Darling & Commander

The General: 15

Brock Cortes POV:

"Have you everything you came with?" I load the boat with our belongings.

"Yes, all of it." Galla nods, a little less cheer in voice today.

I want to fix it, but I am hesitant how to proceed. She is usually so merry and blithe, and to see her distressed about matters I am unsure I can control feels like descending and submerging. I like everything to be in an array of perfection, but the day I encountered Galla my entire existence was disarranged. Without a doubt, she has changed my soul for the better, but I am vacillating of just how much pleasure I can provide her if I stay.

"General!" I hear a bark from behind me.

Turning around to see the king, Galla and I both take it upon ourselves to bow.

"What may I do for you, your majesty?" I nod.

"Ah, I came to inform you in person that Kacieanne was positively radiating with joy of your attendance last night. I should hope you will get in a dance with her next time, hmm?" He nods, completely overlooking and disregarding Galla.

It irks me more than it should.

"While I am delighted the princess appreciated my participation, I do believe I may continue to dance with Miss Gallaleigha. I have yet to teach her much more elaborate waltzes, and we should spare any other gentlemen's feet's from getting stepped on, shall we?" I toss Galla a wink, and she blushes indebtedly.

"That was not a suggestion, General Cortes." The king growls, stepping closer. "You will ask for my daughter's hand in a dance, and you will pay your respects to your king."

I blink. 

"While I would be delighted to take Kacieanne's hand in a dance, I do not believe you can resolve who she and I choose to wed." I say, keeping the growl in my voice smothered calmly.

"I am your king. You obey me. I can do such thing if I very well please." He says before waving an arm at his guards who escort him off of the port.

I find myself enraged to this prospect; I will not ever take a liking in the sense the king speaks of Kacieanne. It will never happen, and that it is the end.

"Who does he suppose he is?!" Galla exclaims from beside my frozen body. "What a terrible excuse for a king!"

My back slumps, and I exhale heavily.

"I reckon we should get on the water now..." I sigh. 

Galla makes a scoffing sound, and I lay the last rucksack in the boat before shakily climbing aboard my little row boat. I reach out a rough hand to her, and she takes it with her smooth palm. Quaveringly, she hops in, squeaking when it rocks and jerking herself forward a tad. I catch her, righting her by the waist to help her take a seat across from me.

I begin to row, and Galla does not say a word to me the entire halfway. I feel uneasy knowing something is agitating her, but I cannot conclude what it may be. Not even a glance in my direction; it's unmistakable she is evading interaction with me.

"All right, whatever holds your attention?" I raise an eyebrow as the glaring sun hits her face when she turns to me. "No, truly, you are avoiding me. Whatever is it?"

Galla squints due to the sun in her eyes, about to speak when I hand her a ballcap.

"Whatever is this for?" She sneers.

"To protect your eyes and head because of heat exhaustion." I growl, shoving it on her head a little more forceful than necessary. "Are you done with the snideness? Have I done something?"

"No, of course not." Her face softens for a moment, slipping fingers in the clear ocean water.

A stroke of panic erupts in my chest.

"Galla. Take your hand out of the water." I say calmly, rowing faster.

"Why?" She hums. "It really is quite refreshing."

"Because of that." I hiss, pointing to a shadow forty feet away.

There is a great tiger shark swarming the area, and we are still at least twenty feet from shore.

Galla's eyes widen, becoming alarmed.

"Oh my- Brock. What do we do?" She whisper shouts, and my heart stops.

Slowly but surely, the shark is making its way towards us.

"It must think we are prey..." I curse under my breath. "Okay, we sit about fifteen feet away from the shore. We can do this. We are not going to die."

Most of these encouragements are for myself.

Galla abases, folding her arms across herself tightly.

"Whatever do we do, Brock?"

"... You are going to have to trust me on this," I ration. "But we have to swim."

"Swim?" Galla panics. "Surely it will reach us."

"We are too close to shore to be consumed by that shark. It thinks the boat is prey." I keep eyes on it. "Once we get around eight feet away, I am to throw the rucksacks onto shore and we are to swim for our lives."

"I- Brock, it will never work-"

"Prefer getting eaten by a shark? Your loss." I snort, before hurling the rucksacks at the shore when we reach eight feet.

The rucksacks made it safely to the sand, but the shark is closing in on us. Panicking, I outreach a hand to Galla.

"Are you ready?" I ask. "I will propel you midair, and you shall swim to the shore from there. I will be shortly behind."

"Ready? Goodness no." She wails. "But alright, let us finish this I suppose."

"Good."

With one powerful movement, I propel her far with all my strength. Not looking to see where she ended, I dive into the water, frantically preforming  breast stroke to get to the shore. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Galla has made it, and that gives me a tad of reassurance.

"Brock, behind-"

Galla's shriek is too little too late, and pain shoots up my leg. I look back and see the tiger shark clamped to my leg, and I forcefully thrash it off. He lets go, and I push on to reach the shore where Galla pulls me in.

"Oh. My. Gods."

Her face blanches, and I stumble a little on the beach before outright collapsing.

Galla's cries are the last thing I hear.