memories. The mask around his emotions weakened slightly, and GIllion could tell that these were emotions that were meant to be seen. “I used to sleep on the docks, when I was really little. Some boys found me there, a couple years older than me. They were mean, until the leader told them to stop. He gave me my name, Chip. ‘Cause I couldn’t say ‘ship’ right, even though I lived in the docks right alongside them.” Pausing, Chip glanced at Gillion, maybe to gauge a reaction, maybe to look for something. Whether he found it or not, Gillion wasn’t sure.

Continuing, Chip looked back out across the sea, “His name was Rueben, and he led a small gang of kids like us. Kids without a home. He took me in, and for a while, it was nice. I finally had someone, in a sense. It’s not like I had much elsewhere to go. So, I ran with them for a while. Stole stuff, made friends, learned things from the others. Then-” he cut himself off. “I don’t know if you want to hear this part.”

And for some reason, Gillion did. Maybe it was because he was intrigued by this dream-boy who had an awful life. Maybe it was the morbid fascination of a boy who’d never had to worry about the things Chip did. 

He had himself wondering if any of this was real once again. 

Reaching across the space, Gillion rested a hand on Chip’s shoulder. Speaking softly, he said, “If you would rather not talk about it, then don’t. But, if you will tell me, I want to know.”

Chip sucked in a breath, and a ghost of a smile pulled at his lips. Glancing at Gillion, he smiled as he let the breath out, emotion swimming in his eyes. “Sure.” He looked back out, his expression dropping. “About a year ago, they asked me to do something awful. They said it’s what would make me a man, but I- I couldn’t do it. They handed me a knife and I could already imagine the blood all over it, all over my hands. I almost threw up. Reuben got mad, said I was being weak. So he took the knife and did it for me.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Gillion could almost imagine it: a slightly younger Chip, clutching a knife and shaking because he couldn’t do what was asked of him. 

“She was barely a year younger than me,” he whispered, and the reality of it sank in for Gillion. 

Chip wasn’t just asked to kill. He was asked to kill someone.

Something heavy settled in GIllion’s stomach when he compared the experience to his own. Had the Elders given him a weapon, put someone in front of him, and told him that they were an enemy… He didn’t want to think about how wordlessly he would have obeyed. 

“Maybe I am weak.” A quiet laugh escaped Chip as he reached up to stop a tear before it could form. 

“No,” Gillion responded, still imagining what it would be like if the Elders gave him that command. “I think it makes you strong. You upheld your morals, despite being asked by someone you trusted to abandon them. Not many would do that, and that in and of itself makes you courageous.”

Smiling slightly, scepticism in his eyes, Chip said, “I dunno. Didn’t feel that courageous when I was boarding a merchant’s ship the next day, not a word said to Rueben and only a couple coins to my name. I prayed the crew wouldn’t kill me when they found me. It’s a good thing the ship I boarded was this one, and Captain Kira won’t kill kids.” 

After another moment, he added, “Felt more like I was running away.”

“From a bad place,” Gillion corrected. “You were right to leave.”

Chip relented after a moment of them just staring at each other. “Thanks.”

The ship dipped under them as they sat together, silence in the air. Gillion pictured it as best he could, Chip stalking onto the docks at night and picking a ship at random to hide in, hoping that it would take him far from the people who asked too much of him. 

“Why did you choose this ship? Instead of the others that probably also lined the docks.” The words held no accusations or anything that could be misinterpreted. They were genuine, born from Gillion wanting to know more about the boy whose company he found himself in. 

Chip shrugged. “The city I lived in had a huge port, there were always a ton of ships. It was random, at first, I just picked a dock and looked at all the ships there. This one looked wealthier than a pirate’s ship, but poorer than a king’s ship. I figured that would be my best bet if I didn’t want to get shot.” He paused before scowling. “I liked the name, too. Asphodels are flowers that come from a place farther south than where I grew up. Most ships are named something strong, or an actual name. I’d never seen one named after a flower before. I guess I’d rather be on a ship named Asphodel than something like The Prince .’

Gillion hummed. He supposed that made sense. Were it him, he didn’t think he’d choose a ship with that ostentatious of a name either. Unless there was a ship called Champion . He’d probably board that one, seeking comfort in the familiar title. A part of him missed it, and he wasn’t sure he’d even learn not to. 

Thinking of it now, he lost himself in memories of being taught how to hold a sword, how to swing it, how to greet people with a formality that went out of style centuries ago. He never really considered that sort of formality necessary in the 1980s. 

Maybe it’d be necessary in this time period. Whenever this was, that is.  

Chip must have sensed how he was thinking about his past, because he got a mischievous grin and said, “So you’re really telling me that in all the years you’ve been alive, you don’t have a single story to tell?”

Shrugging, Gillion tried to think of absolutely anything that he could tell Chip. In reality, he could probably say most of it, as long as it was altered slightly for the time period. “It is not really one I’d like to tell.”

“Oh.” The word came out softly, and a part of Gillion almost wanted to tell the other everything. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he was ready to drag out the story about who he’d been but no longer was. That was the part that hurt the most. “That’s okay,” Chip added after a moment. “There are a lot of people who are running from their past. And a lot of them end up here, on ships. That’s technically why I’m here, too.”

Silence descended over them once more, and while Gillion was usually perfectly fine with silence, this one made him want to break it. 

He didn’t.

Chip did, though. “Not very many people know what Rueben asked me to do. Captain Kira knows, but that’s about it. And now you know, too.” Chip smiled as he looked over at Gillion.

It felt a little like an offering. As if Chip were telling him this with the hopes that they could be friends. He didn’t seem like he’d ever had many friends, and the ones he did have didn’t seem like the greatest of people. 

And Gillion? Well, he’d never had a friend before. He didn’t really think he’d mind having one. 

For just a moment, they watched each other, both feeling a connection forming. For just a moment, they were nothing more than two lonely souls that happened to cross paths.

Gillion knew how unlikely it was. How impossible it was, given that this was real. He was starting to believe it, because he’d never had a dream that felt this real. No detail faltered the way they usually did in dreams, and he didn’t know how his mind could have conjured up such an intricate ship without ever having seen one like this in real life. 

He didn’t know how his mind could have conjured up Chip, either. 

Besides, he didn’t want to think about how upsetting it would be to make his first friend only to learn that he was never real in the first place.

And then the moment passed and Chip was glancing down at the deck and grinning. He took hold of some ropes and swung himself back onto the ratlines. Glancing back up at Gillion, he said, “Come on. I think you’ll like to meet Caspian. And the rest of the crew, too, but Caspian especially.” The boy continued climbing down, pausing every once in a while to glance up and make sure Gillion was following. 

He was, albeit unsteadily. He found that climbing up was somehow easier than climbing down. The rope shook under him and his hands hurt from how tightly he was gripping them. When he did manage to climb all the way down, he dropped onto the deck next to Chip, who grinned at him proudly. 

“Most people struggle a little more with the ratlines than that, especially on their first go-around.” The boy’s eyes were bright with pride as he said the words, making Gillion blink at him, that same unfamiliar spreading through him. Chip showed his pride unabashedly, and it made Gillion wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that look more often.

The moment was over in a moment as Chip glanced away and called out to a figure across the deck, “Caspian!”

Gillion refused to let himself be upset at the loss of the moment. Reasoning that it was just a small moment that didn’t mean much, he brushed it off and turned towards the figure.

The figure in question was a white haired water genasi that carried a bundle of ropes. He turned to the two of them with a bright smile that faltered when he saw Gillion. He paused in his stride to set the ropes down on a nearby barrel and turned towards the pair, a smile on his face. 

“Chip,” he smiled as he came to a stop next to them. “I see you have a new friend.”

Nodding, Chip said, “I found a stowaway.” He sounded incredibly proud of himself, beaming at the man. 

Caspian- Gillion had gathered was his name- stood almost a foot taller than Gillion, and quite a few inches taller than Chip.  He was a few years older than the two of them; 22 or 23, if Gillion had to guess. A blue vest was clasped over his white poet’s shirt, intricate embroidery reminding Gillion of the ocean waves. The vest looked well made and decorative enough that Gillion almost wondered if it was average pirate attire, or if Caspian had come from a place of higher standing. Black pants were rolled up over boots, and Gillion could easily see someone wearing an outfit like this to one of those festivals in his own time where people dress up in historical clothing. 

A part of him wanted to go to a festival like that, now that he didn’t have Champion duties to attend to. Perhaps it’d be fun. 

The genasi’s white hair was slicked back, and pulled into a messy ponytail with a ribbon, half of it falling loose despite the attempt to keep it out of his face. His pale blue skin almost seemed to be damp despite the breeze that picked up as the ship sailed. 

“Caspian, meet Gillion Tidestrider. Gillion, meet Caspian.” Chip grinned as he gestured between the two of them. 

When Chip said Gillion’s name, Caspian’s eyebrow twitched and his eyes widened for just a moment. Gillion realised that maybe the thing that the Elders always talked about, his family name stretching back for centuries as triton nobility, was something he should have thought about. But, again, this was all probably, maybe just a dream. 

Regardless of the expression Caspian wore for just a moment, he stuck out a hand in greeting. Black tattoos curled around Capian’s arms from where his shirt ended in rolls at his elbows. Something knowing and solemn crossed Caspian’s face as he said, “Tidestrider? Say, what is a Champion doing stowing away on a ship like Asphodel ?”

It made Gillion shiver. Casting his eyes down, he knew that the Elders would have scolded him for such a display of vulnerability, but then again- “Champion no longer.”

Caspian sucked in a breath. “Ah. My apologies, friend. I haven’t been to the Trench to overhear recent politics in years. Forgive me.” Gillion just shrugged, trying very hard not to shrink in on himself.

The man seemed genuine enough, but a part of Gillion couldn’t help but let his posture drop just a little bit. He missed being Champion, and commanding respect without asking for it. But then he glanced back towards Caspian, and realised that the man’s welcoming attitude hadn’t changed. 

“I look forward to sailing with you, Tidestrider.” Gillion just gave him a smile in return, unsure how exactly to respond. Then, Caspian nodded towards Chip, picked up his ropes again and left to resume whatever task he’d paused to speak to the boys.

When Chip turned to him with a bright grin, something in Gillion’s chest warmed. He could see the unbridled curiosity that the boy held for the interaction, but he didn;t speak about it, just taking Gillion’s hand against and dragging him to introduce the rest of the crew. 

The warmth never left his chest for as long as Chip kept glancing at him with little smiles and introducing him brightly to other sailors. 

Maybe friendship felt a little like warmth, maybe that’s what spread through him the more he spent time with Chip. 

Chapter Text

Light flooded his vision as he opened his eyes. Sand shifted underneath him, and a light breeze tousled his hair. Around him, the sand was damp, and the sound of waves crashed to greet him. Taking a deep breath, Gillion could smell the ocean, and it washed over him with something calming. And then his sister’s face was blocking out his vision. 

“Oh, thank Gods you’re okay.” She kneeled down next to him, her eyebrows pinched in worry. “You haven’t been home in hours, and since this is such a new place- Mother and I were worried sick,” she scolded. 

Trying not to laugh at the idea of their mother being worried about him, Gillion sat up slowly. Glancing around, a storm retreated in the distance. That explained the damp sand, considering how far he was from the ocean. Oh, and his clothes were a little wet too, not that he minded much. Brushing off the sand, Edyn moved to help, and then grabbed his shoulders tightly. 

“Don’t do that again,” She said, something intense in her eyes. “I was worried something happened- and I know this has been a really big change for you, and that you aren’t good with big changes, and I-” She cut herself off as her voice cracked. “I don’t know what I would do if you did something stupid.”

Oh.

As he stood, he took in the full weight of the emotion within his sister’s eyes. It’d been obvious to him for a while now that Edyn cared. If she hadn’t, then she wouldn’t have moved with the family to the town. The words, however, solidified the idea that she cared about him. 

They’d never really been allowed to spend time together, especially after the Elders deemed Edyn a harmful distraction that could influence or contaminate his beliefs. Because of this, Gillion had never gotten the chance to grow close with his sister, but it seemed that she cared very deeply for him despite it. He shrank slightly under the weight of her gaze, feeling the disappointment just as heavily as he’d felt it when he still trained with the Elders. 

Edyn sighed when he didn’t respond and gestured up the hill towards the house. “Come on.”

Nodding, Gillion followed behind her. They didn’t speak as they climbed, and Gillion kept glancing over his shoulder back towards the stormy beach. Each time, it was just as empty as they left it, but for some reason he kept expecting something to have changed. 

He could almost imagine a boy with a bright smile and brown hair standing there. 

They got back into the house, shutting the door to keep the wind that tugged their hair out. Edyn glanced at him, opening her mouth to say something before stopping herself, biting her lip with an almost pained expression before taking off her shoes and leaving the room without a word. He watched as she left, not moving from his own place. 

Gillion let his own shoes drop next to the door in a little puddle of water that his jacket had dripped onto the floor from the storm. He didn’t really know how to feel, or what to do, so he just stood there for a moment, listening to the hollow sound of the wind howling against their walls.  He thought of the bright blue sky, and sun-warmed planks. He thought of Chip. Now, he was almost certain that it’d just been a dream. A vivid one, but a dream nonetheless. How he’d managed to sleep in the middle of the storm was beyond him, and he didn’t plan on thinking about that or its implications anytime soon. 

Biting his lip and glancing out the window towards the sea for the last time, he moved through the house towards a room he’d not spent much time in. The house wasn’t large, but it was bigger than the Tidestriders needed. It came with furnishings and everything they might need beyond food when they got here, and that included a room full to the brim with books. 

He stood in the entrance, scanning the many shelves all squished together in the small room. Most of them didn’t match one another, built from different woods or standing at different heights with different numbers of shelves. The one thing that every bookcase had in common, though, was how bursting they were with books. All different sorts lined the shelves and were stacked upon each other where space ran out. Dust covered everything, and for a moment, he wondered if either of his parents or Edyn had been in here yet. 

His footsteps made floorboards creak as he entered the room carefully. Gently, he reached out to the spines of the books that lined the nearest shelf. Worn covers and bright titles were all nestled together, and Gillion couldn’t figure out how they were organised- or if they were at all. As he scanned the titles, he wondered who these books had once belonged to. Surely the previous owner of the house, he assumed, but he wondered who they were. All of the books seemed to have been read at least once, ranging from bright covers and pristine pages that may have only been read once, to old and well worn books with yellowing pages and clearly loved stories. 

He started to grasp the organisation system, different genres lining different cases. Although, it was clear that no one had organised in a very long time, and many of the books were out of place. He’d found a place for one book before realising just how long it would take to move all of these books around. 

He ended up putting that book back where he found it. It felt wrong to move anything from its original place, as if he’d be disturbing a ghost or something. He felt as though he was intruding on something sacred, something loved and not meant for his presence. 

Which made him feel a little silly, considering he lived here now, and not the booklover that once had. 

He wondered what happened to them. And why they left all this here. 

Strangely enough, he wondered just how many ghosts lay at rest in this town, and how many he was disturbing by being here. He wondered if Chip was one of those ghosts, making him dream about a boy long dead as a way to prove that he still held influence over the mortal world. Gillion wondered if he even believed in ghosts. 

There was never time to think about the supernatural when he was training to be the Chosen One. He’d heard stories from long ago about races of people that had magic flowing through their blood, but now, all of the magic had dried up. Maybe it disappeared, or maybe people stopped caring about it enough to use it, making it disappear. 

As he thought, he trailed his fingertips over spines of forgotten books. A few titles jumped out at him and he would pull the book out to leaf through the pages. It never took long before he put it back. He’d hadn’t really come here to read afterall. Wasting time browsing books but never settling down with one seemed a little more appealing. He didn’t want to commit to something just yet.

Then, after he’d been wandering for enough time that the wind had calmed and the storm no longer rattled the windows, he found himself hovering over a book, his fingertips barely a breath away from an old, worn spine. The title wasn’t all that eye-catching, just a textbook about something he’d have no interest in until his dream. But now, his eyes caught on a single word within the title. 

Fluyts . He reread the title, barely committing something about “ ships from the 1600s” to memory before pulling the book off the shelf and opening it. There, on the first page he’d opened to, was a sketch of a small ship that looked almost identical to Asphodel . Chip had even called the ship a fluyt, hadn’t he?

Gillion knew nothing about this sort of thing, so how his dream managed to get the right word for something like this, he wasn’t sure. He flipped back to the front of the book, scanning over the table of contents. The book itself seemed to be straight from where these ships had originally been built, perhaps translated and published a number of different times. 

He read about the ships for a moment before pausing his reading to glance up around the room. His eyes settled on a seat built into the wall under a window, covered in blankets and pillows that Gillion was surprised weren’t moth-eaten. 

Settling there, he resumed his reading. The book explained different parts of the ships, as well as what they were used for and how many set sail in different decades of the 15th century. In the back, there was a list of every fluyt ship to set sail on their maiden voyages and the year they set sail. 

Scanning the names quickly, his eyes landed on a word near the beginning of the list, nestled together with other names beginning with the first letter of the alphabet. 

Asphodel, 1682

So it was real. In some format, at least. Maybe it wasn’t the exact ship that Gillion dreamed about, but there was a fluyt called Asphodel that set sail in the 1680s. 

302 years ago. 

He didn’t really know how to feel about this find. It was certainly interesting, but a heavy part of his chest couldn’t bring itself to feel all that deeply about it. Maybe there was a small spark of something like hope in his chest before something melancholic quickly squashed it.

The index didn’t mention the ship beyond the list he’d already found it in, telling him that Asphodel appeared nowhere else in the book. There was no other information that this book had to yield GIllion about his dream ship, but he found himself reading a few other sections anyway, purely out of interest. 

By the time he shut the book and found its place back on the shelf, he glanced out the window. The sky was nearly dark, and he wondered what time it was, and how long ago he’d fallen asleep on the beach. 

The quiet sound of movement startled him as he looked towards the door, a light down the hallway telling him that someone was in the kitchen. 

Carefully closing the door to the library after him, he padded down the hall and paused at the entrance to the lit room. His mother stood at the counter, fretting over something. Various things were scattered across the counter space; a box of uncooked noodles, jars of sauce, and a few other items. 

“Mother?” He asked carefully, trying not to startle her. 

She jumped slightly regardless. Turning, she put a hand over her heart. “Gillion, sweetheart you scared me.” She smiled at him. “I was just about to make some dinner-” cutting herself off, she gestured to the different things she’d pulled out and the book that rested open in front of her. 

Seeing her like this sent something uncomfortable through him. He wasn’t used to spending time with his family, let alone discussing something domestic like dinner. He wasn’t even sure his mother could cook. They stared at each other for a moment before Gillion nodded, something unsure in his expression. His teeth worried at his bottom lip as he took a hesitant step further into the room. “Where is Edyn? And Father.”

Blowing air out of her mouth in a sigh, Falyn brushed her hair back and let her shoulders drop slightly. “I believe Edyn is in her room, and your father hasn’t stopped reading a book that Edyn found for him while she was in town. Something about plants that are native to this area.” A crease in her eyebrow told Gillion that she was worried about something, even though he didn’t really know her well enough to be able to know what exactly it was. 

Hesitantly, he made his way to a little table in the corner, across the kitchen from his mother. When he sat, she smiled softly at him. A part of him wondered what sort of relationship they’d have had he been allowed to spend more time with her as a child. He wondered how his entire family’s dynamic might be different. 

It was then that he realised very suddenly that the Tidestriders didn’t know how to be a family. Falyn and Reed had both been busy in Gillion’s and Edyn childhoods, letting government nannies care for them until the Elder’s took over Gillion’s care. Neither of them really knew how to be parents. Gillion was sure that Edyn was the most normal out of all of them, maybe followed by their father, but even Reed tended to be more of a recluse. He didn’t seem like he knew how to be social, let alone how to spend time with his children. 

Something sad softened Falyn’s expression, almost as if she could sense her son’s thoughts. She came to sit next to him at the table, abandoning her previous task. The seat she chose was next to him, but far enough away that they were comfortably not in each other’s space. Settling her hands in her lap, she looked at him. “How are you handling the move? I know it’s a big change- for you especially, and I- I don’t know, I suppose we’ve haven't really spoken since coming here. I know this sort of thing can be a lot.” She neglected to mention that they’d rarely talked before the move either. 

Shrugging, Gillion glanced down at the table and played with the cloth covering it, an old thing with a floral design printed into its yellowing canvas. He let himself think about it: how different his life was now and how he didn’t know how to feel about it. “I don’t really know. It’s weird.” was all he said. What was there to say? He wasn’t exactly happy to no longer be Chosen, but he wasn’t upset about the idea that he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore either. He supposed he hadn’t formed an opinion about this place yet either. 

Falyn sighed. “That’s understandable. I suppose it may be a bit too early to have properly formed an opinion? It’s only been a few days, after all, and-” She cut herself off. “Maybe you should go out tomorrow? Go into the town and see if you can make some friends? I know that sort of thing has never been easy for you, and you weren’t ever given the space to- well-” she cut herself off again with a grimace. Gillion watched as she struggled over her words, a foreign feeling making him shrink slightly as she tried getting her words out. “I just think it would be good for you. To have some friends, that is. You weren’t ever allowed the space to be a child, and to have friends, and I understand that it’s partly my own doing, but- You deserve to have a semblance of a real childhood, even if you’re not really a child for much longer.” She finished with an unsure smile that seemed like it was trying very hard to be brave. 

For a moment, Gillion was struck by the unfamiliarity of it all. His mother had never been cruel to him, she just never seemed to have the time for him. So, to see her so genuinely trying - well, it threw him off. He wasn’t used to people making an effort for his benefit. 

