Jacques stood at the helm, his hands guiding the wheel. His gaze locked eyes with Arieshell while watching her step up. Jacques's heart raced as butterflies danced in his stomach. A minuscule grin crept on his face.

He watched Arieshell pace back and forth as she angrily huffed. Arieshell angrily walked, her hands on her hips and her furrowed brows causing Jacques to wonder what upset her.

A moment passed by as Arieshell allowed herself to cool off.

"Do you know what Gus just said to me?" she announced, exasperated.

"No," he responded as he delicately turned the wheel. "What did he say?"

"I'm watching you. Like that's going to scare me. He led me to believe that he wanted us to get together. Now, he turns around and declares he is watching me. Why the sudden change?"

Jacques chuckled. "He's protective. You, out of anyone, should know that. Given what you told me about your brother and father."

"You have a point, but why did he have to be so rude about it?"

"We're French."

Jacques laughed at himself as he saw Arieshell's dark bronze skin turn into a lighter shade. Her reaction to his words was adorable. It brought him so much joy and excitement.

"You must be joking."

"No, I am not," he replied.

Jacques noticed a smile crawling on her face. His head turned, hearing Belle's gentle laughter. Quinton. He thought.

For Jacques, like Gus, Quinton has always been with him, from day one. Years ago, Quinton demonstrated immense courage and dedication by saving Jacques from a menacing great white shark.

Belle's slim and petite features heavily contrasted with his muscular build. He stood, having his upper body hunched over to talk to her. Belle sat elegantly, hands clasped on her lap. Her sweet belly laugh fluttered in his ears.

"Looks like Belle has made a new friend," Arieshell observed.

"Indeed. His name is Quinton. He is one of the oldest members of my crew."

Arieshell's eyes sparkled. "Wow! He must have done a lot for you."

"He has."

"Can you tell me one situation?"

Jacques grinned and glanced at her. Her eyes were on his, eagerly waiting for him to speak.

"I remembered it as if it had occurred yesterday. I was the Captain's boy and would go around and check up on the crew and lend a helping hand. Until one spring morning, we saw a giant fin peeking above the water," he stated.

"Go on."

He licked his lips. "It gradually gained its momentum and headed straight for the ship. The crew started to panic as I heard the ship's floorboards creaking. Snap! They broke in half."

Arieshell's eyes widened in shock, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. Jacques adored her expressions when he recounted stories to her. She always listened and seemed amazed by everything he said.

Women had always found him attractive, but he never felt an electrifying spark. Arieshell, on the other hand, filled a hole deep inside him. An empty black hole that no woman would have been able to unlock.

A gust of wind blew into their faces, their hair obscuring their eyesight.

"I felt my whole body slip back as this white, monstrous shark emerged from the broken planks, ready to claim me as its next meal."

"Oh my! But you are still here. What happened?"

"I felt a hand grip my arm and pull me away. After that, I blacked out. When I came back into consciousness I heard a man's gruff voice calling my name."

"Quinton!" Arieshell exclaimed.

"Yep! I recruited him, and he has been with me ever since."

"That's a beautiful story! Thank you for telling me," admired Arieshell.

"Of course."

In the corner of his eye, Jacques glimpsed a figure stepping up the stairs. He swung his body and noticed a woman with flowing black hair cascading down her back. Her deep green eyes showed a serene and elegant expression as she gazed upon Ariehell.

"Capitaine, I can take the helm. Spend time with Belle. Show Arieshell around." her voice remained calm and direct as she insisted.

"Thank you, Léa."

"Jacques," Arieshell spoke.

"Yes?"

"I want to stay with Léa. Get to know her."

"Go ahead! You're a free individual on this ship. Do as you please."

Jacques gracefully tipped his hat to the women, acknowledging them politely, before swiftly galloping down the stairs. With purposeful strides, he made his way toward Belle and Quinton.

He made a cocky spin, making them both crack a chuckle.

"Someone is in a flirty mood," Belle remarked.

"What makes you think that?" Jacques asked.

"I recall noticing you and the young lady holding each other in an embrace for a long period," stated Quinton.

"Quinton, we've been over this. Her name is Arieshell. It's okay to say her name," he rebuked.

"Jacques, he was only trying to be polite," testified Belle.

"I know," Jacques began, rubbing his temples. "I apologize. What were you two talking about?"

"Belle was telling me about her Meilleur Ami, William. He's located in England?" asked Quinton.

"We don't have a definitive answer." Belle knew he enrolled at London Bridge University. However, Jacques informed me that it's uncertain whether William has settled there."

"I have heard rumors that he is in Africa. Is that true?" He inquired.

Jacques gave Belle a worried glance. He didn't have any words or ideas about how to respond. It puzzled him as to Belle's choice to talk about William.

"He was planning to journey to Africa, in search of cocoa beans, I believe. He went to teach a culinary class while going into research studies, along with many other subjects he had been interested in," Belle declared.

"It sounds like a fairytale I heard before about an old, wonky man with a top hat," chuckled Quinton.

Belle let out a long-awaited sigh. "It does! William, on the other hand, wants to achieve something great, something grand!"

"Quinton!" a woman called out. "Do you mind helping me with this pot?"

Her mane of fiery red hair had been pulled back into a braid as a red ribbon neatly held them tight. She wore a worn sailor's blouse and a pair of well-worn trousers. Jacques waved as Quinton rushed to the woman's aid.

Jacques took a seat on a barrel beside Belle. He spread his legs, letting his hands lay limp, dangling.

"I thought mentioning William makes you depressed," he expressed.

"It's bittersweet for me," she corrected.

