To Sail the High Seas: Pirate England x Reader #Wattys2017

Chapter Nine

You were roused from your slumber by an unusually lively atmosphere caused by the crew on deck. You rubbed the heel of your palm into your eye sleepily in an attempt to wake up, listening to the many incoherent yells of excitement from outside the cabin. At that moment you were greeted by the captain as he flung open the doors, his crimson coat billowing out behind him, a look of satisfaction on his features.
“What’s going on?” His eyes fell upon you and, if possible, his smug expression grew. Any hopes you had been kindling for a brighter future were instantly snuffed out with one simple word.
“Land.”
You watched your animated companion as he swept through his cabin, apparently searching for something among his piles of treasures, oblivious to the look of horror that had crept onto you face. With a quiet “aha”, the blond pulled out a telescope from within a desk draw and spun around to face you. Too enwrapped in your own fears, you didn’t see the concern flit across his features at your downcast appearance.
“Whatever’s wrong love?”
“You still insist on calling me that? Don’t make me laugh.” With a snort of indignation you stood on numb legs, all strength sapped from your body.
“I’m afraid I may have missed something.” Had he not seemed so genuinely confused, you would have thought the pirate to be mocking you.
“If we’re making port, Kirkland, you’ll be selling your loot, and if that’s the case, then I suppose this is goodbye.” Your lips made a thin line, trying to conceal the tremor in your voice at the concept of being sold as a slave.
“I see…” There was something odd about his tone, and it caused you look up into orbs of startling green which were much closer than you had anticipated. Before you could look away, a calloused hand gripped your jaw firmly and forced you to remain drowning in those beautiful eyes.
“You have, however, managed to overlook two very important things.”
“Oh?”
“First of all, the town we are about to dock at does not deal in slaves, we’ll have to go a little further north for that;” you made a sound of disgust, eyes narrowing, “and secondly, poppet, I’m not too fond of goodbyes.”
“What, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, my dear (y/n), that I am not intending to part with you quite so easily as you appear to believe.” His green eyes took on a dangerous glint, and his teeth grazed your nose lightly, causing you to release a startled squeak. The captain, having clearly gained his morning amusement, just chuckled and released you. Opening the door, he turned to shoot you a flirtatious smirk of triumph before returning to his crew.

It was better than his being mad at you, you supposed, but his attitude had certainly changed from a few days ago. Now you were being treated with some version of civility you couldn’t help but be doubtful of his roguish charm, and you frequently reminded yourself the dangers of falling for his devilishly handsome smile. It was becoming all the more apparent to you that this treatment, although preferable, was potentially just as dangerous.
“Yer lookin’ a little puzzled lassie.” Your head snapped towards the door where a tall and familiar figure stood.
“Allistor!” Your voice came out in a squeal of delight and you experienced the strangest urge to throw yourself into the Scotsman’s arms. Your pride managed to successfully smother the impulse, only for it to be brought back in full force as Allistor pulled you into a rough embrace of his own accord.
“It’s good tae see you again lass.” Gingerly returning the affectionate gesture, you couldn’t help but laugh as the reality of the situation set in.
“What are doing here?”
“I wan’ed tae visi’ me favourite girl o’ course.” He pulled back and winked at you, but you could see a relief in his eyes which mirrored your own.
“So now I’m your favourite too?”
“O’ course ye are!” You giggled again, feeling a pleasant giddiness wash over you. “Would I be righ’ in assuming tha’ me idio’ of a brother be the cause of tha’ frown earlier?”
“You could say that.”
Sighing, you retold a shortened version of the past week’s events, explaining how the anger you’d been expecting had instead been replaced by silence, and how finally the captain was beginning to acknowledge your existence again.
“…But then when I heard we’d be making port soon, I assumed I was to be sold. However when I confronted him about it, he’s apparently planning on nothing of the sort.”
“I wasnae expectin’ ye tae sound disappointed abou’ no’ bein’ sold as a slave.”
“Obviously I don’t want to be sold, but whether I stay here or end up as the servant to some wealthy man, I’m being treated as no more than an item.”
“Tha’ isnae entirely true lass.”
“Oh? Then why exactly would your brother be keeping me around if not for his own amusement.”
“Well…” You watched him for a moment as he struggled for words before giving up. “So Artie’s an arse and a child, I know tha’ better than mos’, bu’ I honestly think he’s tryin’ tae trea’ ye righ’ – he jus’ doesnae know how.”
“Really? Because I’m fairly sure that the rumours say otherwise;the fearsome Captain Kirkland, a merciless killer and womanizer.”
“He knows how tae please the women of a brothel, bu’ fer all tha’ he claims to be a gentleman, he hasnea go’ a clue how tae deal with the likes of ye.”
“The likes of me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I bes’ be gettin’ back tae work.”
“Allistor! Hey, don’t dodge the question!”
“I’ll be seein’ ye later lass.” With a chuckle, the Scot left you to your own company once more.

It wasn’t long before the ship was being docked. Curiosity getting the better of you, you ventured out on deck. You’d barely taken one step out of the door before an arm snaked around your waist, and a distinctly English voice decided to question you with a deadly sweetness.
“And where do you think you’re going love?”
“Nowhere if you don’t remove your arm.” You could feel the hum of displeasure through his broad chest. “I just wanted some fresh air, calm down Kirkland.”
“You were going to run off.”
“I haven’t been outside in over a week; I just wanted a change of scenery.” You tilted your head back to see his emerald eyes analysing you.
“Fine.” He didn’t look entirely satisfied, but the arm disappeared and he stepped back.
Slowly you took one step away from the captain, and then another, until you were stood by the railing at the edge of the deck, while he remained at the door to his cabin. You looked out over the town’s harbour, all too aware of that penetrating green gaze which was latched onto your figure.
The people scurried across the docks, each going about their individual businesses. You half wondered why nobody was running and screaming as the pirates sailed right into their midst, and you would have presumed that they were unaware of whom the ship belonged to, had it not been for the fearful glances the occasional passer-by gave to the vessel. One child stopped and stared up at you as you lent on the railing, and you gave a little wave before her mother grabbed her wrist and dragged her away.
“Why aren’t they running?”
“Should they be?”
“You’re pirates.” You turned to face him once again with an unimpressed glare.
“We come here often; they trade without giving us any trouble, and we spare their lives.”
“How very kind of you.”
“Now, back to the cabin. I can’t have you disappearing again.” You groaned and waltzed past him, returning to your prison without another word.