Monthly story - male naga x female pirate reader (sfw) (Patreon)

Hello again! Here's July's story.  Back to a defined gender for this one, so I hope that's alright. The poll for the episodic story is now closed I think, but the naga came in second (when I last looked!) and a traditional fantasy setting was the runner up, so I present you with 6232 words of badass female pirate reader and one gentlemanly naga boy for your delectation :). No real content warnings for this one, I don't think. 

Enjoy! As ever, don't forget to let me know if you liked it by dropping a click on the heart button, or leaving me a comment too if you feel like it. And don't forget that the Discord is always open for all Patreon supporters, so come on over and say hello if that's something you fancy doing too! 

Enough waffle. More naga: 

***

“Cheer up, sweetheart,” the lizardfolk sailing master grinned, slapping you on the back hard enough to make you stagger. “Only another few days til we make port.”

“I’m not glum because we’ve been at sea for weeks, Jaran,” you said, easing the tension out of your neck with a side to side motion and leaning on the gunwale of the small, agile schooner. “I don’t mind that.”

“Then what’s bothering you?” he asked, shifting to lean his back against the side of the ship beside you and crossing his arms.

With his lime green colouring and startlingly yellow eyes, Jaran cut an impressive figure. You’d always found yourself leaning towards non-humans when it came to attraction, and the reptilian folk fared better than most in your estimation. Jaran had more than caught your eye, but he had a sweetheart back at port that he was unwaveringly loyal to, so you made no efforts to flirt with him. That didn’t mean you couldn’t admire him, discreetly, of course. The canny bastard probably new it, but he never mentioned it.

You sighed and looked up at him with a wry and sidelong look. “You’ve got someone waiting for you, and half the crew will probably head off and spend the evening with their favourite ‘companions’ ashore… but…” you shrugged. “I don’t have anyone, and I don’t want to pay for a night of intimacy, you know? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, but it’s just not me.”

Jaran reached over and patted you fondly on the shoulder. “I know,” he said. “I worry about you, you know? You’re always on your own…”

A sad smile tugged at your lips and you looked down at the scrubbed timbers beneath your boots. Your hands were rough and coarse from years at sea, and you were hardly the most traditionally ‘feminine’ creature, with strong shoulders, lean muscles, leathery skin, and wiry hair that had to be constantly constrained or it sprang out everywhere in a wild halo around your face. As one of only two humans, both female, on the ship, you couldn’t help but feel the sharp sting of inadequacy whenever you disembarked and Anna got catcalled and you got ignored or sometimes even jeered at. None of the others stood for that, which was a comfort, but it still happened. 

You shrugged and pushed yourself back off the gunwale and turned to stare the length of the deck. Fingal, a sea eagle aarakocra, chose that moment to soar down from the crow’s nest - which you’d all affectionately renamed ‘the eyrie’ since he spent so much time up there - and landed not far from the pair of you. 

“Alright?” he asked, cocking his head to one side and staring at you both with unusual, ice blue eyes. “Oh, and land ho, by the way…” he added with a joyous ruffle of his feathers. 

“What? Already? Where?!” you gasped, whipping round and squinting at the horizon where you saw nothing but the endless, pale blue sea and the haze of the horizon. After the storms of the previous week, this fair wind and gentle sailing was a boon. 

He chuckled hoarsely and shuffled, dancing slightly from one taloned foot to the other. Extending his wing and pointing with flexed flight feathers, he said, “One point off the port bow, but you probably won’t be able to see it for at least another hour,” he said. “I’m off to inform our lovely captain.”

That evening, just before the change of the watch, the captain summoned you all on deck, a letter grasped in her hand. Half triton and half gargoyle, your captain had acquired the nickname ‘Sea Devil’, and she took it to heart. Six feet tall, with green-grey skin, a tail like a bullwhip, and leathery, bat-like wings, she surveyed her crew with a wry smile on her inhuman face. “Listen up, listen up!” she yelled, striding back and forth on lean, avian legs which ended in long, onyx claws. Her fanned, triton’s ears, almost like fins, twitched, and her mane of thick, pale hair swung freely in the breeze between her slender, backwards-curving horns. “I’ve got good news for you!”

“Land ho, Cap’n?” one of the crew yelled. 

