Plunder ( 5SOS OT4)

Chapter 2

As the mysterious figure emerged from the depths of the ship, his presence seemed to cast a spell over Michael, drawing him in with an irresistible lure. The man's tall frame moved with a grace that challenged the ruggedness of his surroundings, each step carrying an air of quiet confidence.

Calum, who had been watching Michael with an intensity that made him squirm, glanced towards the newcomer with a flicker of softness in his eyes. There was something about the stranger that seemed to affect even him.

The stranger approached Michael with a gentle demeanor, as if sensing the turmoil that churned within him. His voice, when he spoke, was melodic, like the lull of the waves against the shore.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, his tone laced with genuine concern. "I saw what happened back there. It must have been harrowing."

Michael's heart skipped a beat at the sound of the stranger's voice, a warmth spreading through him at the genuine compassion in his words. He found himself drawn to the man's presence, a flicker of something stirring within him despite his situation.

"I-I'm fine," Michael stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just... shaken up, I suppose."

The stranger nodded in understanding, his eyes reflecting a depth of empathy that took Michael by surprise. He reached out a hand, offering it to Michael in a gesture of solidarity.

"I'm Luke," the man introduced himself, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And you are?"

Michael hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between Luke's outstretched hand and his own trembling fingers. But something in Luke's demeanor put him at ease, a sense of trustworthiness that he couldn't quite explain.

"Michael," he replied, clasping Luke's hand in his own. "My name is Michael."

Their hands met in a brief connection, the weight of the interaction clear to both men.

"Let's get you warmed up, shall we?" Luke said, helping Michael down the salt slicked planks.

Michael shivered as they walked, making their way to a room. It was small, but it was private. That was all Michael could ask for.

"I'll bring you some food in a bit," the blonde said as he shut the door, and Michael's stomach churched as he heard the lock click. Realizing yet again that he was a prisoner.

Ashton's POV:

I watched as Luke walked the small boy to a cabin, his hand placed on the small of his back. I hated it. He was luring the poor boy into his trap.

There was little I could do about it though, Luke would have me killed that's for sure.

I watched as the door shut behind him, Luke reemerging shortly after, locking Michael in the room with the key.

I walked behind him as he left the corridor, "So, what's your plan for him. You seem to have taken a liking to my captive." I said, a touch of malice to my tone, continuing on. I said, "I intend to show him kindness. Unlike you, I have no desire to see him suffer needlessly. His beauty is deep within his soul, Luke. He is special and far beyond any treasure we have pillaged before. It is not difficult to see that."

Luke scoffed, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "And what of our mission? We are Vikings, Ashton, not caretakers. This boy is nothing more than a burden."

My gaze hardened, a flicker of defiance igniting within me. "I will not stand idly by while you treat him as nothing more than worthless cargo, locking him away"

The tension between us crackled like lightning in the air, both of us standing firm in our convictions. My grip tightened on the hilt of my sword strapped to my waist, my knuckles white with rage.

"Mark my words, Ashton," Luke growled, his voice low and menacing. "Your sentimentality will be your downfall. This boy will bring nothing but trouble upon us and your soft heart."

Luke met my gaze with unwavering resolve, his jaw set in determination.

"Time will tell, Luke. But I will not abandon him to the cruelty of this world. Not while I draw breath." I said.

With that, Luke turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me to stew in my own frustration. As the echoes of their confrontation faded into the background, I couldn't shake the feeling that the path ahead would be stifling with peril, with the fate of the young captive hanging in the balance.

~~~~~~

3RD person POV

Ashton's resolve remained steadfast despite the looming threat of upset among the crew. He knew that his compassion for Michael would be met with resistance, but he couldn't ignore the stirring of his conscience, urging him to protect the vulnerable soul thrust into their midst.

Those eyes...he knew the god's had their touch when creating Michael's beauty. 

As much as he despised Luke at the moment it hadn't always been like that, there was a time when Ashton could not fathom a beauty greater than the slender blonde headed man.

As the days passed aboard the longship, Ashton made it his mission to ensure Michael's well-being. He brought him warm meals, and offered a listening ear, though Michael had gone quiet. Michael was wary, always locked in one room he was beginning to get paler than usual with the lack of sun exposure. The food was just slop, sometimes you could get a hunk of meat, but he always returned it as the preserving salts made it almost inedible.

Meanwhile, tensions simmered beneath the surface as Luke continued to view Michael as nothing more than a liability. His distrust of the young captive grew with each passing day, fueling a rift between him and Ashton that threatened to tear the crew apart.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the crew gathered on deck for their evening meal, a storm brewed on the horizon. Dark clouds loomed overhead, casting an ominous shadow over the ship as the wind began to howl with ferocious intensity.

Ashton glanced towards the horizon, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. He knew that navigating through the storm would be treacherous.

"We need to batten down the hatches and prepare for the worst," Ashton called out to the crew, his voice firm with authority. "Secure the cargo and brace yourselves!"

But before they could make the necessary preparations, disaster struck with a sudden fury. A massive wave crashed against the side of the longship, sending it reeling violently to one side. Men shouted in alarm as they scrambled to maintain their footing, the deafening roar of the storm drowning out their cries.

Michael, who had yet to be allowed to come out from his room, was thrown to the floor. He crashed down, crying out as his head struck the floor.