He could see all the pain and past mistakes that kept trying to get in the way of his mother’s expression, but beneath it all, he could see that she cared. At the very least, she was attempting to make up for the years of taking his childhood and not having time for him. In some strange, twisted way, he did appreciate it. Strange and twisted because he didn’t know how to appreciate this sort of thing.

It was all so foreign .

Tentatively, she reached a hand out to rest it over his own. When he almost flinched back, she bit her lip in a frown and her eyebrows pinched in a pained expression. She cleared the expression with a breath. “You deserve better than what you’ve been given. I think that maybe making friends will help with the transition. Maybe you and Edyn could spend more time together, as well? I know how dearly she cares for you, and how much she’s missed you over the years as your training occupied you.” Offering another supportive smile, Falyn squeezed his hand gently. “And if you need anything, please ask. I know that isn’t a precedent that’s ever been set before, but with the move- I think it’s time for a change in our family as well.” He could see in her expression how badly she wanted to try to just be a family. 

Perhaps a completely fresh start, both in terms of his own life and his relationship to his family, could be worth the effort. Still, he was hesitant. He’d never really been shown a reason to trust that his parents cared, and even then, he didn’t know how to be a son or a brother. Falyn must have understood his hesitation, because after a moment, she backed off. Leaving him to his space, she stood up with a nod and returned to the open book on the counter. 

Gillion let himself sink into the silence for a moment, thinking. He supposed that going into town wouldn’t be an awful idea. He had no idea how to even begin to make friends, but at the very least, he could familiarise himself with his new environment. Plus, maybe he could look into the town library. If he had happened to find a book that mentioned Asphodel in a private library, more information could be found publicly. 

Quietly, he spoke up, “I will go into town tomorrow.” Falyn glanced back with a smile, and he saw that she understood what he meant. 

I will take this tiny step to try.

Because at the end of the day, he wasn’t sure that they could ever really be a normal family, or even really be a family . But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try, and it was the very first, little step that really mattered. 

–

Clouds filled the sky again, although this time not indicating a storm. It was simply dark. The trail towards the town was more well-defined than the one he’d taken to the beach, and Gillion found himself staring at the sand as it shifted to pebbles and imagined his sister walking along this path yesterday. He’d never been quite like her, but she was good at making friends, so maybe he could try adopting one of her skills.

His mother’s mention of friends helping with the transition fascinated him. If you weren’t to count Chip, which Gillion didn’t, he hadn’t ever made a friend before. Speaking of his mother, last night he’d sat with her while she made food. Then, he’d brought his plate up to his room and considered his dream. He thought about it for so long that he stared at his ceiling well into the night, and ran through the memory of it multiple times until he practically had Chip’s every word memorised.

The reason he wanted to go to the library, though, was mostly because of the fluyt book he’d found. If Asphodel had truly existed, then maybe he could somehow learn more about it. Or the captain, Kira. He’d take anything. 

At this point, he wasn’t sure how to think of anything but the dream. It’d taken over most of his waking thoughts as he wondered exactly what it was. He had three running theories. The first was just that it was a strange dream that coincidentally lined up with a real ship. The second theory involved time travel, and he wasn’t sure how much he really believed that. In everything ever discussed about time travel, there was always a machine and a mad genius. He was just a kid that fell asleep on a beach, no machine in sight. His third theory was that he had somehow gotten some sort of strange, reverse prophetic dream, and was somehow seeing into the past. 

When he stopped to actually think about these theories, none of them really held up to what he knew of the world. Time travel didn’t exist, and magic didn’t exist to give him prophetic dreams, either. Or maybe it had at some point, but Gillion wasn’t really up for that debate. Either way, it didn’t exist anymore.

So in all reality, the theory that made the most sense was just that everything was a coincidence and it was just a weird dream. A weirdly realistic one, at that. Which really only served to confuse him more. 

If he managed to find a book at the library that mentioned the Asphodel , maybe he could rule it out as the ship from his dream, and then he could rest easily knowing that his dream held no significance and that he could just move on with his life and never think about the ship, or Chip, again. 

A part of him was almost sad at the idea of never speaking to or thinking about Chip again. 

As he took in his surroundings of the little town, all thoughts of his dream vanished. The town was small, just as small as he’d expected when looking at it from a window in the house, and didn’t have all that much life to it. There were a few people walking the streets as he made his way further into the town, and a few cars parked next to buildings that presumably had people in them. 

He passed diners and an arcade, as well as various shops that made him realise that he’d never really wandered through a shop before. He certainly had time now. So, he promised to himself that he’d stop into at least one shop while he was here, before continuing down the street in the direction that he hoped would lead him to a library.

After a while of wandering, he did find the library, across from a park and sat next to what seemed to be a town hall. The library wasn’t large in a sense that it was sprawling, but rather in spanned multiple stories, and was much skinnier than its neighbouring buildings. It was built with a drab grey stone, and reminded Gillion almost of old cathedrals he would sometimes see in AllPort, though this building had a flat top, and no religious carvings. 

Taking a breath, he crossed the street to it and climbed the steps. The wind tugged at his hair for a moment as his hand hovered over the handle of the door. Shivering slightly, he pulled the door in and entered. Something about that moment felt significant, but GIllion couldn’t exactly figure out why. 

Letting the door fall to a shut behind him, GIllion took in the interior of the building.Warm light filled the large room, and the smell of paper matched the hundreds of books nestled next to each other on rows and rows of tall shelves. Tables and couches were scattered down the centre of the room, and a couple of people sat there, reading. 

A large, main desk sat off to the side of the entrance, but Gillion ignored it as he passed, heading straight for the tall, wooden shelves. The woman sitting at the desk didn’t even glance up at him as he passed. 

Not paying much attention to the sections, Gillion scanned the books on the shelves. He was looking for something specific, of course, but he had plenty of time to just browse too. If nothing else, borrowing a few books would be a good way to spend his newfound time. 

Not many titles stuck out to him as he wandered, but he did enjoy the atmosphere of the environment, and he liked wandering in an aimless direction and still finding himself among hundreds of books. He wasn’t even sure what floor he was on by the time he eventually bumped into someone else who also browsed the shelves. 

He still hadn’t found a historical or nautical section, but he was enjoying the time he was spending and the weight of the few books that now rested in his arms with the intention of coming home with him. 

The girl he’d found hadn’t noticed him, squatting down and staring at a book she’d pulled off the bottom shelf and pulled open to a random page. Pausing, he watched her for a moment. He wasn’t exactly sure why he watched her for those few seconds, and a part of him acknowledged that he should just turn back around and leave her to her business. 

But then, she was glancing up at him, blue eyes widening it surprise. “Oh, hello. Did you need something?” fiery red hair framed her face, most of it pulled back into a messy ponytail. She wore a white tank top, and a navy blue jacket was tied around her waist. She seemed to be about his age.

Hesitating, Gillion shook his head. “No, sorry- I’ll-”

The girl cut him off as she stood up. “I haven’t seen you around before. Did you just move to town?” She paused for a moment, waiting for an answer. Gillion couldn’t help the thought that it almost mirrored Chip’s first words to him. “Oh! Are you Edyn’s brother? My sister, Ava, came home yesterday and told me about a triton she met at the coffee shop.”

Nodding carefully, Gillion tried to smile but he was sure that it looked nothing but painfully awkward. He took a breath to steady himself, before saying, “Yes, Edyn is my older sister. My name is Gillion,” he tried once again to smile. His voice hung in the air the same way it had when he’d introduced himself to Chip, the unfinished and awkward feel about the words. This time, he’d even left off his last name. 

The girl grinned and stuck out a hand, which he shook, somewhat relaxing into the welcoming gesture. “I'm Jay.” As she glanced at the books in his hands, her grin widened every so slightly and her eyes softened. “Oh, I’ve read that one. It’s one of my favourites.”

He looked down at the book in question and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out for a minute. “I haven’t read many books.”

Jay’s eyes lit up at this, for some reason that Gillion couldn’t discern until she spoke, “Oh, I love introducing people to new books. Or just helping people around the library. I come here a lot. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

He hesitated again, thinking of the book about fluyt ships. He hadn’t the foggiest idea where the nautical history section would be in this large of a building, so he asked, “Do you know where I might be able to find books about old ships? Nautical history, pirates, and that sort of thing?”

As he spoke, Jay’s entire posture perked up. “Well, if you’re looking for pirates, specifically, this is certainly the town to find those kinds of books.” She grabbed his wrist after tucking the book she’d been holding under her arm. As she led him upmthe stairs to the next level, she explained, “This town is known for a pirate wreck just off the coast. It went down like three hundred years ago, and it’s kind of infamous. The crew was one of the most well known pirate crews out there, so it brings a lot of tourism here, especially in the summer. We actually have a whole museum that has a ton of artefacts from the ship. It’s so cool.” Glancing back, she said, “Maybe I could show you sometime?”

Gillion nodded as she led him up the steps. Regardless of the dream, this pirate ship sounded interesting. Besides, maybe if they decided on a time to hang out later, Gillion could actually consider Jay a friend that he made all on his own.

He didn’t think he’d mind finding a friend in Jay.

She continued rambling about the ship, and how many records the town had collected of nautical histories because of it. She talked about the piracy history they’d collected as well as the navy, trading ship, and international histories. She even mentioned multiple journals from town leaders at the time that had logs of ships that came in and out of the port. Apparently, one of her favourite things to read was the passage that the town leader from 1684 shared about the night the pirate ship sank. 

Gillion also learned that the pirate ship was called the Black Rose. 

Jay rambled easily, he found, especially about the Black Rose and history. They reached the section that had a little sign above it, describing these books as nautical histories. Right next to this section was a smaller section for the town’s local history. Jay left GIllion in the nautical section to grab an old and fragile book from the local section. 

Coming back to stand next to him, she leafed open the book carefully and explained, “I’m really one of the only people that ever checks this book out anymore. Actually, some of the librarians have asked that I make a copy of it both so it’s easier to read, and so that they’ll have a less fragile version that they can rent out.” 

She came to a page in the middle of the book that had a small bookmark sticking out of it and showed him. 

July 28, 1684

Last night, a young man appeared on our beach. The lighthouse keeper found him, inconsolable and clutching the body of some one he loved close. He refused to say to me his name, yet eventually he relented to my wife. Chip, she called him. By the time he calmed enough to respond, he told a story. A story of a pirate crew that felt as a family. He told us how the ship sank not far from our little town, and I’ve sent a few men out to the wreckage this morning to recover aught of value. The body he’d brought with him was inurn’d this morning.

This Chip that survived could not be found today, and I am unsure where he hath gone. I worry that he found his way off the cliffside, into the sea to join his family. My heart is heavy for the pirates that died, and the boy they left behind.

Gillion stared at the words scrawled out over the page for what felt like hours, until Jay was staring at him and saying something. He didn’t catch what she was saying, as the rest of the world seemed to fade out into a white noise. Gingerly, he took the book from Jay and brushed his fingers over the words. Specifically, his fingers came to hover over Chip’s name. How strange it was to see his name in the physical world, right under his fingertips. 

No matter how insane all of this was, and how much he wanted to slam the book shut, leave it with Jay and never return or think about this ever again, he didn’t. His heart tugged and pulled painfully, yelling that all of this was just some wild, insane coincidence and that there was no possible way that the Chip described in this passage was the same Chip that he’d made friends with in his dream. 

But then images from said dream were flooding him. He saw Chip sitting atop the barrel, smiling brightly and framed in a beautiful blue sky. He saw wind pulling at longish brown hair as he cast his expression downwards and revealed a painful part of himself to a stranger. He saw Chip grinning as he introduced him to Caspian, or explained parts of the ship. He saw Chip looking at him with an expression almost bursting with pride as he climbed that ratline. 

And he couldn’t help but tie those memories to the name that he held in his hands.

So, images of Chip painfully mourning the loss of a crew he considered family appeared in his mind. He imagined Chip curled up in the sand next to an unnamed body, crying until he didn’t have anything left to cry. He imagined him whispering his name to a woman who looked at him with pity. He imagined him standing atop a cliff in the morning, staring out across the sea.

 He flipped to the next passage, and the next, but Chip’s name was only written once. 

The rest of the world snapped back to him, almost like a rubber band that was suddenly let go that went soaring through the air before hitting something. He’d been allowed a single moment, and now it was gone and Jay was snapping at him.

“Gillion?” She asked. “You good? Where’d you go? I know it’s interesting, but I don’t think I’ve ever even gotten that into a book.” A small, awkward laugh escaped her, not matching the concern in her expression.

Gulping, Gillion looked up from the book to meet her eyes. He shut the book carefully and gave it back to her. “Sorry, I just- I don’t know what happened.” 

Because he didn't. So desperately did he want to know what his experience yesterday was, but he just did not know . And he had no idea how to figure it out either. 

His heart pounded.

Jay just shrugged, her expression relaxing a bit. “It’s alright.” Laughing lightly, she said, “Maybe you had a past life here or something and it stuck out to you.” She giggled as she returned the book to its place on the shelf, clearly thinking nothing of the joke.

Gillion, on the other hand, thought very deeply about it. Maybe it was a past life. Maybe he was just remembering things that happened three hundred years ago, to an alternate version of him. Then again, he assumed that would also include some sort of magic, and once again…

Magic wasn’t real in any format that he could explain. Maybe somehow, somewhere magic was real, but certainly not here, and certainly not with him. 

Jay began pulling a few other books off the shelves, stacking them in her arms. There were quite a few about the Black Rose, written both by people who’d had some kind of first hand experience with the pirates, or historians that had studied the shipwreck and its artefacts years after its sinking. 

Meanwhile, Gillion just stood in his spot, watching Jay and glancing at books on the shelves. The moment was oddly calm in contrast to the storm in his head. Chip's name appeared in every thought, and he tried desperately to connect dots. If the Chip from the journal was the same Chip from his dreams, then what happened to Asphodel ? Who was even to say that it was the same Chip? Maybe Chip had been a common name at the time. Maybe it was all just a weirdly in-depth coincidence. 

Maybe he was dreaming right now , and he’d wake up in the morning and get ready for training as if he’d never been banished. 

One of the books that Jay pulled off the shelf made her pause and look at him strangely before saying, “This one has a list of almost every crewmate that was aboard the ship. Some names are left out, just because pirates didn’t have the greatest documentation, but, y'know.”

Gingerly, he took the book from her, pushing away most of his thoughts. After opening to the table of contents and finding the section Jay spoke of, he scanned over names. Nearly all of the names were completely unfamiliar to him. In fact, he only recognized two of them. Which, to be entirely fair, was more than he expected to. 

‘Chip,’ of course, was one of the names, but the other surprised him. 

Finn Tidestrider. 

Before moving on to Chip’s portion, he traced the name of his perhaps long ago ancestor and wondered what a Tidestrider had been doing on a pirate ship. According to the little paragraph that followed the name, Finn was a researcher who joined the crew and sailed with them for many years, looking for elusive species of sea life. He died when the ship sank, crushed with the ship. 

Gillion glanced up at Jay for a moment, who’d busied herself with looking at books and occasionally pulling them off the shelves and into a small pile in her arms. 

Focusing back on the book in hand, he took a breath before reading Chip’s portion.

Chip is thought to be one of three young adults that were a part of the main crew. He was aboard the ship when it sank, and is thought to have survived, as he is mentioned in a journal entry from the townsfolk that found the wreck. Though, the entry is vague and Chip’s fate is unknown. While it is thought that he wasn’t aboard the ship for long, he appears to have been very close with most of the crew, his name appearing throughout Tidestrider’s journal entries and other journals kept aboard the ship that managed to survive the sinking. What is believed to be Chip’s own sketchbook is now on display in its home at the Black Rose Museum. Historians believe that Chip was taken in by the pirates in one of their final raids (see pg. 57). There is no other record of him. 

Staring at the little blurb, Gillion’s heart pounded against his ribs. The words were vague enough that this Chip could have been anyone, and it was entirely plausible that the Chip from his dream was a different Chip altogether. In that case, everything could be written off as a coincidence. Though, by now, the chances of that were growing slim.

The extra note about another page stared at him, and he took a deep breath. It didn’t help much, considering how rapidly his heartbeat and how shaky his hands were, but he opened to the page anyway. 

There, in bold and italic letters, was the heading, “ The Final Raid: Asphodel ”.

For how hard his heart pounded, and how much it sped up upon reading the words, Gillion was worried for a moment that it would stop. There, just under the heading, the book described the last ship the pirates ever raided: a fluyt called Asphodel , captained by a woman named Kira. 

A small note in the corner of the page mentioned that this was the ship in which the crew picked up two of its members, one of which was Chip. The other crewmember remained unnamed. 

After a moment of just staring at the page, Jay joined him. “Find anything cool?” She asked, a smile on her face as she glanced down at the open page. “ Asphodel , huh? That’s a kind of flower. My mom told me what it meant once, but I can’t remember.”

Vaguely, Gillion felt like he was going to throw up.

Gillion nodded absentmindedly. He thought about Chip’s tiny passage as he shut the book carefully and placed it back onto the shelf. “You said there was a museum here?” 

Nodding, Jay flipped through one of the books she’d grabbed before also returning it to its place. “Yeah, it’s just down the street. I think it’s closed today, though.” She looked back up at him. “I could take you tomorrow? I’ve been there a ton so I know a lot about the stuff there. Plus, my family has a long history in this town, so I’m extra qualified.” She winked before laughing quietly. “Unless you wanna go alone. Which is fine.”

Gillion took in the girl that stood in front of him, holding a pile of books and wearing the most welcoming expression he’d ever been given. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go together.” He smiled when Jay’s face lit up. 

Check and check, he realised. He’d learned more about Chip and Asphodel , and the crew of pirates that Chip had joined the ranks of shortly before the ship wrecked. And he’d made a friend. 

At least- he assumed Jay could consider him a friend, considering she invited him to go with ehr to the museum. He thought about the warmth that he got during the dream, when he realised that Chip could be considered a friend. 

Yeah, he could get used to the friends thing.

Chapter Text

Something made him come back down to the beach again. Maybe it was the storm gathering in the corners of his vision, or the energy writhing just under his skin like misplaced electricity. Part of him almost hoped he’d fall asleep again, back into that dream of the Asphodel and Chip. Well, if it even was a dream. Maybe it wasn’t. He couldn’t even be sure what it was, but somehow, Chip and the Asphodel really existed. Three centuries ago, sure, but they’d existed, if the books he’d found had anything truthful to say. 

The storm drew ever closer, and the energy inside of him only grew with the crashing of the ocean as the wind stirred the grey waters. His heart fluttered at the sight of the churning seas and he couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. Something under his skin buzzed and ached to be set free, almost as if it were trapped as it pushed against the confines of his skin and the space between his ribs. Something ecstatic filled his chest and rushed through his blood, making the moment feel larger than life. His arms opened wide, greeting the wind as it rushed past him in a movement that almost felt like a welcoming home. 

The image of a wooden deck and a pretty, freckled boy with brown hair in his mind’s eye only made him grin harder. 

He wanted to go back .

Lightning zipped down into the sea only a couple hundred feet away, making him flinch despite the energy and excitement already coursing through his veins. The hair on his arms stood up as he squeezed his eyes shut, his knees hitting the ground as thunder boomed in the distance, muffled all of the sudden. When he opened his eyes again, he could see a wooden hull that he’d become familiar with surrounding him instead of the wide open beach. 

So it wasn’t a one time thing. He was really back, on a ship that sank 300 years ago. Or something like that. He wasn’t exactly sure what happened to Asphodel after being raided by the Black Rose. The book didn’t say.

And then a boy who probably- hopefully didn’t die on a pirate ship a few months later was poking his head down into the hull and calling his name. And it pulled at something in his heart. It ached in a way that was both painful and wonderful at the same time when he saw Chip smile and light up at the sight of Gillion. 

Gods, Gillion hoped Chip survived the Black Rose wreck and went on to live a long and happy life.

He almost found himself wanting to spill everything that he learned to Chip, but he hesitated as he pulled himself up and climbed the ladder to where Chip waited for him. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell him. It was entirely possible that none of this was real, and that telling him wouldn’t affect anything, but at the same time-

He didn’t want to risk the idea that this was real and that telling Chip would cause some sort of ripple effect through the centuries. It reminded him a little bit too much of a film that Edyn had told him about just before they were exiled. 

Even if it wasn’t real, and it would have no effect, he kind of hated the idea of telling Chip about a crew that would become his family, only for him to have to watch them die. His heart thundered at the way he could imagine Chip’s face falling as he asked if Gillion thought that was some kind of sick joke. Chip wouldn’t even have any reason to believe him so at the end of it all, it was more likely that telling him any of this would have no effect beyond upsetting him. So, he kept his mouth shut with a smile that was only partially forced. 

When he reached the top of the ladder, Chip helped pull him onto deck and for just a moment they stood in front of each other, the lack of space making Gillion’s heart pick up, all previous thought dismissed as their eyes met for a moment. 

But then, Chip was grinning, tilting his head slightly and saying, “Do you want to climb the shrouds again? I don’t have anything to do today, and as our resident stowaway, I doubt that you’re busy either.”

There it was again, that feeling of warmth that came from a friendship. It made Gillion smile and glance up to the crows nest. Briefly, he thought about the books again, and the sight of Chip’s name written in elaborate script under his fingers, but he pushed the thoughts away. Right now, his friend was asking to hang out, and he certainly couldn’t say no. So, he nodded and smiled when Chip’s expression somehow lit up even more. His heart squeezed as Chip grinned and jogged over to the ratlines.

Climbing them was easier today for some reason, but the prideful look on Chip’s face was still present. Gillion revelled in it. Chip pulled himself into the crow’s nest first, before helping Gillion up. 

