IX. Bound by Fire

now playing,

Still into You by Paramore

descendants two

The days stretched on, the sun lingering in the sky as summer crept closer to its end. On the Isle, the temperature stayed the same—oppressive, sticky, and relentless. But despite the unchanged weather, Estella felt different. She felt lighter.

Her friends and Auradon were still in the back of her mind, but they didn't haunt her every thought anymore. Life aboard the ship had become something... familiar. Comfortable, even. She found herself smiling more, laughing at the crew's antics, and helping with chores without much complaint. She cleaned the deck, cooked meals, and even joined in the odd game of cards when the younger crew members begged her to.

But it was Harry who occupied most of her thoughts.

They'd grown closer in ways she hadn't expected. His teasing no longer grated on her nerves, and her sharp words had softened, the venom replaced by genuine affection. He'd started calling her "Stella" more often than not, the nickname feeling less like an insult and more like something only he could give her.

And she didn't hate it.

One warm evening, Estella found herself leaning against the railing, watching the town lights flicker in the distance. She could hear the faint sounds of music and shouting from the streets, and her heart ached with longing.

"Staring at it won't make it come to you, pixie," Harry's voice drawled behind her.

She turned to find him lounging against a crate, his ever-present smirk playing on his lips.

"I wasn't staring," she said defensively.

"Aye, you were," he said, strolling toward her. "Thinkin' about sneakin' off, are you?"

Estella narrowed her eyes. "Why can't I go into town? I've been stuck on this ship for weeks, Harry. I need air. Space. Freedom."

"You've got plenty of air and space right here," he said, gesturing around the deck.

"You know that's not what I mean," she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

He frowned, his jaw tightening. "The Isle's dangerous, Stella. You step one foot out there, and someone will recognize you. And they won't be as nice as me."

"Nice?" she repeated, incredulous. "You're the one keeping me here!"

"I'm keeping you safe!" he shot back, his voice rising.

"I don't need you to protect me, Harry! I can take care of myself."

His eyes flashed with anger, and he stepped closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. "You don't get it, do you? You don't know what it's like out there. You've never lived here. You wouldn't last a day."

Estella's fists clenched at her sides, her voice shaking with fury. "Maybe I wouldn't, but I'd rather try than rot away on this stupid ship!"

She spun on her heel, ready to storm off, but Harry grabbed her wrist, yanking her back with a force that made her stumble into his chest.

"Don't you walk away from me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"Let me go," she hissed, her green eyes blazing as she tried to pull free.

"No," he snapped, his grip tightening. "You're not goin' anywhere."

Their faces were inches apart, both of them breathing hard, the air between them thick with tension. Her heart pounded in her chest, her anger mixing with something else—something she didn't want to name.

"Why do you care so much?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry stared at her, his jaw clenching. "Because I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

Before she could respond, he pulled her closer, his lips crashing down on hers with a fierce, almost desperate passion.

For a split second, Estella froze, her mind racing. But then something inside her snapped, and she kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as if she was afraid he might disappear.

Harry's hook clinked against the railing as he dropped it, his free hand tangling in her messy blonde braids. He kissed her like he was claiming her, like he'd been holding back for weeks and couldn't take it anymore.

Estella's heart raced, her anger melting away under the heat of the moment. She hated him, she wanted to scream at him—and yet she couldn't pull away.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, their faces flushed. Harry's hand stayed on her braid, his thumb brushing against her jaw as his blue eyes bore into hers.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

Estella swallowed hard, her cheeks burning as she looked up at him. "Then stop trying to control me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Harry's lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained serious. "Deal."

For a moment, they just stood there, the ship rocking gently beneath them as the distant sounds of the Isle faded into the background. Estella wasn't sure what had just happened—or what it meant—but she knew one thing for certain: things between her and Harry would never be the same.

The morning light filtered through the small, salt-stained window of Estella's cabin. She groaned, burying her face into the pillow, her body stiff and mind hazy. Everything from the night before felt like a jumbled dream. Her lips tingled at the memory of Harry's kiss, and her heart thudded in confusion.

As she rolled over onto her side, her arm brushed against something warm. She froze.

