𝚇𝚇𝙸𝙸

I bring my hands to his shoulders with a smile, gently grazing my arms across them, causing his shirt to move slightly, revealing a strange, scarred divot in the soft spot between his neck and shoulder; it resembles a bite mark— and my stomach turns at the sight of it.

That's where Mo...

I pull away from him, and he retracts his hands in surprise. "Is everything alright, love?"

"How could I be so stupid?!" I scream, disgusted with myself. I push myself to my feet and work my way towards the door. I hear the man shuffle on the floor behind me, and he grasps my wrist tightly. I stand there, unmoving, but I can feel him trembling.

"Don't go." I turn my head just enough to glance back at him. He looks up at me from his knees, a fearful look across his face. "(Name)."

"I don't want to hear my name pass through your lips ever again," I growl at him, ripping my arm from his grasp. "I cannot believe I forgot who I was dealing with." He continues to stare up at me, a look of abandonment upon his face. "You may have been something to me in the past, but now, you are nothing."

"I-I'm sorry about Mo-"

I swiftly grab the collar of his shirt, pulling the dagger from my boot and pressing it against his throat before he has a chance to defend himself, "The only reason I have not made another attempt on your life is because you need me alive."

He does not appear to be listening to what I'm saying, as all he responds with is, "You mean more to me than you know."

"You killed her."

He grows increasingly frustrated. "Can't you just listen-"

I press the knife deeper, "Why did you go to Fossorres?"

He attempts, one last time. "Princess, please."

"You are a monster," I hiss at him, heart beating out of my chest.

In an instant, I watch as his eyes go from pleading to enraged— the man is equally as pissed off as I am. "You are absolutely right." The way he's looking at me can only be described as hatred. "I am the bloody Pirate King." He grabs ahold of my wrist, rising to his feet, bringing my arm up with him. I wince at the strong grip he has on me, my toes barely touching the floor. I stare up at him as he glares down at me with those beautiful, unique eyes of his. He purses his lips and shakes his head before shouting, "Toby!"

The First Mate promptly opens the door— seems like he was not sitting in with Abel like he said he was going to. His eyes instantly widen at the sight of us, "What's going on-"

"Tell Jack to set course for Tealin immediately."

A range of emotions cross Toby's face— worry, confusion, relief, then, nothing at all. "Yes, Arthur," he whispers, closing the door.

"Tealin?" I'd read the name before in history books, but hearing it spoken aloud makes it seem like it holds personal, sentimental value to me, but I am not sure why. "As in, the Tealin Empire? The biggest presence on the continent?"

"Yes— that Tealin," he pulls my arm up further, causing discomfort in my shoulder.

"What business would the Pirate King have with the Empire?" I sneer.

He releases me, sending me crashing to the floor. "The Prince awaits me there."

That's when it clicks.

"You are indebted to the Prince?"

He freezes. "...What would you know of it?"

I grin, devilishly, dusting my pants as I stand up. "I was given a message for you."

"Tell me," he grabs my collar, roughly pulling me into him.

And to think, just moments ago, this man was on his knees BEGGING for me to stay. 

"Only if you answer my question afterwards." His eyes shift around the room before he nods, although hesitantly. I relay the message from Tianyi: "Your time is running out, and my patience even more so. Your debt must be repaid by the date we agreed upon or our deal is off. You will have more than just the people of the Continent coming after your head in due time, my friend." He pushes me away as he releases my collar, a groan of frustration almost echoing in the room. "Now, hold up your end of the bargain."

"That debt is precisely the reason why I set foot in Fossores," he hisses at me.

I shift my weight to my right foot, and I cross my arms. "What does that even mean?"

"The Prince ordered me to retrieve you and deliver you to him, and in return-"

I cut in. "What the hell does the Prince want with me?!"

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He sneers. His tone fosters a fear that had been dwelling deep inside me— one that I was trying oh-so desperately to ignore. I clench my fists, bracing to hear the reality-breaking news this man was to share with me. Instead, he just laughs in my face, looking at me in absolute disgust. "I cannot believe that, for all my life, I longed for you."

My eyebrows crease and I stare up at him in shock. "What?"