Jacques acknowledged Belle with a knowing nod. He waited as she fought back tears. Without another thought, Belle swiftly positioned her body to face Jacques. Her breaths were heavy as she mustered up the courage to speak.

"I wish I were in his arms," she said melancholy.

"And you will! I'll make sure of it, personally."

"Thank you, Jacques. Has Arieshell asked you about your family?"

"Yes, only if it is the right moment. Why?"

"Well," Belle paused. "I hoped she wasn't jealous. About us."

Jacques scoffed. "I told her we are family. You don't need to worry about a scenario involving such chaos. Besides, I don't think William would be so keen if that were the case."

Belle couldn't help but burst into another hearty laugh, which soon turned into small, tearful sobs. She cautiously swiped them away.

"I'm sorry, Jacques. Is there a place where I can be alone?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes, here's the key to my quarters. I'll update you when we are closer to England."

"Thank you."

Jacques patted her hand, comforting her. She adamantly refused to meet his gaze. Jacques warmly embraced her and then released her from the hug quickly. A thought appeared in his head as the realization hit him.

Damn it! Belle has always been wary of physical contact, stemming from a past trauma that continues to affect her to this day. Why did you forget, Jacques?

As he remained in the spot he was sitting, Arieshell gracefully strolled toward him. A gust of wind gently swayed Jacques and Arieshell's hair back and forth. Their eyes locked, allowing the sound of seagulls, waves, and blowing wind to surround them.

"Is Belle okay? I saw you hug her but then she walked away," she inquired.

"Her emotions are like a storm. She needs a little quiet time to be by herself."

"We have to find William for her."

Jacques cocked his head, puzzled at how Arieshell connected the dots about their friendship. He admired that quality about her.

"Compared to folklore, fairytales, and man-made theories about sirens, mermaids, and sea life, you sure aren't stereo typical," he conveyed.

Arieshell shook her hand as she kept herself from laughing. "And you are not like other fishermen."

Jacques felt his face redden at the unexpected comeback. In return, he shrugged his shoulder. He stood up from his seated position.

"Arieshell, I need to confess something to you."

"Jacques," she expressed as she tenderly stroked his hair from his face. "What's on your mind? Did you and Belle have a conflict?"

"No. Remember when I told Gus that she is family?"

"I do recall you mentioning it, yes," she responded.

Jacques stared at the water and proceeded to take a long breath. Jacques focused on the water and took a deep, deliberate breath. Would she understand family dynamics? She did know what father and brother are.

"Belle is my cousin. We are related."

Her hand felt weightless in his as her laughter filled the air. He faced her, seeing small tears fill her eyes. Jacques's lips curved as he beamed into a grin.

She swiped the water from her eyelids and gave him a smug expression.

"Do you believe I don't know what cousins are?"

"I was unsure if family dynamics were the same for you."

"In a way, they are. For merfolk, it's similar to how fish reproduce with eggs. Our monarchy, on the other hand, has a unique technique for producing."

Jacques felt his face getting warm. "Do you mind explaining? I'm not forcing you if it is causing discomfort to you."

"You're silly, Jacques," she cooed. "Since I'm a part of royalty and have 'god' status, our family can decide if they want to reproduce in the sea or be intimate the way humans do," she stated.

Jacques choked on his saliva as he stared, dumbfounded. Arieshell burst into a bundle of laughter, but quickly covered her mouth. The gentle wind filling the sails gracefully twirled in Jacques's peripheral vision.

He felt butterflies in his stomach as his heart began to beat rapidly. The pungent scent of salt hung in the air, mingling with the crisp ocean breeze to create an invigorating freshness that instantly transported Jacques to faraway coastlines.

He leaned against the sturdy ship railing, his hands clasped, gazing at the shimmering waters. Arieshell positioned herself in line with Jacques and playfully bumped her hips into his—the serene atmosphere of passion and understanding between them.

Jacques tilted his gaze at her as Arieshell's attention was occupied by the breeze hitting her face. Arieshell, unlike before, had her eyes shut and her lips were closed with a smile.

"Jacques," she mentioned.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't your crew flinch or look distressed when I was first captured in your net? Shouldn't they have been questioning the situation?"

Jacques furrowed his brow, reminiscing about the unexpected day. It seemed like an eternity since Arieshell had entered his life. How long ago was our first encounter with each other?

"Jacques?"

Arieshell's voice remained steady as she waited for his response.

Jacques clicked his tongue. "It's hard to explain. We've encountered many unique creatures and were told they were stories. Folklore."

"Myths!"

"Yes! How did you know?"

Arieshell shook her head in amusement. "Under the sea, we have myths, legends, stories that we created. Fortunately, some of them are false."

"Oh! How so?" Jacques teased.

"You and Belle. Not to mention your crew. I'm a little wary of Gus. I'm afraid to admit."

Jacques felt the muscles in his body tighten as he anticipated the conversation ahead. He knew she was worried. Gus had a volatile temper, and Jacques couldn't shake the memory of witnessing his aggressive behavior towards those two vulnerable boys at the asylum. It had become increasingly difficult to justify or excuse his outbursts.

"I'll have a conversation with him," he reassured her.

"Thank you, Jacques."

After enduring yet another exhausting and monotonous hour at sea, the crew members were faced with the laborious task of pulling ropes and adjusting sails to ensure the ship's smooth progression. Climbing up the masts, they maintained a vigilant watch for any potential obstacles, such as rocks or logs that Captain Sparrow would need to navigate.

Jacques watched Caspian closely as he skimmed the river for a sign of land. He hoisted his body up by holding tightly on the long post. His hand covered above his eyes, shielding them from the burning sun.

"Land ho!" he announced.

Jacques placed his hand on Arieshell's shoulder. "Go fetch Belle as I help dock the Sparrow."