“No, you upstart little fucker,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t gather you all here like a flock of clucking chickens just to tell you that! No, we’ve got a very special invitation!” she said, waving the rolled up paper in her clawed hand and adding a playfully patronising emphasis on the word ‘special’. 

A hush descended on everyone and you all leaned in a little closer to hear her above the constant creak of sails and stays and deck timbers. She was always fair and kind to her crew, but this was something new. 

“Now that I’ve got everyone’s attention,” she said, hopping easily up onto a tall barrel with a little help from a flap of her wings. “The Governor of our dear little haven,” she said, “Is holding a ball in honour of some landlubbers’ midsummer festival or whatnot, and since the gods have chosen to smile upon me and my crew, and since we have dutifully paid our dues to the Governor to keep those pesky naval warships off our tails, he has seen fit to invite every last bilge-rat on this ship to his fancy dance! Oh, and you lot get to come too,” she added with a wink, and a cheer went up. 

Captain Solveij let you all have your moment of excited chatter before giving an ear-bleedingly shrill whistle and calling your attention back to her. 

“You’re gonna need to dress nice,” she growled. “Not expensive, but at least nice, and we’ve made enough with our last few captures that we can all afford that. If you don’t have something nice to cover your filthy hides, I’ll send you to a tailor once we make port.”

Jaran dug you in the ribs. “You got anything?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like I’ve got anything other than these tatty old trousers and a few shirts?”

His lizardy smile stretched wide and he grinned. “Better go ask the captain for that tailor’s address then…” he said. 

The tailor that Solveij sent you to was in a back street of Black Sands Bay, a rambling old town that had long been a notorious stopping point for pirates from the world over, but which was untouchable by any royal navy because it was privately owned by the Governor. A huge, black-coated minotaur with one horn supposedly made of solid gold, and a reputation for ruthlessness, Governor Aatlak ruled his corner of the seas as the world’s wealthiest prisoner; if he were to sail off the islands, those same naval warships that circled his archipelago of islands like vultures would descend on him. So he had established himself as a broker of goods, money, and information, and settled down. 

Black Sands Bay, so named for the unique colour of the beach from which the town had grown up into the hillside, was his capital. All around you, the port bustled and thrummed with life. Before you had even left the dock where your schooner had berthed in the deep waters of the harbour, you glanced down into the water and glimpsed perhaps the strangest looking merfolk that you had ever seen. Jellyfish-clear skin fringed a tail, top and bottom, that was twelve feet long, with opalescent scales gleaming in the clear water. Their face was humanoid in shape, but they had enormous, milky, bulging eyes and a bobbing lure that hovered in front of a mouth full of spiked teeth. Floating beside them was a small raft with extraordinary looking shells and objects which could only have come from the deep. 

You didn’t linger long, but you enjoyed some of the sights and sounds of the marketplace before turning to bid Jaran and the others farewell, and heading up into the heart of the old city with a definite weight in your chest. The captain wouldn’t care if you wore trousers or a dress to the dance, but honestly, dressing up like this made you feel as out of place as a mermaid on land. You wished it didn’t. You wished that you could feel something different; comfortable. Still, you were attending in the formal capacity as a member of Captain Solveij’s crew, and she was expecting you to be there. 

The tailor’s shop, when you eventually found it after nearly an hour of wandering in the hot, tropical sun, had an attractive, dark, bay window at the front, showcasing outfits and accessories for a number of species, and as you pushed the glass-panelled door open, a brass bell trilled above you. 

“Jusssst a moment!” a warm, tenor voice called from the rear of the shop. “I’ll be with you in jussst a moment!”

“No worries…” It wasn’t exactly as if you were keen to get started. Besides, you were more than a little sweaty. Perfect. 

You had just put your hands on the inviting arms of a nicely upholstered chair and had been about to sink gratefully down into it, when a figure popped up in the doorway at the back of the room and made you jump. Leaping back up onto your salt-crusted boots, you watched, intrigued, as a naga slithered out to greet you. 

He was small compared to some of the other naga you’d encountered before, and eye-wateringly beautiful. His scales were a rich blue, fading from a delicate, forget-me-not on his underside to an intense indigo in a chequered mosaic, and his lithe, skinny body coiled up underneath him almost instantly at the sight of you. Was he horrified at the sight of a dirty sailor in his immaculately clean shop?

