Liberté

Chapter 4 - Na h-Eileanan Siar

"I hope you don't plan on leaving us when we reach the port."

Louis shot a surprised look at the first mate who was fixing his hammock beside him. He had not, in fact, thought about it. He wasn't sure if it was more of a surprise to him or to the others, but he had completely forgotten all his plans of escaping – if he had had them, to begin with. "Why?"

The sleeping quarters still looked exactly as depressing as it had on his first night aboard ship—no windows, frayed hammocks that hung low and high, pails, lanterns—and the place still smelled of old burlap, wet wood and men. Zayn, his head bent over his hammock, looked unfairly beautiful and fresh given that they had woken just mere minutes before. He looked up when he realized Louis had stopped what he was doing.

"I like what your presence does to the captain," he observed matter-of-factly, as though he had no idea how revolutionary this piece of news would be. "I fear that if you leave, you'll take with you everything that's still ingenuous about him."

The prince blinked several times in quick successions, as if as the pirate was just a mere image and he wanted to snap out of it. When he realized he wasn't dreaming and regained his voice, he asked incredulously: "Really?"

"Yeah," Zayn said. "He isn't particularly pleasant, but he's not as guarded with his answers. It doesn't feel like you've been walked into a wall of secrets head first – literally."

Louis let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He had been missing great many meals lately, and if he was truthful with himself, there was only one reason for it: he was avoiding the captain. Because every time he saw him, he wanted to be closer to him; when they sat next to each other, he wanted to touch him; and if they were – accidentally – touching, he wondered what it would be like to be even closer.

He wanted to feel his body against him the way he had in the captain's quarters, wanted to know if he smelled like sea air and tasted like salt on daily basis; and more importantly, he wanted to make him lose his walls of pretence. Even if it was just to see a glimpse of the man that was under there somewhere.

"He's been on a right mood the past few days," Zayn continued, ignoring Louis' lack of answer. "I'll give you some credit for that"

Louis would fidget more self-consciously if he weren't so curious to hear Zayn's observations about the captain. Partly to figure out what made him tick, partly to satisfy his own need to hear what the man was feeling after their kiss. Louis' first kiss.

"How do you know it was me?" he asked.

Zayn's lips quirked up on both corners. "I think that 'the vertically challenged kleptomaniac' and 'the bloody siren of a crewmember' were very telling."

Now Louis' cheeks did heat up. Crimsonblade had talked about him in that context? It sounded like those had been uttered in anger, but what right had he to be upset about it. He had been the one to kiss Louis, stealing the first the prince could have given to someone more worthy. That alone raised a silent rage inside him that wiped out all memories about the theft.

He hummed. "I am able to sing quite well, actually. But good enough to lure men and drown them? No, I do not think so-"

"Zayn?" The anxious caller had a familiar voice. Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear, thought Louis. "Zayn, are you there?"

Louis, still facing the first mate, saw the raven haired man's expression change and thus he looked behind him to gauge what had provoked the widened eyes. It was Crimsonblade, of course, but a very frazzled-looking at that. The captain had stepped into the room in a hurry, seeming to have frozen on the spot when he had seen Louis.