Opening her eyes, she was met with the sight of Harry Hook sprawled out on the bed beside her, shirtless and far too comfortable for her liking. His dark hair was a tousled mess, his lips slightly parted as he breathed evenly, still deep in sleep.

For a moment, Estella just stared, her brain scrambling to process the situation. Then everything hit her like a tidal wave—the argument, the kiss, the charged tension that neither of them had been able to escape.

"Oh, no," she muttered, her voice a shaky whisper as she scrambled to sit up. Her abrupt movement jostled the bed, and Harry's eyes fluttered open.

He blinked lazily, a smirk forming on his lips when he saw her panicked expression. "Mornin', pixie," he drawled, his voice husky with sleep.

"Don't 'morning' me!" Estella hissed, clambering to the edge of the bed. "What—what are you doing here?"

Harry stretched, his muscles flexing as he leaned back against the headboard. "Relax, Stella. You passed out after last night's excitement, and I didn't feel like sleepin' on the floor."

She narrowed her eyes, her face burning. "So you just decided to—what? Join me?"

"Better than leavin' you alone to overthink everything," he said with a wink.

Estella groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This is not happening."

"Oh, it's happening," Harry said, clearly amused. He shifted closer, his hand brushing against hers as he lowered his voice. "You didn't seem to mind me bein' close last night."

Her head shot up, her cheeks flaming. "That was... different."

Harry's smirk softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes searching hers. "Was it?"

The air between them grew thick again, the memory of their kiss hanging heavily in the small room. For a moment, Estella thought he might kiss her again, and a part of her didn't hate the idea.

But then she shook her head, breaking the spell. "I need to get up," she muttered, sliding off the bed.

Harry watched her with a lazy grin as she tied her messy braids back. "What's the rush, pixie? Crew'll survive without breakfast for one mornin'."

"They'll survive, but they'll complain," she shot back, grabbing her boots. "And I'd rather not deal with a bunch of grumpy pirates before I've had coffee."

"Fair enough," Harry said, standing and stretching again. Estella tried not to stare at the way his muscles moved, her face heating up as she hurried to the door.

As she reached for the handle, Harry caught her wrist, stopping her.

"Stella," he said softly, his voice losing its teasing edge.

She turned to look at him, her heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"I meant what I said last night," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over her wrist. "I won't let anything happen to you."

For a moment, she couldn't find her voice. Her chest felt tight, her emotions a confusing mix of frustration, gratitude, and something deeper she wasn't ready to name.

"I can take care of myself, Harry," she finally said, though her voice was softer this time.

He gave her a crooked grin. "Aye, but I'm still not leavin' your side."

Estella rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a small smile. "Fine. But if you're going to hover, at least make yourself useful and help me cook."

In the galley, Estella busied herself with cracking eggs and slicing bread while Harry leaned against the counter, watching her with an amused expression.

"You know," he said, reaching out to pluck a piece of bread from the cutting board, "you're gettin' pretty comfortable on this ship. Maybe you're not in such a rush to leave after all."

Estella swatted his hand away, glaring at him. "Don't push your luck, Hook."

He chuckled, stepping closer so he was just behind her. "I'm just sayin'—you've got the crew wrapped around your little finger. Even Gil can't stop talkin' about how good your stew is."

"Maybe I should start charging," she quipped, flipping the eggs in the pan.

Harry leaned down, his chin nearly resting on her shoulder as he whispered, "Or maybe you should just admit you're enjoyin' yourself."

She turned her head to glare at him, but the movement brought their faces dangerously close. Her breath hitched, her pulse racing as his blue eyes locked onto hers.

"Harry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Aye, Stella?"

Her lips parted, but before she could say anything, a loud crash from the deck above startled them both.

Harry groaned, straightening up. "That better not be Gil," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Estella bit back a laugh, shaking her head. "Go check on your crew, Captain."

He smirked, brushing past her toward the door. "Don't miss me too much, pixie."

She rolled her eyes, but as he disappeared up the stairs, she couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her lips. No matter how infuriating Harry Hook could be, she was starting to realize she didn't mind his constant presence. Not one bit.