Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates

The sun had set down completely and the night was swallowing the forest in thick shadows, the only light a sliver of moon threading through the canopy.

Aster sat on the damp ground, her body still trembling from the ordeal, her soaked braid clinging to her back as she forced her breath to steady.

Footsteps. Light, quick, rustling through the underbrush.

The boy reappeared, darting between the trees, a battered canvas bag slung over his shoulder. His silhouette was small but swift, moving with the sure-footedness of someone who knew these woods well.

Without a word, he knelt and rummaged through the bag, the faint clinking of metal and fabric filling the quiet.

Then, he pulled out a spare shirt and pants, worn but clean, and thrust them toward her with an awkward nod.

Aster hesitated. The night air bit at her damp skin, sending shivers down her spine, but still—she wasn't used to kindness. Especially from strangers and by the look of the boy, he is likely from the backdrop.

She took the clothes, wiping at her arms, her teal eyes flicking up to meet his.

"Thank you." Her voice was raw, trembling with gratitude. "You saved my life."

He blinked, his hazel eyes widening slightly—then a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at his lips. A faint flush crept up his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm Syn Kocrn," he said, his voice soft yet steady. He dipped his head slightly, as if embarrassed. "It's nothing, Princess—nothing compared to what you did for me."

Aster frowned, confusion knitting her brows. Her? Saving him?

Her grip tightened around the fabric in her hands, suspicion flickering through her chest like a slow-burning ember.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice sharper now, searching his face. "Do I know you?"

Syn hesitated, then nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground before lifting again.

"You might not remember, but two years ago, in the backdrop—you gave me a wad of cash. It changed everything for me. I'm here because of it, indirectly." His words tugged at a memory, hazy but stirring—a day she'd trailed her father into the backdrop, a grim district of shanties and despair.

The King had been rooting out pirates, he and his soldiers storming a building as she lingered outside, getting a close watch.

Through a window, she'd seen a boy leap out, clutching something as he ran, tears streaking his dirt-smudged face. Her heart had twisted—maybe his family was inside, caught in the carnage—and she'd chased him down an alley, finding him huddled and sobbing.

Without a word, she'd pressed a stack of bills into his hand, whispering, "I'm sorry," before sprinting back, unseen.

"So… you're that boy?" Aster said, pointing at him, her teal eyes widening as the pieces clicked.

"Yes, Princess," Syn replied, his voice steady, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her curiosity piqued as she wrung out her braid, water pattering onto the bank.

"Soldier training," he said, straightening a little. "I aced the physical tests they held for recruits—got a spot in the Kingdom's ranks. That cash you gave me—it fed me, kept me strong enough to make it."

"By the way Princess," he ventured carefully, his brow furrowing, "why were you swimming in such a dangerous spot?"

Aster's face darkened instantly. The warmth in her expression vanished, replaced by a storm of fury. Her fists clenched, knuckles turning white.

"I wasn't swimming," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "Someone tried to kill me."

The words hung heavy in the night air.

Syn's chest tightened. He had sensed something was off, but to hear it confirmed sent a chill down his spine.

"They rigged that panda. Sped up the stream—wanted me drowned."

She whirled away from him, her boots grinding into the dirt as she paced like a caged animal. Then—a sudden, vicious kick. Her foot struck a boulder with enough force to jolt through her leg, but she didn't flinch.

"I'll find them." The words dripped venom. "I'll kill them."

Her breath came in ragged bursts, her shoulders rising and falling. Then, a pause. A slight falter in her stance. And then—

"Or I'll kill everyone until I know who's dead!"

Her voice cracked, no longer just rage but something deeper—something splintering. Her chest heaved, her hands shaking, and then, suddenly, she collapsed to her knees.

The fury shattered, leaving nothing but grief.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, raw, unchecked. Her fingers clawed at the earth, fists pounding against the dirt as a sob tore from her throat.

"Mother!" The name came out in a desperate wail. "Why'd you leave me? I'm scared—take me with you!"

Her cries echoed in the night, swallowed by the whispering trees, the roaring waterfall—but Syn heard them. Every last word.

Syn tried to console her but he froze, his hand hovering above her, unsure—touching a princess could mean death, a soldier's head on a pike.

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft, coaxing, and then she lunged, clinging to him, her arms wrapping tight around his waist.

His body stiffened, a jolt of panic seizing him, but her sobs softened his fear, and he relaxed, his arms encircling her, patting her back as she trembled against him.

She calmed, her tears drying as the dampness faded from her clothes, the forest's chill settling in. Syn pulled back, his hazel eyes gentle. "You should go home—people will worry."

Aster shook her head, her voice small. "There's no one at home. It doesn't feel like home anymore." Her teal eyes drifted, lost.

"You shouldn't stay here alone either," Syn said, his tone firm. "From what you said, I think the palace is safer than you being here—you won't get killed there."

She nodded, his logic cutting through her haze. "You're right," she said, her voice hardening. "I need to get stronger—kill those siblings I hate."

Her lips twitched, a dark promise, and Syn laughed nervously, hoping it was a jest—but her glare told him otherwise.

He stepped closer, his voice softening. "An old man I knew once said, 'Holding onto anger is like carrying a blade without a hilt—it only wounds the one who grips it.'" His words hung, a quiet wisdom from a life she couldn't fathom.

Aster blinked, tilting her head. "Okay," she said simply, unsure what he meant, but filing it away. She turned to leave, then paused, glancing back. "My name is Aster, by the way."

Syn straightened slightly, surprised. "Aster," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. A small, almost amused smile crossed his face before he dipped his head.

"Meet me here tomorrow—five in the evening? I'd… like a friend to talk to."

Syn nodded, a smile breaking through. "My pleasure, Princess Aster." He hesitated, then added, "Should I escort you back?"

"No need," she said, her voice firming. "I'll be cautious." She crossed a bridge and vanished into the trees, her braid swaying.

Syn exhaled, relief washing over him. He just came there to catch some fish by the plunge of the waterfall, but he got entangled with a Royal instead.

On her trek back to the palace, Aster replayed his words: "Holding onto anger is like carrying a blade without a hilt—it only wounds the one who grips it."

The phrase rolled in her mind, sinking deeper with each step, a riddle she couldn't yet unravel but felt shift something within her.

The more the words sank in, the heavier they felt.