He walks to the door, his hand tightly gripping the handle. "The thought of you was the only thing that gave me hope." He shakes his head, slowly, "And to think I almost threw my life away for you." I watch him in silence as he opens the door and walks out into the darkness of the hallway.

I sink to my knees, heart racing, anxiety setting in. After all I said, I thought that I would not care if he felt that way about me; but what he said cut me to my core. Everything in me screams at me to chase after him, and it takes everything in me not to.

You hate him, (Name). You hate him. Remember what he did to Mo! Remember what he did to her.

I punch the floor as hard as I can, over and over, watching as, slowly, the wood begins to splinter and crack.

"(Name)?" I look up and I see Alfred staring at me from the doorway, visibly concerned.

"A-Alfred..." My voice cracks, forcing its way through my lips. He rushes into the room, kneeling down as he takes me into his arms.

"What happened?" He gently grasps my hand and raises it to inspect my knuckles. "You're bleeding."

"I'm so lost, Alfred," my voice is caught in my throat. His fingers dig into me as he pulls me tighter to him, reassuring me without a single word. I bury my face into his shoulder and sob, grasping his shoulder so tightly that my knuckles turn white. He tightens his grip once more, his chin resting on the top of my head. We sit there for a while, no words exchange between us. When I finally calm down enough to pay attention, I realize he's rocking me back and forth. "Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

I stare up at him, watching his hair continuously sway with each direction change. He shakes his head, the tips of his ears and nose glow bright red as he releases me. I crawl a few paces away from him and sit across from him, staring at the floor. "I don't know what he did to you," he whispers quietly, "but I am on your side."

"Alfred..."

He brushes his fingers through his hair, shooting a teasing glance my way, "I am more than the Captain's dog." My cheeks begin to heat up and I avert my gaze in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry about that..."

"No, no, I get it. I would think the same thing about a man like me," he chuckles softly. "Matthew and I were born in the Kingdom of Christas. You'd think that being born in one of the richest Kingdoms on the Continent, we would've been well off," his voice is bright and airy, a bit of a jest in his tone, but the solemn look on his face tells me a different story. "But, the richer the Aristocrats are, the poorer the common folk seem to be."

Alfred's POV

"Where are we going, mama?" I ask her, a skip in my step as she leads me into town by the hand.

"Somewhere fun, dear," she reassures me, that familiar smile on her face. I stare up at her, completely enthralled by her beauty. I admired her more than anyone.

"This way, Matthew," my father jerks on my brother's arm.

Matthew, just on the cusp of healing from a foot injury, grits his teeth and quickens his step. "Yes, père. (1)" My father was a strict man, but was, more often, a kind one. I didn't understand, then, what caused him to treat my brother this way. They lead us through the many rows of stalls in the town, weaving through the crowds enjoying the Blutmond (2) Festival, the one held in honor of the First Prince of Christas, born during the first Red Moon of the year 1635. It was my brother and I's favorite time of year, the one time we'd make the three mile trek into town to celebrate the Prince, lovingly dubbed the "Pride of Christas". I should've known that was the surprise!

"Go ahead and take a seat here, boys," my father instructs us. We do as we are told, and sit down on in the grass, just off the cobblestone street.

"We'll be right back," my mother places a hand on our cheeks, and they walk out into the festival, disappearing amongst the crowd. We, anxiously, wait there until the sun set behind the beautiful hills of Christas, and they never came back.

We had just turned ten. 

"W-Where do you think they went?" Matthew whispers to me, voice trembling, attempting to not alert the people cleaning and closing up their stalls.

"They left us," I clench my fists.

"T-They wouldn't," he looks at me, tears welling up in his eyes. "Right?"

I look him in the eye, my heart pounding. I pull him to my chest, hugging him as tight as I can. I made a promise to him, and myself, that I would make sure we survived— I would do anything to protect my brother and ensure that he has a long life.

After attempting odd jobs and bartering work for food and shelter, we eventually turned to thieving— by we, I really mean me. I stole food, clothing— I even stole keys to sheds so we could sleep with a roof over our heads at night. Eventually, I got ahead of myself, and started stealing from jewelers and blacksmiths to pawn off their work to foreign fools who wouldn't know any better.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Matthew places a hand on my shoulder as I peek around the corner at a Jeweler's stall.

