You thought you’d gotten away with it—one night hidden in the hold, tucked between crates of rum and stolen goods. Long enough to reach open waters. Long enough to leave your kingdom behind. Marriage to a brute of a lord? No thank you. You’d take your chances with pirates.

But on the second morning, the trapdoor yanks open with a clang, and there he is—Captain Dean Winchester. A pirate with a reputation that reached even your silk-draped prison of a tower. And he does not look happy.

He crouches above you, eyes narrowed. “Well, look what the tide dragged in.”

You stay silent, fists clenched at your sides.

Dean drops down into the hold without breaking eye contact. His boots hit the floor hard. He circles you slowly, taking in the fine embroidery you forgot to hide, the way you hold yourself like someone who’s never scrubbed a floor. He gestures toward your belt.

“That crest,” he says. “Belongs to the kingdom that’s got a bounty on my head. Funny. What’s a royal doing stowing away on my ship?”

You hesitate, but you’ve come too far to lie. “I left,” you say. “They were forcing me to marry someone I didn’t choose.”

Dean tilts his head, unimpressed. “So you thought you’d sneak onto my ship and what—start a new life as a pirate?”

He scoffs, turning away, then back again. “You’re a walking ransom. I should drop you off at the next port and take the gold.”

You flinch, but meet his eyes. “Then why haven’t you?”

That gets him. For just a second, the challenge in your voice makes him pause.

He huffs a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re trouble, Princess.”

A beat.

“Fine. One chance. You don’t pull your weight, or if you so much as breathe wrong near my crew—you're gone. Or worse.”

He tosses you a mop, then points toward the deck.

“Scrub fast. If the crew finds out you’re royalty, they won’t be as polite as I’m being.”