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

Chapter Forty~One

After being rudely awoken by the grumpy Italian man, a bundle of crimson velvet had been thrust into your arms before he stomped off without a word of explanation. The only thing he offered in terms of communication was the demand that you “hurry the fuck up and get changed” as he slammed the door, leaving you alone in the small cabin which Antonio had been kind enough to give you all to yourself.
It took your drowsy mind a moment to catch up, but when it did you stumbled from the bed and held the garment at arm’s length for scrutiny. It was a dress. A very nice, very expensive dress. A very nice, expensive dress which looked entirely inappropriate for a pirate ship. With a shrug, you tugged the cloth over your head. Securing your sword at your hip and the pistol along with it, you made sure to conceal your dagger within the draping sleeves before giving your reflection a quick once-over in the dusty mirror.
The dress was gorgeous, created from undoubtedly expensive fabric and fine embroidery. You were quite sure that you’d never worn something so beautiful in your entire life, but for some reason it just wasn’t comfortable. You turned one way and then the other, watching how the thick skirt flared out around you, and then it clicked: this was the first time you’d worn a dress since you’d rid yourself of the one you’d been wearing when you had first entered Arthur’s company. It felt restrictive, having so much excess fabric just waiting to trip you up, and you were sure the sleeves would just get in the way if you even attempted to fight.
“It’s just not practical.” Your whine caught the attention of the Italian outside the door, and he knocked lightly before cautiously opening the door with one hand covering his eyes.
“Are you decent?”
You laughed at his thoughtfulness, glad that he at least had the courtesy to ask rather than just barging in unannounced.
“You can look, though it’s rather… strange.”
Your eyes wandered longingly over to the cotton shirt and trousers which had become your typical attire, much preferring the loose clothing to the heavy velvet which hugged you like a second skin. Lovino interrupted your reverie with an almost shy cough, and when you turned your attention to him you noted the faint flush on his cheeks despite the scowl he wore.
“You look like a damn girl.”
“Um… thank you?” You weren’t wholly convinced that his words constituted as a compliment, but didn’t necessarily mean that they weren’t intended as one, especially coming from Lovino.
“Come on ragazza, we’re going to be late.”
Your immediate response was to question what you were going to be late for, but he gave you no answer, leaving you no choice but to follow him curiously to the upper decks.

Emerging out into the open air brought several things to your attention, the first of which being how dark it was; the sun hadn’t even tickled the horizon. The second was music, and not merely the off-key shanties which you had become accustomed to hearing from various crew-men, of the English and Spanish ships both. This was real music. Your eyes searched for the sound, finding Antonio in all his glory, seated atop an old wooden crate as he strummed the stringed instrument languidly, a lazy smile on his features. When he saw you, this smile grew into a wide grin and the music abruptly halted.
“Buenos días, sirena!”
“I’d hardly call this morning.” You gestured up at the pitch black sky with a sceptically raised eyebrow. “May I ask why you decided to summon me so obscenely early?”
The Spaniard’s smile didn’t falter as he offered you his hand. Gingerly taking it, you found yourself with your back to the Captain, his arms around you as her positioned your fingers on the strings beneath his own. When he was happy, he guided you to strum gently.
“It’s a Vihuela, an instrument from my country.”
“It’s lovely.” You paused appreciating the gentle music as it rang out through the night. “It still doesn’t explain why you woke me though. Or dressed me up like a doll for that matter.”
“Una muñeca muy bonita.”
“But a doll, nonetheless.” He just chuckled at this response, still leading your fingertips across the strings.
You glanced over a Lovino who was sitting a little way from the two of you. His only response to your questioning look was a clueless shrug, clearly he had no idea what was going on either.

This continued for a while, and you were relatively content with the silence. The spell was broken, however, when you felt cool lips press gently against the back on your neck.
“Antonio.” You firmly removed yourself from his arms, turning to face him as you did so.
He just shrugged, unsurprised by your resistance. His green eyes, so similar to those of the man you were searching for, never left yours.
“You’d be happier with me sirena, I would worship you like a queen.”
“I don’t need to be worshiped.”
“True.” He chuckled again. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want to be.”
You had to choose your next words carefully. This man was a powerful one, not to mention his fierce temper, and the last thing you wanted was to upset him, especially when you were so close to finding Arthur.
“You know what I want, Carriedo.”
“Perhaps… The question is, do you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Mi amigo hurt you. Yet you say that you want him-”
“So that I can knock some sense into that thick skull of his, yes.” The Spaniard shook his head with a smile.
“I am many things, sirena, but blind is not one of them. Yet even I fail to see what it is that attracts you to him so.”
A combination of anger and embarrassment rose up inside you.
“Attraction has nothing to do with it. I want to find Arthur because-”
“Because you love him.”
You gaped openly at the foreign man who spoke those words so easily. You searched his face, expecting to see the corner of his mouth twitch up any second, betraying the joke. No such thing occurred. In your desperation you turned to the still silent Italian in hope of salvation, but found none.
“Even I can see it ragazza, you’re so fucking obvious.”
You let out a short, breathy laugh.
“I don’t l-” the words caught in your throat uncomfortably. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
You backed away from Antonio, hands clutched at your chest defensively. He made no move to follow you, instead returning his attention to the Vihuela and plucking the strings slowly.
“He left me in a bloody slavers port for god’s sake! I can’t possibly-!”
“El corazón es una cosa caprichosa.”
Having heard quite enough you spun abruptly on your heel, skirts splaying out around you as you stormed off, boiling with silent fury.

A/n
Hey guys!
Translations:
Buenos días, sirena! - Good morning, siren!
Una muñeca muy bonita - A very pretty doll
El corazón es una cosa caprichosa - The heart is a fickle thing