“Oh,” he said and his handsome, chiselled face split into a wide smile before he schooled his features into something a little more professional. The blush, however, did not recede. Incredibly, his top half was, despite the heat, covered by a well-fitted shirt and a deliciously sweet knitted jumper that hugged the lean lines of his torso to perfection. It was a dark, jade green, flecked with darker specks, and the crisp collar of the shirt looked as crisp and perfect as new-fitted sails on a brand new ship. In a word, he was gorgeous. 

You swallowed thickly and coughed. “So, erm… hi. I… I need an outfit…”

“An ‘outfit’?” he asked, arching a sharp eyebrow. His hair was also blue, a bright flash of cobalt, tied back off his handsome face in a loose, thick plait that fell down his back, and his eyes were a dark blue, the colour of the distant sea after sunset, though it was hard to tell exactly because he wore perfectly round spectacles which reflected the light in the softly illuminated room. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at your own awkwardness. “I mean… I’m going to the Governor’s ball in three days’ time, and… I’ve got nothing but ragged sailor’s breeches…”

He smiled and began to regard you as if you were a mannequin. “I see,” he said. “Tell me, do you have anything in particular in mind? And… if I might be so impertinent, a budget?”

You upended the purse of gold that the captain had given any who were deemed ‘in dire need’ of attire, and he nodded, casting you a look as he nudged his glasses back up his aquiline nose with a manicured finger. Where some naga you had encountered allowed their natural claws to grow long, he had trimmed his neatly, presumably so as not to snag any delicate fabrics. His wry smile somehow took the edge off your nerves. 

“I’m sure we have plenty of options for you then,” he said. “Please, let me fetch you something to drink and I will do some preliminary sketches and make some suggestions to you. How does that sound?”

“Uh, sure?” you said, flummoxed by the whole proceedings. “I mean… thank you?”

His delicate laugh made your stomach flutter unexpectedly and he slithered closer and held out his hand to you. His palm and fingers were smoothly callused, and his skin was surprisingly cool. “My name is Nila,” he murmured gently, and when you had introduced yourself in return, he smiled again and said, “Would I be bold in assuming that this is your first time being fitted for garments?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you snorted playfully. 

Nila chuckled and then said, “Would you be more comfortable being fitted by… well… not by a male?” 

Either he wasn’t sure what to make of your gender, or he was simply being polite, but either way you shrugged rather inelegantly and said, “Doesn’t bother me. I live on a ship and there’s little, uh, privacy there…”

He bowed his head. “What an exciting life you must lead,” he said, almost wistfully. “Well, as long as you do not object, then I shall begin momentarily. What would you like to drink?”

He was so formal, so effortlessly poised and polite that it honestly left you a bit shaken. “Uh… What have you got?” you asked, cursing yourself for sounding so dumb and inarticulate. 

Nila seemed to take pity on you then because he said, “Alcoholic or non for starters?”

“It’s kind of hot, but also I think I might need a drop of courage for this…”

His lips twitched ever so slightly at that but he maintained his professional mask as he said, “Allow me then. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

As you sank into that inviting chair, the impossibly delicate naga slithered gracefully away out of the main shop area and into the back. After a little burst of bustling and clinking, he returned with a glass pitcher of what looked like lemonade, complete with chunks of ice and a leaf of mint in the top, and a highball glass. “Here,” he said. “Citrus punch. Not too strong, but refreshing. At least, I find it so.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, having had some time to compose yourself. “Listen, I’m sorry I’m probably not one of your normal clients, you know?”

“Define ‘normal’,” he grinned and you found yourself smiling back at him. His skin was a rich, warm brown, as though he’d been sunbathing daily for a long time, and he had a dusting of dark blue freckles across his high cheekbones. His forked tongue, you noted as he subtly tasted the air above the jug as he set it down, was also dark blue. His eyes were indeed blue, flecked with green and brown, and his pupils were slit. 

After drinking deeply from the glass, you stood so that he could take your measurements, which he did with a perfunctory grace and detachment, and then he sank back to his usual height, which appeared to be a little shorter than you. “Thank you,” he said. “I will draw up some options for you, but what would you like to wear? Forgive me if I say that perhaps you do not strike me as a ‘laces and frills’ kind of person…”

You barked an inelegant laugh and shook your head. “Look, I know a stay from a shroud, and a capstan from a crosstree, but I don’t know the first thing about what I should be wearing to this ball. I want to look nice, don’t get me wrong, but I honestly don’t know what I want.”