Looking down at the ship, Gillion noted the parts of the ship that he could now name and knew the function of thanks to the book he’d found in the library of his house. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chip looking at him, so he glanced up to meet the other’s eyes, something almost like a quiet excitement spreading in his chest. “What?” He asked genuinely, eliciting a small smile from Chip. 

“Oh, nothing. I dunno, you just fascinate me.” Chip glanced away, leaning back slightly and kicking his legs out from where they dangled. “I can’t decide why, but there’s a weird sort of draw to you. Like we were supposed to meet.” Light pink dusted his cheeks. “Sorry, that’s- that’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Leaning over, he knocked his shoulder into Chip’s the way he’d seen others do the same in a display of affection. “I’ve always believed in Destiny.” He grinned. 

Chip let out a laugh. “Even when it got you un-chosen?” The words were light-hearted, joking, but there must have been something in his expression, because Chip’s smile melted quickly and he backtracked, “Sorry- I shouldn’t have brought it up. If you wanted to talk about it you would have mentioned it-”

“Chip,” Gillion said softly, something sad leaking into his tone unintentionally. A part of him recoiled at the sound of it, sensing the weakness and wanting it banished in the way he was taught. “It’s ok.” He didn’t really want to talk about it, and he wasn’t sure if he ever really would be able to. But at the same time, he couldn’t really find himself upset at Chip. “But yes. If nothing else, it almost became a lifeline for me. Because if being the Chosen One was no longer my Destiny, then perhaps it would be something better. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be the Chosen One in the first place.” Voicing those words out loud felt like taking a knife to his own heart and attempting to gouge the poor thing right out of its place. 

Smiling carefully, Chip said, “That’s nice. I like that. You trust that your destiny won't do wrong by you.” Gillion nodded. “I wish I could have that much faith in something.” Something sad entered the other’s expression. 

“You can believe in something that isn’t destiny, you know? It doesn’t even have to be something big. Believe in your crew, or believe in yourself. Or believe in your dreams. There’s lots of stuff to believe in.” Gillion smiled, wishing that he could take his own advice. He believed in destiny, sure, but he believed in little else beyond that. He didn’t have dreams, and his chest ached in a hollow sort of way that reminded him just how alone he’d always been until now. 

Chip smiled. “Right. I can try. No promises though, I don’t know who would want to believe in a scruffy kid that comes from nothing and might not ever become anything, either.”

He made a decision then. “I believe in you.” And for the look that Chip gave him, the sceptical look that had hope and something else brewing just below the surface? It was worth it. Gillion could believe in something more than just Destiny.

“I believe in you, too.” 

It was the smallest of statements, but it made Gillion feel more cared about than he ever had. Loved, almost. He could almost imagine himself feeling loved, feeling in love. His imagination had never been that good, but he thought that maybe love was something a little bit like this. A little bit like believing in each other. 

Then, a commanding voice interrupted the moment, and Chip froze. He glanced at Gillion. “Pull your legs up,” he instructed, doing the same. “Kira wouldn’t mind me being up here, but-”

“You don’t want her knowing about me.” 

“Not yet.” Chip shook his head. “Maybe when she’s less stressed out of her mind. This part of the ocean is known for pirates, and we’ve got stuff that pirates would definitely want to steal.”

The Black Rose . 

He tried not to think about the idea that the pirates wanted to steal Chip .

Gillion nodded in understanding, pressing himself up against the mast. He wondered if Kira would ever know about his presence. He wondered if this was the trip that Asphodel got raided. 

He hadn’t considered that. 

“She really loves Asphodel . Kira helped to build it, and oversaw everything that went into this ship. Named it, too,” Chip was saying, keeping his voice low despite how far they were from the captain.  

Gillion hummed, looking at the sails that hung around them. “Why did she name it after a flower?” 

Shrugging, Chip relaxed slightly. “I think it was her lover’s favourite flower, or something. I dunno. Its got some significance that I can’t remember.” He paused to ponder for a moment, reaching into the depths of his memory. Then, he added, “I actually got curious a couple of months ago and asked a florist in a port where we docked for a few days. She showed me what asphodels actually look like, and then told me a story. It was from Greece, hundreds of years ago. They had a lot of stories.” He grinned, something excited in his tone. “Anyway, the one she told me was about how in the underworld, there was a place souls could go where fields of asphodels grew. The Asphodel Meadows were where most ordinary people went. The ones who aren’t really good or bad. She told me that’s why asphodels are associated with death so often. Which, admittedly, probably isn’t a good thing to have associated with a ship, but-” He trailed off, shrugging again. 

The words and the way Chip said them so casually struck something in Gillion’s chest. He found himself wishing that he knew what happened to this ship after being raided by the Black Rose Pirates. He hoped that Kira and the rest of the crew were okay, and that Asphodel survived the encounter. He hoped they kept sailing until they all eventually retired and Asphodel was pulled apart for scraps that would be built into new ships, history in the wood.

“She said there were a couple of more literal meanings. Like, ‘my regrets follow you to the grave’ or ‘remembered beyond the tomb’. Personally, I like the second one better. It’s more of what I associate with the ship. Like maybe I’ll do something worth remembering after I die, or someone else here will.” Chip grinned and nudged him with his shoulder. “Could you imagine it? A history book with my name in it, recorded for generations to come so that no one will forget about me. And when they talk about my history, they’ll talk about my time on this ship, how it was the true beginning of my life.”

Gillion smiled back, playing off Chip’s enthusiasm. He couldn’t help the dark feeling that spread through him. The image of Chip’s name under his fingers, a brief paragraph in a book about an infamous group of pirates and a single entry in a mayor’s diary, appears in his head and he can’t help but wish he’d been more than that. 

More than a footnote in someone else’s story. 

Chip laughed quietly. “That’s what I want out of life, y'know? I think it’d be amazing to sail the seas for the rest of my life. Maybe go down in the history books as an infamous pirate captain. Or just a really cool explorer. I dunno. I wanna do something great.”

Nodding, Gillion sat back and watched Chip carefully. Continuing, Chip peeked at him for a moment so brief that Gillion almost missed it, “I think I'd like to find someone. Y’know, just someone to spend the rest of my life with. Someone who will sail the seas with me and make all kinds of discoveries together. I want to stand at a helm with someone I trust more than my own name at my side. I want to find my home in someone.”

Gillion considered the words for a moment. “Like a lover?”

Shrugging, Chip smiled slightly and his cheeks turned a very light pink. “Maybe. Maybe a lover, or maybe just a best friend. Or maybe something in between that. Although, if they were a lover, I don’t think I’d complain. I suppose it’d be nice to not only find a home in someone else, but also find everything that all the great poets talk about.”

They sat in silence for a moment, each of them smiling and envisioning this beautiful future that Gillion so desperately hoped that Chip did get to see. He hoped that instead of throwing himself into the sea like the journal suggested, Gillion hoped that Chip stole a small boat and left to do something greater. He hoped that maybe after leaving the small town, Chip found his way onto a new pirate ship and had everything that he was describing. 

Gillion wondered if he would be there too, in the form of these strange dreams. 

He was starting to suspect that they weren’t dreams, but he wasn’t sure exactly what they were either. 

Then, Chip was pulling him out of his thoughts, and asking, “What about you? What do you want out of this life? What will they put in the books they title with your name?” And he grinned, a goofy, dopey looking thing that Gillion found incredibly contagious.

He shrugged. “I dunno. If I make it in the history books at all, I think that would be cool.” Sighing, he pictured Chip’s name in the books once again, and how little the boy was mentioned. “Or maybe I don’t want to be in a book. Maybe it’s better to not have my story told, that way it can really, truly be mine and only mine.”

Chip was staring at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious. Everyone wants their story told.”

Gillion shrugged. “When we first met you asked me what my story was, saying that everyone had one to tell.” their eyes met and something sad passed over Chip’s expression. Gillion regretted it almost immediately. 

“I think your story is worth telling. I think it’s a story that people would like to hear.” He smiled, something soft and hopeful about it. “Who knows, maybe someone three hundred years down the line will read about you and find comfort in a story they can relate to.”

Why Chip chose that amount of time specifically, Gillion didn’t know, but a part of his chest ached at it. He wondered how he would have felt a few days ago, had he read about someone on a ship that used to be a champion, just like him. 

He shrugged it off. “I dunno. I just- Do you ever have moments that you want to keep all for yourself, and never let anyone else know about them? Because in a way, telling other people kind of tarnishes the memory of it. Like, it makes the memory feel like it isn’t actually yours anymore?” He supposed even he didn’t really have moments like that, but he hoped that one day, he would. Moments that he specifically kept out of the history books.

Chip hesitated. “I mean- I wouldn’t really love the idea of other people knowing about what Rueben asked me to do, but- I don’t think it should be excluded. Besides, I don't hide that memory because it’s private, I hide it because I don't want others to think less of me. But it should still be told.”

Smiling, gillion shook his head. “No- I mean the more intimate moments. The private moments where you discover something about yourself or you fall in love or- any of those special moments that poets talk about.”

“Oh.” Chip frowned and furrowed his brows. “I don’t think I’ve had any of those.”

Gillion thought about the two of them for a moment. Two boys, one completely out of his time, completely alone until their paths unexplainably crossed. 

He thought about it for a while. He thought about the two of them and their tiny place amidst the world, and the way that for right now, they fit together. He wondered how the poets would describe them. “Do you get what I mean, though? About moments that shouldn’t be shared?”

Chip bit his lower lip, his eyebrows creasing in thought. “I guess.”

“Oh,” Gillion said. The look on Chip's face frowned uneasily, as if Chip didn’t really understand. “Well, I hope you have moments like that. I hope we both do.”

Casting a funny look his way, Chip grinned a bit lopsidedly. “Sure. They sound nice.”

Returning the small smile, Gillion let silence fall over them before turning to look back out across the sea. Vibrant oranges had begun painting the sky as the sun set in the direction of their heading. 

“Hey- we got off topic. You were going to tell me what your goal for life is.” CHip grinned as he leaned over to nudge Gillion. 

Gillion let out a quiet laugh and peeked over at Chip. “I told you. I don’t know.”

A low sigh escaped Chip, almost bordering on a groan. “You have to want something out of life. I don’t think I’ve ever met a single person without dreams.”

Shrugging, Gillion sat back and frowned slightly as he looked out over the sea and the slowly dimming sky. “I used to. Then they got ripped away.”

Chip was silent for a moment before quietly whispering, “Does it have to do with the Chosen One thing?” He looked almost scared to ask as he stared down at his hands that fiddled with his fingers in his lap. An anxious tick. 

Letting out a quiet breath at the sudden mood change, Gillion looked away. “Yeah.”

“Tell me about it?” Chip asked softly, a quiet question more than anything else. The words were hesitant, but almost caring in a way. They weren’t demanding, and Gillion appreciated how soft it was. 

He wasn’t typically treated with such softness.

Taking a deep breath, Gillion closed his eyes. The memories were still fresh, and they felt like scabs over her heart that ripped when he thought about them. “My family has a place in the court of the Undersea. We are the chosen ones. Every few generations, a baby will be born that is blessed by the goddess of the moon. It is our job as the chosen to train our entire lives and protect the seas from any great threats. Any small threats, too, though those are usually handled by lower ranked soldiers. We are seen as heroes, heads of the military, and holy figures.”

Pausing, he tried delving deeper. Explaining his role was easy. Those were words that were impersonal to him directly. They related to his family, of course, but not him specifically. He was one of many chosen. 

“I was one of these Tidestriders that was blessed. Chosen to be a hero. So, I trained. My training began when I was very young, and my parents practically handed my care over to the Elders, the council of figures that runs the Undersea. They raised me, and they didn’t do a very good job of it. Well- I supposed they did. They raised a hero, a weapon, a political figure, and that is what I am. But they did not care for me in the way a child should be cared for. I grew up with guardians, but no caregivers. Teachers, but no protectors.” Scowling, he tried to calm the anger that bubbled up beneath his skin. He didn’t like the idea of speaking against the Elders, as it went against nearly everything he’d ever been taught, but he was trying to amend that. He was trying to be objective about his upbringing. 

“What happened?” Chip asked softly when Gillion realised he had lapsed into a silence. 

Biting at his lower lip, he took a breath. “I messed up. I attacked someone I shouldn't have. I thought they were an enemy, that it was a test. It wasn’t, but I failed anyway. They cast me out. They stripped me of my place in the court.”

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry, Gill.”

Gillion could feel the awkward sting of tears that tried to well up in his eyes. He tried to ignore the crushing way his lungs squeezed as breathing became a chore. “I suppose I should be glad. I wasn’t taken care of, and I don’t know that I was truly happy, either, and now I don’t have to worry about it.”

Chip shrugged, a concerned look on his face. “I think it’s okay to be upset over it. You thought that your life would go one way, and in the span of what to me seems like days, that entire plan got upset. Besides, it’s all you knew. It’s okay that you don’t know how to feel or what to do. I don’t think I would know what to do with myself after something like that.”

Somehow, Chip’s words almost hurt worse than the awful memories. His words were the ones that pushed him over the edge, tears spilling down his cheeks for the first time since he was child. He hated the feeling of it. He hated how his knee-jerk reaction was to hide and hurt himself until he stopped crying because crying was only for the weak and vulnerable, and heroes weren’t weak. 

But then, a soft touch was on his shoulder, and he hated how quickly he leaned into it, even minorly. Chip seemed to understand, though, and for some reason, he adjusted how he was sitting to pull Gillion towards him in a hug. 

Gillion hadn’t been hugged in a very, very long time. 

He wasn’t even sure he could remember the last time he’d been hugged. The person who hugged him had to have been Edyn, considering she was the only physically affectionate person he’d ever known. 

But Chip was here, wrapping his arms around him, and letting him bury his head into his chest. He felt Chip’s own face hide itself within his hair, carefully avoiding the coral crown that grew there. 

“I’m so sorry, Gillion. You didn’t deserve any of that.” Chip whispered the words into his hair and Gillion felt them only draw out more tears. 

Sobs wracked his chest and he cringed at the feeling of them. For some reason, though, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop and pull himself together again. If anything, he almost found himself relaxing into Chip’s hold and letting himself cry just a little bit harder, because maybe he deserved this. 

Whether it was the pain of crying that he deserved, or the soft embrace of Chip’s comfort, Gillion wasn’t sure. 

Maybe a little bit of both, he decided as he thought of the little kid that he’d used to be, with armour that didn’t fit and a sword that was too heavy and an expression that was far too excited  to be worn on the face of a child soldier. 

He found himself scooting closer to Chip, to wrap his own arms around his waist and sob even harder into Chip’s shirt, soaking it with his tears. He got the feeling that Chip didn’t mind all that much. 

Instead, Chip just held him and whispered softly into his hair: half-formed sentences that Gillion could barely understand. Despite the incomprehensibility, he got the message. 

It was okay to be upset. It was okay to cry. Chip was there for him. Chip was giving him the space to feel. Chip wasn’t going anywhere. They could stay there for as long as Gillion needed. 

He wasn’t actually sure how long they did stay there. Minutes, maybe. Maybe half an hour. Gillion really didn’t know. Time got lost along with the sense of anxiety he’d had over crying. He let it all out, every single tear he’d never allowed himself to shed for even the tiniest of reasons. And throughout it all, Chip just stayed there, and whispered kind words and rubbed tiny circles into his arms and back. 

Sucking in a strangled breath, he moved his arm to wipe at the last few tears, hiccuping quietly. As he moved, Chip let go of him carefully, only moving enough to look at Gillion. 

Gillion almost mourned the loss of the hug. 

“Are you okay? Do you feel better now?” Chip asked, his expression swimming in anxiety and concern. 

Tears threatened to come back at the amount of care he was receiving. He’d never been on this end of the care. Not trusting his voice, he nodded, slumping into himself slightly. 

Chip took it as a sign to return to the hug, which Gillion was eternally grateful for. 

“I’m sorry for pushing the dream thing. I won’t ask about it again, I promise.”

Letting out a quiet, wet-sounding laugh, Gillion said, “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known.” His face was hot and uncomfortable from the tears that stained his cheeks, but he tried not to care as he balled his hands into the fabric of Chip’s shirt. 

Chip shrugged. “Yeah, but it still hurt you. And I’m sorry. I hate hurting people.”

Gillion laughed again, and the silence descended once more as Chip held him. The touch was gentle, and Gillion found himself wishing that he could stay here forever. Whether that meant here, in the arms of Chip, or here, on A sphodel , Gillion didn’t know. Either way, he hated the idea of leaving. 

“It’s okay,” Gillion whispered. “It hurts less than most of the times I’ve been hurt.”

The grasp Chip had on him tightened marginally and Chip buried his face again. “It shouldn’t,” he whispered. “It shouldn’t hurt less, because you never should have gone through all that pain in the first place. You don’t deserve to be hurt like that. You were a child , and you needed someone to protect you.” 

Letting the words soak in, Gillion sat with them. For some reason, they hurt in a way that was almost soft. “We both did.” 

Chip let out a breath and Gillion could feel him nod. “Yeah. We both did.” 

Closing his eyes, Gillion imagined a world where his parents had protected him from the cruelties of training, and Chip had someone to protect him from the streets and ending up in Rueben’s gang. 

They probably wouldn’t be here if either of those things happened.

Quietly, Gillion asked, “What if we protected each other?” He knew how impossible it was. How impossible everything about this situation already seemed, but his heart ached and he wanted to protect Chip with everything he had. Whether that be against pirates or plagues or shipwrecks, Gillion wanted to keep Chip safe. 

Something fluttered in his heart and he wasn’t sure it was friendship. 

Chip smiled into Gillion’s hair as he whispered, “Yeah. I like that.” He paused for a moment before saying, “Maybe we can go down in history together, as infamous pirates captains or incredible explorers.” 

Something lighthearted bubbled up in Gillion’s chest and he laughed quietly as he hugged Chip. “You’d want me to be the person you stand at the helm with?” 

You’d want me to be the person you find a home in?

Gillion let those words stay unsaid. He wasn’t really sure he’d ever experienced what a home felt like before, so the thought of being someone else’s scared him. He didn’t know how to do that. 

Feeling Chip shrug, Gillion could hear the way Chip’s heart picked up slightly as he laughed quietly. “Why not? If you’d like to, of course.”

The idea of what the other was saying also made his heart do funny things. He’d never really thought about the idea of going down in history with someone else, considering he always expected to go into the history books as the Champion, nothing more, nothing less. 

He glanced at Chip. “I’d like that.”

Chip pulled away from the hug to beam at him, and something almost painfully happy filled Gillion’s chest at the sight of it. “It’s settled then. Whatever we do, we’ll do together. And we’ll protect each other.” 

“Yeah,” Gillion said as he smiled. “We’ll protect each other.” 

And somehow, it felt more like a promise than anything the Elders had ever said to him. 

Chapter Text

The beach was a little warmer when he woke up this time. A slight breeze picked up and messed with his hair, but there were no other disturbances as he simply laid in the sand for a moment. His hands rested on top of his chest, and he let his eye slip shut for a moment before taking a deep breath. 

Something warm and fond lingered in his chest as he laid there. 

Eventually, he pushed himself into a sitting position and dusted the remaining sand off of his clothes. As he looked out over the ocean, watching the waves come in before retreating back out, a sense of calm spread over him like a blanket. His heart slowed as he thought about this dream, and how safe he’d begun to feel around Chip. 

His heart picked up slightly at the memory of their promise to each other. 

Something in the back of his mind tugged for his attention, and he remembered suddenly that he and Jay had agreed to meet at the museum today.  He pulled himself up and glanced back at the ocean for a final moment before moving back up the hill that would lead him to his house. Instead of following the trail all the way up, though, he cut across the hill and wandered back down in the direction of the town. 

Yesterday, they’d agreed on a time, and Jay had explained to him where exactly the museum was so that he didn’t have to spend however long wandering through the town looking for it. Something excited replaced the calm feeling in his gut, taking hold over him as he imagined a museum filled with things pulled from the wreck of a three century old ship. He imaged the sorts of things that might have been on the ship, gold and gems, weapons and fancy pirate hats. He laughed quietly at his own musing. 

As he entered the town, he found himself observing its residents once more. He watched people leaving buildings and climbing into their cars, or walking down the streets with their families or friends. He stopped across the street from a little coffee shop for a while, just to watch the little groups that found themselves there or the odd single person that stared down at a book or wrote something in a notepad. He left them to their business, feeling more like an outside observer than someone who belonged here too. 

When he made it to the museum, Jay was waiting outside for him, idly flipping through one of the books he’d seen in her pile at the library yesterday. She was leaned up against a pillar that held the building up, and she only noticed him when he was climbing the steps to meet her. She wore a white t-shirt and overalls, a navy blue jacket tied around her waist and her hair pulled up into a ponytail, leaving her bangs loose to frame her face. Smiling, she stuck a slip of paper into the pages and tucked the book into a satchel-like bag that was slung across her chest. 

“Hey,” she said with a smile. “Glad you showed up. C’mon, I think you’ll like this.” As she turned to head inside, she took Gillion’s wrist, pulling him into the building. 

He wasn’t used to touch, and the pressure around his wrist almost made him flinch, but he managed to suppress it. Jay’s hand was warm, and he knew that it was simply because she was excited to show him the museum. Trying not to focus on Jay’s hand around his wrist, Gillion looked up to the towering building as they entered. 

The building was made of white stone that made Gillion almost a little bit uneasy at the sterile-ness of it all. The air inside was cool, almost cool enough to make his skin prickle as he glanced around the large room that housed a main desk. Jay approached the desk with a smile before pulling out a few bills to pay for tickets. 

