Something About Novin.

Novin Blackwell had always been second best.

When his best friend’s partner agreed to let him sign up to join the Royal Fleet, he assumed that he would be average at best, as usual. What he hadn’t expected was to excel at anything. When he’d tried to master baking like his father, he had nearly burned the house down. Similar failures followed when he attempted woodworking, inventing games, sewing, and menial construction. Novin seemed doomed until he arrived in New Jersey.

And who could blame him? His sister was Queen of the Realm, thanks to her soul-bond. Measuring up to Prue would have been difficult for a normal little brother. Of course, it was impossible for someone like him. 

That was, until he found himself on a sailing vessel in the middle of the Atlantic. Did Novin know the first thing about rigging sails? Not entirely, no. Did he know that this would be his last chance to amount to something? Absolutely. And so, he kept his head down, did the work, and climbed the ranks for four years until Teresa came to him with an inquiry.

“Nov, I have to ask you something,” the princess said, looking over her left shoulder as they made their way down the rickety dock to check the progress on the newest fleet ship.

“Um, okay?”

“Here’s the thing,” she sighed, stopping short in front of the largest boat Novin had ever seen in his life. “The Osprey was commissioned for Donovan, and… well, in his absence, she’s without a captain.”

He staggered backward a step and shook his head. “Reese, this is a full brig. August doesn’t want it?”

“Augs doesn’t even want to be here anymore. Keeps talking about taking Duck and Nessie and seeing the world. So, I think what I’m trying to say is–” She inhaled sharply and held her hands, palms touching, in front of her. “I’d like you to captain the Osprey. I’m not asking you as commander of the fleet, Nov, I’m asking as your friend. As a favor.”

“Am I even, I don’t know, qualified to look at this thing?” he asked, turning his eyes upward at the four large masts jutting into the summer sky.

“Does it matter?” Teresa dismissed her friend’s concern with a shrug.

“Um, a little bit, yeah? I really think you should ask Commodore Sewell–”

“Novin. August doesn’t want his brother’s boat. Would you? If Prue died, would you want to take up for her?”

He glanced at his shoes on the wooden planks and shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking from his heels to his toes and back. “No, I guess not.”

“So?”

“Eh, what’s the worst that happens? I fuck it up like I always do, and you put me back at a desk?” He whistled a single high-pitched note and turned his attention to the deceptively unassuming woman on his right. “Yeah, sure. Captain Novin Blackwell, reporting for duty.”