Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates

chirp chirp~

Syn's eyes fluttered open, his vision a hazy blur that slowly sharpened into a familiar expanse of artificial sky—golden light filtering through a canopy of emerald leaves, the air sweet with flowers and ripe fruit.

The Scenery Biome.

The scent was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of the Manufacturing Biome where he'd last been conscious.

His head rested on something soft, a familiar softness that sent a jolt through him.

He tilted his gaze upward, his breath catching as he met Ila's teal eyes, her black hair cascading loosely over her shoulders, framing a face of breathtaking beauty, and a smile that was both tender and unnerving.

His head was cradled in her lap, her fingers gently playing with his hair, weaving small braids with a care that felt like a memory from a different life.

"How did you sleep, Syn?" Ila's voice was pleasant, a caress, utterly unlike the venomous snarl he'd heard the last time they met, when she'd choked him into darkness.

Her tone was so soft, so genuine, it had to be a dream—a cruel trick of his mind.

Syn bolted upright, his heart pounding, his eyes darting to his wrists.

No binds, no bruises, just the faint ache of his body reminding him of their struggle.

Ila remained seated, her smile unwavering, her teal eyes glinting with a warmth that felt both familiar and wrong.

He scanned the glade—the same secluded spot where they'd once shared stolen moments, where their love had fractured months ago.

The grass was lush, the trees vibrant, the air pristine, as if the place had been reborn.

Ila rose gracefully, her fitted tunic hugging her muscular frame, and plucked a peach from a nearby branch, her movements fluid, her smile radiant. She sliced it with a small knife, the blade catching the artificial sunlight, and cut the fruit into neat slices.

"This one looks ripe and sweet," she said, her voice lilting as she held a slice close to his lips. "Say aah."

Syn's eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he leaned back, refusing the peach.

"What are you doing, Ila?" His voice was low, edged with suspicion, his mind grappling with the surreal scene.

He refused to believe he'd been thrown back in time, to the day they'd broken up in this very glade.

The memories since then—their fight, Princess Elara's ship abducted by pirates, his time with Vera, Aster, and Pako—were too vivid, too real.

"Stop acting. This is weird."

Ila's smile faltered, her brow furrowing in confusion, the peach slice still hovering near his mouth.

"What do you mean, acting? I'm feeding you a peach, Syn. Don't you like peaches?" Her tone was so earnest, her expression so puzzled, that Syn's certainty wavered.

Was she lying, or had he dreamt everything—the breakup, the mission, the rebellion?

Her performance was flawless, her teal eyes wide with a sincerity that made his stomach twist.

"Stop it, Ila," he said, stepping back, his voice sharper, his hands clenching at his sides. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but it's not working. I have to go. I'm meeting Prince Oze—I'm joining his army."

Ila's smile vanished, her sweet expression souring in an instant.

The peach in her hand squished, its juices bursting between her fingers, dripping onto the grass.

"No, you're not," she said, her voice low, dangerous, her teal eyes narrowing into slits. The sudden shift was jarring, her warmth replaced by a cold intensity that sent a shiver through Syn.

He recoiled, caught off guard, but recovered quickly, his jaw tightening.

"Yes, I am, Ila. We're both wasting time. You know that. You've got armies to command, territories to oversee—every second matters. Let's not do this."

Ila's lips curled into a bitter smile, her grip on the knife tightening. "Syn, I don't think you're grasping your position right now." Her voice was a blade, sharp and unyielding, her eyes locking onto his with a possessive glint.

Syn's heart pounded, but he forced his voice to stay steady, desperation creeping in.

"I'm sorry, Ila. I'm so sorry. It was my mistake to ever come into your life, to interfere with you. I was a fool. I am really really sorry... okay? Is that enough, or do I need to grovel more?"

He hoped his apology would appease her, would be the key to his escape, but the words felt hollow, heavy with the weight of their shared past.

Ila's expression softened, but not with forgiveness—her eyes glistened with something raw, something wounded.

"Why are you apologizing, Syn?" she asked, her voice trembling, the knife falling to the grass as she stepped closer. "Come here. I want to tell you something… while I hold you."

She raised her hands toward him, her fingers trembling, her teal eyes pleading.

Syn hesitated, his instincts screaming caution.

"Ila…" he started, but her gaze hardened, a flicker of her ruthless edge surfacing.

"Don't act like you have a choice, Syn," she said, her voice low, commanding. "We both know you don't."

She was right.

This was her territory, her glade, her Kingdom.

He was at her mercy, the very fact that he was alive, was because she decided.

Swallowing his fear, Syn stepped forward, letting her take his hands.

Her grip was firm, almost painful, her fingers clenching his as she pulled him closer, her teal eyes boring into his.

He met her gaze, his heart racing, a mix of nerves and defiance swirling in his chest, unsure of what she'd say next.

Ila's voice softened, but it carried a weight that shook him.

"If you think it was a mistake to come into my life, you're wrong, Syn!" she cried, her words slicing through the silence like a blade.

"You're not just the best thing that ever happened to me—you're the only thing. You're the flickering light at the end of a suffocating tunnel, the lone star burning through the chaos of a nebula's heart, guiding a ship that's been lost for years." Her voice broke, and tears shimmered in her eyes, catching the dim light like shattered glass.

She clutched her chest as if her heart might tear itself apart, her breath ragged.

"I was a fool, Syn—a wretched, arrogant fool! I was blind to you, blind to the radiance of your soul. That day we fought…" Her voice cracked, and she staggered forward, her hands trembling as they reached for him.

"I called you a distraction, a weakness I could carve out like a cancer. I thought I'd soar without you, that solitude would make me invincible. I was so drunk on my own pride, I…" She faltered, her breath hitching, a single tear tracing a scalding path down her pale cheek.

"I imagined standing over your bleeding body when I claimed the throne, Syn. I pictured your blood on my hands, your eyes fading as I sneered down at you, proving I was better, stronger than you ever imagined, I wanted to show you the mistake you did, the last thing you saw before you died. I wanted your death to be my triumph."

Syn froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Her words struck him like a physical blow, each syllable a dagger twisting in his chest.

His breath caught, his eyes widening as he stared at the woman before him—not the ruthless princess he'd known, but a broken, trembling figure, her soul laid bare.

Her hands seized his, her nails biting into his skin, anchoring herself to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from drowning.

Syn didn't flinch, though his heart thundered, torn between horror and a wrenching pity that threatened to undo him.

His gaze locked onto hers, searching the depths of her tear-streaked eyes for the truth.

"I'm so sorry, Syn," Ila whispered, her voice a raw, shattered thing, barely audible as sobs clawed their way out.

Tears streamed down her face, leaving glistening trails that caught the faint light.

"I was so wrong. From the moment you walked away, you haunted me. Even when I hated you, I couldn't escape you. I'd lie awake, wondering if you'd eaten, if you were safe, if you were alive." Her voice rose, frantic, her grip tightening until it hurt, but Syn didn't pull away.

"My work crumbled, my world turned to ash. I doubted everything—my crown, my purpose, myself. What was I even fighting for?"

Her eyes, wild with anguish, searched his face for a flicker of forgiveness, for any sign he understood.

"I missed you, Syn, I have missed you soo much that it even hurts to think about it," she choked out, her voice breaking on his name.

"I have missed the joy you breathed into my life, the warmth of your laughter, the warmth of our touch, your presence, the way you made every moment brighter, the way I hoped for the moments I spent with you to last forever... I tried to fill that void, to replace you with anything—anyone. I did terrible things, Syn, things that stain my soul."