Gillion felt guilty suddenly for not bringing money to pay for his own entrance, but Jay just laughed and waved him off. “It’s fine, really. I invited you here, after all.” She grinned. The woman at the desk handed them each a wristband, and before she could explain any of the rules, Jay was off, dragging Gillion up some steps and into a cavernous room. 

Frames and class cases lined the walls, and little displays were set up in the room, holding an assortment of artefacts. Pedestals stood throughout the room, highlighting especially interesting things. Little plaques were everywhere, explaining certain objects and describing the history of the Black Rose. Gillion would almost feel the weight of the history that rested here. One section of a wall was filled with text, and as they passed, Gillion scanned over the words that described the Black Rose Pirates and gave context to everything here. 

Jay didn’t stop for any of the writing, instead pulling him to a wall where swords hung in a case. 

“These were all found in the wreck. They think that one belonged to the captain,” She pointed to an elaborate sword with a rose sculpted into the crossguard. “And these, the first mate.” The twin swords were slightly less elaborate, but still fancy enough that Gillion wondered where exactly pirates could get this sort of luxury in the 1600s. He supposed they were wildly successful pirates, after all. 

Rambling about the captain, Jay pointed at different swords and explained who they belonged to and what function they served. In the same case, far off to the side, a pistol caught Gilion’s eye, its barrel pointing straight down and showing off the intricate detailing of the metal. Roses were engraved along the barrel, connected with chains of thorny vines, and the image of an eagle flying over a sunset was stamped into the wood of the handle. 

Jay caught him looking at the pistol and she grinned. “I like that one, too. That crest, with the eagle, is the mark of my family, the Ferins. I like the idea that somehow, there was a pirate in my lineage somewhere, and he sailed with the greatest.” She grinned as she looked at the gun with something close to awe. “My family has been known as a navy family for centuries, but whoever this was decided to be his own person. And it makes me happy to know.”

The name, Ferin, itched something in the back of his head. He could hear Chip saying something about the family and laughing at something. Annoying, he called them. And he did a silly impression of a naval officer. 

To think that the girl in front of him was a descendant of the people Chip was mocking.

Gillion looked at the pistol, the engravings somewhat faded, worn with time. “My family is- was a part of the court of the Undersea,” gillion whispered, and for a moment, Jay didn’t respond. He almost thought she didn’t hear, until she nodded. She didn’t say anything, so Gillion continued quietly as they stared a the weapons, “We were banished. That’s why we’re here.” 

He didn’t explain why. He’d already cried about it once today, he didn’t need to again. Besides, telling Chip about his history felt different than telling Jay. Chip felt somehow safer. Maybe it was simply because of the disconnect. Chip didn’t live in this time, and didn’t have influence over it. There was still a possibility that he wasn’t even real, so explaining something that weighed on Gillion didn’t feel as heavy. 

Jay didn’t push, just nodded carefully with a measured glance. She looked at the swords, reading the plaques. “It’s okay,” she said as she read. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want.” She glanced up to smile at him, nothing but kindness and warmth in her eyes. 

Nodding, Gillion turned back to the case, tracing his eyes down the length of a sword and slowly inspecting the weapons before finally coming to a rest at a plaque. The small paragraph explained how many of these swords were stolen from other pirates or naval officers, and some were then engraved or modified to reflect the new ownership. This was a common practice for many pirates. 

The words made sense, but Gillion didn’t find himself interested enough to finish reading, instead taking a step towards a case more towards the middle of the floor. This case stood on top of a podium, a book encased in a glass box. There was another, similar book in an identical case a few feet away, more plaques under each book explaining them. 

The book in front of him was open to a page in the middle, its pages were worn and yellowing; the water damaged spine bent slightly. In the open spread, faint drawings could be seen, ink drawn lines faded after three centuries. The ink sprawled across the page, faint and swirling, the forms nearly impossible to discern.

Many, if not most, details were lost to time and damage, but staring at the page for a moment, Gillion began seeing a pattern. The ink across the page was a series of small drawings, all angles of the same face, hair swept back and facial features smudged out. The identity of the figure would be impossible to distinguish, considering the lack of features, but it was clear that all of these drawings were of the same person. Another drawing appeared in the space of the lower right corner, a detailed little seagull that had survived the centuries much better than the faces had. 

He stared at the page for a while, tracing the lines with his eyes and wishing that he could take the book out of its case to look at the other drawings, leading through the pages. He wondered who was drawn into the pages, and who the artist was. He wondered if an image of Chip appeared in this book. 

Jay appeared over his shoulder. “The kid that survived, he brought this book with him. The other one too,” she gestured to the other book. “Neither of them were his, but he’s the reason they survived. They would have been destroyed if they were left under the water for as long as most of the stuff here was.”

Gesturing around, Jay glanced down at the sketches. “No one can figure out who the drawings are, but most of them are the same face. Sometimes they take the book out of the case and very carefully show off the drawings. A few pages in the back are torn out.” Jay frowned. “I wish they were still there.”

“Maybe the artist didn’t want anyone to see,” Gillion whispered, thinking about the conversation with Chip about intimate moments to be kept from history books. He wondered what the artist might have wanted to hide. He imagined someone desperately tearing pages out of the book as the ship overturned. His heart ached for whoever that person was. “That’s the intrigue with the Black Rose, isn’t it? So much is known, but at the same time, nothing is.”

Jay nodded. “Exactly. We have names, dates, and artefacts, but nothing personal. We don’t have pictures and we don’t really know who these people were.”

An image appeared in his mind, brown eyes and hair, and bright freckles. Gillion knew who Chip was. He wanted to know more, wanted to know everything. That’s part of the reason he was here, after all, to try and find even the briefest mention of a boy who lived three hundred years ago. 

Gilllion wondered suddenly why he cared so much to hunt for any mention of the boy. Maybe it was some desperate grab at anything to occupy his time and keep his mind off his banishment, or maybe it was just that Chip was one of the first people to enjoy his company as he is, and not because he was Chosen. For a brief moment, he felt almost uncomfortable by his own actions and the fixation that’d developed over a boy who lived three hundred years ago.

But then, Jay was pulling him out of his thoughts, pointing out a tiny mark in the corner of the paper. “The people who’re allowed to flip through it think that that little mark is a signature. They can’t tell whose, though. It’s too faded.” She glanced at the other podium, holding the other book. “That one belonged to the researcher- Finn, I think was his name. That’s more of a log book. It tells us most of the more personal stuff that we do know.” 

Finn. The Tidestrider whose name Gillion read at the library. 

Humming, Gillion walked over to said book, leaving the sketchbook. He scanned the open page, filled with fancy lettering and overly exquisite words. Whoever wrote this- a possible ancestor of his- had to have been well educated. 

The page this book was open to described a day out at sea, and a raid on a merchant’s ship. 

Gillion found himself once more staring at the word ‘ Asphodel ’ in the real world. He was beginning to wonder how and why everything seemed to almost be falling into place like this. It almost seemed too perfect, weird parts of a puzzle slotting together. 

He wondered if he was a piece of that puzzle. The missing piece, maybe. He shied away from that thought, remembering that he wasn’t much of anything anymore. 

Why would he be the missing piece? 

He was reminded of his conversation with Chip about destiny. Maybe destiny had a funny way of deciding what to do with him. It couldn’t keep him in the place he was born to be in and now it didn’t know what to do with him. He supposed it could do whatever and he would follow it. He wondered if he would even have a choice in whether or not to follow the path that destiny laid out for him. 

He supposed he didn’t really mind if this was it, even if his head hurt a little from trying to understand all that had happened in the past few days. 

But then he glanced at Jay, who was rambling about Finn Tidestrider and Gillion realised that it had only really been a day, a few short 24 hours. They’d only moved in a few days prior. 

The book lay in front of him, words scrawled out neatly onto the page, detailing events that tugged at the fringes of Gillion’s memory. There was a strange sense of familiarity about the scene the words described despite the fact that he’d only briefly read about the instance of Asphodel’s raid. He found himself idly scanning the script, imagining how the day played out all those centuries ago. 

Someone named Arlin found two boys hiding belowdecks of the Asphodel , but the page ended just before the entry described these boys. 

“Arlin is described in a lot of the entries. They’re pretty sure he was the first mate, but no one is certain. The great thing about Finn’s diary is that it describes a lot of minute things that don’t seem to have much importance but does tell us about the crew and the way they interacted with each other, The awful part is that he never talked about generalised things; the structure of the crew, where they got the ship, how they ended up together, what their goal was.” Jay stood next to him, staring down at the book as well, presumably having read through the passage with him. 

Gillion wondered how many times she’d read it, how many times she’d been here. “How many times have you been here? To know all of this?” He asked, glancing at her as she shrugged. 

“It’s a big part of the town's history. When I was a kid, I dreamed of being a pirate like them, and I researched as much as I possibly could about them.” She smiled, but there was something tinged in sadness. “I’m pretty sure that the ancestor of mine on that ship was named Drey. I think I looked up to him a lot as a kid even though I had no idea who he really was or how he fit in my family.”

Her voice sounded almost forlorn in its tone, and something in Gillion felt bad for the little girl he could imagine Jay once was. “Why did you stop?”

Jay shrugged, a small smile returned to her face and she glanced up at him. “I don’t know. I think I just got bored after a while because there wasn’t all that much left to learn about them.” Something in her tone lightened as she joked, “There’s only so much to learn about people who died three hundred years ago.”

That hurt, for some reason. It took something dark and shoved it through his chest because he had a moment in which he realised that even if Chip didn’t die that night on the Black Rose, he did still die three centuries ago. He’d yet to come to that realisation. Logistically, he knew that Chip couldn’t possibly have sailed that long ago and still be alive in the 1900s, but it hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of his mind either. Now, he was faced with the fact that his first ever friend was someone who died long before Gillion was even born.

In lieu of a response, Gillion just nodded.

“Oh! Speaking of Arlin,” Jay grinned and grabbed Gillion’s wrist in order to pull him away from the case and towards another wall display. In this case, personal artefacts from different crew members hung. Jay directed him to an eyeglass, worn and tarnished, hanging near the centre. “Look closely, you can see an A engraved into the handle.”

Doing as she said, Gillion leaned closer and squinted. After a moment of looking, he finally found the faint mark of the letter. A ring of filigree surrounded it, that caught the light if GIlion looked at it just so. The lens of the tool had long since fallen out, probably cracked and lost to the sea, and all that was left was incredibly tarnished from the harsh environment of the sea. 

“It’s a newer discovery,” Jay said. “That’s why it looks so beat up. They’ve been going out there on expeditions since the morning of the wreck, bringing things back to show off. No one’s sure what happened with some of the original artefacts that were detailed in one of the mayor’s journal entires, but some people think they were sold off. This is definitely something that would have been sold. Some of the experts think it might be real gold. It’s hard to say, though, considering how long its been down in the ocean.”

Gillion nodded as he glanced at some of the other things. “What about the books? Why weren’t they sold off or thrown away with everything else?”

Smiling, Jay nodded. “I like to think that the mayor saw some importance in them, like he knew they’d be treasured one day. Or maybe that they were already treasured. At least- by the survivor, Chip. He saved them for some reason, along with the body he brought up.” A silence descended for a moment, as something almost gruesome took hold on Gillion’s thought. A corpse and two books; the only things Chip deemed important enough to bring to shore. As an added thought, Jay whispered, “We don’t know where they were buried, only that they were that morning.” 

Hearing Chip’s name spoken aloud made GIllion flinch just slightly. Jay said it with such casualty and impersonality that Gillion suddenly remembered that to Jay, Chip was just another part of the town’s history. To her, he wasn’t a pretty brown haired boy with freckles and a goofy smile that could hold the world’s secrets. 

Gillion wondered when exactly he’d started to think of the other like that. 

He pushed Chip out of his head and nodded, focusing on Jay’s words. 

“We think Finn had other diaries, but they’re long gone now. The ocean has then probably tore them up a long time ago.” Jay added. 

The image of a book floating in the waves appeared in his mind, getting tossed around by the waves, words forever lost to the water. Gillion hummed. “What do you think they said?”

Shrugging, Jay said, “probably more of the same stuff he usually wrote about. Pranks that Arlin pulled on him, or the day to day activities of the crew. Sometimes he’d ramble about sea creatures for four pages before remembering his train of thought.” 

Gillion smiled. He wondered what Finn’s story was. Where he’d come from, and who he wanted to be. Gillion wondered if he got to be that person before he died. 

Other items hung in the case, flasks and wooden mugs, as well and pieces of jewellery. A whole assortment of rings lined the bottom of the case, a few of them with notes next to them, but Gillion didn’t stop to read them. Except for one silver ring that caught his eye. 

It seemed like a simple band at first glance, but the note next to it had a little drawing of a symbol that looked like two loops of ropes knotted together. When Gillion returned his attention to the ring and squinted slightly, he could make out the same symbol carved into the inside of the ring, so that it would be hidden when someone was wearing the piece. The note described the symbol as one of a bond that ran deeper than just friendship. 

They didn’t know who the ring belonged to, why it was made, or who the bond was with. 

Gillion wondered who this ring was important to so long ago. That was the thing about museums like these, wasn’t it? Standing among ghosts and the items that they used to hold dear. In a lifetime long ago, these were all objects treasured and well loved, but now their only function was to educate people of a small town and anyone who might have even a remote interest in these long lost lives. 

He thought about the intricate relationships and uses these things used to have; someone drinking from the mugs, and fiddling with a ring that reminded them that someone loved them. He thought about a triton hunched over a journal scribbling down the day’s activities before they were forgotten forever. He thought about someone else drawing in the sketchbook, portraits of the people around them and scenes from their life coming to life in their own right on the pages. He thought about the swords and the people they once protected, the people they cut down. He thought about the ship, far below the waves even to this day, rotting wood protecting a place that people called home until the day they died. 

And yet, despite all the history the objects had, they sat in a cold, lifeless place to be looked at. Or rather, because of that history, Gillion supposed. 

He wondered what the Black Rose Pirates would have thought about their things being hung on walls and placed on podiums. He wondered what Arlin would have thought of his sword and eyeglass being put on display, or Finn and the inner workings of his very mind. 

The sketchbook especially piqued his interest. Who drew those things? Who was the subject of the drawings? Would either of them be happy about the art on display? Would the artist be distressed about their private work being put up for the world to see. Were they even proud of the now faded drawings that hundreds of people had seen? 

Maybe they didn’t mind all that much. Besides the pages ripped out of the back, of course. A part of him wondered what exactly was on those pages, but then the image of someone desperately tearing the pages out and tossing them to the waves before someone would ever be able to see them crossed his mind again. He wondered if perhaps those pages were full of something the artist considered shameful. 

Then, he caught himself. There was a curiosity, a need to know, of course, but at the same time, he was almost glad that those pages weren’t on display. The artist didn’t want them to be, and if the artist died with even the slightest piece of mind about their private works never seeing the light of day, then it was a comforting thought. To find a solace in the middle of a storm, perhaps. The quietest of happiness in the middle of an otherwise dark situation. 

Gillion wondered what exactly happened that night, to even give the artist enough time to understand that they would be dying soon, and that they needed to rip those pages out. He wondered if it was even intentional, or if the pages got caught on something, and the act of tearing them out was accidental. 

Pulled out of his thoughts by Jay looking at him, Gillion furrowed his brows, making Jay laugh quietly. 

“I asked where you went. I was explaining something when I realised you weren’t even paying attention, just staring at the ring.” A look of amusement crossed Jay’s face as Gillion floundered for a response.

“Sorry- I just,” He cut himself off. “I was thinking about all the history these things have. Like that ring, “ he pointed to it, “It used to belong to someone. And the symbol, it might have reminded them how someone else loved them. I was just– thinking about them, I don't know.” 

Jay smiled. “Yeah. Everything here used to actually be important. Now it’s kinda just stuff.”

“Interesting stuff,” Gillion corrected. 

Nodding softly, Jay let out a breath. “Interesting stuff.”

Looking at a few of the other rings, none of them caught his eye in quite the same way as the silver band, but there were many interesting designs, probably stolen from wealthy merchants or perhaps even lords. 

When he glanced over, Jay was still looking at the ring he’d pointed out to her. “Finn’s diaries never talked about anyone on the ship being romantically involved.” There was a slight crease in her forehead, as if she were trying to piece together a piece of a puzzle. “The captain had a wife, but their love seemed to be more- loud, ostentatious. This is quiet.”

“A secret,” Gillion whispered, and Jay nodded. 

They sat in silence for a moment, imagining secret lovers aboard a pirate ship so many centuries ago. Gillion wondered if they were ever able to really be together, or if they’d hidden it from the crew- or Finn, at the very least. 

Maybe it was another one of those things, like the moments Gillion mentioned. Moments specifically kept out of history books. 

Jay squinted at the ring for a moment longer before asking, “do you think it’s handmade? Look closely there, the etching isn’t perfect the way a stamp would make it.” She pointed to it, fingertip resting gently against the glass of the case.

Following her line of sight, Gillion squinted at the ring and realised that she was right. Little imperfections in the metal made it look less than professional, but Gillion almost figured that made it even more special. 

Stories began spinning in his head as he imagined the person who once owned the ring. Maybe the first mate, Arlin, had someone waiting for him on an island, or maybe the cook had a lover die years ago, and this was the last reminder of them. 

He wondered at the stories that surrounded him, so saturated with history, and yet he was blind to it. He didn’t know how to read this history, how to listen to the stories etched into rings and swords and cups. There was something almost magical about it, the way that all things held stories of their own, and yet the only ones he knew how to read were in a book written in beautiful script, the ramblings of someone spending their life looking to discover the secrets of the sea. 

Gillion wished he still had that sort of purpose. Without his status as the chosen one, what purpose could possibly be great enough to possess him through even his most uncertain times?

He glanced at the things surrounding him, all laid out neatly behind sterile glass. These things all had a purpose once, too. And now they have none, only to be looked at and then forgotten about. 

Maybe he wasn’t so much different than these things here. He supposed that these things at least held something interesting. Gillion was just a boy who used to be something greater. And now it didn’t matter, certainly not as much as these things here. 

Because at least this stuff was cared for and cherished by whoever gave these things their history. Gillion certainly couldn’t say the same about himself. He’d been treasured, sure, but in a different sort of way. 

He was treasured in the way that someone might treasure a detailed sword. Beautiful in its own right, but it does the same job as most other swords at the end of the day. He was ultimately replaceable, but the ring with a symbol of secretive love carved into it was certainly irreplaceable to its wearer. 

It wasn’t so much the thing itself that mattered, but rather the thing it symbolised, the relationship it showed. 

Gillion sighed, reigning his thoughts back in. Now wasn’t a time to let his mind wander into spirals of poetic nonsense that ultimately meant nothing. 

Maybe in another life he could have been a poet. 

Glancing over to her, Gillion saw that Jay had moved away, inspecting something new. 

A comb lay in the same case as the ring, easily missed in how far it was to the side. There wasn’t a note here, but the comb itself was striking, made from a dark rock that almost glittered when Gillion tilted his head. A moon was carved into the handle, offset but sun rays behind it. Once again, he wondered at the symbolism, and who had once owned this little tool. 

He led himself away from the case, worried about letting himself get lost once more in hundreds of untold stories that had found their home here, forever unheard. 

Shivering slightly, Gillion wondered if the ghosts of this past were here, staring down at their old belongings and wishing to go back to the height of their life. He wondered if the phantom touch of an artist's hands tried flipping pages of an ancient sketchbook, yearning to see their creations once more.  

For a number of times that Gillion couldn’t name, Jay pulled him out of his thoughts with a gentle touch to his arm and a soft smile. “There’s not much more to the museum. All we really have is the stuff pulled up from the ship and that’s not much. There are journals and things that people have written from researching but they’re much less interesting.” She paused briefly. “Besides, you keep spacing out so maybe we could come back some other time?”  Tilting her head, Jay regarded him with kindness and Gillion wondered how or why she was treating him with such.

He nodded and she smiled deeper. Mirroring his nod, Jay led them out of the museum and down the street. 

“There’s an ice cream shop that my sister likes to take me to sometimes. Do you want to go there?” Jay asked, letting go of his arm as they started down the sidewalk and a quiet breeze guided them. 

Gillion was becoming used to the weather here, and the wind that never seemed to leave despite the depths of July. “Yes. I’ve cream sounds nice.” He couldn’t remember the last time he got ice cream, considering he was never allowed such pleasantries and treats. He wasn’t even sure what his favourite flavour would be. 

Struck suddenly with an ancient memory of Edyn sneaking in two popsicles when he was training, Gillion idly wondered how many more times he would space out before Jay got sick of him. The memory was a sweet one. Gillion couldn’t have been older than 8, and ice cream was something he’d never experienced before, so his sister snuck two popsicles in for him to try. They sat on his bed and ate the treats and talked.

It was a far happier memory than most, 

Jay was rambling when the memory faded. “My favourite flavour is cherry. Although, I do like brownie sometimes. It’s just that brownie ice creams are so rich sometimes and I find it hard to finish all of it, y’know?” She paused to look at him, as if waiting for a confirmation. When she didn’t eat one, she just smiled, something amused in her eyes. “I lost you again, didn’t I? What’s going on in your head today?” Laughing quietly, she glanced down at the sidewalk and kicked a rock. Gillion could sense something almost awkward in her posture. He wanted to kick himself for not knowing how to be a good friend to her. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, not sure what else to say. “I’ve been- distracted for a few days now, I keep having these dreams-“ he cut himself off, not knowing what to say or how to explain that he was fairly certain his dreams were like windows into the past. 

Jay looked at him, something interested in her eyes. “Yeah?” She asked, urging him on. At least the awkwardness had started to melt out of her posture, reassuring Gillion that she didn’t completely hate him. 

