Chapter Text
The fishing village smelled like salt, rain, and rot.
It clung to everything.
The sea foam trapped between broken docks.
The damp wood of collapsing homes.
The patched wool cloaks hanging from clotheslines.
The fishermen returning with nearly empty nets and hollow eyes.
Winter had not yet arrived, but hunger already had.
The shoreline village of Argo's Reach sat on the edge of the kingdom like something forgotten by the crown itself. Far from the capital's golden towers and grand feasts, people here survived day by day, storm by storm.
And lately—
barely.
The waves crashed violently against the dock beneath Kara Danvers' boots as she hauled another empty net onto the wood planks.
Nothing.
Again.
Her shoulders burned from hours of work, muscles aching beneath her rough linen shirt. Sea water soaked through her trousers and dripped from strands of blonde hair that had escaped the tie at the back of her neck.
Still nothing.
No silver glimmer of fish.
No crab trapped in the ropes.
Not even scraps.
Just seaweed.
Kara stared down at the useless net silently.
Around her, the other fishermen wore the same expression she imagined sat on her own face: exhaustion mixed with quiet dread.
A man farther down the dock cursed under his breath.
Another kicked a bucket hard enough to crack it.
"Storm drove them deeper," someone muttered.
"Or they're gone."
"They can't be gone."
"Tell that to my starving children."
Kara swallowed hard.
Her gaze drifted toward the distant horizon where dark storm clouds still lingered from last night's brutal weather. The sea had grown cruel these past months. Violent. Unpredictable.
Like it was angry.
She bent to gather the net again.
"Kara."
She turned at the familiar voice.
Alex stood at the edge of the dock with her arms crossed tightly against the cold wind. Unlike Kara, Alex had abandoned fishing for work repairing nets and boats after an injury to her shoulder years ago. Today, strands of dark hair whipped wildly across her face as she approached.
And immediately Kara knew something was wrong.
Alex only wore that look when things were bad.
"We need to go," Alex said quietly.
Kara frowned. "What happened?"
Alex hesitated.
That was worse.
Kara straightened fully. "Alex."
"The landlord came by."
Of course he had.
Kara looked away toward the gray sea.
"We're late again," Alex continued carefully. "He said if we don't pay by tomorrow night—"
"He'll throw us out."
Alex said nothing.
Which meant yes.
Kara exhaled slowly through her nose, jaw tightening.
Their home was barely worthy of being called one. A tiny crooked shack near the edge of the village with a leaking roof and walls thin enough to feel winter through. But it was theirs.
Or it had been.
Kara rubbed tired seawater from her face. "How much?"
"Five silver."
Kara nearly laughed.
Five silver may as well have been a thousand.
"We'll figure it out," Kara said automatically.
Alex gave her a look.
They both knew there was nothing left to sell.
Their mother's old jewelry had gone months ago.
Then blankets.
Then furniture.
Then fishing equipment.
The village was drowning slowly, and everyone was too poor to save anyone else.
Alex stepped closer. "Have you eaten today?"
Kara avoided her eyes immediately.
"Kara."
"I'm fine."
"Kara."
"I said I'm fine."
Which meant no.
Alex sighed heavily.
The guilt hit Kara instantly.
She hated lying to her sister.
But Alex had eaten even less than she had this week.
Kara could handle hunger. Somehow she always could. It gnawed at her stomach like an animal, but never enough to truly weaken her the way it did others. Even after days without proper food, she could still haul nets heavier than most grown men.
Another thing she tried not to think about too much.
Alex reached into her coat pocket and held out half a small loaf of stale bread wrapped in cloth.
Kara stared at it.
"Alex—"
"Take it."
"You need it more."
"I already ate."
"You're a terrible liar."
"So are you."
For a moment neither moved.
Then Kara reluctantly accepted the bread.
The loaf felt heartbreakingly light in her hands.
Alex watched her carefully. "Eat."
Kara broke the bread in half and handed part of it back immediately.
Alex looked like she wanted to argue.
Instead, her shoulders softened slightly.
