Thief of Princes (Kid Blink x Reader)

twenty-three

"𝔐𝔲𝔰𝔥, Race, you're in charge. Sail the regular course; should be well enough on time to the capital." Blink stepped forwards and took your arm, tugging you lightly away from the sailor currently holding it, his touch more steadying than anything else and significantly more gentle than the previous of your captors. 

The two pirate boys exchanged grim glances and nods. "We'll be back in a week or so." Race said after running some calculations through his head. 

The King cleared his throat impatiently. "If you're finished, and if you're coming along, we'll be leaving now." 

Blink waited until the four intruding men had crossed back over to the other ship before helping you across. You appreciated it, since the way your hands were tied made it difficult to balance. Of course you were still furious though. How could he have left out the detail that he was the crown prince?

And so much for him not turning you in-- you could tell he didn't have the best relationship with his father, but surely he would have had to at some point. It was just a lot sooner than he, and you, had anticipated. 

When you set foot on the other ship, the men there immediately cut the ropes connecting the ships and it began to move again, turning around quickly. You staggered slightly at the pitching movement of the deck, surprised the ship could go so much faster than Blink's. 

"Take her down to the gaol." The King said dismissively. 

One of the sailors hesitated. "Beggin' yer pardon, Your Majesty, but there's only one cell. An' it's occupied at the mo, by those pirates we picked up on 'r way here." 

"So? It's big enough for one more, is it not?" 

The sailor paused, and you could tell he was carefully considering his answer. He was saved by the prince. "Take her to my quarters for now." He said, letting go of your arm and pushing you lightly towards the sailor. You stumbled theatrically, making it seem that his shove was harder than it was and shot a glare at the boy, who smirked to hide a grin. 

The King raised an immaculate eyebrow at his son, who just smirked wider. Your cheeks felt hot at the insinuation you felt sure was happening between them. 

"There's a closet, with a lock." Blind Diamond said. Maybe you were wrong. "And I've been wanting to see her cleaned up a bit, if you could arrange for that to happen." But maybe you were right? Confusion was probably written all over your face. 

"She's a prisoner." The King reminded his heir roughly. 

The prince turned to you, making a show of looking you up and down. "Yes, but I do think she'd look good in my colors." His smirk widened again. 

"A Talin Princess dressed in Kozmiran finery would be a sight to see," conceded the monarch after a long moment. "You may make the necessary arrangements." 

You were led down below decks towards what you assumed were Blink's rooms, but your mind was stuck on 'his colors'. You had a sinking suspicion you knew what that meant. It was common practice on the continent for each ruler and their house to have a specific color set; Talin's were, at the moment, maroon, white, and gold. 

The family of the ruler wore clothes befitting the scheme; hence the color of your current dress. The nobility accented their own clothing with the colors of their country according to rank. The colors were changed with the ascension of each new ruler to power; your sister had planned hers to be forest green, cream, pale rose, and yellow. 

And now you realized that the crown prince's colors must be violet, dark blue, black, and silver. That was why the ship had been carrying those fabrics; that's why he'd had your clothes made from those choices. And that's why he'd had that reaction the first night you met him for dinner-- and each new outfit since. And... and that was why the woman had refused to acknowledge the smuggling ring and your request for help!

You couldn't tell what your reaction should be. Angry? That seemed to be most likely. But you couldn't get him saying you "looked good in his colors" out of your head. The sailor dropped you off in a suite, looking around with a low whistle. 

"Fancy, ain't it?" He remarked, not looking as if he expected an answer. It was true, though; the ship was practically a yacht, built for speed and comfort. 

"Anyway, the lock's on the inside here, so's I'll just be fixin' this--" The sailor unhooked one of the cuff-like things from around one of your wrists and fastened it to the couch leg. You sat down awkwardly next to the couch, practically having to. You shot the sailor a glare, but he simply tipped his hat at you in mock salute and left, taking the key with him.