Something sharp and almost painful stabbed through Gillion’s heart and he almost cringed at the thought of trying to explain himself or the strange phenomenon that kept pulling him back in time. Shrugging, he brushed it off, “it’s stupid.”

A sigh sounded from next to him and Gillion tried not to flinch at the disappointment laced in the sound.”I mean- obviously it’s important if you keep thinking so hard about it? Even if it is stupid. Stupid things can be important.” Jay muttered quietly, nothing hostile in her tone despite the words. 

“It’s just- I keep dreaming about being on a ship. I guess the whole Black Rose thing reminds me of it.” Gillion said, the words tasting sour in his mouth. He didn’t like the way they sounded out loud. They sounded crazy even as vague as they were, if he began explaining the dreams in whole, Jay surely would abandon any thought of friendship with him. 

He’d rather not sabotage this fragile thing that was forming. Friendship was hard enough for him to find, and by gods, he’d do the best he could to keep it. 

“Oh,'' Jay said simply, as if it made all the sense in the world. “I get dreams like that sometimes. Dreams about being on a pirate ship and not having to worry about any of the things here. I think it’d be nice to escape on a pirate ship, y'know? Too bad the golden age of piracy ended two hundred years ago.” Jay let herself laugh quietly. Her face lit up when she glanced across the street, grabbing Gillion’s wrist and pulling him towards a little building situated on the corner of an intersection. 

A little sign on the front of the shop had the words, ‘Kira’s Ice Cream” written in a curly font. The sign was red and white, with little hints of gold in the lettering, sparkling in the sunlight despite the overcast sky. The small building itself reflected the red, white, and gold colour scheme. Little booths inside mimicked a diner style that was at the height of design twenty years prior, with red plush seats and a checked floor pattern alternating between white and a soft gold. 

A lively woman was at the counter, helping someone. A white baseball hat with ‘Kira’s’ embroidered onto it in red kept long white hair out of her face. She wore a white shirt, with red suspenders that led into a little belt sort of thing around her waist that imitated a corset. 

Something familiar tugged in the back of Gillion’s memory.

As Jay pulled Gillion up to the counter and the previous customer left, the woman greeted them cheerily before noticing Jay and somehow managing to perk up even more as she said, “Jay!”

Jay grinned as the woman pulled her into an awkward sort of hug across the corner. Neither of them really seemed to mind the uncomfortability of having a counter between them. GIllion watched for a moment, wondering how long they’d been friends, and if this sort of over-energetic greeting was common. “Kira!” Jay responded with similar enthusiasm. 

They began ramling to each other in words almost too fast for GIllion to understand. Feeling almost as if he were intruding, he turned away and stopped trying to make sense of the words falling so quickly from the girls’ mouths. He stared up at a board above Kira that listed tens of flavours of ice cream. They all sounded great. He didn’t even know how to choose when he was given so many options, especially considering he’d never even been allowed ice cream. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he read the flavours, the words blurring into each other as he scanned them. He wasn’t even sure he was remembering them all correctly. He just read as fast as he could, trying to find one that maybe stood out more than the rest to him, but by the time he reached the end of the list, he wasn’t sure he could legitimately name more than 3 of the flavours listed on the boards. Biting his lip and scowling, he tried re-reading the list, trying desperately to find one that seemed more appealing than the rest. 

Jay and Kira must have stopped their rambling, because when he glanced over to Jay, she was watching him quietly. She made a quiet motion as if encouraging him, and it only made him shrink in on himself. 

“I don’t- I don’t know," he admitted. 

Kira shrugged with a smile that didn’t waiver once. “That’s alright! Do you want some suggestions or do you want me to just pick something for you?”

Nudging him with her elbow and a small grin, Jay added, “Kira’s great at guessing what flavours people like the best.”

“Oh-” He glanced up at the board again before getting overwhelmed by the flavours there. “Uh- I don’t- I still don’t have any money.” He realised before turning back to Jay with an apologetic smile, not wanting to intrude more than he already had. To make her pay for his museum ticket and an ice cream cone made his insides churn with something unsettling and guilty. 

Instead of Jay, though, Kira waved the words away. “That’s alright. On the house.” She grinned. “I’ve never seen you around before. You just moved in, right?” Gillion nodded hesitantly, and Kira continued, “Well, then consider it a welcoming gift.” She smiled and she grabbed a pair of cones and winked at jay. “And yours will be a best friend discount.”

Jay laughed quietly before saying, “Thanks, Kira.”

Following as Jay began to lead him to one of the booths, Gillion nodded. “Thank you.”

Instead of actually sitting in the booth, Jay turned to face him and leaned against the table, considering him for a moment. “I wonder what she’ll give you.” Gillion shrugged again as he came to stand in front of her, feeling vaguely anxious for some reason. “Do you wanna stay here and eat or-” She wiggled her eyebrows and Gillion got the idea that she was about to offer something potentially unconventional. “-I know a cliff that faces the sea. There’s a huge boulder up there, perfect for hanging out on.”

An image appeared in his mind and he smiled. Nodding, he said, “Yeah. Okay.” It sounded nice, even with the slight wind he’d felt earlier and the cloudy sky. It sounded quiet, calming. 

They lapsed into a quiet moment before Jay’s eyebrow twitched and she said, “Oh, you were going to tell me about your dreams.” 

“Oh.” Gillion hadn’t expected her to bring up the conversation again. He resisted the urge to shrug and deflect again, instead just glancing out the window behind her. “There’s a boy in the dreams. I think he wants to be my friend.” He left out the part about wanting to be Chip’s best friend too, getting to know him and having all of the things he’d never been allowed to have in friendships before. Hell, he hadn’t even really been allowed friendships before. 

“He appears more than once?” Gillion nodded, and Jay raised her eyebrows. “Huh. Usually my dreams don’t have recurring characters unless I know the person in real life.”

Shifting nervously and glancing down at the floor, Gillion responded, “I don’t know. He’s just there. And we’re on a ship, and we just- I don’t know, we just talk.” Gillion glanced down at the floor, embarrassment making his ear fins flair and his cheeks warm. 

Jay, on the other hand, seemed intrigued, if a little confused. “You just talk?”

Nodding, Gillion whispered, “it’s sort of like we’re friends. Or we were friends, maybe in another lifetime, or something.” 

“Huh.” Deep in thought, Jay's eyes clouded, as if remembering something. “You would have liked this one crazy guy who used to live here.” She smiled softly. 

Then, Kira was calling out Jay’s name to get her attention. She held two ice cream cones in her hands; one, a cherry base with brownie chunks, and the other, a minty green with little brown flecks of chocolate. As Gillion took his cone, Kira grinned at him and the familiarity struck him again before vanishing just as quickly as it’d appeared. Kira must have sensed something similar, as her eyebrows furrowed slightly for a moment before brushing it off and waving them away with well wishes for their day. 

Jay led Gillion back out onto the street, and they walked in silence, each enjoying their ice cream. Gillion marvelled at the flavour of it, enjoying it more than he remembered enjoying the popsicles Edyn brought to him all those years ago. Maybe Kira really was that good at guessing people’s favourite flavours. 

At some point, they’d left the town and Jay led him up a trail not dissimilar to the one he’d taken earlier to go into town. This trail also meandered towards the beach, but curved suddenly before reaching the beach to branch up a hill. 

Jay finally broke the silence as she wiped a bit of ice cream off her cheek. “I come up here all the time. It’s a nice stop to just sort of hang out without other people, y’know? Get away from everything. It’s got a great view of the sea, too.” She grinned, and Gillion nodded, something warm filling his heart as she spoke. 

Something very much like the honour he felt as a champion filled him for the first time since coming here as he realised that this was a secret and guarded place for her. And yet, she chose to divulge the location of such a safe place to him after only knowing him for little more than a day. 

The trail led into a more forested area of the hill, travelling up to its summit, where it stopped abruptly in a little clearing marked by a boulder nearly as tall as Gillion, and twice as wide as it was tall. It had a large, flat surface that Jay climbed onto easily before sitting down, her back facing him. Beyond the boulder, and towards the direction of Jay’s facing, the ocean stretched into the horizon. 

For a moment, Gillion stared, his breath stolen by the majesty of the moment. 

Jay glanced over her shoulder at him, laughing quietly and motioning with her head for him to join her. “Come on,” she said as she smiled.

Climbing up onto the rock next to Jay, Gillion paid close attention as not to let his ice cream fall. 

A warmth settled on his back as he sat down, and the surrounding area lightened as the sun began peaking through the clouds, dissipating from the earlier storm. Leaning his head back, Gillion stared up at the sky, a slight breeze picking up and cooling the skin of his face. 

Something about this spot felt special, and Gillion couldn’t quite put a name on it. Maybe it was the fact that his first real friend showed it to him, or maybe it was just the magic of the ice cream and the weather that began to clear for the first time since his family had moved. Gillion supposed there could be symbolism found within a moment like that, but he paid no mind to it. Instead, he resolved to just enjoy this moment with Jay and soak in whatever specialness this spot had to offer him. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if it went deeper than just Jay, and his life here, in this time. 

Chapter Text

The ship rocked violently when he opened his eyes. He stumbled to the ladder in the hull as the ship pitched him to the side over and over, making his steps uneven as he tried catching his balance. It took an embarrassingly long time to grab hold of the rungs and hoist himself up onto the gundeck. There was shouting, he realised when he poked his head through the trapdoor. He hadn’t heard it over the thunder and crashing of waves against the ship, but now, the shouts made his ears hurt, and he ducked below again for a moment to gather his bearings. He could feel the way the ship shook, and how desperately the waves tried to knock him down from the ladder. 

Then, he heard someone calling his name and as he looked up, Chip’s worried face peered down. The sight of familiar freckles and brown eyes served to calm a bit of the anxiety that had started clogging his chest, but the terrified expression on Chip’s face made him scared. 

Chip offered a hand that Gillion took, hoisting himself up. The energy of the gundeck hit him in an instant, disorienting him as he turned to take in the chaos. Crewmembers threw themselves onto the deck above and shouted orders to fire. Through the portholes, the ocean was dark and thrashing in the storm, lightning flashing across the clouds and lighting up the rain that poured down. The shape of a larger ship blocked out some of the flashes of light.

“We’ll hide in Kira’s quarters,” Chip said into his ear, barely able to be heard over the sounds of the storm and the crash of canonfire. Feeling himself be tugged along as he watched the chaos around him. Kira’s crew pulled weapons from seemingly nowhere and threw themselves into the fray against their assailants. The two of them sprinted across the gundeck, planks rattling with the stomping of the crew as someone boarded their vessel. Gillion wondered who exactly had decided to attack an innocent merchant’s ship.

He had an idea, one that made his heart seize as he thought about words on a page and the history of this ship that had already been written. 

Tugged suddenly in opposite directions, Gillion felt someone yank on his arm to slow his and Chip’s rush to the captain’s quarters. Caspian stood still amidst the shouting and movement around him. He had a worried look in his eyes and he shouted above the sounds of canonfire, “Keep yourself safe, friend.” He handed one of his swords to Gillion and pushed the two of them back into the direction they’d been running, clutching his other sword in a white-knuckled grasp. With a nod, the water genasi once again disappeared into the crowd of the crew and cabin boys running to canons to help with reload.

Chip threw an odd look his way before continuing on, pulling Gillion into a room and slamming the door. 

Stepping aside, Gillion watched as Chip heaved a dresser in front of the door. Panting heavily and shaking slightly as he turned to look at Gillion, something wavered in Chip’s expression. A deep rooted fear was all that Gillion could see in the other’s eyes before a beat of muffled silence took hold of them and Chip’s shoulders dropped slightly, relaxing. Then, Chip took a stumbling step forward and collapsed into Gillion’s arms. 

Chip sobbed as he was held, babbling almost incoherently as he explained how afraid he’d been when he couldn’t find Gillion at the beginning of the fight. Hands balled into his shirt as Chip leaned all of his weight onto Gillion. 

The sword had dropped to his side when he caught Chip, but it caught Gillion’s eye now as they sank to the floor. With a sniffle as the ship rattled, Chip pulled away. “We should hide.” Wiping away a tear, Chip pulled himself off the floor and cast a worried glance towards the door. There was a rigidity in the way he held his shoulders, and a tension in his expression. The fear was hidden moreso than a moment prior, but Gillion could still read it with ease. 

“Who-?” Gillion started, cutting himself off when Chip’s eyes flashed. 

“Pirates.” Straightening his back, Chip’s expression hardened. He chewed his lip and his eyes grew distant. “The Black Rose, to be specific.”

The name made Gillion’s heart squeeze. In his mind, he heard his thoughts begin to spiral, half-formed sentences about this being real, about words in a book playing out in real time. Past time? Gillion wasn’t even sure anymore, only that this was real, real, real, real.

Pushing himself up, he tried shaking off the thoughts. The ship lurched to the side under his feet and a rumble resounded through the wood. Gillion felt Chip grab his arm, stabilising him as the ship shook with the impact of a canon. His heart pounded in his chest as he met Chip’s eyes, seeing the same fear coursing through his veins reflected back. 

Moving to the back of the deserted quarters, they found an empty cabinet space with enough room for the two of them to squeeze into if they removed the shelf. They left it leaning against the wall as they climbed in. It took a bit of situating before they could fit comfortably, and Chip kept the sword close to him, just in case. Shutting the door, a darkness enveloping the two of them in a way that only slightly muffled the sounds of the attack above them. 

Pressed together in the small space, Gillion could feel the way Chip was shaking. He didn't comment when he felt him leaning in. Instead, he accepted the action as something almost comforting, and whispered, “what will we do? When the fight is over.” 

Chip didn't respond for a while, trying to calm his own breathing, and the pulse that Gillion could feel under the other’s skin. “I don’t know,” was whispered in return, small and scared. “If Kira’s crew wins, I suppose it’ll go back to the way it was. And if the pirates win-'' he cut himself off.

Gillion understood what Chip was thinking. The other boy had no reason to believe that the pirates victory would mean anything but death for the two of them. Gillion knew otherwise, if the library books were anything to go by, but it didn't stop the sick feeling spreading in his gut that these moments may very well be his last.

“If Captain Kira wins, we’ll have to stop for supplies sooner than planned, to repair the ship.” Gillion's words were more confident, and he could feel Chip nodding. “Maybe when we stop, you and I could leave. Find our own little boat and sail alone.” 

Chip laughed quietly, and the knot in Gillion’s stomach began to loosen itself. His aim to distract them began working when chip replied with, “alone? That may as well be a death wish. We could island hop, maybe, but to go anywhere else, we’d need a real crew.”

“Then we’ll get one.” 

As his eyes adjusted to the low light, Gillion could see the side of Chip's amused smile. “Right, because it's that easy.” Slowly, the other boy began to relax.

Nodding, Gillion continued. “We’ll find others like us. People without a story, or those who want to start a new one. They'll join us, and we can go see the world.” He began to imagine this world, this hypothetical future. 

This unrealistic past.  

Because he knew the end to this story. He knew that the Black Rose would win, and they would find them down here. They’d be taken aboard the pirate ship, and in a few months time, they’d wreck. 

And Chip would be the single survivor. 

But in this world they began to let themselves imagine, the two of them could captain their own ship. They could grow up and see the world. They could live . Gillion let himself get lost in this idea of life, because maybe the dream was worth it, even if it never played out.

“That sounds nice.” Chip stared idly towards the little sliver of light greeting them through the door. “I've always wanted to be a captain.” There was more there, Gillion knew. He could sense the way the words stilled themselves, as if there was more stipulation than just being a captain of any crew. 

Leaning into the other, Gillion nodded. “We could make our own rules.” 

Chip laughed quietly. “Like what?” 

“Like falling asleep under the stars once a month.” 

“Once a week.” 

Gillion grinned. “And mandatory time in the ratlines.”

“Anytime we aren’t navigating or motivating the crew.” 

He nodded. “And see the whole world.”

“Together?” 

“Sure.” As long as it meant they were both alive. 

“Okay.” 

And Gillion knew. He knew. And that's what made it painful. Even if Chip did survive, whether the wreck or by leaving the Black Rose before the wreck could even happen, it didn't mean they’d really be able to do those things. Because at the end of everything, he didn’t actually know that he’d wake up here again. Nothing in this world, nor in this timeline, was promised. It was entirely too real of a possibility that this privilege he’d been allowed would run out and he’d never see Chip again.

He’d never see Chip again.

And for some reason, that hurt a lot worse than being told he was no longer the Chosen One. He figured he was selfish for it. This wasn’t even his life, and Chip had nothing to do with him. 

And yet he felt more at home here than he did in his own life, his own timeline. 

Though, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit that. Certainly not in the midst of a pirate attack. So, he ignored that thought. He ignored how much easier it was for him to fit into this little cupboard next to Chip than it was in a big house on a beachside hill that housed a broken family.

“I haven’t fallen asleep under the stars in a while,” Chip’s voice helped shelve the thought of it. “At least, not since I started feeling safe.”

Gillion hummed, just leaning into Chip further. “It sounds nice. I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep under the stars.”

“So it’s settled then.” Chip’s voice was soft and warm, and his gaze was distant, as if he was imagining a not-so-far-off future where they could fall asleep under the stars together. The idea of it made him smile. 

He could settle for dreaming like this. He could settle for grand starscapes in his imagination, with Chip right next to him, sharing warmth like this.

The reality of the situation dawned on him when he realised just how quiet the air around them had grown. Despite the empty room right outside, he thought he could hear the sounds of the battle only a few minutes ago. When he focused a little harder, he realised that he could, in fact, hear distant sounds of someone speaking loudly. But canonfire no longer sent tremors through the ship and the screaming had died out.

The person speaking grew louder, and Gillion could just barely make out an order to search the ship. The muscles in his back stiffened as his eyes widened. He couldn’t tell if it was his own heart pounding in his chest or if he could hear the stomps of pirates making their way onto the ship to carry out the search. 

Chip was still relaxed into his side, staring idly at the sword that Caspian gave them. 

Caspian .

Gillion hoped he was okay. The stomping grew louder until Gillion could feel Chip tense as well.

They shared a terrified look as the door to the quarters burst open, the wardrobe holding it closed being knocked over with ease. Heavyset footsteps leisurely made their way into the room as the person took in the room. Only a moment later, papers were being rifled through, and drawers opened, the contents being spilled out across the Captain’s desk. 

Then, the pirate started to hum. He was alone, GIllion figured, considering the lack of other noise in the room, and he didn’t know that the two boys were hiding just a few feet away. 

Gillion could feel his lungs squeeze as Chip watched him with terrified eyes, tears only barely visible slipping down his cheeks. Breathing became difficult and he prayed to any god out there that the intruder would skip their cabinet and continue his search elsewhere. 

His prayers went unanswered as Gillion felt the footsteps near their hiding stop and a cabinet door creaked just next to them. The humming only set GIlion more on edge, his ear fins pinning back against his head. 

Chip’s grip on the sword tightened and tears were clearly spilling down his cheeks silently. 

The humming was cut off by a surprised sound, the footsteps settling as the pirate came to a stop in front of their hiding place. Gillion squeezed his eyes shut as the door to the small space creaked open, bathing them in light. 

In an instant, he felt Chip move next to him. Opening his eyes quickly, Gillion figured this would be the end. The pirate would grab Chip first and kill him, and Gillion would be next. 

And they’d never be able to fall asleep under the stars. 

Briefly, Gillion wondered if dying here would mean death in his own timeline, or if he would just wake up again. He didn’t know which was worse. 

But Chip wasn’t being killed. Rather the sobbing boy was shakily brandishing the sword in their defence, the point of it aimed directly at the pirates face. His form was strong, and it hit Gillion suddenly that Chip probably had experience holding a sword. Untrained, maybe. Self-taught, probably, but the stance was sure of himself, even if his arms shook in fear. The angle at which Chip pointed the sword was knowledgeable, if a little underhanded. With the tip of the sword pointed directly toward his eyes, the pirates depth perception would be wrong about where the sword was in the space, and he’d be left vulnerable were Chip to lunge towards his face.

The pirate looked startled, his eyes wide. His own swords were sheathed, and he clearly hadn’t expected to be attacked down here. 

Chip was growling, hardening his face and ignoring his tears. “I’ll kill you.” His voice broke halfway through the sentence but something about his tone was just as unsettling as he meant it to be. 

The pirates, on the other hand, let out a sharp laugh. “Put the sword away, kid.” The words rumbled through the air, and Gillion found himself frozen in place. He couldn't deny that the words were said with no malicious intent. They were just… amused. Despite the threat of the sword, the pirate held himself confidently, and with ease, as if the two of them were of no threat to him.

The pirate was tall, and large. He wore clothes similar to Chip, and two swords were at his waist, as was a golden spyglass. He had short, white hair contrasting his grey goliath skin. A gold tooth peeked out from an expression of amusement.

Gillion had never seen a goliath before. 

Chip seemed too shocked to move, letting the pirate reach forward to take the sword, which slipped from Chip’s hands with ease. It was then tossed away and Chip stepped back, bumping into the cabinet. 

Something in his mind screamed at Gillion to move. He couldn’t decide if it was pure survivalist instinct telling him that he was in danger, or if it was the years of training that had been crammed into his head. This was exactly the situation Gillion would have usually jumped into action with in order to protect himself and Chip. He didn’t know why he stayed put while CHip took it upon himself to protect them.

The goliath watched them, his eyes flicking between the two of them. “We’re not going to hurt you, but I do need to bring you up to my captain, okay?” His words were steady and measured, a hand out as if to calm a terrified animal. 

Gillion supposed that’s exactly what the two of them were.

A sob tore itself out of Chip’s throat, and in broken words, he asked, “did you kill the others?” 