“I understand,” he said gently, and you believed him. “Well, let me make some sketches with colours and styles I believe will complement your skin and stature, and we can go from there. How does that sound?”

It took a long time, all in all, but after he’d shown you sketches of your own body swathed in various different styles and shapes, you finally settled on something that you thought would be appropriate, both for yourself and for the event. 

“You’re very talented,” you said, tracing your fingers over the lines of your face which, for some reason, he had drawn with surprising detail on one of the model sketches. 

Nila took a sip of his own drink and flushed slightly. “Thank you,” he said. 

“Can you really make that in three days?” you asked, awestruck, and were met with a pleased smile. 

“Of course,” he said. “I’m very good at what I do.”

“And you don’t have an assistant?”

He shook his head. “I did, but he recently left the island for cooler climes, and I haven’t bothered to look for a replacement. I assure you though, it will be ready for you to collect on the afternoon of the ball. If that is not too late in the day?”

You waved your hands in front of you, feeling the warm buzz of the sweet, zesty punch sitting comfortably in your stomach. “Seriously, take all the time you need.”

“Well, I’ll need to fit it on you before you take it away, so I would like to leave at least a couple of hours before you’re due to be at the Governor’s mansion.” 

With a nod, you added, “I could go straight there from here…”

“You could,” he said. “I would be happy to look after your day clothes for you.”

“Oh,” you gasped, cursing softly. He chuckled at your rather colourful language, and you apologised. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to presume…”

With a delicate touch on your upper arm, he reassured you. “Please, I know. I have had customers tricker than you by far.”

“I hope I wasn’t tricky,” you mumbled, eyes drifting disconsolately to the floor of his shop. 

“Quite the contrary,” he said and you looked up into his bespectacled gaze. “It has been a refreshing pleasure to discuss your ‘outfit’ with you,” he said playfully and you squirmed. What he had created for you was so much more than an ordinary ‘outfit’. If he could pull that off in three days, it would be a masterpiece. 

Three days later, you returned to his shop and his face brightened visibly when he saw who it was that had entered his small shop. Currently involved with another client, he nodded once at you and returned his attention to the dazzling beauty before him. You felt like a ragged street thief in comparison to her. 

Tall, willowy, with flowing hair and glowing skin, the creature had to be half fae at the very least. The way she spoke to Nila, however, made your skin crawl. She addressed him as though he were some impertinent market vendor, with a nasty wrinkle in her nose too. 

“Honestly, it’s quite beyond me that you can have all this time on your hands, and still not have what I asked for!” she crowed, plucking at the hem of one sleeve. The dress she wore flowed about her in a shimmering cascade of layers and lace, and honestly, it was one of the most beautiful creations you’d ever seen. You thought she looked beyond stunning, but then again, what did you know as a common sailor, and a pirate too? 

“I have the notes here which you signed, my lady,” he said calmly, showing her a sheaf of paper, “Which specifically stated you wanted the ‘baby’s breath’ lace on the cuffs of both sleeves.”

“Well take it off! It looks like someone threw up on it!”

The flaring of his nostrils was the only sign Nila gave of his irritation. “Certainly, my lady, but that will take time, and I have another customer booked in now. You may return at four to collect the dress, but that is the only alteration I can make to it before the ball tonight.”

She rolled her eyes, tossed her thick mane of glossy hair, and waved a fan in his face with a snap. “Fine. I suppose I have no choice but to accept, though don’t expect any kind of tip from me, you slippery snake. And I shan’t be returning here again.”

He bowed his head politely and said nothing.

She bustled off into a side room to divest herself of the frothing concoction, and you caught Nila’s eye. 

Being careful not to raise your voice, you whispered, “One of those ‘trickier’ customers?”

Biting back a smile he mouthed soundlessly, “You have no idea.”

With a wry grin, you sat yourself down in the chair and waited for him to finish dealing with obnoxious woman, and once she had flounced out of the shop, he took a deep breath and said, “Will you allow me just one moment?”

“You look like you need a stiff drink and a number of moments,” you grinned, and he practically sagged with relief. 

He shook his head. “Why do some people feel the need to behave like that? Anyway, I will be with you in jussst a moment.”

With an earthy chuckle, you waved a hand and said, “Seriously, take all the time you need. I don’t have anything I need to do between now and the start of the ball this evening, and honestly, you look like you could use a sit down yourself.”

