The Pirate King Ch. 13

This is part of an ongoing series - if you find yourself here without reading the rest, I highly recommend you go back and read the rest of the series. We'll still be here when you get back:)

Alternate title: long live the fucking king

Short chapter this week, just needed to collect the kids and get them on the road. A bit more lore, a bit more world building. And then off we go, headed towards the Captain.

As always, comments and feedback appreciated/loved. You guys keep me going; it really means more than you could know to see the comments you write, the messages send. Thanks so much for all the support so far!

Peace, love, safety.

***

"The king is dead," I said, probably for the fifth time in this conversation.

Sneg just rolled their eyes. "Yeah. And long live the fucking King."

"How did you even find out?" Val was trying his best to keep up. I had no such issues. It did not surprise me that Sneg had found out about my past. In fact, it would have surprised me if they hadn't with how they treasured information, held it on their hip near their fingertips like weaponry.

"Met a fella up in the mountains." Sneg leaned back and crossed their arms, their chin jutting towards where Ichor sat hunkered over at the shoreline. "Looked a lot like that guy. Same markings on his arms. Same crazy look in his eyes when he got around too many folks."

He must have been one of my guard. My interest was immediately sharpened at the possibility. "Do you remember his name?"

Sneg shook their head. "Didn't use one. Talked about you a lot, though. Gotta say, took us a while to realize we were talking about the same person." They stared at me, eyes narrowed. "You told me you were dead, but you neglected to mention it was the current King who killed you. And for the throne, no less."

I shrugged. "It's more complicated than that." Dreyfus might well have tried to kill me even if he'd already held the throne. After all, hadn't Miranda? The throne was not the ultimate goal, not truly.

"But that's the gist."

I shrugged again. Sneg wasn't family. Sneg would never understand.

"Shit." Sneg leaned back. "Do I have to call you like, Your Majesty or some shit?"

My face pulled into a wince. "No."

"First good news of this fucking trip." They sighed.

"The man you ran into." My personal guard. My men. They were capable, strong beings, and I felt no responsibility for their safety. What was the use of having men at your back that you felt like you needed to watch? Still, I wanted to know. "Did he return to the sea when you told him of my fate?"

My fate, I thought. And what was that? That I was captured and sold. That I was dead, and yet still walked. That a man like Yarrick could hold me.

Fate. I sighed.

"Him?" They scoffed. "Fuck no. Said something about a deal, and you not being there to protect your side anymore. Direct quote: 'Not fixin' to be drug back to the bottom of the sea before my time'."

I raised a shoulder in acknowledgment. That was fair.

But Sneg wasn't done. "He'd curse you for bringing him back when he got drunk enough, you know."

I knew. I stared out over the ocean and ignored the look Val was sending my way.

"You gonna make that one the same way?"

I followed their pointing chin to where Ichor hulked. He'd barely moved since he'd reached the shore.

"No," I told them.

"Fuck," they told me back. "Can I go back to the mountains?"

"Haven't you already done what you need to do up there?" They had; they carried themselves differently than when I had last seen them.

"No," they still responded instantly. "The mountains are my home."

"The sea is your home."

"Fuck that. The sea hasn't ever done shit for me, and you know it." They were silent for a moment. "But then, neither have the mountains."

Sneg may have come from the mountains originally, but the sea had taken them in as one of it's own. I knew their home was still there, far inland, the monastery they had been pledged to as a child. I knew, also, that it was ash and charred stone after the monarchy began their crusade against the Old Gods some years back.

It was foolish to fight gods. Only men suffer in such wars.

"You can go back to the mountains if you want," I told them, knowing that they wouldn't. There was nothing for them there but ash and bone. "But that would really mess up my plan."

"Fuck your plan." They sat for a moment. "What's your plan?"

"A ship. The ocean." I let them fill in whatever blanks they wanted; the details weren't important, in the end.

"The crew?"

"You, me, the Russian."

"The fucking Russian?" Sneg spat. "He's fucking crazy, man. And doesn't he want to kill you?"

Val leaned forward. "How do you even know that?"

"Everyone fucking knows that," Sneg responded as I said, calmly, "The Russian has already agreed."

Sneg paused. "What?"

"The Russian -"

"No, I fucking heard you, I just." They shook their head. "Okay. You, me, the Russian."

"And that guy," Val added.

"Oh, yeah." I pointed at Ichor. "And Ichor."

Sneg did not look filled with confidence as they gazed towards the large man sulking at the water's edge, his dark skin breaking up the boundary of the water.

"Alright," they finally said. "I'm not saying yes, I just. I just gotta know."

I turned to them, my grey eyes ready. They met them with no hesitation.

"Why?"

Why call back someone who did not want to be called back? Why raise the dead from their resting places? Why reunite with old enemies, risk rekindling old arguments?

