Treasure: ℛℯ-𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓃 |Pirate!England X Reader|

𝚇𝚇𝙸𝙸𝙸

His face inches towards mine, his eyes locked on my lips like he was ready to take advantage of me, nothing but a spoil of this war between brothers. I grit my teeth and headbutt him as hard as I can, our foreheads colliding with the entirety of my body weight behind it. He falls backwards onto his behind, raising his hand to his forehead with a hearty laugh. "Whit a wifie!" He snaps his fingers and the men dubbed The Twins grab me once again, raising me to my feet, shoving a cloth into my mouth and tying it at the back of my head. He stands and walks back up to me, looking down on me with a dark look in his eye. "Ah will be getting a taste o' ye soon enough, gaol." (1)

"You know the Prince wants her unharmed and untouched, you bastard!" Kirkland interjects with a growl as loud and intimidating as he can muster from the floor of the ship.

The man stomps up to Kirkland, and Dylan stands between them with his arms outstretched. "Git oot o' mah wey."

"You will not hurt him again, Allistor," the man stands his ground. I watch as his eyes gaze into his brother's, seemingly searching for his humanity.

The redhead pushes his body into Dylan's, knocking him off balance, but only enough for him to stagger. He looks over the man's shoulder to look at Kirkland. "Ah tak' orders from no man: Prince, King, or God."

Dylan shifts his body to block Allistor's view, his voice a little more hushed than before, "How do you think our poor mother would've felt, knowing her boys were fighting like this?"

"Dae ye think ah gie a damn aboot whit that wifie would've thought? " Allistor snarls at him. "She gawked in silence as oor faither descended intae madness 'n' dragged us doon wi' him. She is juist as responsible fur this as he is."

"She was terrified of him," Dylan shoots back, glaring daggers at him.

The redhead scoffs and turns his back on him. "Angus, carry th' lassie back tae th' ship. Seamus, grab th' others."

The Twin with the scruffy up-do nods at the one with the crooked nose, who, in turn, hoists me onto his shoulders. I kick and pound on the man's back, getting no reaction from him as the Siren crew helplessly watches as I'm, once again, taken captive.

The crooked nosed man, whom I'm assuming is Angus, walks me into the dark underbelly of the ship and tosses me into the cell, slamming the iron-bar door behind him as he retreats back to whence he came without uttering a single word. The first thing I do is untie the cloth and I throw it against the wall, uncontrollable screams of frustration erupting from my lungs. I still have no understanding of my past and the true reason why all of these pirates have been sent to retrieve me is still unknown; the fact that even after everything the Vikings and Mo had taught me, I still cannot defend myself from these men, is devastating. My fists hit anything within arms reach-- the iron bars, the wooden walls, even the dirt floors. After a while, I fall against the wall and sink to the floor, burying my face into my hands as tears fall down my cheeks and blood from my knuckles down my arms. A few minutes later, I hear a quiet shuffle coming from down the hallway, and when I lift my head and see Dylan smiling down at me, holding a little briefcase in his hand. "May I?" He gestures towards my hands. I turn away from him, shrinking into the wall to make myself as small and invisible as possible. I flinch as the iron door creaks open and slowly closes behind him. "Don't worry, (Name), I won't hurt you."

My heart skips a beat. The tone of his voice reminds me a lot of Toby. He sits down next to me and places a gentle hand on my arm, coercing me into showing him my hands that I had bloodied just moments before. He reaches into his case to pull out some bandages and a small bottle, which, I'm assuming, contains a bit of alcohol. After having me raise both of my hands, he opens the bottle, looking at me for the go-ahead. I nod, and he slowly pours the alcohol over my knuckles. I clench my jaw, my heels digging into the floor as I try to remain as still as possible. He gently pats my hands dry and bandages them, placing my hands back into my lap to signal his care is finished. "I'm sorry we had to meet again this way," he whispers, grazing his thumb across the tender spot on my forehead where I hit Allistor. I raise my eyes to meet his; even though we are both sitting, he makes me feel extremely small.