“It’s always a bit of a rush at this time of year,” he said. “Thank you. I will not be long.”

“Like I said…” you reassured him, and he nodded. 

You watched him go, and sighed. 

Today his blue hair was tied back in a ponytail that was slightly ragged at the top, as though he’d been twisting it between his fingers, and sections of his hair had fallen loose into his handsome, freckled face. He wore a cobalt blue sweater - again, how he could wear such a thick garment in this heat was beyond you, but then again, naga were coldblooded - which skimmed the transition of his azure blue scales in a way that looked just perfect. 

Five minutes elapsed before he reemerged with your dress draped over his arms, and a smile on his face. “Here,” he said. 

Your brows shot crows nest high and you gasped. “Fuck, that’s gorgeous, Nila!” you blurted. “I’m sorry. I just… wow…”

His face was a picture of innocent, honest delight. “Here,” he said, carefully proffering it to you. “Let me know if you need a hand getting into it, otherwise, I’ll let you change,” he said, opening the little side-chamber door for you. 

The dress was somehow easier to put on than a pair of pyjamas, and miraculously just as comfy. It hugged you in all the right places, emphasising bits you didn’t really have to begin with, and skimming over places which were less fashionable to have emphasised, and in short, as you left the changing room in a rustle of floor-length fabric, you felt like a queen for the first time in your life. 

Tears sparkled in your eyes as you met his steady, blue gaze. “Nila…” you choked. “It… It’s…”

“You don’t like it?” he asked, face blanching with horror. He actually swayed for a moment.

“I bloody love it, you magnificent naga!” you laughed, and he began to laugh with you. 

He puffed out a sigh and said, “You really sssscared me for a moment there… pardon me,” he added, blushing as his lisp made itself known. 

“I’ve never felt… never in my whole life…” you said, fighting off tears as you stared at the person in full-length mirror who looked a bit like you, but a million times more elegant than usual.

When you turned back round to face him, his own eyes were glittering. “You look stunning,” he said. “I don’t think it even needs altering. I rather thought your usual outfit suited you nicely if I’m honest, but I have to admit that you do look breathtaking in this.”

“I bet you say that to all the women you dress,” you said with a wink. 

“No,” he said flatly. “Didn’t you see the way Lady Araminta behaved? You think I would waste an earnest compliment on a creature like that?”

You suddenly fell very still and stared at him. 

“I mean it,” he said. “Now, can I get you a drink before you go over to the ball? Wait -” he broke off, looking horrified. “Are you being escorted there? Picked up in a carriage?”

You shook your head. “I don’t even have anyone to do my hair for me, let alone pick me up in a carriage, Nila!” you laughed. 

He suddenly looked horrified again. “But…” His eyes darted from side to side, and he licked his lips with his dark blue tongue, seeming to run numbers in his head. Nila then nodded and said, “Would you like me to… uh…” he gestured vaguely at his own hair with an elegant finger. 

“You mean, you want to do my hair?” you asked, tugging at a ragged end. “Don’t you have lace to remove for Princess Arsemint or whatever her name was.”

He spluttered a surprised laugh and bit his lips together in an effort to contain it. “I like you,” he said, shaking his head, blue hair shimmering. “Look, let me unpick this lace, and then I’ll see about doing your hair for you.”

“You really don’t mind?” you asked. “And… uh, I should probably say that I don’t have any more of my captain’s gold left…”

With a gentle shake of his head, he said, “I didn’t ask.” And then he was gone in a silent slither, disappearing into a back room to work on the sleeves of the other dress, his body one sinuous line. 

Growing bored with waiting, and of embarrassing yourself by staring at your own baffled reflection, you decided to get out of your dress so that you didn’t wrinkle it by sitting in the chair. As you decided to change with the door open - forgetting about social niceties and all that after a lifetime in close quarters with a crew that left very little room for self-consciousness - you heard a gasp and a rustle of fabric. 

Turning round, half dressed, with only your dark trousers on and a binding of fabric across your chest, you saw Nila staring at your lean back. He immediately looked away, sputtering and blushing and apologising, but you simply stepped out into the foyer of the shop as you shrugged on your rather grimy shirt, and said, “My fault, Nila. I should have closed the door.”

He flashed you a nervous smile and then said, “Well, uh… Ssssshall we?” He flushed even deeper and brought his fingers to his lips, licking them nervously. 

