Surprise Tenderness

Six long weeks had passed since I’d been confined to bed, my body slowly mending from the accident. James was still worried that my ribs might break again. His concern was evident in every glance, every careful movement around me as if I were made of glass. I knew that no matter how frail I felt, I needed to reclaim some semblance of independence.

With painstaking effort, I pushed myself out of bed, my legs trembling beneath me like those of a newborn fawn. James quickly offered his arm, and together we made our way to the small bathroom. Steam billowed from the tub, inviting and warm, a promise of a brief respite from the discomfort that had weighed me down for weeks.

Once James left the bathroom, I peeled off the nightgown I’d been wearing for days. The cool air kissed my skin, stark against the heat radiating from the bath. Holding onto the edge of the tub, I gingerly lowered myself into the water. A sigh escaped my lips as the warmth enveloped me, its embrace soothing my aching muscles.

I took my time, savoring the sensation of the water against my skin. It was as if the accumulated stress of my confinement was melting away with each passing moment. Slowly, methodically, I cleaned myself, every stroke of the washcloth a small victory. My hair, tangled from weeks of neglect, yielded reluctantly to the brush, but it, too, gave way under my patient efforts.


The heat worked its magic, loosening the knots in my muscles, and easing the dull ache in my bones. For the first time in weeks, I felt the stirrings of hope, the faintest glimmer of renewed strength. When I finally climbed out of the bath, I felt a semblance of rejuvenation coursing through me. Wrapping a plush towel around myself, I relished the warmth and softness against my skin. I slipped into a loose peasant top and a flowing skirt, their gentle fabrics a comfort as I braided my hair, the long plait trailing down my back.

The small life growing inside me was becoming more noticeable by the day, my belly gently rounding with the promise of new beginnings. A mixture of trepidation and joy stirred within me at the thought.

Steeling my nerves, I stepped out of the bathroom and into the captain’s chambers. The room was empty. James was nowhere to be seen. Taking a deep breath, I moved to the door and stepped into the narrow hallway.

The brightness outside hit me with full force as I emerged onto the deck. The sun, after six weeks of confinement, bathed everything in a golden glow. The salty sea breeze filled my lungs, a welcome reminder of the world beyond my isolation. The crew moved with purpose, engrossed in their tasks. The rhythmic clinking of ropes and the low hum of conversations created a symphony of life, a stark contrast to the silence of my bedrest. At the helm stood Captain Blackthorn, his imposing figure framed against the horizon, eyes sharp as he surveyed the vast ocean.


I paused, taking in the scene. The vibrant life of the ship reminded me that the world had not paused for my recovery. I had been absent, but now I was ready to rejoin it, whatever that entailed. The sun warmed my skin, and for the first time in weeks, I felt alive again. My gaze swept the deck, noting the familiar faces of the crew who offered me nods and brief smiles.

Captain Blackthorn’s eyes shifted from the horizon to meet mine. His stern expression softened slightly, and he gave me a nod of acknowledgment. I stepped further onto the deck, the wooden planks firm beneath my feet. James appeared from below deck, a bundle of charts under his arm. His eyes widened when he saw me, surprise quickly turning to relief.

“You shouldn’t be up yet,” he said, though his voice held more affection than reprimand.

I smiled.

“I needed to feel the sun on my face.”
“I’m not made of glass, you know.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“Stubborn as ever.”


Mauve approached her expression a mixture of relief and concern. Her auburn hair was tied back in a loose braid, and her eyes sparkled with emotion.

“Princess, I’ve been worried about you,” she said gently.

I offered her a reassuring smile.

“I’m feeling better, Mauve.”
“Thank you.”

Her gaze shifted to my stomach, where the faint swell of my pregnancy was becoming apparent. Instinctively, I placed a hand over my belly, a protective gesture. Before Mauve could ask the questions forming in her mind, Captain Blackthorn’s voice boomed across the deck.

“Pet, I need you at the helm,” he barked, his tone brooking no argument.

With deliberate steps, I made my way to the helm, fighting to keep my balance against the rolling deck. The breeze tugged at my loose hair as I approached, and Blackthorn’s sharp gaze locked onto mine.

“Nice of you to join us,” he said, his voice laced with a harsh edge.


I stiffened but forced myself not to shrink away.

“You look beautiful, pet,” he added, the sudden softness in his tone unsettling.

I flinched inwardly as he wrapped his arms around me, his hold possessive. His hand rested lightly on my stomach, a silent reminder of the life growing inside me. I kept my breath steady, my heart pounding beneath his touch.

“How’s our little sailor?” he asked, his voice softer, almost tender.

I mustered a small smile.

“Growing stronger every day.”

His grip tightened; the possessiveness was clear.

“Good,” he murmured.
“We need strong sailors for the future.”


I nodded, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. The mixture of harsh commands and moments of forced tenderness left me unsettled. My child, our child would be my anchor, my reason to endure and fight for a future beyond this ship.

The horizon stretched out before me, a vast expanse of ocean that was both daunting and liberating. Blackthorn’s hand lingered a moment longer before he finally released me, his attention turning back to the crew. I breathed deeply, reclaiming my space and my resolve.

“Have you ever sailed a ship, pet?”

Blackthorn’s voice cut through my thoughts; his eyes still locked onto mine.

“No, Captain,” I replied, my voice steady, though anxiety fluttered in my chest.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Come, then.”
“I will teach you.”

Nerves buzzed beneath my skin as I stepped closer. Blackthorn guided me to the wheel, his hands firm but surprisingly gentle as they covered mine.

“Feel the weight of the ship, how it moves with the sea,” he instructed softly.
“It is not just about strength.”
“It is about understanding the ocean, becoming one with it.”

I nodded, focusing on the sensation of the wheel beneath my fingers, the subtle resistance as the ship responded to my movements. For a brief moment, I felt the power of the vessel bend to my will.

“Good,” Blackthorn said, a note of approval in his voice.
“You are a natural.”

I stayed at the helm, feeling the ship move beneath me. Blackthorn’s hands slipped away, leaving me with a small but significant taste of control.

“You have done well,” he murmured.
“Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye.”
“Thank you, Captain,” I replied, the weight of his words settling over me as I looked out at the horizon, a flicker of hope stirring deep within.