A confused expression crossed the goliath’s face before it evened out. “I mean- some of them died, yeah. That's- kind of unavoidable. We’re not here to kill you, though. And your captain is alive. She and her crew will be let free as soon as we finish searching the ship.”

Wiping his tears, Chip nodded, seeming to steel himself he lifted his chin. He glanced at Gillion as the pirate turned away to lead them to the deck. 

Gillion crawled out of the space to join Chip in following the pirate, who introduced himself as Arlin as he led them. The name rang familiar to Gillion, and he remembered Jay say that was the name of the first mate of the Black Rose. Chip turned to look at Gillion with wide eyes when the pirate said his name, and by his expression Gillion figured that Chip had probably figured out who their attackers were as well. 

On the deck, pirates rifled through barrels, and Kira’s crew was sitting in a group on the deck, a couple pirates pointing weapons at them to discourage any movement. 

The captain of the pirates, who wore an ostentation hat with roses made of ribbon, stood near the Asphodel’s crew, staring down at Captain Kira. 

Arlin called out to the captain, nodding to the two boys. “Found them hiding in the Captain's quarters.” 

Gillion could feel hundreds of eyes turn towards him all at once. He wasn’t even sure if Kira had actually learned of his existence aboard her ship until now. He glanced towards her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Kira was staring directly at Chip, with wide eyes. 

There was a girl staring at him, though. She looked barely older than him, and she was one of those guarding Kira’s crew. Dark hair was pulled back in braids, and she had an oversized skirt tied around her waist, with bracelets decorating her wrists. The small red and black pistol in her hands matched her outfit.

Arling and his captain were discussing something, but Gillion couldn’t focus enough to pay attention, his eyes instead rapidly switching between people and any movement. The girl, however, didn’t waver in her stare. 

The words of one of the books in the library came back to him, about how Chip was one of three young adults on the crew of the Black Rose. This girl must have been another, but Gillion didn’t see another young person in sight. 

Arlin laughed suddenly, and Chip shifted uncomfortably beside him. “He’s scrappy, that’s for certain. And the other seems a little skittish.” He realised that Arlin was talking about the two of them. 

“The triton looks strong,’ The girl staring at Gillion piped up. “Not like Finn.”

Laughing again, Arlin grinned at the girl. “No, not like Finn.” His attention returned to Chip. “you, boy. What do you want to do with your life?” 

Chip stared at him, startled. “Sail- I guess? I just want to be on the ocean.”

Arlin hummed, and the girl rolled her eyes. “Well, then. What’s your name?”

“Chip,” Chip whispered. 

With a nod, Arlin said, “Alright, Chip. How does being a pirate sound?”

And Gillion could see how hard Chip tried to hide the way his eyes lit up at the idea of it. Ah , so that’s what sort of captain Chip dreamed of being. Somehow, it didn’t really surprise Gillion. By no means did he see Chip as unkind or selfish or cruel. Really, Chip had no traits of a stereotypical pirate, but then, neither did Arlin. 

Arlin laughed easily, and smiled even in light of the storm that had started to calm. Arlin didn’t seem very cruel or selfish or unkind either. Rather, he did remind Gillion a little bit of Chip if he thought about it for long enough. Their mannerisms, at least, were similar. 

Turning to glance at Gillion, Chip worried at his bottom lip, thinking. He turned to Kira as well, and Gillion watched as she smiled softly and nodded at him, almost too small for Gillion to notice. 

Gillion wondered if he’d get a choice to go as well. 

He didn’t need to worry about it, as Chip straightened his back and looked to Arlin, and then his captain. “Only if Gillion can come with.”

The pirates shared a look, and the captain nodded. Behind him, the girl with braids grinned.

“Welcome to the Black Rose Pirates.”

Chapter Text

The storm must have faded out entirely, he realised as brilliant blue shined down on him. He hadn’t really expected for the whole Black Rose raid to happen so soon, or at all, if he was honest. A major part of him still wanted to believe that this was all just a silly dream, because any other explanation would be insane. But part of him kind of did hope that somehow, it was real. He hoped that somehow, somewhere, sometime, his Chip existed. And he hoped that they really were friends. 

But it didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t be friends with a boy who died three hundred years ago, that was insane. 

“Gillion?” HIs name echoed across the space, the ocean rushing forward as if to greet the word. For a moment, he wondered if he imagined it, mistaking it briefly for Chip’s voice.

When he turned towards the voice, Jay stood on the beach. How he confused their voices, Gillion wasn’t sure. He pushed himself up into a more comfortable position to watch Jay make her way towards him. 

“What are you doing out here? It looked like you were asleep- but a storm just passed.” She stared out at the waves, and the storm that had long since began its retreat into the open air above the ocean with a confused expression, her eyebrows drawn together. She looked down at him, scrutinising the way his clothes were damp and sand stuck to his skin uncomfortably. He wondered for the first time how pathetic he looked. “Did you take a nap or something?” She asked. 

Gillion stared at her boots, pretty red ones that ended at her ankle, where her socks peeked out. She had bright yellow shorts on and a denim jacket that hid a white tank top. Slung over her shoulder, she carried a messenger bag with her name embroidered in a flowery font. Nodding, he brought his knees up to hide his face. 

He hadn’t cowered in a long time. 

A silence stretched for a moment before the sand next to him shifted and he peeked over to see Jay sitting next to him, looking out across the water. “Must be calming to fall asleep here. I don’t know how on earth you slept through the rain though.” She laughed quietly, something lighthearted and teasing in her tone. Gillion felt his shoulders relax a little as Jay leaned back on her hands to stare up at the sky. “Maybe it’s a triton thing.”

He hadn’t really considered that before. 

To be fair, he knew next to nothing about his race. He didn’t know much about their culture or their values. All that he knew had to do with the court, not the people . His people were as much of an enigma to him as these dreams. 

“Do you remember the dreams I told you about?” He asked, his voice shakier than he expected. Je almost surprised himself with the words. 

Jay nodded. “With the boy that wants to be your friend.” 

Mirroring her nod, Gillion said, “I don’t think they are dreams anymore.” 

As the silence stretched, Gillion wondered if he’d lose her friendship. He wondered if she would think him a freak and leave, and he would have lost the only real friend he’d ever made. He wasn’t sure if Chip counted as a real friend or not, on account of the real part. 

Instead, Jay looked at him, curiosity in her eyes. “You think it was real? The boy and the ship?”

Taking a steadying breath, he nodded. “His name was Chip, and he sailed on the merchant’s ship, Asphodel , a fluyt captained by a woman named Kira. The first mate was a man named Caspian, a water genasi that came from the undersea. Chip had stowed away on this ship for a year. On April 14th, 1684, Asphodel was raided by the Black Rose Pirates. They took in two new crew members from that raid. Chip, and someone who’s name is erased from history books.” He paused, an unnamed emotion filling his chest. “I was there. I was the unnamed second that the Black Rose invited aboard. Chip is my friend.” He paused, the emotion choking him as it wrapped itself around his lungs, making him stumble over the last sentence. “On July 28th the Black Rose will sink, and Chip will be the only survivor, only to disappear the next morning.”

Jay sat for a moment, taking in the words with awe. “That’s all true. That’s- how did you know all of that-? Well, except- the Black Rose won’t sink in a month, because it already did, 300 years ago.”

A spear sank itself into Gillion’s heart at the words. He’d forgotten that all of these people were already dead. He nodded through the pain of it. “I haven’t dreamed of that night yet. But just now- I dreamed of the raid. Chip and I hid in a cabinet, in Kira’s quarters. Caspian gave us a sword to protect ourselves. The first mate of the Black Rose , Arlin, found us. Kira didn’t even put up a fight when they asked Chip if he wanted to join. It’s like she knew that he would always say yes. A girl our age said I looked strong, that I would make for a good pirate. She had braids, and a fierce look in her eyes.”

“Lizzie…” Jay said quietly. “The girl’s name was Lizzie. Elizabeth, technically, but she hated it. When I was little, I would read all the books I could to learn about her because I wanted to be just like her as a kid.”

“My dreams- they’re real, I’m telling you.” Gillion searched Jay’s expression for anything that could indicate unbelief. 

There was nothing. Jay nodded. “I believe you.”

The silence that stretched was only really broken by the sounds of the waves slowly washing up onto shore, getting farther away as the tide shrank back out to sea. He imagined the Black Rose sailing on this sea, a speck in the distance as people standing where the two of them sat panicked because of the unmistakable flag of the pirates. He imagined himself on the ship, staring back at the shore. 

“If your dreams truly are real…” Jay trailed off as she glanced at him, something potent in her expression. “Don’t get too close to Chip. Or any of them. You have to remember that they died 300 years ago. If you get close, the only end to this story is heartbreak, or death.”

He hummed. “Do you think I’ll die? The night of the wreck, Chip will be the only survivor.” He remembered panicking during the raid and praying that if he died in the dream, he would at least wake up again in his own timeline.

Jay shrugged. “If you, or some version of you, really was on that ship, and Chip was the only survivor? Then yeah, you probably did die. Or at least, that version of you.” She stopped to think for a moment, pushing herself up to rest her elbows on her knees. “If you dream of the wreck, you might experience death, but I don’t know that, logically, your life would be ended in this timeline too. Unless you drown in a storm while you’re asleep, or if the tide rolls in. I can’t really imagine a triton drowning, though.”

“That’s… fair. I suppose,” He said. It did little to calm the anxiety that brewed in his chest at the thought of dying, or of experiencing death. As he tried shoving the bubbling feeling down, he realised that this was the first time he’d ever really been afraid to die. In all the years of his life, he’d thought of dying as a noble thing. In those years, dying meant protecting someone, or being a hero. But now, the dark feeling of fear clung to him, wrapping itself around his small, barely beating heart and it sank its tiny teeth in. He felt small. And he wondered what changed, other than the obvious. 

He supposed that if he died now, not many would care, and his name wouldn’t be written in any history books, but that didn’t feel like the real reason for his fear. He wasn’t afraid of the pain or the nothingness that death would cause, no, he was afraid of- 

Oh.

He wasn’t afraid of dying. He was afraid of not continuing to live, because he had finally found something that he wanted to keep experiencing, that he wanted to keep living for. 

“Just try not to die, I guess.” Jay smiled, nudging him with her elbow. “Or get stuck in the 1600s, or something.”

Gillion let out a little laugh, and he was faced suddenly with the fact that he really didn’t know why these dreams were happening. Sure, it was probably real, but that didn’t explain why he was experiencing the past like this.

“Hey,” Jay said, glancing over, “do you wanna go to the arcade and take your mind off your hypothetical death, or the inevitable- past?- death of your friend?” Jay looked confused at her wording, realising that there wasn’t really a word for something that had yet to happen to GIllion, but had already happened in actuality. 

And Gillion was hit with the realisation that he was already grieving someone who both hadn’t yet died in his life, but that had truly died hundreds of years ago. 

What an awful feeling. 

He shoved it aside and nodded. He’d grieve when Chip died. Or at least, when he stopped existing in Gillion’s life. “Okay. I’ve never been to an arcade before.” 

Jay’s face lit up and she pushed herself up and held out a hand to him. “You’re going to love this.” 

Letting himself be helped up, he considered Jay’s words from earlier, about getting too close, before letting all thought of Chip and a time from 299 years and 11 months ago wash away. 

The other continued holding his hand as she pulled him up the hill and back towards the town. 

They walked through the town together, and Gillion let Jay chatter about whatever was on her mind. She didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t have much to add, seemingly used to the way he’d space out. 

While she talked, he thought about how vastly his life had changed in the past few weeks. He never used to get so lost in his own thoughts. He remembered one of the elders telling him that he was a weapon, and weapons didn’t think. He supposed that now, no one cared if he thought, let alone if he got lost in his own head. Jay especially didn’t seem to mind. She almost seemed to find it amusing. He appreciated that, as he didn’t really know how he’d react if someone didn’t tolerate it. 

For a brief moment, he wondered if being cast out was the reason for the dreams. Maybe they really weren’t real and he was just slowly spiralling into insanity from losing his place in the world. Or maybe this was all fake, and he had already spiralled. Not for the first time, he wondered if he would just wake back up in the small, cell-like room the elders had given him. Or maybe he’d wake up in a padded room, the kind they put the crazy people in. Maybe he’d attacked someone by accident, and they’d sedated him and deemed him mentally unwell. 

Because what other explanation did he have? Either the dreams were somehow real, or nothing was. He didn’t know which was worse. 

Because if they were real, then it made no sense, and he didn’t even know where to begin looking for a reason. He’d never heard of anything like this before, and there was nothing out of the ordinary about the dreams themselves other than the sheer amount of historical accuracy they had, and how much detail. He barely remembered dreaming before he left All-Port, and those he did remember weren’t that detailed, nor did they make any semblance of sense, let alone resemble a real historical timeline. 

He figured it had something to do with this town, but he didn’t know what it had to do with him. Surely it didn’t happen to everyone here, considering Jay hadn’t mentioned anything similar, and Edyn seemed just the same as she had before coming here. No weird dreams, or naps on the beach. 

Or naps in general. 

He wondered if the beach had anything to do with the dreams, considering the first and many occurred while he slept on the sands. Their new home was close enough to the beach that he didn’t rule out the idea of it, despite some of the dreams he’d had in his own bed at night. 

Something childish in him suggested magic. Magic didn’t exist, as far as he was aware. Maybe it did hundreds of years ago, and had since died out. He supposed that maybe there was some sort of lingering magic from the shipwreck, but he doubted it would have lasted for 300 years, and that he was the only one in that entire time who’d experienced it. 

Surely there was an actual reason for it, and he just hadn’t connected the dots yet. 

Distantly, he wondered if there were any books that could help him in the library that came with the house. Whoever lived there originally had to have been an interesting fellow, considering some of the eccentric titles he’d already seen in there before finding the book about fluyts. 

He sighed as he realised how much the situation had served to stress him out. He supposed that he shouldn’t worry about the why , as long as the dreams continued inviting him to a time from so long ago. As long as he was allowed to continue being friends with Chip, then he didn’t care how or why it happened. 

If this was a gift horse, he wouldn’t look it in the mouth. 

He focused back on the path in front of him, and realised that the arcade was just down the street, and Jay was pointing to it. 

“My friend Aslana works there. I hope she’s there today so you can meet her.” Jay’s hand dropped as she glanced at Gillion. “She’s like you, in a sense. Her family moved from All-Port when she was little, but she’s a triton too.”

Nodding, he smiled slightly, something excited rising in his chest at the thought of meeting a new triton that didn’t have anything to do with the court or the council. 

Cool air hit their skin as soon as Jay pulled the door open, and Gillion was immediately assaulted by bright colours, flashing lights and sound effects blaring through low quality speakers from everywhere in the building. The carpet was black, with neon shapes and lines scattered into a pattern like sprinkles. Strangely shaped sprinkles, but sprinkles nonetheless. Rows of arcade games hosted more genres and ways to have fun than Gillion had even realised possible. 

He’d heard of arcades and walked by them in All-Port before, but never had he actually paid any attention to them. 

Next to him, Jay was bouncing on her toes and pulling out a pouch from the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder. Inside of the pouch, Gillion could hear the tell-tale sound of coins. 

Dragging him to one of the nearest games, Jay dropped some of her coins into his hand and explained how the game worked, and demonstrated by sticking her own coins into a slot and explaining as she played. The game she’d chosen had little guns made out of plastic and attached to the machine by a cord. As the screen lit up to acknowledge her payment, she began pointing the toy gun and shooting skeletons that ran towards the screen. 

As he watched, Gillion learned that Jay was an excellent shot, even if just in a video game. 

He thought about the gun sitting in the museum, emblazoned with her family crest. He wondered if she’d be as good a shot as her distant uncle. 

Gillion didn’t think of Chip or the Black Rose at all after that, and they spent the rest of the day at the arcade.

Chapter Text

“You know, I was getting kind of scared when I couldn’t find you today.” The voice rang down from the hatch leading to the upper decks. A lantern hung next to Chip’s face, illuminating a silly smile and something amused in his eyes. “I really don’t get why you like hanging out down here so much. Or how you manage to evade me every time I want to hang out. Do you go to another realm or something?” He joked, and Gillion found himself laughing quietly along with him. 

If only Chip had any idea how almost correct that was. Gillion watched as he descended, and said, “you say that like you don’t always want to hang out with me.” He grinned as Chip paused his descent to sputter and look at him, feigned shock and hurt in his expression. 

“How dare you accuse me of such.” Gillion rolled his eyes as Chip hid a grin and continued down, hoping off the last two rings and landing with a thud. The grin won out in the end, and Chip came to sit on the floor next to Gillion, setting the lantern down. “I guess I can’t really deny it. But we both know you like hanging out with me just as much, too.” 

Gillion felt his heart flutter, something warm and heavy blanketing the moment. “I do,” he said quietly, a little smile on his face. It was the truest thing he’d said in a long time. It wasn’t that he typically lied- quite the opposite, actually- but the statement rang true and permeated every fibre of his being. 

And it was completely worth it when Chip smiled at him, full to the brim with happiness. The fire in the lantern glinted off his eyes, transforming them into something close to gold, and Gillion almost thought he could see something in the depths there. Something intense and happy and warm all at once. He wanted to put a name to it, but didn’t. He didn’t want to misread the emotion playing in his friend’s eyes. Didn’t want to hope that it was one label, only to be disappointed when it wasn’t. 

Didn’t want to hope for something he couldn’t have. 

Because at the end of everything, he couldn’t ever really have Chip. Not as a friend, not as a partner, not as anything more. Because at the end of everything, they were born in different centuries, and this time he was given with Chip was a miracle in and of itself. It was impossible, and anything more was simply inconceivable. More impossible than impossible. Because his time here would end eventually. He’d stop appearing in another time, and be forced to live in his own. Forced to live in a time where Chip died 300 years ago. 

And who’s to say that any of this was real in the first place? Maybe this time he was given wasn’t a miracle, it was simply a cruel trick from an unjust universe that wasn’t quite ready to stop playing with him. Chip existed, in some form at least, in Gillion’s version of the universe. But who’s to say that in that universe, it was this Chip? And who’s to say that this friendship they’d formed was real? Maybe the real Chip, the one 300 years dead, wasn’t anything like the pretty boy with brown eyes that watched him with a small smile. 

And it was entirely too plausible that the real Chip never knew a Triton by the name of GIllion who felt so much more for him than what he ever cared to name. 

But then this Chip was smiling more, and pulling him back into the present with a light flick to the forehead, and the words, “Where’d you go? I lost you again.” He laughed quietly. “You do that a lot, get a funny look on your face and go somewhere in your mind to think. At least- that’s what I think you’re doing. Maybe you’re just staring off into space.” he shrugged as he leaned back onto his arms, tilting his head at Gillion. He realised that Chip cared just about as much as Jay did when he spaced out. He felt bad for doing it, but neither of his friends seemed to mind all that much. If anything, Chip almost seemed amused.

Shaking his head, Gillion said, “I suppose I do. But, I don’t go anywhere. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

There was a tiny glint in his eyes, something cocky that Gillion had come to recognize as a certain tell of Chip’s. He got that look, and poked and prodded just right, until whoever he was talking to said something positive. A tongue made of silver, perhaps, or the false mask of someone who just wanted to be cared for. Either way, Gillion found it hard not to give into the other boy’s whims. He knew how to make it seem like a resistance, though. It made Chip feel like he’d earned the praise. With a roll of his eyes, overplayed to make Chip laugh, he said, “You. And the goofy look you get when you’re climbing the ropes, and the look in your eyes when you look out towards the sea, and the hope in your expression when you talk about your dreams. I was thinking about how I hope you achieve them, and that they’re everything and more than you ever hoped for.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not quite. It almost could be. Those hadn’t been the boldest thoughts in his head, but those were unspeakable to anyone but Jay, and besides- the words weren’t entirely lying either. There was never a moment that he wasn’t thinking about Chip and how beautiful he was at any given moment, or the amount of love he had for the entire world.

Chip let out a breath, content and smiling. Something in his eyes softened. Oh, so he knew that Gillion was playing his game- but he also knew how genuine the words were. Maybe he hadn’t expected Gillion to play along, or maybe he hadn’t expected truthfulness. Either way, he nudged him with the tip of his boot and said, “No, really.”

Sighing, Gillion wondered how to tell him. He couldn’t exactly speak on the impossibility of the situation. Chip didn’t have any idea, and he would never have any idea. To Chip, Gillion was just another stowaway. Someone just like him. Smiling, he said, “Well, I wasn’t actually all that far off. I was thinking about you. And…” He hesitated, thinking. “The unlikelihood of our meeting.”

Humming, Chip stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah. I guess it’s kind of unlikely that anyone will meet any one specific person. Especially now, and when you’re on a ship more often than not. Most people never sail.” He stared off into space for a moment. “I wonder who I’ll meet in the future. Who we’ll meet.” He corrected, turning back to Gillion to grin. 

And in that moment, Gillion can’t help but think of Chip’s dreams of having someone to sail the seas with. Can’t help but imagine himself as that person, standing next to Chip as they discover the world, waking up in his arms every day, and fighting together against anyone who opposes them. Warmth filled him as he imagined it; a strange sort of warmth that’s tinged in sadness because he knew that it would never happen. He hated how often he had to remind himself that one day these dreams would probably stop. That he could never live in this time forever. 

Chip’s eyes searched his face quickly, before he said, “surely, they can’t be better than you.” And oh , how Gillion wanted to think about those words. To curl up around them and bask in their warmth. But Chip just kept speaking, changing the subject as the faint light caught his reddening cheeks, “anyway, I wanted to show you something. I’ve been working on this since Asphodel , when I started getting to know you better.”

