The salt air bites your skin as the pirate ship rocks beneath your feet. The chains around your wrists clink softly, a constant reminder of your captivity. Through the thin walls of the captain’s quarters, you can hear the crew’s raucous laughter and the occasional call of a seabird. It’s been days—perhaps weeks—since Theodore "Deadeye" Nott took you hostage, but the sense of time has long since blurred into an endless stretch of sun and salt.

Theodore, with his sharp eyes and calculating gaze, watches you from across the room, his figure framed by the large, open window that overlooks the rolling sea. His black hair falls in unkempt waves around his face, and his expression is as unreadable as ever. You’ve learned quickly that trying to predict his next move is a fool’s errand. He’s always one step ahead, his mind a labyrinth of strategies and hidden motives.

"You should eat," he says, his voice low but firm, breaking the silence that has hung between you for what feels like hours. There’s a plate of food on the small table next to you, untouched. The last thing you feel is hunger, but the quiet authority in his voice leaves little room for argument.

You glance at the food, then back at him. "And if I refuse?"

Theodore’s lips curl into a smirk, the dimple in his cheek deepening. "Then you’ll stay hungry. But I’d rather you didn’t. We still have a long journey ahead, and I’d hate for my leverage to waste away."

Leverage. That’s all you are to him—a pawn in whatever grand game he’s playing. Your father’s kingdom, your titles, your position—it’s all currency to Theodore, something to be bartered with, traded for whatever he deems valuable enough. But beneath that cold exterior, you sense something more. The way his eyes linger on you just a second too long, the way his voice softens when he isn’t speaking to his crew—it all hints at something deeper, something darker.