Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates

Syn shivered, a chill creeping up his spine.

He knew Ila's ruthlessness, her disregard for lives she deemed worthless.

"Bad things" could mean anything—torture, executions, etc.

He didn't dare ask, didn't want to know the depths of her darkness. His silence urged her to continue, his heart pounding as he braced for more.

"Ila…" he started, but she cut him off, her voice rising, desperate.

"It vanished, Syn. That joy—it was rare, and I didn't know until it was gone. I got so angry, so lost, I wanted to burn everything down." She gestured around them, her eyes wild.

"This glade? I torched it after you left. Burned it to ash in a fit of rage. But I rebuilt it, every blade of grass, every tree, because I wanted to make things right."

Syn's eyes widened, glancing around in shock.

She was right—the grass was too perfect, the trees too pristine, the air too clean.

It was all new, a recreation of their past.

"Damn," he cursed under his breath, a mix of awe and dread settling in his chest. He'd chosen the wrong princess to entangle with, and now he was trapped in her web.

"Yes, everything's new," Ila continued, her voice softening, her tears slowing.

"For the first time in my life, I wanted to apologize to someone. I wanted to beg you to forgive me as soon as you returned from that mission with Elara. I was ready to threaten my stupid sister Elara, force her to hand you over to me. But then…"

Her voice broke, her hands trembling in his.

"I... I saw the news—the ship's explosion. I thought you were dead, Syn. It broke me. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. I cried, alone, while everyone thought it was stress or depression. No one asked, no one cared. But you—you would've been there, holding me, giving me your warmth, your strength."

Syn's throat tightened, her words stirring the embers of the love they'd once shared.

He remembered those moments—her laughter, her softness, the way she'd made him feel special in the depressing kingdom.

But he also remembered her cruelty, her bias towards the backdrop, her threats.

"I cursed myself every day for letting you go," Ila whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes pleading.

"But when I saw you at the space metro, alive, my heart soared. I was so happy, Syn, but so angry, too—for the pain you put me through, for hiding here in the Kingdom without a word to me. I… I got aggressive, I know. I shouldn't have taken you like that, but it was because I love you. I care for you."

Her voice rose, fervent, her hands squeezing his so tightly it hurt.

"I brought you here, to this glade, where we parted. I want to make things right, Syn. Give me another chance. Please. I'm sorry—I'm begging you."

Syn gulped, his heart hammering, her confession shaking him to his core.

Ila, the ice-cold princess, the ruthless heir poised to claim the throne, was apologizing—begging him to take her back.

Her tears were real, her vulnerability a blade that cut through his defenses.

He'd loved her once, and now again, her words, her sincerity reignited those feelings, a spark that threatened to blaze.

His heart pounded, loud in his ears, her hands warm and desperate in his.

But his mind screamed caution—her obsession, her volatility, the mission he couldn't abandon.

Joining Prince Oze's army, spying for the pirates, finding the shapeshifter prison—it all hung in the balance.

If he accepted her, he'd be entangled again, his focus shattered. If he rejected her, what would she do? Burn the glade again? Lock him away? Torture? Worse?

He was in a pinch, a tight, suffocating trap, her teal eyes searching his, eager for an answer.

The glade's serenity mocked the storm in his heart, the weight of her love and her danger pressing down on him, leaving him teetering on the edge of a choice that could change everything.

"Ila," Syn started, his voice steady after a quick but deep thought, "I have to tell you something."

"What?" Ila asked, her brow furrowing, her grip loosening slightly, curiosity edging out her desperation.

Syn took a breath, his eyes searching hers, choosing his words with care.

"I don't think it was the pirates who killed Princess Elara. You may choose to not believe me but I think for sure that it was one or many of your siblings—your brother or sister. They killed her because she was getting an edge on the throne, digging into something the King doesn't want anyone touching. She was close to answers, Ila, and then she died. It's no coincidence."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

"Think about it. Why would pirates leave Princess Elara and her crew to die? They could've extracted intel, used her advanced ship for parts and scraps, turned her crew into labor. But no—everyone who knew what she was chasing, what the King's hiding, died in that explosion. Princess Elara used to brag to the other royals about her leverage, how she could blackmail the King with what she was chasing, and that she was really close. Someone made sure she or anyone in that ship would never talk."

Ila's eyes narrowed, her lips parting as she processed his words.

Her hand fell from his, the crushed peach forgotten on the grass, its stained juices dried on her fingers.

She stepped back, her mind visibly turning, her royal instincts kicking in.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice low, suspicious, but tinged with intrigue.

Syn seized the opening, his tone earnest, his gaze unwavering. "Because I want to avenge Princess Elara's death. I want to dig into the hole she was digging, find what she was after, and if I'm lucky, expose the one who killed her in the process. She was a good woman Ila, and I respected her and everything she did for the people in the Kingdom. I can only trust Prince Oze now—because of his special bond with Elara. I can give him this intel, help finish her search, get her revenge. And then, Ila…"

He softened his voice, stepping closer, his eyes pleading. "I'll be free. I'll come back to you. Until then, please, let me go."

Ila's expression hardened, her teal eyes flashing with a mix of fear and defiance.

"You'll die, Syn," she said, her voice sharp, cutting through the glade's serenity. "It's not a chance—it's certain. You'll die, Oze will die, everyone who touches this will die. You know how it is here. Even I, the strongest, have to watch my back every second. My siblings are hyenas, circling for any weakness, ready to tear each other apart for the throne. And if such a thing existed, they would want it for themselves or for none."

Syn's shoulders slumped, his face etched with dejection, but his resolve held. "If I don't do this, Ila, I'll regret it forever. I won't find peace, not knowing what Elara died for, not trying to make it right."

He looked down, his voice quiet, laced with sadness and confusion. "I owe her that much."

Ila studied him, her gaze piercing, as if weighing his soul.

A tense silence stretched, the glade's artificial breeze the only sound.

Then, her lips curved into a faint, reluctant smile, her voice softer but firm. "Give me a promise, Syn. Promise me that you'll forgive me, come back to me, stay with me, never leave me again—if you find what Elara was after, the dirt on the King? Or is it the killer you want?"

Syn met her eyes, his heart racing, sensing the shift in her tone. "The killer will reveal themselves, Ila. I just want to bring to light what Elara was chasing. That's what matters."

Ila's smile widened, a glint of calculation in her eyes.

"Then join my army, Syn." Her voice was commanding, a royal decree wrapped in a plea. "Tell me what Elara was after. Work with me, not Oze. I'm much stronger, strongest, closest to the throne. If anyone can uncover the King's secrets, it's me—and you, by my side."

Syn's breath caught, a rush of relief and triumph flooding him. His plan had worked—finally.

By framing his mission as vengeance for Elara, he'd hooked Ila's ambition, her desire to outmaneuver her siblings, and her lingering love for him.

Joining her army would keep him close, give him access to the palace, the perfect cover to spy for the pirates and hunt for the shapeshifter prison.

And if he told her about the presence of shapeshifters in the Kingdom, she will sniff them out like hunting dogs, yielding the fastest and best results. The resources she had, he could use them for his gain.

This chance encounter with Ila, had given him the best edge he could ask for, and had decided to exploit it no matter what.

But the victory was bittersweet, shadowed by the tightrope he now walked. Ila's love was a cage, her trust a blade that could turn on him in an instant.

And using Elara's death for his gain, it wasn't something he was proud of.

But desperate times, call for desperate measures.

There was no room for sympathy.