I shake his hand off. "It'll be fine, Matt. I do this all the time."

"That's the problem," he mumbles, but retracts his hand, knowing there is nothing he can do to stop me. The work I do isn't honest, but it's what got us by all these years. I, nonchalantly, walk over to the target stall, making sure I take my time as I browse through the selection to seem inconspicuous.

The merchant notices me instantly, a bright smile crossing his face, "Hello, sir, are you looking for anything specific today?"

"Just taking a look," I respond, heartily. I pick up a bracelet with a brilliant green gem to test him, to which he exhibits no reaction. This job is going to be easier than I thought. I put the ring back in its place and I sigh, "You know, I probably should get something for my wife. We'll be celebrating two years in a few weeks."

"That is fantastic, sir! Congratulations!" He clasps his hands. The man is a people pleaser. I tap my chin, looking around at all the options before my eyes land on a beautiful diamond necklace. "What kind of jewelry does your wife fancy?"

"I think a ring would be perfect," I scramble and pick up the first ring I can get my hands on. "Can you tell me about this one?"

"It is a dazzling Ruby straight from the mines of Lapis!" He beams. "The chain is made from pure, white gold found in the hills of Paz— extremely valuable and sought after."

"What a gorgeous piece! How much?"

"I can give it to you for 300 coins."

I scoff, quietly, as I return the ring to its place. The man is a con-artist. While Lapis is known for its natural abundance in minerals, any educated person would know that rubies are basically non existent on our continent, meaning a true Ruby would cost three, if not four, times the asking price. Rather, this was either non-ethically sourced from a glass slaver in the region, or it is from Lastania, the neighboring continent with whom we do not trade or trust, which could mean this man is an outsider, or perhaps, even a spy for the Lastanian government. Both are punishable by law. My hands rest on the edge of his cart, and I lean in close enough to whisper to him, "We both know the Ruby isn't from Lapis, old man."

He shakes his head, "Sir, you are mistaken-"

"Is it colored glass, or a Lastanian Ruby?" My voice is low and threatening, and the man's head shakes even more aggressively this time.

"T-This is no Lastanian Ruby! I would never do business with the enemy continent!"

"Then, let me paint a clear picture for you," a smirk crosses my lips. "I can either let the authorities know that you are a con-artist, preying on the people of my town in their ignorance, or you can give me that diamond necklace you have on display back there," I tilt my head towards the necklace. The man averts his gaze from mine, glancing at the necklace, before looking around, anxiously.

"Ok, ok." He grabs the necklace and hands it to me. "Don't tell anybody."

I grab his collar, roughly pulling him closer, "Now get the hell out of my town." I throw him back into the back of his stall and stuff the necklace into my pocket before making my way back to Matthew. As I enter the far alley, I chuckle as my little brother comes into view. He is crouched down behind some boxes, his head resting on his knees.

He must've been worried sick.

I walk over to him as quietly as possible to not scare him, and I crouch down in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his head. He raises his head, staring up at me, with worried, tear-filled eyes. "Y-You're back...!"

"I told you it would be easy," I ruffle his hair.

"I don't know, Alfred," he wipes a tear rolling down his cheek. "I have a really bad feeling."

"You always have a bad feeling, little brother," I get to my feet and extend a hand out to him, pulling him to his. Before Matthew could even dust off his pants, a man enters the alley.

"You!" He points at me. My breath hitches in my throat— the man was a cop.

That old man must've alerted the authorities!

He starts running at me, full speed, and I grab Matthew's hand and pull him, bolting out the other side of the alleyway.

"I told you!" Matthew yells at me, holding tightly to my hand to make sure he doesn't fall behind.

"Don't worry, we can escape!" I begin knocking over anything I can get my hands on— boxes, trash cans, old furniture, and I think I may have even knocked over a person to try and stop the officer in his tracks. When that didn't work, my only option left was the lose him in the many complex alleyways of Christas, but he was always close enough behind to follow after us.

"Get back here! Thieves!" He screams at the top of his lungs.

