When the blindfold had come over her eyes while she was on one of her daily walks, Princess Rosemary had been more annoyed than terrified, even as she was lifted into the air kicking and screaming. This was rather par for the course, all things considered. Her father had been kidnapped before, her mother had been kidnapped before— it wasn’t anything unusual for a royal. What was unusual was that it wasn’t a mere attempt.

Cold steel pressed against her head and clicked, but her own soft hair dulled the feeling of it. A woman’s shrill voice hissed, “Don’t fight it, Princess. We both want you getting back to the King and Queen _alive_, don’t we?”

Rosemary turned her head away from the scent of smoke that came from the woman’s huffs of air, but scowled and nodded. Her legs hung in the air as she was carried who knows where.

“Is this truly worth it, Marina?” said a haughty-sounding young man to her right.

“Think of the money,” she said. “Your people need it as much as mine do.”

The young man voice hummed in discontented agreement.

Rosemary’s feet seemed to dangle in the air for eternity. Eventually the smell of mildew shifted into the salty fishiness of the harbor, and the floor creaked under her captor’s feet. She had tried to scream again, but a hand clasped over her mouth and filled it with flesh which she eagerly bit, and got backhanded for. The dots of sunlight that made it through the blindfold’s cloth changed to grey, then into pitch-black nothingness. Something heavy and metal squeaked and slid open.

She hit the floor with a grunt after being unceremoniously dropped, and nimble hands handcuffed hers.

“Stay here,” the waspish woman— who she assumed to be the captain by now— ordered her. “My gun is much faster than you are in any capacity.”

The heavy metal door slid back shut with a thud. Rosemary waited a few moments before attempting to free herself, the handcuffs on her making the pole she was cuffed to buzz with the movement. She growled when it yielded no victory.

Through the cracks in the walls, she could almost feel the cool breeze. She leaned into it. Furiously, she yanked at the handcuffs in her wrists, the pole it was attached to continuing to buzz with the thrashing.

Someone shrieked onboard. Something thud against the top deck, and a muffled gunshot went off.

The door creaked open. Rapid, heavy footsteps banged against the floor as they approached her, and the Captain’s voice hissed, breaths coming out quick and labored, gun clicking as it pressed against her forehead, “You have the damn harpies in your pocket, Princess? That doesn’t matter. I’ll kill you, you wretch. I’ll kill you.”

A gust of wind shot towards them. The Captain choked, her gun went off and then Rosemary found her face went.

The air that entered with whatever followed the Captain smelt fishy, yet there seemed to be a familiar sweetness beneath it, and Rosemary licked the liquid that crossed her lips. Blood. She smiled. “Is that you, my Hawksy?”

Her lover gave a throaty trill, cupping her face with her clawed hand, talons scraping. “Who else?”

“My captors,” she teased, and the claws dug in. “My face, dear.”

“Ah— sorry,” Hawk loosened her grip and stroked the aching lines on Rosemary’s face. “It will never be them again. Me and my sisters enjoyed them well— excluding the one that tasted of smoke. Storm spat that one out.”

“Even so, I’m sure she did have some good nutrients.” Rosemary tasted blood as she kissed Hawk, and she couldn’t have been happier.