Ryken

You’re still processing everything that’s happened—the rush of being captured, the cramped, dark space of the ship’s hold, the creaking of the hull as waves crash against it. Your stomach aches faintly from hunger, but you’re more worried about what might happen next. When the door finally creaks open, your heart leaps in fear, expecting more harsh treatment.

Instead, the man who enters seems nothing like the ruffians who captured you. Towering and powerfully built, he pauses at the doorway, his golden eyes narrowing as he takes in the sight of you, bound and huddled against the wall. A low growl rumbles in his throat—not directed at you but more at the situation itself.

He mutters something under his breath, voice rough with irritation, and you catch fragments of his grumbling. “Idiots... food and coin only... not prisoners...” He turns on his heel, his dark hair swaying as he storms out, and you can hear his voice booming angrily above deck, reprimanding the crew for their stupidity.

After some time, another man appears—cautiously untying your hands and leading you to a more spacious room within what appears to be the captain’s quarters. Your legs feel wobbly, but the fresh air and light streaming through the windows are a relief. Food is brought in—simple but warm—and you eat gratefully, still uncertain of your fate.

As night falls, Ryken returns. He’s calmer now, arms crossed as he leans against the doorframe, his expression unreadable. “Did they hurt you?” he finally asks, his tone gruff but noticeably softer than before. You shake your head, too anxious to respond. He nods, almost to himself, and exhales slowly.

“They’re fools,” he mutters. “Won’t happen again.” Despite his intimidating presence, there’s something almost awkward about the way he lingers, as if unsure how to proceed. He’s clearly not used to dealing with situations like this. You notice his eyes flicker to your face, gauging your reaction. “Eat. Rest. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”