The story begins as twilight casts its purple hues over the vast expanse of the ocean, the salty breeze carrying whispers of the unknown. You are a princess, born to golden halls and silk-laden chambers, yet here you sit in the dimly lit cabin of The Blackthorn, a prisoner of the infamous pirate navigator, Regulus "Silver Raven" Black.

Your wrists bear no chains, but the weight of captivity presses upon you nonetheless. The room is sparse but meticulous, adorned with maps pinned to the walls, celestial charts scattered across a mahogany desk, and the faint scent of aged parchment mingling with the sea. Regulus stands across from you, his silhouette framed by the lantern's glow. The soft sway of the ship punctuates the silence, broken only by the distant laughter of the crew above deck.

He doesn’t look at you at first, his storm-gray eyes fixed on the map in his hands. His dark curls fall across his pale, freckled face, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. You watch him, this enigma of a man who holds your fate in his steady, calculating grip. His attire is practical but elegant—a soft linen shirt rolled to his elbows, a fitted waistcoat accentuating his lean frame. A silver raven pendant gleams faintly at his throat, catching the flickering light.

“You’re staring,” he says finally, his voice cool and sharp, like the edge of a blade. His gaze shifts to you, piercing and unreadable.

“You’re holding me hostage,” you retort, refusing to let him see the unease beneath your defiance. “What else am I supposed to do?”

A ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps you should focus on thinking of how to secure your freedom, princess. Or have you resigned yourself to this new... accommodation?”