Why risk any of it?

The answer was simple, and yet not simple at all. I was amazed at how easily the word sprung to my lips, how much it could carry and yet feel so weightless.

"Love," I told them. Their eyes narrowed as they took in all the information that single declaration held. "I'm in love."

There was a long moment where the only noise was the steady beat of waves upon the shore.

"Oh," Sneg said suddenly, throwing up their hands, "fuck you. Fuck you to hell." They got up and walked off.

"So," Val said.

I laid back in the sand, feeling the warmth pass up through my back. It was a good day to be on the beach.

But it was time to go and find my Captain a ship.

***

"I didn't think they'd come," Val whispered to me as we waited at the docks.

"Why wouldn't they?" I didn't bother to lower my voice. I did not care if these land boys knew I was coming. There were two ships here that I quite liked, both frigates, both flying British flags. I knew for a fact that neither of these were British ships, based on the fact that I knew the captain of one of them personally and the first mate of the other by reputation.

I did not know members of the Royal Navy. Members of the Royal Navy knew of me.

"They seemed less than enthusiastic about the idea."

I shrugged. I was the sea. Sneg was of course going to be trepidatious. "Which ship?"

"What?"

"They're both good," I said more to myself. "The one closer to us has more cannon ware, but the captain I know for sure does not care for his sails well. And we can count on poor rations, so we'd have to put in at a port sooner than we wished to stock the kitchen." I turned to Val. "The cook on that ship has no idea what he's doing. It's a disaster down there."

"The horror," he responded drily, knowing full well that I knew this mostly from my time searching for flour to coat myself with while ghosting.

I turned my attention to the other ship. I didn't know the first mate personally, but by all accounts he ran a tight ship. And I did know the cook of that ship; he'd trained under Minnie. "The other ship will have a well stocked kitchen," I told Val.

Val gave me a look.

"These things matter," I reminded him.

"More than cannon ware?"

I shrugged. Perhaps. Perhaps not. It depended on the kitchen.

"So?" Val prompted.

I didn't have enough information to make a decision. There was only one way I was going to be happy with what I knew; I needed to get a look inside. "We ghost both." I began stripping. "Let's go."

Val spared a glance at the cold water. "Fuck," he muttered before he began piling his silk scarves in a neat stack.

***

Ghosting with Val felt good, like old times. "The last time we did this we were teens," he whispered to me at one point as we were counting cannons.

It was true. Val had been 18 when he had left the sea - I had been only 15. Even before then he had been avoiding ghosting and all the killing that came with it.

This time there was no killing. We had no trouble avoiding the skeleton crews that staffed the ships during their times in port, and made quick time of our inspections of our possible ships.

I had been right - the first ship was a waste of time. The sails were in need of repair, and had been for some time. The ropes were in disarray. The surfaces were dirty, the sea water eating through in some places and deck mold in others.

And the kitchen was a disgrace.

In contrast, the other ship was quite well taken care of. Val and I found very few faults, and all of those could be addressed during our sail to find the Captain. We checked everything, from the ropes to the mainsails to the beams to the cladding. The thought of bringing the Captain anything but the best filled me with disgust.

By the end of our inspection, I was begrudgingly pleased.

"It'll do," I told Val.

"It'll do?" Val hauled himself out of the water, his long hair dripping, his dark eyes shining. He looked a selkie; a wraith. A god. "Fuck, brother. That ship was gold. It's probably the best ship in the King's fleet."

It wasn't. We both knew what the best ship in Drey's fleet was. And where it was.

"It'll do," I repeated, handing him his clothes. "We'll tell the others. We take it tomorrow."

"Tomo-" Val hurried to dress. "Want to plan a little, there?"

I tossed him his last scarf, which he caught with trademark grace. "We plan tonight. We take it tomorrow."

"Of course." He settled into himself with a huff. "It's just a well armed frigate in the Pirate King's fleet. How hard could it be?"

***

"Easy." The Russian put down his beer, looking quite pleased with himself. "This is the good plan."

Sneg was already shaking their head. "Too much noise."

Val was a little less collected. "I'm not getting you fucking dynamite!"

I shrugged. I had liked the Russian's plan. It was fast, and effective, and above all fun. "Twenty barrels of gunpowder?" I tried.

I could see the beginnings of storms in the dark look Val shot me. I raised both hands and tried not to let my smile leak through too badly.

"This is the good plan," the Russian repeated again, a little more softly. I patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

"Val's just being boring." I looked over at Ichor. He hadn't spoken since I'd brought him back, just followed me from place to place, his eyes on the ground, his hands at his side. I thought about asking him what he thought, thinking that he might have some insight on taking ships. The bow to his shoulders made me think better of it.