All of a sudden, I lose my grip on Matthew's hand. "No...!" He trips and falls into the dirt, scrambling to get back to his feet. Immediately, I turn around and rush back to him, and grab his arm, pulling him up. I hadn't even realized that the officer had caught up to us. The man punches me in the face, sending me crashing to the dirt floor. "Alfred!" Matthew rushes to my side. The officer turns his attention to my brother, grabbing him by his collar and slamming him against the wall behind him. The moment he started beating on him, I saw red. My body moves on its own and I somehow end up on top of the officer, and I, repeatedly, punch him in the face. By the time I come to, the man was unrecognizable— nothing but a bloody mess of flesh and broken teeth. Matthew shakes my shoulders, "Alfred, c'mon! We need to get out of here!" Footsteps echo in the alleyways around us, swords glistening in the sunlight blind me, and before I had a chance to move, we were surrounded.

"Raise your hands above your head!" One of the soldiers screams at us. Matthew's hands shoot up in the air and he gestures me to do the same. Begrudgingly, I do the same. As much as I didn't want to, I raise my bloody hands as high up as I can get them— anything to ensure my brother's survival. They walk up to Matthew and pull his arms roughly behind his back. "Now, you!" They turn to me. "Step away from the body!"

"Leave him alone!" I yell at them, standing up. "He has nothing to do with this-"

"Get on the ground!" They point their guns at me.

"Alfred, stop!" Matthew shouts.

I freeze, moving my gaze to him. Blood drips down his nose, his eye slightly swollen shut. My chest heaves, up and down, as I realize something: just as I wanted my brother to survive, he wants me to, as well. He was never concerned about his own well-being, he was always worried about mine. Tears stream down my face as I mouth the words: I'm sorry. He smiles at me, gently, mouthing: It's ok.

We were thrown into jail for months, and without even speaking before the Justiciar, they pulled us from our cell, saying that it is Sentencing Day. "Alfred Jones, in accordance with Christas Law 231, section 2b, I hereby sentence you to a lifelong commitment to the Suzerain Trade." His gavel hits the table, and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. Not only would I be separated from my brother, but the Suzerain Trade isn't something you can escape from. It is Kingdom's way of making back any stolen profits from their citizens, so this is a punishment mainly coveted for thieves. Essentially, it is a slave trade. They group together a bunch of thieves from around the Kingdom and sell them, as a group, to the highest bidder.

"Now, in the case of Matthew Williams," the Justiciar looks through his documents. "It seems we do not have much of a case against you, other than evading arrest." Matthew, solemnly, nods in response. "In accordance with Christas Law 174, section 1a, I hereby sentence you to a month in jail."

Just as he goes to pick up his gavel, Matthew speaks up. "May I make a request?"

"I don't believe you are in any position to make a request, Mr. Williams."

"I would like to accompany my brother to the Suzerain Trade."

The Justiciar's eyes open wide in surprise, "Do you understand what you're asking, Mr. Williams?"

"I do," he nods, confidently.

I shake my head, staring at him from across the room. "No, please, do not let him do this!" I plead to the Justiciar. "He has nothing to do with my crimes."

"We were abandoned and left with nothing." Matthew smiles at me. "Everything he did was to keep us alive."

The Justiciar sighs, looking at us empathetically. "Having come up from nothing, myself, I do agree that this Kingdom needs reform. I shall grant your request, Mr. Williams, and I wish you both the best of luck." His gavel hits the table once more, to which Matthew smiles at me brightly. I stare at him, my heart aching.

We are brought back to our jail cell and Matthew stares at me, concerned. "What is wrong with you, Alfred?"

"You just threw away everything I've worked for, Matthew!" I yell at him, pacing back and forth. "The Suzerain Trade is a death sentence. We'll work until we die! Don't you understand that?!" I sit down on the bed, my head falling to my hands.

"If that is our fate, then I accept it," I feel him sit next to me. "As long as I am with you, my life is complete."

