Three Sentence Ficathon

Her hair was longer now, more difficult to manage, and it was with no little exasperation that she tied it up into a messy bun as she crossed the threshold out onto the deck of the ship. The salt air whipped at her face but the sting was almost pleasant in its familiarity, like a reunion with an old friend. No matter what anyone told her, no matter what destiny she apparently had, she would always find her way back here. She may be the princess of a fallen kingdom, but she was first and foremost a queen of the sea.