FicWad

Sheela showed Quinn to her bunk that evening. The forecastle was a bit cramped and hammocks hung from the ceiling. Quinn’s was in the corner and underneath it sat a chest for her belongings.

“Not the entire crew lives down here, just those who don’t want to or can’t stay with their parents,” Sheela explained.

Quinn wanted to ask why but did not want to pry or seem ignorant. So, she just nodded.

“You’ll be woken when it’s your time for watch,” Sheela said as she walked away. “You have the crappiest time cause you’re new, so I suggest you get some sleep!”

Quinn had many questions. Why was it the crappiest time? Would she be on watch alone? What exactly did ‘watch’ entail? But instead, she took Sheela’s advice and got into the hammock.



As it turned out, the reason it was the crappiest time is that you’re woken up right before you’re deeply sleeping.

“Oi!” a voice jumped into Quinn’s vaguely forming dreams. Her hammock swung back and forth as she blearily opened her eyes. “Your watch, newbie.”

Quinn sat up and tried to get up as quickly as she could and tumbled to the ground. A chuckle sounded from somewhere above her.

The forecastle was almost pitch-black and Quinn carefully stood up. Cyrus, the quartermaster, stood in front of her.

“You’re on with Saoirse,” he said, gesturing towards a tall figure with red hair on the opposite side of the cabin. When she turned, Quinn recognised her as the first mate.

“I want you up there with me in one minute,” she said and climbed up the steps up to the main deck.

Quinn quickly pulled on her boots, tossed on her jacket and put her dagger in her belt.

Saoirse stood on the quarterdeck. Unsure of what else to do, Quinn went up and joined her. She stood beside her and followed her gaze towards the docks. They stood there in silence for a while.

“Blake spoke to me about your performance at the test,” she said finally. “He’s the gunner, so he’s in charge of fighting and weapons training.”

Quinn glanced at her quickly to try to see where this was going, but she was expressionless.

“He says it’s clear you have basically no training,” she said bluntly. Quinn ducked her head slightly. “But that you’re not beyond hope.”

“Really?” Quinn asked before she could stop herself.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, so I don’t have to go ask Jax why the hell he recruited you.” Saoirse’s eyes never left the shore.

Quinn nodded and refocused on the island. Saoirse was not exactly warm and cuddly, but she liked that about her.

The night was uneventful and it gave Quinn time to think. She crossed the deck to look out over the water, from where she could see the lights of Auradon. She could imagine the students of Auradon Prep, sleeping safely in their beds, not having to be on guard at all times. She tried not to think about Dad. She had not told him because she knew he would worry – and try to talk her out of it. She had sent a note by mail the morning she left, so he would have received it by now. It was short and to the point.

Dear Dad,

I’m going travelling up north, just to think. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

I love you,

Quinn

She had always wanted to go north, so it was believable enough. She just hoped he did not blame himself for her leaving. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him.

“We usually don’t get attacked from the water,” Saoirse called.

Quinn nodded and crossed the deck, so she faced the island again. The moon was nearly full and bathed the city in its pale light. It seemed to never truly sleep – there were still people bustling about, although fewer than during the day. Although it had scared her at first, Quinn was starting to see the beauty in it.



Quinn woke the next morning to a bell ringing. Around her, she heard the sounds of others also just waking up. Blearily she sat up and nearly toppled out of her hammock. The bell rang again, and someone called, “Breakfast! Five minutes!”

Quinn managed to get out of the hammock without faceplanting into the ground and quickly averted her eyes from a guy getting changed a few hammocks over. Everyone here seemed pretty chill about changing in front of each other. Quinn was not quite confident enough, though, and quickly shimmied her bra on under her shirt and pulled on her jacket and boots.

She followed the rest up to the main deck, where she saw Nia, Nabil, and Hugo, who did not sleep aboard the Jolly Roger. She joined them.

Breakfast was bread and cheese, which Hugo’s little brother, Harper, was very excited about. “We never get cheese!”

Hugo rolled his eyes but tore into the food just as enthusiastically.

“How was your first watch?” Nabil asked.

“Kinda boring,” she said, shrugging.

Nia nodded. “Yeah.”

“Hey, Quinn,” Sheela had come over to them. “After breakfast, you’re training in the shop with Blake.”

Quinn nodded and turned to Nabil once Sheela had left. “Which one’s Blake?” she said quietly.

“Blond guy,” said Nabil, pointedly looking at his food. “Beside the redhead – who’s Seamus, by the way, his fling.”

Quinn was about to ask what he meant by ‘fling,’ when she saw who he was referring to. It was the guy who had administered the loyalty part of her test. She quickly looked down before he caught her looking his way.

“Yeah, he’s way scary, but good at his job,” Hugo said.

Nia nodded. “He trained all of us. I don’t think he’s ever been beaten in a fight.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Quinn said. She looked up again and saw that Blake was looking at her. The way his eyes looked through her made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

•••

The sword was heavy in Quinn’s hand – heavier than she had expected. Just holding it in front of her defensively was difficult and she had to build up momentum to swing it, which meant that a surprise attack was basically impossible.

Blake was going to train her in weapons combat. He was the gunner, which meant he was in charge of training and weapons. Quinn tried not to be afraid of him, but she was. After the whole fake kidnapping and real torture, she had avoided him. It had seemed too real, and he had been enjoying himself a little too much.

And a little too hesitant to stop.

“Alright,” he said, holding a wooden practice sword. “I will first test you to see which weapon you have the most potential in.” He eyed the way Quinn was holding the sword. “From the look of it, that won’t be the sword, but I’m allowed to have my fun.”