The very next day, we were shipped to Suzerain. We were placed in a group, totaling 25 men, and sent to the yard. We stood in formation for hours, unmoving, eyes straight ahead, our wrists and ankles chained together. We were not allowed to look at the Suzerain's in the eye, as we were told it showed defiance; no Suzerain wants to buy defiant vassals. "Look at this lot right here!" A voice rings out, startling me. I could physically see Matthew's body stiffen up next to me. Out of my peripheral, I see a blonde man, just slightly taller than me, strutting, lazily, down the line. He inspects each of the men, questioning their abilities, as he slowly makes his way towards me and my brother. He stops in front of me, and I stare straight ahead, avoiding his eyes. "You," he places a hand on my shoulder. "I've heard a lot about you." I nod. "You're trouble," he walks around me. "Have you ever been on a ship?" I shake my head. "Look me in the eye when I speak to you, boy," he growls into my ear. I've been put in an impossible position. If I anger this man, the Trade Masters could have us standing out in the elements for days on end.

"I can't do that, sir," I award him with more words than I can afford. We were not even allowed to speak to the Suzerains— but what else am I supposed to do?

"Are you scared of man, lad?" He scoffs at me. I shake my head once more. "Then look at me." I furrow my brows into the harshest scowl I can manage. The man has an eyepatch, but the bright green eye that looks back at me is full of life and wonder.

I hadn't seen a look like that since I was a child.

He nods at me, and takes a step back to address the group as a whole. "I am a traveling merchant, specializing in the transportation of goods by sea," he speaks vaguely. "As your Suzerain, I will ensure that you have the best quality of life that I can offer you, and in return, I expect you to devote those lives to me." The group of vassals remain silent. He turns to the Trade Masters, "I'll take this lot." He buys us, right then and there, and takes us back to his ship, our chains dangling the whole way. When we arrive, there are only two men aboard the ship: a tall, dark haired man, presumably of Avion descent, and a man with gentle, pale green eyes. "Toby, remove their chains," the Suzerain orders them.

"Yes, Arthur," the one with the gentle eyes nods and gets to work.

"Jack, get us out of here," Arthur brushes a hand through his hair.

"Yes, Cap'n!" The Avion smiles cheerfully, heading towards the helm.

As soon as we were free from the chains, Arthur stands on a barrel, and once again, addresses us. "My name is Arthur Kirkland, more widely known as the Pirate King, and I welcome you aboard the Siren." The men around me start to anxiously murmur and I feel Matthew cling to my arm. "My promise to you remains unchanged. I will provide you with a good life, as long as you devote your life to me." The men are talking even louder now, expressing their doubts and displeasure of the situation. It's a dangerous thing to be a part of a Pirate crew, let alone the Pirate King's. He raises his hands, and the chatter dies down. "You are not slaves here; we are comrades— a crew. I am an outcast of the Continent, just as all of you are. We are no different from each other: we did what we had to do to survive." My heart pounds in my ears, looking around at all of the men nodding.

This man... understands.

"The hands we were dealt were never in our favor. I will be more loyal than any Country, Kingdom, or Republic has ever been to you. As long as you, men, fight for me," he unsheathes his sword and raises his blade to the sky, "I will fight for you!" The men erupt into cheers, and I can't help but join them.

(Name's) POV

"He was the same as us," Alfred whispers, quietly. I raise my hand to his cheek, my thumb swiping away a tear running down his cheek. He looks at me, placing a gentle hand on top of mine, nuzzling his cheek into my palm. "You remind me of my mother," his voice trembles.

I feel a lump form in my throat. "Why?"

"She was gentle and beautiful," his fingers dig into my hand, but not in a way to hurt me. It was more, as though, he was making sure I wouldn't leave him. "Just like you." All of a sudden, he perks up, his eyes darting around the room. "What is it, Alfred?" I ask, startled.

"Something's not right," he whispers, getting to his feet. He walks over to the door, opening it just enough to peek out. "Stay here." I nod, and he walks out into the hallway, retreating deeper into the cabin of the ship. I sit there in the dark for a moment, waiting for any noise or sign that I should be afraid.

"I can't just sit here," I growl. I walk out of the makeshift infirmary and turn my head to get a look down both ends of the hallway. It's eerily quiet. "Where could everyone have gone?" I turn and go down the right hallway, making my way towards the deck. Just as my foot hits the bottom stair, I hear an unfamiliar voice boom amongst the quiet murmurs of the crew. "Where's th' lass, Arthur?"

