A Hostile Takeover

Captain Blackthorn shoved me forward, his grip harsh and unyielding, the weight of his body pressing against mine. My parents, seated upon their thrones, were statues carved from cold marble, their faces blank, betraying nothing. Their eyes briefly flicked to mine before shifting back to Blackthorn, indifferent to the situation unfolding before them.

The throne room, once the heart of regal power, was now a ruin of its former self—scaffolding and half-finished projects cluttered the grand space, tarnishing its majesty. The chamber’s former splendor had been sacrificed in my parents' pursuit of flaunting their newfound wealth, gained through shadowy means.

“Captain Blackthorn, why have you returned to our kingdom?”

My father’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and commanding. Blackthorn's lips curled into a mocking smile.

“I thought you’d like to see the kind of man you sold your daughter to.”

My father’s eyes narrowed.

“You sank one of my ships, killed my best general.”


Shock rippled through me as their words registered. This wasn’t about me. It was business. My parents barely acknowledged my presence, their indifference chilling me to my core.

“Your daughter tried to escape.”

Blackthorn’s tone was cold, matter-of-fact.

“I had to teach her a lesson.”

His words barely registered before I realized his true intent. My gaze darted around the room, watching as Blackthorn’s crew quietly replaced the guards stationed around the throne. Their movements were deliberate, almost choreographed. My heart sank as the reality of the situation became clear—this was no mere confrontation. It was a coup.

The weight of my parents' betrayal settled on my shoulders like an iron mantle. They had sold me, discarded me, and now couldn’t even see the danger closing in around them. The room, once a symbol of their authority, had become a stage for their undoing. Blackthorn’s grip tightened on my arm, his voice a menacing presence behind me. He tugged on the leash prompting me to keep my mouth shut.

“It seems you’ve forgotten the terms of our agreement, Your Majesty.”
“Perhaps a reminder is in order.”


Blackthorn’s crew had fully infiltrated the room, their dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. Still, my parents remained fixed on their thrones, their arrogance blinding them to the imminent danger. With a sneer, Blackthorn handed my leash to one of his men, who yanked me roughly to the ground. I bit back a cry, the pain sharp, but nothing compared to what was about to unfold. Without warning, Blackthorn lunged, grabbing my father by the collar and wrenching him from his throne. My mother gasped, her regal composure fracturing as she stood, her face twisting in fear.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Her voice wavered, the tremor betraying her fear. Blackthorn sneered.

“Consider this a hostile takeover, Your Majesty.”

Two of Blackthorn’s men advanced on my mother, their steps measured, predatory. They seized her by the arms, dragging her from her throne. Her cries for mercy echoed in the chamber, but they were met with nothing but cruel laughter.

My father, regaining his senses, lunged at Blackthorn, a ferocity in his eyes I had never seen. Blackthorn was faster. With a brutal swipe of his sword, he cut across my father’s chest. Blood sprayed, a grotesque arc staining the throne as my father staggered back, collapsing to the floor.

“No!”

I screamed, my voice breaking, but the sound was swallowed by the violence in the room. I could only watch as my mother’s sobs filled the air, her body trembling as she knelt beside my father, her hands clutching his. Blood pooled beneath them, dark and thick against the stone floor. Blackthorn loomed over them, his shadow casting a long, dark silhouette across the scene.

“You should have known better than to cross me,” he snarled.
“Your greed has cost you everything.”

With one swift, merciless motion, he drove his sword into my father’s chest. My father’s body jerked violently, a final shudder before life drained from his eyes. My mother’s scream ripped through the room, a raw, primal wail as she clung to him, her body convulsing with grief.

Tears blurred my vision as I stood frozen, forced to witness the nightmare unfolding before me. I tried to look away but one of Blackthorn's men held the leash so tight that I couldn’t move my head to look away. Blackthorn turned to my mother, his expression void of pity or remorse. He wiped the blood from his blade with a flick of his wrist before gripping her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“You have no one to blame but yourselves,” he said, his voice cold and devoid of any humanity.
“Your reign ends here.”



With a final, brutal stroke, he slit her throat. Blood poured from the wound, her eyes widening in shock and agony. She crumpled beside my father, her blood mingling with his, creating a macabre scene of death and vengeance.

I was left standing, my legs trembling. The room spun, and the faces of Blackthorn’s men blurred into a nightmare of shadows and darkness. Blackthorn approached; his eyes cold as he wiped his hands clean of the blood.

“This is your new reality, Isabella,” he whispered, his voice a cruel, mocking hiss.
“Embrace it or suffer the same fate as your parents.”

With a sharp tug on the leash, he pulled me from the throne room. Tears streaked my face as I was dragged away, my parents’ lifeless bodies disappearing behind the heavy doors. Blackthorn did not lead me back to the ship. Instead, he steered me toward a rundown tavern, its crooked sign swaying precariously in the wind. The dim light filtering through grimy windows cast an eerie glow on the cobbled street. Inside, the air was thick with the stench of sweat, stale ale, and smoke, the din of low conversation and clinking tankards filling the room.

Blackthorn navigated the crowded space with practiced ease, his grip on my leash never faltering. He led me to a shadowed corner where a scarred wooden table stood, its surface marred with years of wear. With a rough shove, he forced me to my knees beside it, securing the leash tightly in his fist.


“Welcome to your new life,” he said, his voice dripping with cruel amusement.
“Get used to it.”