Without any word of warning, he swung his sword and, before Quinn could get her blade up to block his, the flat side hit her in the shoulder. The blow was not hard enough to knock her over, but it did hurt.

“If I’d been trying to kill you,” Blake said. “You’d be dead.”

Quinn set her jaw and gripped the sword hilt tightly.

This time, she swung first. He blocked it easily, but she saw his expression change. This was what she was supposed to do.

He faked to the left and then came at her right, but years of training with the quarter-staff as well as her encounter with Skyla and Scarlett had taught Quinn to know a feint when she saw one. She managed to bring up her blade to block it.

She celebrated this small victory too much, however, and Blake smacked the fingers of her right hand with the flat of his blade. Quinn cried out and dropped the sword. As she quickly stooped to pick it up, Blake kicked it out of her reach. She felt the tip of his wooden sword at her throat and slowly stood up.

“And. You’re dead,” he said. “Never take your eyes off your opponent.” He rolled his eyes.

Daggers were next. Again, Quinn used a real one while Blake took a wooden one. She supposed she kind of had experience with this weapon, although she was not sure if a losing fight counted as experience. She copied Blake’s stance: blade pointed down and left foot ahead.

Quinn knew she had to pay attention to his blade, that was obvious, but also his feet, because that sometimes betrayed future moves.

He stepped forward and Quinn flinched, jumping back. He grinned and she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her. She calmly took her position again and he attacked this time. Quinn tried to block his blade with hers, as she had done with the sword, but that did not work well this time; the blades were too short. The wooden dagger slashed across her stomach.

“Dead,” said Blake.

Now she knew how this worked. When he attacked, she would try to block his arm while going in herself. She never got him though, he was just too fast.

They trained with daggers for a longer time than they had with swords. Quinn hoped this meant she had more potential. He never gave her any instructions or tips, just the one word, over and over again: dead.

Once, after a few particularly short bouts, the last one ending with her falling on her back hard, Quinn snapped.

“Dead,” said Blake, as he had for the past fifteen minutes.

Quinn sat up and threw her dagger to the ground. It skittered over the concrete floor. “Then teach me damnit! You’re supposed to be training me, so tell me what I’m doing wrong!”

Blake just looked at her, his face remaining expressionless. He drew the wooden dagger across her neck. “Dead,” he said.

Nearly growling in frustration, Quinn tackled into him, sending them both rolling over the floor. She pulled out her own dagger – which she had kept hidden – and held it to his throat. “Dead,” she snarled.

Instead of looking shocked, or surprised even, he grinned. It was the most frustrating reaction possible.

“What?” Quinn asked.

He pushed her off of him – with more ease than she could have hoped for – and said, “So, what did you learn?” in an infuriatingly condescending tone

Quinn frowned, getting to her feet. “What?” she said again.

He rolled his eyes. “I made you angry. You fought better. One of the reasons you didn’t do well in the fight with Jukes was because you didn’t want to fight them. That, and a lack of training,” he added.

Blake placed his wooden dagger back in its place on the wall. “Channel your anger, frustration, whatever, into your fights,” he said walking towards the door. “Class dismissed.”

•••

After Blake Left, Quinn stayed to practise the sword on her own. She swung at an imaginary opponent, trying to flow through the moves gracefully, like she could with a bow and quarterstaff. Her arms were starting to tire when she heard footsteps behind her.

Still a little on edge, she spun around, stopping her blade when she saw it was Jax.

He barely flinched. “I take it training went well then?”

Quinn sheathed the sword. “I understand why he’s Gunner.”

“You don’t like him,” Jax noted with the ghost of a smile.

“He’s just... very intense.”

“And scary?”

“Wouldn’t saying that be admitting to weakness? I understand that’s a big no-no around here.”

Jax just smiled.

“He is going to teach me actual moves though, right? Not just to fuel my fight with anger?”

“I could show you something if you’d like,” Jax said, stepping closer.

Quinn could tell there was definitely more than friendly helpfulness on his mind, but she did not really care. Why not have a little fun? She smiled. “Alright.”

“First we need to fix your grip,” he said, stepping closer to Quinn. He prodded her fingers to the middle of the hilt. “Don’t hold it like you’re choking it.” Holding his hand over hers, he stepped behind her, almost flush against her back. Quinn felt her breath hitch but tried not to let on. “Think of it like an extension of your arm, a part of you.” He guided her in slowly slashing the sword in front of her. “Your other hand,” he took her wrist lightly. “is mostly for balance, or a good punch to the face if the need arises.”

“And footwork?” Quinn asked in a voice just above a whisper.

“All your movement has to come from your core.” He placed a gentle hand on her waist, sending tingles up her spine. “If you think about your feet too much, you’ll trip yourself up. We’re not here to do pretty footwork, but to fight effectively. Think of it like moving your core and your feet should cooperate.” With light pressure to her waist, he guided her across the floor.

“Going slowly is all well and good,” Quinn said. “But I doubt it’ll help in a fight.”

“Once you can do it well slowly, you can do it quickly.” His voice was low, and Quinn could feel his breath on her cheek. “It’s all about muscle memory.” He suddenly twirled her out of his grasp and Quinn heard the scrape of his sword against his scabbard. Quickly, she stepped toward the flash of light on the steel of the blade. A clang rang out and Quinn realized that she had blocked the strike. For a moment, she was stunned and did not move.

Jax pulled back his sword, pulling her off-balance. With her guard down, he pushed her back until she hit a wall, his blade at her throat. Quinn’s breath caught again, feeling the press of his body against hers. She grinned a little.

Jax raised an eyebrow, returning the grin. “There’s hope for you yet.”