England's Fury [Teaser]

~ Prolouge ~

          She was pretty. At least the crew seemed to think so, at the time. Either that or they thought the price on her head would be enough to clear up the price set on theirs by the English government. Swords sharp and pointed at both of us as they glimmered in the midday sun, I couldn’t help but crane my own neck upwards in fear of being gutted from the throat down and into my ribcage, left to bleed out on deck until my floppy, fish-like corpse was hauled overboard to feed the sharks.
          My personal captor smiled sinisterly. His yellowing teeth made me want to gag, if not in disgust at his appearance, but at the hot breath on my ear going into my lungs. I was sure he was the guy with the missing eye and the not-exactly eyepatch over his socket, but I couldn’t remember.
          The supposed princess inhaled sharply and gritted her teeth. I couldn’t help but do the same, the only difference between us being my rolling eyes at her pompous demeanor. “I demand to speak with your Captain, or so help me I will not hesitate to call the British cavalry this instant to fetch me!”
She didn’t seem to grasp the fact any form of communication to this “British cavalry” of hers was, in fact, futile.
          “Oh, really?” The pirate with a particularly rusted sword inched it closer to her throat to lift her chin uncomfortably high. “And how, may I ask, would ya go about doin’ somethin’ like that? Yer voice can’t possibly make it back to the mainland without goin’ out.”
          “So?” She gulped and shuddered. “My father will always hear me, wherever I may be. He always has.”
The blade under my chin wavered, and so did my stature.
          “Well, whaddaya know, you prissy princess…?” The blade wagged in her direction, making me flinch. “Daddy ain’t around the corner to fetch you - now ain’t he? HA!”
          A roar of laughter went up amongst the crowd of thirty or so men - and a few women as well - at the princess's misfortune. If anything, she was lucky to be surrounded by an ocean of water as she would need more than a pail to cure that burn. The mirthful sounds cut off abruptly as a new voice entered the show, his escort a young man looking not twenty years of age.
          “You know, I would’ve thought you all would be treating our guests with respect while I’ve been down below. Not murdering their resolve with your petty insults and jabs.”
          For a moment, the atmosphere dropped, and so nearly did my lunch as well as the dagger in my face. Not I, nor anyone aboard did speak as the Captain took his time swaggering over to inspect us - his new hostages, playthings, his- uh...
          “Murder-ee trinkets”?
          I mentally shook my head.
          The man surveyed us with a scrutinizing gaze that made me wonder how the seas he must’ve stared for so long hadn’t turned to stone or stopped churning with his raw will. He was a whopping 5’ 12” with the addition of a few inches thanks to his black Captain's tricorn hat and cavalier boots - both making it hard to distinguish his natural height, though I did try. He absently fingered the hilt of his sword fastened dutifully at his hip.
          Letting his hands find their proper place, he jokingly bowed low to the princess as a few chuckles rose in the crowd. His dark dreadlocks fell from his shoulders. “Your highness.”
          “At least someone has some sense around here.” She didn’t seem to catch the jest as she upturned her nose, lips twitching.  “Order your men to unhand me. Now.”
          “Now why in the world would I do that?” He snarked. The sneer felt like second nature to me as it alighted on his face. “You’re my prisoners, taken rightfully after defeating England’s Gold Fury  - a terrible name, really - and killing the rest of your crew.”
          I rolled my eyes. Truth be told, over half of the crew jumped overboard and got killed as the ship actively sailed on and sunk… but yeah sure, whatever makes him feel better. I thought, shuffling my feet to stay above the dagger.
          “And you, lad-” As he turned to me, the frills from his poet blouse quivered in the wind. “You’ve barely said a thing since you tried to kill me with nothing but a flimsy spoon back on the England’.”
          My pride swelled. I did try to do that, didn’t I?
          “Anything you would like to say, tiny pirate?” He placed his large hand on my bandanna covered head, forcing me to look him in the eyes.
          “You we’re a fool to take us alive.” I stiffened my neck. “And I hope you crawl back into whatever hole you came from and rot for as long as the seven seas are sailed by people like you.”
          He sniggered. “Feisty… Aren’t you, tiny pirate?”
          I held my tongue knowingly as he stared into my eyes, challenging my own equal gaze.
          …
          My head snapped down and my heels hit the floor together for the first time in what felt like hours, him releasing his grip and swiveling back to the princess on his heel. Rolling my head and adjusting my neck, I hadn’t realized I’d been let go of by the man behind me. Thankful for the new space, I felt the air reek with the next encounter’s mood.
          A transparent grin. “Tell me princess, what are the names of you and your colleague here?”
          For someone so short and oblivious in nature, I’d expected the princess to act rationally the moment a terrifying commander of thirty came into our presence. “I am Lady Leia Agate Magdalena Thornton-Feilding V, Princess of Britain.”
          …
          A sigh. “And that is below me and my title.”
          Minorly flabbergasted, my eyebrows rose like there were hot air balloons pulling them away. I’d been with her for at least a month now at sea, and then some back at the palace. We’d spoken on more than one occasion, and I’d even helped change her bed sheets multiple times. What did she mean “that”!?
          The Captain’s expression was as flat as a rock.
          “My name,” I said, exasperated. “Is Lady Talia Amelia Kerol Hanosek, Princess of Britain.” And I despise you, cousin, and the way you speak of me.”
          A whisper piped out somewhere behind him. “That’s no lad’s name, Capt’n, sir…”
          Leia’s eyes widened and her jaw hit the floor. On the plus side, she finally stopped squawking and struggling. The Captain's steps were calculated and slow as he moved to stand in front of me, glaring down at my bound form without sympathy.
          “Take them down below. I don’t want to see their faces until they scream for mercy from their cell.”