A few of the Siren's crew member's hands graze against their weapons, but with a calm wave of his hand, Kirkland stops them. His voice is quiet, but firm. "Release him at once." I peak around the corner and I see a man with red hair holding one of our crew members at gunpoint; the poor kid must be, not even, sixteen years old. "I will not ask again, Allistor."

"Ye've got to teach ye'r men how to guard a ship," the man laughs condescendingly at the Pirate King, twirling the gun around his finger. "This is just pathetic."

Something about this man... is terrifying.

"You and that bloody Pazion are the only bastards bold enough to ambush me and try my defenses." It seems as though Kirkland is trying to de-escalate, which is unlike him.

"Antonio is a character," Allistor responds, smugly— he knows the entire situation is in his control. "I fin him rather annoying— th' man is a liar, 'n' never gets th' job done." He seems to eye the Captain as the words pass through his lips.

Kirkland takes a few steps forward, "We had set course for Tealin just this afternoon."

Allistor catches the gun mid-twirl and pushes it into the cabin boy's mop of brown hair, the sound of metal clicking against his skull was sickening. "Where is she?"

He is unpredictable.

Kirkland visibly hesitates. "Take me, instead."

"Arthur!" Toby promptly interjects. "You can't be serious-"

Allistor cuts him off with obnoxious laughter, shaking the cabin boy's shoulders. Kirkland, on the other hand, turns away from him, holding his arms behind his back. The red haired man's laughter slowly quiets, and he stares at the Pirate King in disbelief. "Ye'r serious."

Who is this man that the Pirate King, himself, does not even fight back?

Allistor eyes him suspiciously, and with a nod of his head, one of his henchman walk over and tie the Captain's wrists together, so tightly to the point he winces in pain. He walks over and stares down at him, reaching up and tearing the eyepatch from Kirkland's face, whipping it to the side. The Captain groans in annoyance, immediately turning to face him once again. The green eyed man scoffs, "Faither wid be disappointed in ye."

Father?!

The blonde lunges at him, a bloodthirsty look in his eyes. The rival Captain grabs ahold of his shoulder with one hand, and sends a punch into the stomach with the other. The wind is knocked out of the Captain, and Allistor uses it as a chance to push his head down further, kneeing him in the face. A gasp escapes me as I watch him fall to the ground, blood from his re-opened wound pouring onto his white shirt.

A man, seemingly one of Allistor's men, rushes in from the background, a mop of light, auburn hair brushing against his face. He kneels down in front of Kirkland, gently cradling his face in his hands. "Oh, Arthur..." He rips open Kirkland's shirt to reveal the wound, still oozing blood, and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a roll of bandages. Allistor grabs him by the shirt, throwing him back and away from Kirkland.

"Ye bastart!" He kicks him in the face, continuously stomping and kicking various parts of his body. "Ye ne'er learn, do ye?!" His shoulders heave, up and down, as he takes a step back, watching as the man gets to his hands and knees, crawling back towards Kirkland. "Dylan, don't ye dare."

Dylan turns back to glare at him, blood from his nose dripping onto the floorboards. "You don't scare me, brother."

Allistor pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, yelling rather exasperatedly, "Where are th' twins?" The second he finishes speaking, the hairs on the back of my neck raise, and I feel an intense presence behind me. Before I have the chance to turn around, I feel giant hands grasp both of my arms, and they begin dragging me up the stairs. Allistor claps his hands, loudly, "At least someone kin git things done without fuckin' 'em up." I am thrown down on the ground at Allistor's feet, and I, hesitantly, turn my eyes up to look at him. He kneels down, placing a finger on my jaw, tracing it to my lips. "Ah see how come th' Prince wants ye— y'er beautiful."

I sharply turn my head away, "Get your hands off me!"

"A feisty one," he licks his lips, grabbing my chin to turn me to face him once again. "Ah lik' that."


Translations:

1. "Père" is Father in French
2. "Blutmond" is Blood Moon in German

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