Chapter Text
One of Petra’s favorite memories from her early years is waking up to the distinctive smell of ‘special tea’ and Papa’s booming voice from downstairs. Her dad is a marine, a great one. He worked away most of the time, catching bad guys and saving people. Meanwhile, Petra and Mama run a bar near the port of their little village. Well, Mama did most of the job, but Petra helps too!
Every 4 to 6 months, Papa would come home and it would be the happiest days of the year. He always brings many interesting things with him — trinkets, dresses, foods, books. The best part? Just his presence in general. Loud, fun, and comforting.
The usual Mama was strict, efficient, and a little bit mean. But when Papa’s home, she loosen up a little bit, brew that special tea he always brings, and laugh a lot. Petra liked that.
Papa called her ‘princess’ and told her she’s prettier than any princesses around the globe. He put her on his shoulder and walked around the village, telling her stories about his journey.
On his last visit, Papa brought her a story book with a lot of cursive text and beautiful illustrations. It’s a love story between a princess and a scary but kind hearted swordsman. She read that story so many times that she memorized it word for word. She became obsessed with the idea of a great swordsman, with a shining sword and eyes as sharp as his strikes.
“I wanna marry a swordsman when I’m bigger!” Petra said on one of their walks. Papa stopped walking, tightening his hold on her.
“Why?”
“They’re cool!”
Papa laughed, though it sounded strained. “But you’ve never seen one”
“I will, one day!”
“What, you wanna go out to sea and be a marine like me?” another strained laugh.
“I don’t know. But I’ll find a cool swordsman like Felix the Red Baron and marry him!”
Papa sighed, moving Petra from his shoulder to his arms. Pushing her head to his hard chest. “Well I hope I’ll be there when you meet him, then we’ll have a duel to see if he’s worthy of the princess.”
The little girl giggled, “But you’re so strong! I don’t think anyone can beat you”
If only she knows how wrong she was.
Papa didn’t visit 6 months later. And the next. And the next.
He became somehow a taboo topic in the house. Every time Petra tried to talk about him, Mom immediately changed the topic. She stopped laughing freely, the tea tin sealed tight in the cupboard.
Two years later, two marine officers visited their bar. They brought a box with him, filled with Papa’s personal belongings.
It was a harsh battle, they said. They couldn’t find his body. Petra was ushered outside before she could hear more.
Feels surreal, how come Papa — the big, strong, invincible Papa — lost in a battle? What kind of monster did that? How is it possible to continue living without him? It would be really dull, with nothing to look forward to.
That afternoon, the rain washed the earth, along with Petra’s tears.
Petra was 19. A bouquet of flowers in her hand, her Mom’s grave near her feet. “I re-open the bar today, Mom.” A heavy sigh, “I don’t know if I’m good enough. Efficient enough. The Mayor said I’m too nice, but I took notes of things you usually do. Make sure they’ll pay, throw out jerks. No discount. Make sure I can reach Papa’s gun. I just wish — ”
“PIRATES! PIRATES HEADING THIS WAY!!”
Huh?
“WE’RE DOOMED!”
Panic began to creep in the whole village. Everyone started running, locked their houses. Praying, hoping that they won’t be another victim of pirates’ cruelty. It’s not unheard of, a whole country becomes devastated under the tyranny of a Jolly Roger. Their village wasn’t a common destination for pirate ships due to their lack of resources, so their knowledge about pirates are mostly from rumors or Vice Admiral Ral’s tales.
Petra ran down the hill to her Mom’s (hers, now) bar, lifting her skirt, hair blowing in the wind. Bars are a very common place to be visited by pirates, right? Better be prepared.
The pirates were already inside the bar.
They’re such a peculiar crew, was Petra’s first thought. For starters, most of them look quite young. They’re surprisingly clean and smell decent. From her books and Papa’s stories, she always imagines them as a rowdy, loud, smelly bunch. Not this one.
The captain looked significantly shorter than most of his crews, but he radiated unquestionable authority. Impeccable outfit with zero crease. A black cape, and a sword on his hip.
His eyes are bluer than the sea on a sunny day.
“Is this how you usually serve guests? Looking like you just dive in a pile of shit?”
His voice sent shivers down her spine. Cold and sharp, like he wanted to kill her with her words.
“Hey, Levi! Be nice! She just ran here because she’s excited to see us, right?” A much lighter voice interrupted, from a taller, brown-haired figure with an eyepatch next to the captain.
No, not excited at all.
“Of course!” Petra tried to give her most genuine smile, “Petra Ral, I run the bar. How can I help you?”
The captain’s face changed a bit, like he just realized something. “Petra-who?”
Maybe introducing herself as a family member of a former formidable Marine’s Vice Admiral was a bad idea.
You really need to think before talking, idiot!
“...Ral?...” she repeated slowly.
His face darkened, regret in his eyes.
The eye-patch-figure forced a laugh, “Well, hello there Petra! We’ll take whatever alcohol you have! What about you, Levi?”
‘Levi’, who apparently had been scrutinizing her face with furrowed brows, cleared his throat. His voice a bit softer than before. “Do you have hot water? I’ll brew my own tea.”
Oh. She didn’t know pirate captains drink tea. Maybe because he had to stay alert?
His tea smelled familiar. Like happier times, with Mama’s laugh and Papa’s hugs.
Like the special tea Papa used to bring home.