“Nila?”

“Forgive me. I thought I had abandoned that habit…”

“What habit?” you asked, stepping closer and tilting your head to one side. 

His dark blue brows - immaculately sculpted - drew together as though pulled by a loose thread, and he sighed. “My naga sssspeech,” he said. “It… I thought I had trained myself to be more civilised…”

“Civilised? What the hell, Nila…? You should just speak the way that comes naturally to you…”

With a twitching smile, he sighed and shook his head. “I cannot. Here, dealing with the cream of society… they do not look kindly upon my kind. We have a rather… ssssslippery reputation for being ssssneak thieves and scoundrels… I wouldn’t get much custom if I allowed my natural speech patterns to show.”

“That fucking sucks, Nila,” you said. 

With a chuckle he said, “You’re going to have to rein in that tongue of yours tonight, you know?”

It was your turn to flush, and you nodded. Affecting a voice similar to that of Lady ‘Arsemint’,  you said fluttered your hand beside your cheek as though it were a fan and cooed, “It’ll be perfectly horrid tonight, shan’t it?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement and he nodded. “Most likely, yes. Listen, let me, oh -” and he drew up short, his blue eyes drawn to the street outside. “Hold that thought,” he muttered. “She’s back…”

You turned and found that the source of his displeasure had returned to collect her dress, and once she had inspected it, tutted, and left without a word, he slithered back to you and half draped himself over the vacant chair. 

“You look like you need a drink now…”

“A stiff one,” he said, and you laughed as he quoted your earlier suggestion. “I do have something rather nice if you’d like to share? Perhaps you could tell me a little of your adventures on the high seas while I address your hair?”

In short, you talked and he worked miracles. 

His fingers against your scalp were deliciously strong but exquisitely gentle. He was so focused on his work that he didn’t look at your face in the little mirror he had propped against his shop counter, but when he did glance up some time later and saw the tears streaming down your face, he froze in horror. 

“Did I hurt you?” he gasped, fingers suddenly standing out rigid like startled spiders. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you said, “I’m sorry. You’re perfect, Nila. It’s not… I mean… you didn’t hurt me. It’s just been a very long time since I’ve had someone… touch me like this. It’s… It’s overwhelming. In a nice way. Please don’t stop…”

With a smile he relaxed and returned his hands to your hair. Instead of continuing with his simple and yet elegant styling, he merely raked his fingers through the unstyled parts of your hair until you were able to relax again. He handed you a silk handkerchief and you dabbed at your face. 

“Good thing I don’t wear makeup, eh?” you sniffled. 

“You don’t need it anyway,” he said quietly, focused on your hair again. 

When he was done, you felt oddly empty, drained, but in a good way. You’d managed to get a hold of yourself and stop crying, and in the wake of your unexpected outburst, you were calm, composed, and ready to face the party. 

“Will you let me walk you up to the mansion?” he asked when he had finished fussing with your hair and dress. “I can’t bear the thought of you walking all the way up there alone…”

“I’d love that,” you said honestly, “But don’t you have plans? You don’t have to babysit me, Nila. You barely know me…”

He bowed his head, his blue hair sliding over one shoulder in its sleek ponytail. “I’d like to,” he said. “But I don’t want to impose. You’ve indulged a lonely naga long enough…”

“Hey,” you said, impulsively taking his elegant hands in yours and squeezing him with your rough-skinned fingers. “I’m so glad I came here to you. You’ve made me feel more beautiful than I ever have in my whole life, and you even managed to make a dress in three fucking days that fits my shoulders!! That’s no small feat, Nila… Plus you fixed my bird’s nest hair too…”

He shrugged. “I have been known to work miracles from time to time,” he said with dry wit that made you smile. 

You waited outside while he closed up his modest shop, and then he slithered elegantly beside you while you tried not to trip on the hem of your dress in your new slippers. It wasn’t all that far, but you were still grateful for his company. 

As you drew up to the shining gates of the mansion, you caught sight of Jaran and his sweetheart, and Fingal looking magnificent with a gold and blood-red cape across his broad, feathered shoulders, loose red pantaloons over his legs, and a series of gold bangles around his ankles that clinked as he walked. When he saw you, he lifted his head to the sky and gave an eagle’s screech, flapping his wings and kicking up dust, and you blushed, turning your face away. 