He pulled out a little leather bound book, wrapped in cloth. The dark light made it hard to see, but if Gillion looked close enough, he could almost see the slight dark tinge of his blush. Opening the book for half a second before shutting it again, Chip looked at him and said, “promise you won’t make fun of me.” 

Confusion swirled in Gillion’s mind and he furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would I-“

“Good,” Chip cut him off, pulling open the book. Inside, ink and chalk sketches sprawled across pages. The chalk smudged in some places, and most of the drawings were done in ink anyway. “I don’t like chalk very much, it’s messy. It’s easier to get different values, though. Besides, we don’t have very much chalk on the ship, so I kind of have to save it.” Chip explained different drawings as he flipped the pages. 

Most of the images were renditions of Gillion. Drawings of his smile, or his eyes, or as he stood at the bow of the Black Rose. Every single one evoked some strange sense of awe in Gillion, both towards the skill and towards the subject matter. He could almost imagine Chip’s own emotions as he drew. 

“These are incredible,” he breathed, carefully taking the book from Chip and leafing through the pages. Not all of the drawings were of him. A few showcased a couple of birds, or the expanse of the ocean. There wasn’t any colour, but he could imagine what it would look like if Chip did have access to coloured pencils or markers. He could imagine how the sunset images would look, or even the ones of his own face. He could imagine how much attention to detail Chip would have with colours- just as much as he did with values and shapes. 

He stilled on a page that struck so much familiarity into his heart that it almost hurt. Though, this familiarity wasn’t exact. Different angles of his face stared back, facial features and details on full display in a way that Gillion knew they wouldn’t be in three hundred years. And in the lower right hand corner, an intricate and detailed drawing of a seagull that Gillion knew would survive better than the drawings of himself. 

He thought about this book, sitting in a case in three hundred years, drawings of Gillion’s own face on display while Gillion himself doesn’t recognize it. He thought about how he’d wondered who the drawings were of. 

Himself, apparently. 

To his left, Chip shifted to lean back on his arms. “It’s only as great as its subject matter.” When Gillion looked over, a goofy grin was stuck on Chip's face. He’d been struck with such an intense amount of familiarity and emotion and he’d almost forgotten the conversation at hand. 

Gillion got a mischievous idea at that moment. “You’re right. The ocean is lovely. It’s too bad there aren’t any self portraits in here.” He flipped to a page filled with the crashing of a wave.

Chip scoffed, a bright smile pulling at his cheeks. He lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “I was talking about you, dummy.”

“I know.” Gillion smiled and returned to the book. Many of the pages in the back were still blank, but Chip had drawn in most of the book. “You’ve spent a lot of time on this.” Gillion remembered suddenly, a comment Jay had made about pages in the back being torn out. Those pages weren’t even drawn on yet, making Gillion wonder what Chip would do with them. What was important enough to the boy that he would one day rip the pages out? 

Shrugging, Chip pushed off from his hands and slouched forward, looking at Gillion. “I guess. Every time you disappear off to the bird’s nest, or down here. Sometimes I can’t sleep, so I go out on deck and sit by a lantern. It’s not like I have much else to do on the ship when I’m not helping Arlin or pestering you.” He squinted and scrunched his nose just a bit. Gillion found it adorable.

“It’s not pestering. You don’t pester me.” Gillion shut the book carefully, having seen everything the book had to offer. In part, the action was to keep him from staring at the book for hours. The same painful tug in his chest that brought him down to the beach made him want to sit with each drawing for hours, inspecting them and tracing their lines, wondering at the meaning of each piece, and the emotions that drove Chip to create. Chip took the book back when offered, a soft look on his face. 

“Thanks,” he whispered and he tucked the book close to his chest. 

Gillion smiled, leaning his head down to make eye contact with Chip, who stared off into space a couple feet away. “I like it when you pester me. Better to listen to you than the endless chatter of Finn.”

The words got Chip to smile, albeit bashfully, and tilt his head slightly, considering the other. “Right,” was all he said. 

As he sat back up all the way, Gillion noticed how close they were. Chip had shuffled at some point while they looked over the book together, sitting on his knees, their thighs brushing. The lantern still glowed next to them, shedding both a low light over them and a quiet sort of heat. He was struck suddenly by how pretty Chip looked in the candlelight.

Familiar features smiled at him, illuminated in a way that made each of the planes of his face contrast one another. His hair was as messy as it always was, stray strands falling into his eyes. Eyes that shone like gold and only drew Gillion further in. 

He hadn’t even realised how either of them had leaned in until he could feel Chip’s breath on his face. The distance had shrunk so much that it only took a moment before Chip moved almost imperceptibly forward to press their lips together. 

Gillion had never kissed anyone before, but he was sure that this was the best kiss he would ever have. It was soft and warm and somehow everything he could have ever asked for. He hadn’t ever really considered the idea of ever kissing anyone else until the moment Chip’s lips were on his own. He’d never thought that he would ever have an interest in it, or find someone who wanted to kiss him. 

And yet here, he found himself being kissed by arguably the most interesting person he’d ever met. 

And it felt like home. It felt like out of every moment between now and 300 years in the future, this specific moment was the only one where he really, truly, wholeheartedly belonged. 

He understood the absurdity of it, of finding home in the hull of a long sunk pirate ship, kissing a boy that died 300 years ago, but he didn’t particularly care. As long as he was here, as long as he was home.

Chip pulled away, and Gillion almost found himself chasing after the other until Chip placed a gentle hand against his chest. A quiet giggle made him open his eyes, only to be met with gorgeous brown eyes that smiled at him. “Do you remember when we were talking about what we wanted our legacies to be?”

Gillion nodded but didn’t say anything, confused as to how that conversation had anything to do with now, and almost a little disappointed that Chip broke the kiss for this. 

“You mentioned moments that were intimate and private. Moments that were intentionally left out of history books because you don’t want anyone else knowing. Moments that are yours, and yours alone. And I responded with the fact that I didn’t have any of those moments.” Gillion smiled, knowing already where this was going. “This is one of those moments,” Chip whispered, and Gillion’s heart did a little flip. Something intense shone in Chip’s eyes and Gillion couldn’t help the way he found himself falling in love all over again. 

His hands found the back of Chip’s head again, weaving through locks of pretty brown hair to pull him back into another kiss. The other smiled softly into it, letting out a quiet hum. It was just as good as the first, and Gillion couldn’t imagine an imperfect kiss from Chip. 

Thunder sounded distantly, and Gillion realised that he had forgotten all about the storm he fell asleep in, or the rest of the crew. Shortly after the rolling of thunder, a shout sounded from the deck, presumably a command to raise the sails.

Chip had pulled away and raised his face as if to look to the deck above them. One of his hands still lingered at Gillion’s hip, and he felt a flash of embarrassment at the realisation that only a few days prior, Jay had warned him about the danger of getting too close. It had only taken a few days, and a few more dreams, for him to completely ignore it in favour of kissing a boy on a ship that sank 3000 years ago.

The worst part was how little he cared about the disregarded warning, and how at home he felt this close to Chip. 

In fact, he’d never really understood what the feeling of home meant, until that moment. He’d never felt more loved either. That one, he at least sort of understood, because the Elders had loved him, in a weird sort of sense. Or at least the idea of what he was supposed to be. And he knew Edyn loved him, and he was sure his parents loved him, even if they were bad at showing it.  

But this was different from any of those people, and it was so much more all-consuming. It was also given so much more freely. 

Chip didn’t have to say it for Gillion to see it in his eyes, or taste it on his lips. 

The idea that he could ever lose Chip was far more painful than he could have realised.

”We should go up and see the storm,” Chip said, interrupting his train of thought. 

Gillion blinked “Oh. Okay.” 

Looking over with a smile, Chip’s eyes sparkled. Somehow, Gilllion felt himself fall in love all over again. “Did a little kiss really affect you that much?” Chip asked with an amused look. When Gillion just flushed, heat rising in his cheeks, Chip laughed and leaned forward to place a small kiss on his nose. “Come on.” He grinned. 

Standing, Chip tucked his sketchbook close to his chest and offered a hand to Gillion. He took the offered hand and stood. They didn’t speak much as they made their way up to the deck, content to just exist in each other’s presence. 

Gillion was more than happy to just be near Chip. At this point, he’d stopped worrying so much about the why and just enjoyed the fact that he was here. He knew it would end, but for as long as Chip was by his side, then he didn’t need to worry about it. 

He’d cross that bridge when it came. 

When they reached the deck, most of the crew was gathered there, sitting on the floorboards and laughing as they chatted. Light rain made their hair and the wood beneath them damp. Lizzie sat on a barrel that she’d dragged over, and Arlin leaned back on his arms, welcoming the boys with a loud voice. Finn sat in a puddle of his own robes, and he watched Gillion with something eerily knowing. 

Captain Rose seemed to be the only one missing as Chip sat down next to Arlin, already bickering with Lizzie over why she got a seat while the rest sat on the floor. Gillion quietly followed, sitting in the space left between Finn and Chip. 

“The storm will only worsen from here.” He tried not to flinch at Finn’s words. For some reason, Gillion almost felt that the words weren’t referring to the rain that had begun. The elder Triton’s tone held something intense and meaningful, but he couldn’t figure out why. 

“What?” He asked, turning his attention away from Chip and Lizzie. 

Finn looked up to the slowly darkening sky. “The rain is going to pick up. Shouldn’t be too bad of a storm, though.” His tone had returned to a more neutral thing, less intense than initially. Gillion wondered if he’d imagined the original tone of Finn’s words. “Rose loves the rain. Most of us do.”

Humming, Gillion said,”it’s nice. I’d never really been in a storm before a few months ago.” He’d forgotten about that, how his first real storm was the one that initially brought him into this time. “I’d seen rain before, but never a real storm.”

Finn nodded and glanced at him with a curious look. “You know, I’ve had a theory for a very long time about Tritons and storms. They seem almost intrinsically connected, though no one believes me. After all, we are a sea-faring race, not a sky-faring one.”

“Really? Connected how?” Gillion asked, his curiosity piqued. 

A hum sounded as Finn considered. “There is an old legend that speaks of an inherent magic that we Tritons possess. Very few, of course, but some of us nonetheless. In our old beliefs, we thought leviathans controlled the weather, and some of us are more closely linked to leviathans. My lineage is.” He peered at Gillion, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “There aren’t many Tidestriders, so I think it’s safe to assume yours is the same.”

Gillion thought about how he’d never met another Tidestrider besides his own family before. And Finn, of course.

“Strange things happen to us, as long as we’re in the right place, in the right time, and a storm is near.” Finn had returned to looking towards the sky as proper raindrops began to fall. “It’s happened to me.”

Arlin cut in, “Yeah right! We all know you’re just a little insane. Kid, don’t trust everything this guy says. Drey and I think he bonked his head real hard when he was still down in the undersea.” He let out a laugh as Finn scowled at him. 

“It’s true! I’ve seen the world when a storm allows me to travel. I’ve seen times and people from years ago, and from years long after we’ve all died.” Finn frowned at Arlin. 

Snorting, Arlin shook his head. “Come one, time travel? You’ve really lost your rocker now, old man.” 

Gillion found so much amusement in the whole conversation that he didn’t even think to consider that there could be any sort of truth to Finn’s words. 

A glance at Chip made him double take as he found the other boy quietly staring at him, something soft in his eyes. He scowled at the other, which only served to make Chip smile. He didn’t hesitate to think about how much he loved the other, as warmth swelled in his chest.

Around them, Arlin and Finn continued to argue, Arlin brushing him off and Finn insisting that he really had visited all sorts of other time periods. 

The rain began beating down harder, causing a pause in all conversation.

Lizzie pushed herself off her barrel and began to spin, her skirt swirling around her. The skirt in question was weighed down in seconds as it soaked in the moisture. Her braids hung loose around her shoulders and mimicked the sway of her skirt. 

It wasn’t long before Chip pushed himself up and was stepping away from the group to dance as well, the rain making his hair flatten and stick to his face. 

Rose returned to them then, holding a violin that Gillion had come to learn was one of the captain’s prized possessions. Surprisingly enough, the man was also a wonderful musician. As the rain poured, he began to play. He didn’t stray far from his quarters, opting to stay under a little overhang in order to protect the instrument from the rain. 

As soon as their captain’s music began, the rest of the crew joined the two younger crewmates in dancing. 

Even Arlin pulled Finn up, before joining arms with Drey and dancing merrily as the rain soaked them all. Finn didn’t follow in the merriment so much as the rest of them, his robes weighing him down. It didn’t, however, stop him from swaying and taking small, graceful steps as he danced in a way that reminded Gillion of some of their more traditional dances. 

Chip eventually made his way back around to where Gillion was sitting and pulled him up with much grumbling from Gillion. He wasn’t a dancer. Anytime the Elders had tried teaching him, he’d failed horribly. He was far better at fighting than he was dancing. 

“Just don’t think about it too hard.” Chip grinned as he took both of Gillion hands, pulling him toward the rest and beginning to dance once more, leading Gillion through senseless steps that he could tell Chip made up on the spot. It was less about grace and more about stomping in the puddles that had begun to form and seemingly trying to catch as many drops of rain as he could. 

Gillion tried to match Chip’s energy but kept getting caught up in watching the other boy move and grin up into the sky, his shirt sticking to his chest. Gillion tried not to let his eyes linger there.

Lizzie stomped near them as she danced, providing a sort of percussion to the captain’s song. It was joyous, and upbeat, and everyone had some sort of smile on their face. 

It didn’t take long for Gillion to give up on caring all that much, and he just let his body move in whatever way he felt natural. Seeing Gillion begin to dance only served to make Chip’s smile widen. The dance was somehow individual and as a group all at once. He felt in sync with the rest of the crew, even if none of them had movements that matched. 

In minutes, he found himself laughing and revelling in both the feeling of the rain on his face, and Chip’s hands holding his or finding their way to his shoulders or waist. They span around each other and separate only to reunite an instant later. Their movements matched each other’s in a way that Gillion hadn’t even known was possible.

He found himself here, on a ship that sank 300 years ago, in love with a boy and dancing to music and rain, happier than he’d ever been in his life. It was more than just happiness, really. Gillion wasn’t sure how exactly to describe the feeling in his chest, but he knew for sure that he was definitely home. 

Yeah, that was it. This was home. 

Chapter Text

The walk back into town didn’t take long today, as he didn’t slow to look through any windows or watch the town anymore. Distantly, he realised that it could be because he felt more like a resident there than just an observer, now. He didn’t think about it for long, instead banishing the thought as he pushed into a small, brick building. 

Instantly, the smell of coffee surrounded him and light warmer than the clouds outside made his eyes adjust slightly. The atmosphere of the shop was small, and cosy. Small bookshelves offered books and magazines to patrons, and a friendly barista chatted with someone sitting at a barstool.

Not many patrons sat at the tables and sofa scattered around the room. He supposed that made sense, considering it was midday and most were at work or didn’t feel the need to drink coffee at this hour. A few teenagers loitered, chatting with each other to pass the summer time in between semesters. 

And tucked into a corner, book in hand, Gillion’s friend sat. He’d been looking for her, needed to tell her more about the boy he’d fallen in love with 300 years ago. She barely glanced up when he sat down in the chair across from her over a small, circular table. A single cup stood alone on the table, half-filled with mostly watered down latte. Jay must have forgotten about it in favour of reading her book. 

When she did look up at him, she grinned and set down her book. “What are you doing here?” She asked as she leaned forward. She glanced at her latte before grimacing slightly and letting the hand reaching for it drop. 

“I’ve had more dreams.”

“The ones with-” Jay cut herself off as Gillion nodded. “You got attached, didn’t you?” 

He sighed, casting his eyes downwards. “A little more than attached.” He refused to meet her eyes. 

“Gill-” She started before cutting herself off with an almost frustrated noise. She didn’t need to finish speaking for Gillion to know exactly what she meant to say. 

It would be a warning that had already been thrown away, an ‘I-told-you-so’ . A glance up told him that she knew that too, that she didn’t need to tell him. Her expression was filled with pity, but she kept her mouth shut. 

She must have known that saying something wouldn’t change anything. 

“I love him.” 

“I know.”

“ Loved him,” he corrected himself with a grimace. “A long time ago. 300 years.”

“But also today.”

“Today- I do love him today.” He took a breath. “But he doesn’t exist today.”

Jay nodded. “The 28th is tomorrow.”

Something in Gillion stopped working. Had it already been that long? He remembered picking up the journal for the first time, reading the date from so long ago inscribed with delicate ink. It had to have been nearly two months since then. 

And then, his heart seized as he realised that the Black Rose wouldn’t sink on the 28th, not if that’s what the date had been on the journal entry. Because the journal entry took place the next morning, after the shipwreck. It would sink on the night of the 27th.

Chip would die tonight . 

A raindrop rattled the window next to him, startling the both of them. A storm was rolling in. 

And Gillion would be at the beach to meet it. 

He stood quickly, startling Jay as another raindrop fell. She called out, but he had already rushed to the entrance of the shop and pushed through the doors. 

Footsteps fell heavy as he raced to the beach, passing streets that had started to become familiar. Someone watched him from the window of a car waiting at a stop sign, and for a moment Gillion thought they looked like Finn, before they were out of his line of sight. 

The rain only got heavier as he pushed on , his breath coming fast and his legs starting to burn. He hadn’t pushed himself this hard since he stopped training. Before he even knew it, he’d left the town and was sprinting up the hill that separated it from the ocean. There was a path he could follow, but it was further south than he cared to follow, the little dirt one carved into the hill that he took into town every morning. He only had one goal in mind, and it didn’t matter how much the land under his feet tried sliding out from under him to send him back down. 

He would get back to the beach.

He would see Chip again. 

Getting down the hill was less of a sprint and more of a slide. He almost tripped over himself as he ran towards the shoreline. 

The ocean rushed to greet him with a gust of wind that tugged his hair. 

Idly, he realised that it wasn’t as piercing, and that it had warmed up since he’d moved. Another moment evident of the passing of his time here.

Before he could stop it, a scream bubbled up from his chest. He couldn’t really tell if it was a scream or a sob, and there was too much rain and sea on his face to really know if any of it was tears, either. 

“Take me back!!” He yelled, the words immediately being snatched away by the wind. “Let me see him again! Please-” the word broke in his throat and the ocean didn’t hear the rest of it. “Please,” he whispered. “I want to see him, please-” 

This time, he recognized the sob that tore out of his chest. He fell to his knees, his hands grounding themselves in cold, wet sand that clung to him. He’d gotten used to the feeling of it under his nails by now.

He closed his eyes, and lifted his head to the sky as wind rushed past him. 

And then the wind was arms, reaching around him in a hug that almost knocked the breath out of him. 

When he opened his eyes, brown hair filled his vision, and warm wood had taken the place of sand, only he was standing now, not kneeling like a sinner to an altar. The rain had disappeared, and the breeze was barely even light enough to move his hair. 

He returned the hug in kind, squeezing the other boy with more force than was probably necessary. “I missed you,” he whispered. 

Chip pulled back and laughed. “You saw me an hour ago.”

Seeing Chip made Gillion’s heart soar, and seeing the happiness on his face was all that much better. Chip’s hands rose to Gillion’s face as he pressed a tiny kiss to his nose. The hands didn’t leave, as Chip opted to press their foreheads together and stare at Gillion. 

“Hi,” Gillion said, something amused making him laugh quietly at Chip’s antics. 

Oh, how he would miss this boy . 

That sent something sharp and painful through him, striking his heart. He wanted to stay here. Right here, with his face held gently in callused hands, looking into pretty brown eyes framed by freckles. Emotion flooded him, and he drowned in the waves of wanting time to simply stop. If the world ended right then, he’d be ok. He wouldn’t even know what happened, he would have just stopped existing right there. Or maybe he’d exist forever in this moment.

He’d be okay with that too. 

But then, Chip responded with his own, soft, “hi,” and time kept moving. Chip pulled away with a soft look. He reached for Gillion’s hand and pulled him towards the ratlines. 

The rest of the crew must have been below deck, as they were the only ones up there, and no one appeared as they climbed the ratlines together.

The crow’s nest was not dissimilar to the Asphodel’s . It had become their spot over the months. 

They sat together, and spoke for a long time. GIllion hung on every word, but didn’t pay that much attention to the conversation at hand. Instead, he spent that time memorising every detail of Chip’s face, and storing all of his mannerisms into his memory to be forever untarnished there. 

He grew more and more aware that this would be his last day with Chip as time went on. And the time passed far faster than Gillion would have liked. Somewhere between listening to the way Chip laughed and committing the pattern of freckles splattered across his face to heart, it had begun to rain. 

This rain had started off as a dusting that Gillion had barely noticed. It was only when the sun began to set, and the clouds had long since rolled in, that the droplets grew fatter. A chill blew in with the wind, and something terrified settled just under his skin. He hated the feeling of it, and the goosebumps that formed did little to stave off the feeling. 

“We should get down.” Chip gazed out at the sea, a raindrop landing on his face. “The rest of the crew will be raising the sails and looking for us.” A light that usually found home in his eyes was nowhere to be seen, and his expression had dropped into something neutral, or maybe a little bit sad. Gillion didn’t like the idea of Chip being sad. 

‘ No. ’ Gillion wanted to say. ‘ Let’s stay here forever.’ He didn’t want the sadness in Chip’s eyes to grow any more, and Gillion knew how much Chip enjoyed their time together up here. If it made Chip happy, Gillion knew he could find a way to stop the flow of time altogether so that they could live forever, together in this moment. But he knew it would do little, in the grand scheme of things, because Chip may have already been as good as dead. 300 years dead. So, he nodded. He followed Chip down the ropes, and his heart grew louder with each minute that passed. 