Together they ate in silence while waves crashed against the dock.
Cold wind swept through the village.
Somewhere nearby, a child cried.
Kara closed her eyes briefly.
This wasn't living.
And worst of all?
There was no end in sight.
"You should leave," Alex suddenly said.
Kara looked at her sharply. "What?"
"The capital."
"No."
"You didn't even let me finish."
"I don't need to."
Alex crossed her arms again. "Kara, there's nothing left here."
"This is our home."
"It's falling apart."
"We can fix it."
"With what money?"
Kara opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Alex's expression softened instantly.
"That's what I thought."
Kara hated when Alex was right.
The capital felt impossibly far away. A different world entirely. Full of nobles and guards and people who looked down on villagers like them.
People who saw poverty as failure.
Kara had no desire to beg for scraps beneath castle walls.
"We survive every winter," Kara muttered.
"Not like this."
Something in Alex's voice made Kara finally look at her properly.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not for herself.
For Kara.
And suddenly Kara realized Alex believed they might actually die here.
The thought settled heavily in her chest.
Before Kara could respond, shouting erupted farther down the dock.
The sisters turned immediately.
Three guards in royal colors rode into the village center on horseback, cloaks snapping sharply behind them. People nearby lowered their heads at once.
Tax collectors.
Kara's stomach twisted.
Not now.
Please not now.
The lead guard dismounted with practiced arrogance, wrinkling his nose slightly at the smell of fish and seawater around him.
"Gather the village leaders," he ordered.
Nobody moved fast enough.
"I said now."
Fear spread quickly through the dockworkers.
Kara watched silently as old Mr. Bellamy hurried forward nervously. The elderly fisherman practically bowed while speaking to the guards.
The lead guard barely acknowledged him.
Alex muttered darkly beside Kara, "They know people are starving."
"They don't care."
"No," Alex said bitterly. "They don't."
The guard's gaze swept across the docks lazily before landing on Kara.
And pausing.
Kara immediately looked away.
Too late.
The guard approached slowly, boots heavy against damp wood.
"You," he said.
Kara stayed still.
"Lift the net."
Kara frowned slightly. "Why?"
The guard smiled without humor. "Because I ordered you to."
Alex tensed beside her.
Kara slowly bent and lifted the massive waterlogged fishing net with one hand.
The guard's eyebrows rose slightly.
Most men struggled using both arms.
Kara realized her mistake instantly.
She quickly shifted, pretending strain.
But the guard had noticed.
His eyes narrowed.
"How old are you?"
"Kara," Alex warned quietly.
"Nineteen," Kara answered.
The guard circled her once, studying.
Something deeply uncomfortable crawled beneath Kara's skin.
"You fight?"
"No."
Another lie.
The guard clearly didn't believe her.
"You'd make decent royal guard stock."
Kara nearly snorted.
A fisherman becoming a royal guard?
Impossible.
The guard seemed amused by her expression.
"What's your name?"
"Kara Danvers."
At the mention of her surname, something flickered across the guard's face.
Recognition maybe.
Or confusion.
But it vanished quickly.
"Well, Kara Danvers," he said casually, "perhaps the capital would suit you better than this dying little harbor."
Alex stiffened beside her.
Kara's jaw tightened.
"We do fine here."
The guard looked around at the starving village.
"Clearly."
Anger flared hot in Kara's chest.
Before she could say something reckless, the guard turned away dismissively.
"Taxes are due by week's end," he announced loudly to the dockworkers. "Failure to pay will result in property seizure under order of the crown."
Murmurs spread immediately.
Panic.
Fear.
Despair.
Kara stared at the guard in disbelief.
People barely had food.
And the crown still wanted coin.
Alex grabbed Kara's wrist suddenly.
Because she knew that look.
"Kara," Alex said under her breath. "Don't."
But Kara could already feel anger boiling beneath her skin.
Hot.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Far out at sea, thunder rumbled across darkening skies.
And for the briefest moment—
the wind around Kara shifted unnaturally.