“You see why I don’t dress up much?” you hissed to Nila. “I feel like a fucking pantomime dame.”

“Careful,” he hissed back. “That’s my creation you’re insulting…” but there was no venom to his words. He squeezed your hand and added, “He’s reacting that way because you look beautiful. Trust me.”

“I do,” you smiled. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

Jaran turned to see what the fuss was about, and at the moment he had begun to curse, the captain appeared and cuffed him over the back of his scaly head with her leathery wing. “You look stunning, my dear, as I knew you would,” she smiled. 

Nila looked from Captain Solveij to you and back again and then said, “You’re… You’re… You’re one of the Sea Devil’s crew?” 

You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or horrified, and a horrible moment stretched between you when you had no idea what to say. 

Captain Solveij stared at him and then chuckled. “She’s one of my finest, Nila. I knew if you couldn’t work a miracle for her tonight, no one could. You did good, old friend.”

He swallowed and bowed his head. 

“C’mon, you ugly bunch,” the captain laughed, looking around at her gathered crew. “There’s a big angry bull inside who doesn't like to be kept waiting.” And she strode off through the gates without looking back. 

You turned to Nila and smiled. “Thank you so much… for everything. I don’t know how to thank you properly…”

He smiled. “I can think of one way: have fun tonight. You deserve it.”

Something about the way he said those last three words struck you like a cutlass blade to the chest. 

He smiled and then nodded with satisfaction.“I take my leave.”

Wordlessly, you watched him slither sinuously away, down across the wide boulevard at the top of town and back towards his shop. He did not look back at you. 

You tried - you honestly did try - to enjoy the ball. 

The moment that Governor Aatlak entered, the entire ballroom held its breath. He was truly massive, and if your head hadn’t been full of a certain gentlemanly naga, you might have thought him attractive, but all the way through you couldn’t help feeling like a fraud. Of course, Anna was there, looking lovely as ever, and the rest of your crew seemed to be having the time of their life, but to you it all seemed empty and pretentious. 

The captain was engaged in talks with other ships’ captains for much of the night, and Jaran and his boyfriend danced together for six dances straight before heading to find refreshments and a secluded corner. Your other shipmates were friendly and very complimentary, but none of them asked you to dance, and you felt the initial joy starting to curdle and turn sour. Before the clock hands had even turned inexorably round to eleven o’clock, you found yourself outside, leaning against the balustrade of the steps to the mansion, staring up at the stars and thinking of the colour blue… 

With your teeth grinding and your jaw set, you fixed upon a decision. Turning your back on the party, you picked up your elegant skirts and scuttled down the stairs, nodding at the two gnolls on guard duty at the bottom, and then you slipped out into the night. 

Retracing your steps from earlier, you found yourself at Nila’s shop door only ten minutes later.

But all was dark and silent within. 

“No!” you snarled, pounding your fists on the door. “Of course he doesn’t live here! Ugh, what an idiot!” You’d arranged to come by the next day to collect your clothes, so there was no reason he would know you were here either. “Fuck!”

A movement in the alleyway made you look round, instinctively reaching for a knife at your belt that was no longer there. Defenceless, you had nothing but a vast expanse of fabric kicking around your heels to defend yourself, but at the soft hiss and the quiet slither of scales on the flagstones, you relaxed. 

“Nila?”

He emerged from the shadows in a darting, s-shaped flit of movement, his face alight with concern, your name on his lips. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“I…” you blushed, rearranging your dress, more for something to do with your hands than any sense of propriety, “I… I wanted to see you again, I guess…”

“But… The ball…?”

You shrugged. “It wasn’t as appealing as seeing you again,” you admitted. “But if you’ve got other things to do than humour a lonely pirate, I understand,” you said, quoting him this time. “I would like to collect my clothes though…”

“Come in, come in,” he said. “I… It’s quite the ssssstroke of luck that I found you, you know.”

“You don’t live here,” you said as he moved carefully up beside you and slid his keys into the lock, shaking his head. 

“No. I came back because… well… I…  I didn’t want to be at home, I suppose.”

Tilting your head to one side, you murmured, “Why not?”

He glanced back at you as he pushed the door open, and as the moonlight glinted on his dark eyes, he smiled - truly smiled - for the first time since you’d met him, and it was breathtaking. 

“I couldn’t get you out of my head,” he said before disappearing into the dark inside. 

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