Pirate!England X Male!Pirate!Reader ~ Masquerade

Chapter 4

"I would like to know exactly what you intend to do with us." You bit back a large tired sigh at the words and raised your head to stare at the British captain whom you had never actually had around you for this long before. Not out of bed, anyway. He was stood with his arms crossed and an irritated scowl on his face as you tried to bend over the maps without actually bending over, in order to keep your stomach from aching. It was near noon already, and you hadn't slept in almost two days. The British love of complaining was not something you wanted to have to be dealing with right now.

"Trust me, if there was somewhere to drop you both off we would all be happy." You grumbled, returning your gaze to the map on the table in front of you and having Declan adjust your course slightly. "But there's no time to go back, and even if there was, I'm not risking going back into Spanish waters! Could you please just be quiet and do as you're told now? Thank you."

You turned your back on Arthur as you said the words, but he had never been one to take a hint. That, or he just ignored it. As you made to walk away he strode forwards and positioned himself in front of you, keeping you from walking any further in that direction.

"You keep saying that, but why are you running out of time?" He pressed, clearly not about to stop until he got his answer.

"None of your business, that's why." You growled, contemplating pushing him away from you but not wanting to feel your stomach's reaction if you tried. So instead you turned on your heel to walk away again.

"You owe me, Poppet." He reminded you, and you turned on him.

"Owe you?!" You demanded of him, pain and bitterness bringing your barely suppressed anger to the fore. "I'd have been well on my way yesterday if it wasn't for you! You owe me!"

And with that you turned your back on him again and stormed down from the helm to get to your cabin, just desperate to get away. He didn't try to call you back. Already you felt guilty about the way you'd spoken to Arthur - even taking a potential affection out of the equation you were still exceedingly fond of the Brit, but the truth was that the two of you tended to communicate best when you were both between the sheets. Even if you weren't so on edge you'd have eventually put your foot in your mouth. You supposed it would just be best to avoid him until you could get rid of the two extra pirates.

Aggravated by your stress and angered movements, pain was flaring up in your midsection once more, and you took a deep breath in an attempt to control it, wrapping an arm loosely around your stomach. James had patched you up best he could when you'd gone to him in the early hours of the morning, and had given you several medicines in the hope they might slow down the effects of the poison currently spreading through your system. But he'd given you so many pain killers already you had agreed it was too dangerous to risk taking any more. Dying or no, you needed a clear head right now.

Easier said than done, with such distractions as were currently lounging around doing nothing to pull their weight above deck.

You sighed as you carefully lowered yourself into your seat by your desk, frowning at the ruby and the parchment that Arthur had returned to you (thankfully Antonio hadn't got hold of that one) which were waiting for your attention on the surface. As you continued to struggle to regulate your breathing you cupped the ruby between your hands and held it to your forehead, the smooth, cool stone soothing against your fevered skin.

In all honesty you had no idea if Antonio was still alive or not. He had made his dash for the side of the ship right before you had. He was ship-less, and would have lost some of his crew, but even so you worried about how quickly he might catch up with you. If he was still alive, he would be looking for you now - a situation you had been hoping to avoid. With any luck, however, he would for the moment believe you were dead. Or be willing to just leave his poison to do its work. You'd told the crew to be careful, pulling down the colours, covering the ship's name etched onto the prow, in the hopes he would be unable to follow you. You couldn't afford for word to get back to him about where you were.