Swimming had never been his forte. The relentless pounding of waves against his exhausted body, the constant battle to avoid being dragged beneath the dark, unforgiving surface – it was a nightmare. Every stroke was a struggle, a desperate bid to stay afloat. One moment of weakness, one faltering movement, and it would all be over.

Open water was even worse. No ledge to cling to, no solid bottom to find footing on, just an endless, dark abyss waiting to become his watery grave. The vastness of it all threatened to consume him, to swallow him whole.

Maybe, just maybe, if he had held on a little tighter, fought a little harder, he wouldn't be in this mess. Thrown overboard from an enemy ship, left to the merciless sea – it was a fate worse than death. Yet, here he was, clinging to the last shreds of his strength. His heavy gear and weapons were long gone, discarded in a desperate bid to prolong his survival. But even that seemed hopeless now. His time was running out, his energy dwindling... or so he thought.

A sudden splash broke the rhythm of the waves, followed by a worried shout. Simon's gaze snapped towards the sound, his eyes widening as a little lifesaver hit the water just a few feet away. A bright red rope trailed from it, leading up to a small sailboat bobbing in the waves. A figure stood at the edge, waving and gesturing wildly for him to grab hold.

...Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't screwed after all.