As soon as they reached the deck, Chip’s face lit up, and he said, “Stay here, I have something for you.” 

Before Gillion could even object, Chip was off. He slipped down the ladder towards their quarters and out of sight before Gillion even thought to process that that could be the last time they ever saw each other. 

“You look spooked.” A voice startled him, and he looked over to see Drey watching him from where he leaned on the railing. He and Drey hadn’t interacted much, but he’d still come to find a sort of uncle figure in the man. 

It was then that he remembered that somewhere along the line, he and Jay were probably related. He wished suddenly that he had talked to Drey more often, and gotten to know the man that came from navy blood. Jay would have liked to know his story. A pistol hung at his hip, and Gillion remembered suddenly the gun that hung in the Block Rose Museum. He hadn’t even recognized the two as the same gun until now. 

The same gun, 300 years apart.

“It’s nothing,” he responded, looking away. 

Drey hummed, but Chip was already back, grinning and running at him. He shouted a greeting to Drey, who tipped his hat and began to walk off.

“Here,” Chip said as he came to a stop in front of Gillion, out of breath and clutching something small in his hand. Holding it out, Gillion saw a small, simple silver band. 

A ring. 

Gillion took it gingerly, flipping it over in his hands and inspecting it. 

“I made it! It’s not- it’s not perfect or anything. And it doesn’t mean anything- well, like-” Chip tripped over his words, his face growing red. “It means something, obviously, but it's not like- a promise or me asking anything. It’s just. Just a ring.”

Just a ring. 

And Chip was just a boy. 

And Gillion loved them both so wholeheartedly that it threatened to swallow him. He loved them so much, this boy, and this ring. 

His boy , and his ring.

Chip smiled and looked embarrassed as he took the ring back for a second to point into the ring. There, a small and familiar knot was etched into the inner part of the metal. 

“It’s- well, it’s kind of stupid, but that symbol. It’s a sort of promise. It represents an undying sort of love.” Chip coughed, and Gillion realised it was the first time either of them had expressed love out loud to each other. 

“No, I love it. It’s not stupid at all.:” He smiled as he took the ring back and slipped it onto his right middle finger. It felt at home there. The symbol was safely tucked away from the world, and Gillion had a soaring sense of happiness filling him at the weight of it. 

He did remember this ring. He remembered it sitting among other rings that had been recovered from the wreck. He just hadn’t known it to be his own at the time. He realised that its presence in the museum was the most solid evidence that indicated his existence in his own universe. This ring was made for him , not for someone else, and it wouldn’t have ever been made had he not existed alongside Chip and fallen in love with him. 

The realisation of it was shocking, and made his heart drop, in a strange, neutral sort of way that wasn’t terrifying or exhilarating. He’d been looking for a link to himself from the past but hadn’t found any until now. 

This moment, just before the sinking of the ship, just before the end of these dreams, confirmed to him that, now more than ever, it was extremely possible that this was all real. 

He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. He settled on the idea of it being good. He was glad to be here, even if the end was so near. 

The rain picked up as Chip watched him with happiness in his eyes. That expression suited his eyes much better.

Arlin emerged from the captain’s quarters with Rose then, a stern look on his face as he glanced at the two boys., Gillion thought that he might be able to see the slightest hint of fear under the expression. “You boys need to get below deck before the storm picks up.” 

“But-” Chip started to protest, but Arlin cut him off. 

“Now.”
 

And that was final, he could sense. 

Chip huffed and looked at him, opening his mouth to say something. 

Time did seem to pause then, and Gillion almost cheered at the thought of it, until he realised just how dark the sky had gotten, and just how much the ship rocked under the force of the waves. He hadn’t noticed it originally, too wrapped up in Chip and his own thoughts. 

Arlin wanted them below deck right now for a reason. A foreboding feeling choked him, like being at the top of a rollercoaster, about to go rushing forwards in an unstoppable force. As anxiety clutched his heart, Gillion barely managed to notice a thick, black tentacle that was barely visible against the darkening sky. The tentacle was much larger than one he’d ever seen on an octopus or squid before, and the inky darkness extended to the little suckers lining the underside. 

Briefly, he thought about the legends of krakens and horrifying monsters that rose from the depths of the ocean and sank ships just like this one. 

The words Chip went to say got swallowed as time resumed and the tentacle came crashing down to wrap itself halfway around the captain’s quarters. 

Arlin shouted as the ship rocked, and before Gillion had a moment to breathe, another tentacle appeared from the darkness as the storm grew infinitely worse in the matter of a moment. Rain pelted down, making it hard to see, and someone was screaming for cover. Chip’s hand clutched Gillion’s forearm as they ducked and braced themselded against the side of the ship. 

Terror sped through GIllion's veins and choked his lungs as he realised that it had come. The night of the Black Rose's sinking had come. All of these people would die tonight. 

That meant they were far closer to the shore of Gillion’s town than the captain had thought they were. They hadn’t expected to make landfall for another three days, but Gillion knew that somewhere, not far away, a lighthouse keeper would spot them soon and send for help. He knew that they wouldn’t find anyone. 

Or rather they would find one someone, Chip. Cradling a corpse. 

Gillion wondered if he would be the corpse, and even more terror wrapped its claws around him. 

He wasn't paying much attention to the scene, or at least, not as much as he should have been. But, then, Chip screamed Arlins name and grasped Gillion's hand even tighter, his knuckles turning white. Gillion hardly even noticed the pain of Chip’s nails digging into his flesh. Terrified eyes met his in a split second as Gillion felt something pressed into his hand and chip smiled faintly.

“There. Now you’ve got my lucky coin.” 

And then Chip was gone, throwing himself towards Arlin as the man got thrown across the deck. 

“Chip!” Gilllion shouted, clutching the coin Chip had handed him. The name tore at his throat, and he was sure the face of the coin would be indented into his hand from how hard he squeezed it. 

No pain mattered anymore, not the tearing of his vocal chords, or the blood that trickled from where Chip haad scratched him, or the hard metal that bit into the skin of his palm. He pushed himself off the deck with a force he hadn’t known he’d possessed.

His feet landed on the deck unevenly as he tried to run after Chip, struggling to maintain balance as a wave washed over the deck and rain pelted him. His breath came unevenly and he prayed to any god out there that would listen, that those words wouldn’t be Chip’s last.

Someone was yelling, or maybe multiple someones, but it all became white noise to GIllion. 

Chip reached out towards Arlin, opening his mouth in a silent scream. The ship dipped as the wave disappeared from under it, throwing most of the crew into the air. Gillion watched as Chip’s eyes widened and another tentacle lashed towards him. 

In an instant, Chip was thrown overboard. 

Gillion’s scream for his love was cut off as he crashed back into the deck, and his left knee and ankle flared in such intense pain, Gillion wondered if they shattered on impact. He could barely think through the pain and adrenaline. 

His lungs screamed from misuse, and his throat was raw. He fought to the edge of the ship, where Chip had disappeared, and in a moment, he made a decision. 

As he leapt off the ship, a thunderous crash filled the air, followed shortly by an ear-splitting, inhuman screech. 

As soon as cold, dark water surrounded him, he could see the fragmented splinters of a ship he knew had just careened into a cliff face. A stream of bubbles left his mouth as he yelled for the home he’d come to find, and the family he knew had just died. 

If he cried, he couldn’t tell. Salt water pressed in on every inch of his skin, and for the first time ever, it was the worst feeling in the world. 

The feeling of complete and total isolation. 

He knew in his bones that he was the only surviving soul for miles now. 

Chip’s body floated beneath him, the already dark water clouded with blood. 

There was an almost serene look on Chip’s face, his eyes closed. Hair floated around his face, framing it in a way that Gillion would almost convince himself was just a piece of art, not a real, human body. 

A corpse. 

Gillion could feel every ounce of grief he didn’t even know was possible flood his system. Where he’d been so overcome with the feeling of love only minutes before, he was now overcome with the soul shattering loss of someone so precious to him. 

Then, the denial struck. 

Because this couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. 

These dreams weren’t real, none of them could have been. He couldn’t be time travelling, that was an insane theory. Why had he been so stupid as to believe it? How could he have been so stupid as to hopelessly wish that this had all been real, knowing that at the end of it, he could never have had Chip regardless. 

Because he knew . He knew, and he knew and he knew.

But, by god. By God, did he love, and love and love.

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it was the greatest mistake of his life to look at this boy and decide to devote himself endlessly. Jay would have told him how stupid he was for going against what she told him. Because warn him, she did. And God , he should have listened. Or maybe she wouldn’t call him stupid. Maybe she’d just look at him with that sad expression because she already knew, and there wasn’t anything to be done anymore. 

Pity, maybe. But he loathed the idea of it.

He swam towards Chip, fighting the shooting pain in his leg only slightly dulled by adrenaline and the weight of the ocean. Something almost apathetic hid just beneath his skin, all emotion being syphoned from him as he neared the body of the one person he’d truly found a home in. 

It was a feeling that he was used to, the same emotion-less demeanour that had saved him when he was with the Elders. He couldn’t afford to grieve just yet.

Chip’s body was already as cold as the water surrounding them. Gillion hated that even worse.

As he pulled Chip’s body toward where he knew the shore was, broken planks began to float down, finding their way to the seabed, where Gillion knew they’d rest for at least 300 years, or until they rotted into nothing and wasted away into the ocean. 

The swim to shore didn’t take as long as he expected, apathy and only half consciousness leading him, and by the time he rose from the water, the storm had only grown worse. He held Chip close to him in a princess carry, though it was far more difficult than average, as he fought against the weight of the water that tried keeping them both trapped beneath the waves, and the deadweight of Chip’s lolling head and arms.

A group of people waited there, holding lanterns and huddling together to ward off the cold. A woman yelped when she saw him rising from the water. 

He didn’t blame her. He must have looked like a monster rising from the depths. 

He didn’t even make it fully out of the ocean before he collapsed onto the sand, the tides surrounding both him and the body of the boy he loved. The ocean wanted her sacrifice back, it seemed, and Gillion was determined not to let her have him. 

The group rushed forward and immediately hounded him with questions, but he didn’t bother listening to any of them. The pain had hit once again and he latched onto Chip’s body as he sobbed and screamed into the sky. The people must have understood, because the questions soon stopped, and someone dropped a blanket over his shoulders as soon as they had helped him out of the water and under a crowd of umbrellas. 

He refused to let anyone touch the body, snapping at anyone who tried.

Eventually, he’d become so worn out from his cries that he laid lifelessly over Chip, staring at him and only half listening to the conversation around him. How cruel it was that Chip was the only truly lifeless one here. Gillion would have given anything to be lifeless in his place, or even with him.

No survivors, beside this boy , they said. Poor thing , they called him. 

It must have been close to midnight by the time a kind woman convinced him to let them help bury Chip. They didn’t have any way to mark the grave, but Gillion figured that Chip wouldn’t have minded so much. He knew where the grave was, and he knew that while separate, it was still close to the remains of his home, and his family. That was all Chip would have wanted. 

When they’d lowered his body into the makeshift grave, a leather case had fallen from his shirt, and Gillion recognized it as that that carried his sketchbook. He didn’t have it in him to touch it, or look at it, so he let the townsfolk carry it away to somewhere he knew it would be safe until they could put it in the glass case where it would be housed. He knew he’d see it again, in 300 years, and maybe it would be a little less painful by then.

They sent people out to the wreck to look for survivors or anything important. They came back with bags full of things from the wreck. Gillion didn’t look at those either.

He stayed near the beach, sitting on a rock and feeling more alone than he ever had before. Chip’s coin lay heavily in his pocket, and when he fished it out, it gleamed at him in the quiet light of night. He almost felt like it was a final goodbye. 

He tried not to think about Chip, laying in a pit, dirt being thrown on top of him. 

Startling as the kind woman from earlier sat beside him, he clutched the coin as if to hide it. 

“What's your name?” She asked softly. He realised then that she must have been the mayor's wife, from the journal entry. 

They tried asking him before, but he’d been unresponsive, too wrapped up in his grief. 

He realised that he had a decision to make, then. He could tell her his real name, and in 300 years, the name written in the journal would be different, and that Gillion would read the journal and know that a version of him really was here. But, he wouldn’t have any confirmation that Chip was real. Or rather, he’d know that Chip died in the wreck. He wouldn’t have the small hope that Chip would survive. 

Had he not had that hope, Gillion wasn’t sure he’d allow himself to disregard Jay’s warning and get close. He wouldn’t have been so grief-stricken at the loss of Chip, either. 

He supposed that to tell her his name, he would save himself the pain of losing Chip. But, in a sense he would have already lost him by not allowing himself to get close. 

“Chip,” He said. He’d never even have had another option, when all was said and done. 

“My name is Chip.”

Chapter Text

Clouds gather overhead as he stands on the edge of the cliff, looking out over the ocean. He could still see where planks floated on the waves, and he could imagine what lay beneath; a wrecked ship and the bodies of people he’d grown to love. He thinks of Chip, of how they’d found his sketchbook tied up in leather and tucked into his shirt. He thinks of how no one cried, because they didn’t know that boy. He did, though. He knew Chip, and he loves him so much.

He thinks of how bare his fingers are. A ring had found its place, and for even such a small amount of time, it had felt so natural. But now, it is gone. He must have lost it when he collapsed onto the beach with Chip. He knew someone would find it, and store it in the same place as Chip’s sketchbook. He knew that it would find its home behind a glass case, never to be worn by the person it was made for again. He hates that its home is no longer with him.

He hates that his home is beneath the waves. The irony of the statement is not lost to him. Most Tritons live in the ocean, not like this, though.

He wonders what happened to the monster. Whether it died too, and sank with the ship, or if it swam off to haunt another boy after sinking his home and killing his crew. 

Because that’s really what they were. They were his crew, and they were his family. He may have been a boy out of time, one that certainly didn’t belong, but they were his crew regardless. 

Were. Past tense. It had always been past tense- three hundred years past, but now it was last night, too. Three hundred years and also last night, all at the same time. Except that it wasn't. It wasn’t the same time. It had never been the same time. He was the same boy, but he wasn’t in the same time. So it was three hundred years ago, and also last night, to him. Just- not at the same time. And soon, he’d go back to being in the time where Chip died three hundred years ago. 

And he knew that another three hundred years could pass in his own time before he ever forgets about them. Especially Chip. His heart still aches in the most painful way imaginable when he thinks about the boy. He clutches the coin in his hand tightly as the images of last night flash behind his eyes. Images of Chip getting thrown off the ship, of diving after him, of watching Chip’s limp body hit the sand softly, of clutching him tightly as he rose from the water and the storm raged around him. 

The storm had passed, but emotionally- Gillion would stay distraught for a very long time, he figures. He couldn’t imagine not feeling this way. After losing the single most important person; who’d looked at Gillion and just seen him . How is he supposed to be okay after that? Not only has he lost everything , he is the only one to survive. He survived something that he shouldn’t have. He knew that in the 1680s people didn’t really know about trauma, but that’s exactly what he’d gone through. An immense amount of trauma that he’d never be able to tell anyone about but Jay. 

Oh, Jay . She was right all along. She had told him that getting attached would only lead to heartbreak. She is correct, only- it is so much worse than just heartbreak. Every fibre within his being feels such a heavy grief that he has no idea what to do with it. He couldn’t feel anything but pure, saturated grief. 

He stares at his hands, as he realises that he’d started to dig. Dirt cakes his hands and the coin rests safely in his pocket. He knows what his plan is. 

And once he’s done he stands at the edge of the cliff, closer this time. 

And he lets himself fall. 

Closing his eyes, he expects the cold of the water.

As he hits the water, he is sitting up, gasping for air despite his Triton lungs. 

His hair falls around him in ringlets as water streams down around his face like rain. But it’s not raining anymore. Instead, he sits in a tide pool. His shirt clings to him, soaked in cold water that makes his skin prickle. The water covers his legs and reaches the midpoint of his forearm.

There isn’t a cliff in sight. 

As he pushes himself out of the pool, he shakes the water out of his hair and wrings it out of his shirt. Water runs into his eyes, and it’s a violently contrasting feeling to the tears he’d been crying only a moment ago. His eyes still burn. 

The sea stares back at him for a moment, taunting him with the way it remains so unchanged. These are the same waters he and everyone he loves died in. He decides not to let it taunt him anymore, as he turns and begins to walk away.

The pace he sets quickens as he understands what he needs to do. As he begins to run from the waves, sand sticks to his feet, and he realises that he doesn’t know where his shoes went. He supposes that it doesn't matter much right now. 

He runs up the hill, and follows a path he’d only taken once before in this timeline. He remembered walking here with Jay, ice cream in hand from Kira’s. Something about the cliff had initially struck him as important, but he hadn’t known at the time about the treasure that lay just beneath his feet.

Now, his heart pounds as he prays that somehow, it’s still there. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it isn’t. Because if he does find it, 300 years later, he’ll know that everything was real, and that he really did have a life back then on that pirate ship. And if it isn’t there-

The thoughts vanish, as he forces them away. He doesn’t want to think about it.

As he reaches the summit, it strikes him how little the view had changed in the last 300 years. If he didn’t know any different, he might have confused this timeline with the one from so long ago. 

The boulder that he and Jay had sat on still silently stood in its place, making Gillion smile. It had been there 300 years ago, too. He circles the boulder and finds a very small, barely there mark, worn with age. A small, jagged triangle that someone could easily overlook, if they didn’t know about it already. 

But Gillion knew. He remembered making the mark what felt like half an hour ago. 300 years and half an hour ago. 

He digs. 

He’s not sure how much time passes, or how often panic scares him into thinking that it isn’t here. And by the time that dirt surrounds him, and he’s sure these pants are ruined, he sees the smallest golden glint. 

He reaches for it, shaking. Wiping the dirt away, a familiar coin stares at him. How it is still here, Gillion has no idea, but he thanks every god that may or may not be out there that it survived for 300 years. 

The coin has eroded more than he expected, but it’s real. And he’s presumably the first person to touch it after he left it here 300 years ago. 

Right where he left it, 300 years ago.

He stands, the dirt falling from his hands and clothes. The coin is a familiar weight in his hand, and he can feel tears threatening to fall. He’s lost track of how many times he’s cried. This tumb idly traces the worn face, acquainting him with the worn metal once more. Changed, now, but ultimately still Chip’s lucky coin. Maybe the coin’s luck is what kept it here, hidden below the dirt next to a boulder that had been there for far longer than Gillion could care to imagine.

The boulder offers him a place of solitude. It is the only one that saw him fall, and now, it will be the only one that sees him as he sits and grieves. The coin sits warm and heavy in his hand, and he stares at it because it is real, tangible proof. There was a Gillion 300 years ago that put this coin into the dirt with the hope that he’d find it again, 300 years later. He didn’t tell anyone, because he didn't want it in a case, like his ring, never to be touched again. It’s selfish, but Gillion is glad that he gets to hold this precious thing now, and that it is his and only his. 

His and Chips, he corrects.

Because this weight is proof that not only was Gillion Tidestrider real all those years ago, but he had loved a boy named Chip. And he was loved in return. And that love stretched into the present, because how could Gillion ever forget how easy it is to love that boy? Another 300 years could pass now, and he would still love Chip. It is the kind of love that spans centuries and denies all of time and space. It is the strongest thing Gillion has ever felt. 

Stronger even, than losing Chip. And that grief? It is the most painful thing Gillion has ever had to bear. Even worse is that he has to bear it alone. There is no one left that knew The Black Rose as personally as Gillion did. Chip is hardly even a cliff note in all of the textbooks, but to Gillion, he is the single most important thing that Gillion has ever been given the privilege of experiencing. He sits there for a long time, reliving every moment with Chip. Every time they’d ever climbed into the crows nest together, or all of the times they snuck off to kiss in the hull or the crew's quarters, or the kitchen. Those are his favourite memories, he decides.

And with those memories still playing out behind his eyes from their spot tucked safely next to his heart, he stands. Clutching the coin close to his chest, he begins to walk back to his house. 

When he opens the door, the walk seeming much shorter than usual with images of the past clouding his mind, the house is empty. He doesn’t call out, but he can feel how the air is undisturbed here. He wonders where his family is. He doesn’t really care.

He doesn’t set the coin down once as he changes his soaked clothes and puts on a new pair of shoes. 

The front door to his house shuts behind him with the same creak it always did. Gillion wondered if his parents would care to replace it, or if the house would become worn down over time like the coin in his hand. His feet fall into step before he really knows where he is going. Between burying the coin, digging it back up and deciding to go to the museum again, he couldn’t say that he is fully in control of his decision making process. He isn’t unhappy with the result, though. He wants to see them again. He knows he can’t, but he can at least see their things. 

He can wander the museum dedicated to his deceased family. He can look at Arlin’s sword, or Drey’s pistol. Or even his own ring. He realises that, in a sense, this museum is dedicated to him, too. In a past life. 

The town passes in a colourless blur. People don’t call out, and the birds don’t chirp. He doesn’t notice the once colourful houses, or the smell of the coffee shop. He doesn’t know when the world stopped showing him colour, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to recognize it again. If he does, he wonders what colour will be the first to show up. Brown is his favourite.

The museum has always been white.

He stands at the steps. 

He doesn’t know if he has the heart to go in. 

A familiar voice calls out to him. He turns. 

Jay grins and waves at him, running up to him. She’s talking excitedly about something. 

He doesn’t hear her. 

Because beside her is someone he’s never seen before, at least, not in this lifetime. 

Pretty brown eyes look at him, framed with pretty brown hair and freckles that Gillion could recognize in any starry sky or scattering of coffee grounds. 

“Hey, look. You’ve got a lucky coin.” 

His name was Chip.