This fic is part of a commission for the wonderful @merruschka,featuring her wonderful Pheobe De Sardet and Captain Vasco. This stunning artwork depicts Pheobe and Vasco (and was created by Merruschka!) Part 2 is Here
Warm, sticky light and low burning candles – every night of Pheobe’s life had been the same for months. Nothing was simple on Teer Fradee; at home she had the weight of the monarchy to throw behind smooth words and pretty glances. Not here. The only people who might have cared for her title were already on her side. Hell, even some of her allies were less than enthusiastic about her status. A smile curled at the edge of her full lips – she was thinking about Vasco, of course. She generally was these days. Perhaps it was the fact that he was so handsome or the smooth, honey warm timbre of his voice….
Or perhaps it was the fact that he didn’t pander to her the way that other men did. Even Kurt, bless him, had started to flush and falter when she turned her teasing attention to him. She knew she shouldn’t – she had no interest in him, after all, not really. He was too old, too serious, and very much her safe harbour - after all, they had been friends since she was a teenager. Plus, though she felt a pang of guilt for thinking so, she had to admit he wasn’t her idea of handsome. Too pale, too hard about the jaw and eyes – he had a warm heart, but the face of a thug. Not like Vasco – the smooth, elegant lines of his face, the swirl of his tattoos, the rich golden hue of his skin; it was all mesmerising in the most infuriating way.
The stack of paper wasn’t getting any smaller, but the candles certainly were. Her eyes burned and itched. Pheobe sighed and opened the bottom drawer of her desk, pulling out a bottle of sweet cherry brandy and a glass. With a guilty look at the door, she poured a generous measure and threw it back before filling the glass a second time and putting the bottle back. The hard sting of the liquor fell away quickly, leaving a lethargic warmth that tingled in her fingertips and lips. Pushing her soft, pale hair away from her face, Pheobe sighed and rolled her shoulders; the heat was sticking here, like syrup it poured over her every day and left her slick, over warm, and in desperate need of a shower. A weak breeze snuck through the open window, kissing her skin, bringing the faint scent of the sea to her nose. A prickling sting made her eyes water; that voyage across the sea had been the happiest few months of her life. While Constantin irritated the sailors with endless prattle and Kurt, sweet Kurt, was almost nailed to the deck with sea-sickness she perched on the nets, and after Vasco had shown her how to safely navigate to it, she had perched atop the crows nest at every chance.
Brisk, cool winds, salt spray, and the horizon – it was like magic. But in the nights, oh the nights – a clear night with still waters was the truest expression of the divine when at sea. The inky blackness of the sky and ocean became one and the stars winked at their own reflection. In those nights the ocean became a pool of eternity, and she found Vasco perched beside her on the railing more often than not. The hush-hush breathing of the world slowed, the sailors and soldiers snored. On the first night like that he had seemed shocked to see her, even going so far as to scold her for being out on the deck in the night. After she had apologised and explained why she was there, he had hesitated as if he would walk away until she asked him to sit with her; the aloof coldness he had shown her gradually broke down… but a certain haughtiness remained. Still remained. The bottle was half empty, the light had died entirely, and she was changing the dead candles when a gentle rapping at the door caught her attention. Pheobe stepped towards her desk to put the bottle away as the door opened; a flash of irritated shame bloomed and then died as Vasco stepped cautiously into the room. Her body hummed with electricity, a tight, throbbing sensation pooled in her belly,
“Vasco.”
“De Sardet,” he said, voice unusually quiet,
“Is everything alright?” She asked, trying to ignore the flush of embarrassment when his eyes landed on the bottle,
“Hard day for both of us, I see.”
“I… well, yes. Would you like some?”
“Please.” He sank into the chair on the other side of her desk, leaving her to pour and serve his brandy, ruffling the feathers of her pride just a little. They drank in silence for a few moments, his broad, tanned hand clenching and relaxing rhythmically on the arm of the chair. Eventually, he threw the brandy back and placed the glass on the desk with a sigh. Pheobe reached over to fill his glass, watching the flex of his muscles as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I hate to do this, De Sardet, but I have a favour to ask.”
“Oh,” she let the sound drop from her mouth ungraciously, elegant brows rising, “of course.” He stared at the brandy in his glass, brows knitted hard to form sharp lines on the smooth skin of his forehead, “what is it you need?”
“I… you know that I was Sea Given, yes?”
“Yes. I remember you told me when we spoke about Jonah.”
