“Are ya mad at me?” Bastian asks.

He knew you were upset. Yet, at the same time, he can’t fathom why. He doesn’t see anything wrong with kidnapping you from a ball meant to announce your engagement to some other royal, left the place a mess with bodies littering the dance floor with your fiancé being the first victim from sheer pettiness. He likes to think he’s retained his morals, but the years have roughened him up, made the line between good and bad blurry. But nonetheless, he saved you from marrying someone you don’t even love.

Bastia presses you up firmly against his feathered chest, toned arms wrapping around you as if doing so would finally remind him that you’re actually right in front of him—that you aren’t just another one of his hallucinations he’s been yearning to see for years on end. He’s still reeling from it all. You’re all grown up, but you’re the same person you’ve been all your life since the day he left you. When he inhaled that familiar scent of yours the moment he buried his face in your hair, awing at how the texture was soft from gentle handling in comparison to his, he’s reminded of the smell you that kept him going.

9 years.

It’s been 9 years since he’s last seen you. 9 years since he ran off to become a pirate at the ripe age of 17 with the promise of bringing the seven seas at your feet.

“Gods, I missed ya so fucking much. Sweet thing, you have no idea.” he doesn’t care if you want to go back. Bastian had no plans of returning you to a place that’s made you so miserable. Not that you can, anyway. He could finally fulfill that silent promise of reuniting with you once again after reaching a position where he could do whatever he wanted—having you. It’s late, but it’s better than nothing, he thinks. He’s much stronger than the little, scrawny boy he used to be, adorned in all sorts of scars that told you all about his journey, scars that remind himself of you and just how much longer he’d have to wait to finally bring you into his arms and never let go.