“I don’t know anything about my family…” he said with an almost wounded air, “except that they too were from the Congregation and that they were most likely affluent. I know I am no different to any Sea Given Naut, but…” he threw the second glass back, a drop of reddish liquor escaped to hang on his lower lip. Pheobe resisted the urge to lean over the desk and lick it from his lip. The thought sent fiery shame flooding through her; it was like a thought from a one of those tawdry romance novels she hid in amongst her undergarments, “when I was born the relationship between the Nauts and Merchant Princes was complex. I was probably used to make a truce or settle a debt, which I suppose does not matter…”
“It does,” she said suddenly, stopping in the act of refilling their glasses. Vasco looked up at her, his beautiful hazel eyes catching the candlelight, “or it would to me, I should say, if I were you.” He smiled sadly and nodded,
“Yes, well… my origins have become somewhat of an obsession for me,” he said, “I had originally intended to reach the rank of fleet commander. When I did so, I would have gained access to the files the Nauts have on me, but now that I am grounded, it seems unlikely this will happen anytime soon. Or ever. But I need to know who I am, where I come from.”
“And you want me to help you find this information.” It wasn’t a question, of course, so he said nothing, “I’d be delighted to.”
“Really?” A series of emotions crossed his handsome face, “why?”
“Because…” She faltered. Because I adore you, she wanted to say, because I want you to adore me in the same way. Because you’ve never asked for anything and never given anything and this might be the first and last time I get to be so close to whatever is underneath your façade, “you’re my friend, Vasco. And if I were you, I would want to know too… and I would want my friends to help me.”
“Thank you.” The silence drew out between them, taut and shivering. She broke it with a laugh,
“Yes, well, that’s enough sweetness – let’s not make a meal of it or I’ll be ill,” she said and leaned back into her chair, “I assume you have a plan.”
“I do,” Vasco said with a grin and leaned forward.
The Coin Guard Tavern was the perfect balance of seediness and safety; Pheobe got to live on the edge and rub shoulders with impropriety, as well as a collection of tantalisingly burly men, without actually being in any danger. They all knew who she was and, more importantly, in New Sérene they cared who she was too. She was comfortable there, playing at scandal while everyone played their part, all of them safe in the knowledge that the Princess would not stoop to get into a barracks bed.
The rooms below were another matter.
A plethora of deliciously well-worn, trashy novels had convinced her that soldiers were romantic, tortured souls who wanted nothing more than gallant love and romance to bring real meaning to their lives. The dingy rooms below the tavern were reeking of sharp alcohol and blood, filled with the dull grunts and groans of both pain and pleasure at intervals; the sounds from the ring were almost indecipherable from those of the bedrooms, except for the bloodthirsty cheering. Pheobe froze in the door, fought to keep her feet in place as they first tried to peddle backwards, then to push forwards. The eyes that turned to her were hard, glinting. They knew who she was, and their care extended only so far as to wonder how filthy she intended to get. Vasco stopped and lowered his head,
“Are you alright?”
“No I am not bloody alright,” she hissed, “I’m a Princess of the congregation standing in a fucking Coin Guard whorehouse.”
“I understand, but we’ll be as quick as we can.”
“Make sure that we are,” she snapped, heart thudding in a sickly, nervous rhythm against her ribs. Vasco nodded curtly, but his eyes were soft and that was worse. He was looking at her as if she was a blushing virgin with no experience of men, no understanding of how the world worked. The fact that Vasco was, for all intents and purposes, correct about that only made her more irritable. He cut a direct path to a back room as if he knew the place well. A green-eyed beast shuddered and slithered in the back of her mind, “come here often, do you?” The humorous chuckle she added did nothing to dull the barb. Vasco gave her a strange look and shrugged,
“It’s easier to pay for company than devote time to convincing some poor woman that I have any long-term interest in her,” he said matter of factly, as if it was an unavoidable truth, “my heart is spoken for, and that’s all there is to it. I won’t ruin a good woman for the sake of pride.”
-me just trying to calm down while hyperventilating-
My babies aahhhhhhh I LOVE IT I LOVE IT SO MUCH
The way Pheobe was busted when drinking, her continued tensed and heated feelings towards the captain is. *chefs kiss*
I love that attitude, Pheobe calling the Admiral a bitch for hiding Vasco’s file at last… (I mean she is just to stupid to understand that V in the alphabet is quite far in the back and therefore maybe starting at the back… But it’s okay Pheobe you have other talents than to use logic :’D I swear it kills me (in a good way!) )
But daaaaaaamn Vascooooo, taking the file and then going to wherever, leaving the girl who did the dirty work behind basically saying “yo bro, thanksfor gettin’ it!” Tsk tsk. Not very gentlemanly of you! (I love it though makes him feel more real to me zhhzhahajajgzja and I am wheezing from laughter)