Instead I turned to Val. "What have you got?"

He also had been watching Ichor, but if his attention had been elsewhere he was quick to refocus. "Most of the men, they go to the sailor's houses. The Captain too. And that skeleton crew we saw? It's totally bogus. They draw straws, but they cheat, which they just love bragging about once they get into my realm." He rolled his eyes. "I swear, the things men tell you when your fingers are up their ass -"

"How many men do they leave behind?"

"Five," Sneg answered for him. Val snapped his mouth shut and shot them a look. "The first mate and usually two of his men, volunteers. Devout. Plus two more who are allotted." Sneg shook their head at the small number; I had no such time or energy for contempt. Their incompetence merely made my job easier.

"Can we keep the men off ship occupied?"

Val raised an eyebrow. I shouldn't have needed to ask.

"What about the men left on the ship?"

"The two, uh, unlucky ones. Yes, I can find ways to distract them."

I stared at him. He stared at me back. Finally he sighed. "There isn't much to do for the other three, brother. They don't go off ship. They don't fuck, or if they do they don't do it in my houses. They don't even drink." He pulled a face. "I'm not sure they're really pirates."

"I told you," Sneg said easily. "They are devout."

"They don't go to the temples," Val countered.

"Old Gods or Christians?" I asked.

Sneg hadn't even bothered look at Val. "Old." Sneg let the smallest smile pass over their lips. "Actually, I might have something for this. Can everyone here swim?"

I raised a brow. I was going to like this plan.

***

Val stopped me outside of the room, his hand holding back my body, his eyes holding back hundreds of questions.

"Sneg knows things."

"You know things," I told him, because he did. "Jealous?"

He flipped his braid, ignoring the jibe. It was deeper than jealousy and I knew it. "I have hundreds - thousands - of workers at my disposal. They're just one person."

They were so much more than that. I watched Sneg moving away, moon light catching in their pale skin and white hair, making it look like they were glowing. "They are an acolyte of the Whispering Gods," I told Val.

"No," Val said surely. "Those gods are dead. The last temple was destroyed years ago."

I shrugged.

"And all the members killed."

I shrugged again.

"You were King at the time. You should remember this."

I shifted. The Temple had not been on the coast. There had been nothing I could have done.

I still did not like being reminded of it. And I had still tracked down and killed any Royal Navy man who had a part in it's destruction. It was in that crusade that I had found out about the sale of the children.

I had searched for them for many years, knowing they would end up at the sea. It is inevitable when you come adrift. Although at times not my first priority, it had always been something I had in the back of my mind. I could feel them out there, in the world. On the sea. The god's children. Waiting for me.

It had been a surprise, then, to find one of those same children in the cell next to mine on Yarrick's ship, nearly ten years after the devastation. After I had lost myself to the sea, had become dead. Could no longer feel.

Fate.

"They keep their faith," I merely told Val now. I said nothing of the gods; he should know it was harder than that to kill a being of such power. Had we not killed our share of gods when he still rode the seas with me?

Val frowned. I turned to him and silently asked what his question was.

"You met on Yarrick's ship?"

"We did." I had told him this days ago. Weeks, now.

"It is my understanding that such acolytes, the monks. Are they not celibate?"

I turned back to watching Sneg. "They are." To reach the information the Whispering Gods promised, you must give up all forms of sex. No gender. No coupling. It was too steep a price for many who had been promised. Sneg, however, wore the price well.

"And it is also my understanding. Were they not." He struggled for words for a moment. "Sneg was young, were they not?"

I raised an eyebrow at the dance Val was doing. "They were."

"Then they are not. I mean."

"Val." My gaze, when I turned to him, was direct and warm. He shrunk before it anyway. "The gods differentiate between acts chosen by an adult and acts done to a child." I turned back just in time to watch Sneg disappear around a corner. "They keep their faith. The gods understand."

Val and I continued to watch the street for some time before he turned to go and organize his part for our work tomorrow.

***

"Sixty seven," the big Russian counted behind me. "Sixty eight."

Beside me, Val cursed. "This is your fault," he whispered to me. I shrugged. I'd told the man to count to one hundred to give Sneg enough time to clear the three religious men from the ship. I hadn't thought he'd do it out loud.

"Seventy," he proclaimed with an air of excitement. There was a brief moment of silence.

Then; "Seventy one."

Val sighed, long and heavy. I ignored them both.

We were sitting on the docks behind some of the larger boxes. It was hard to hide three men as large as the Russian, Ichor, and myself. Val could have hidden himself anywhere; he looked like he belonged here at this time of night, anyway. Men with active imaginations could find an easy place for someone who dressed like Val. The other three of us had a more difficult time.

"Seventy eight," the Russian said.

"Get him to stop," Val begged.

"Seventy nine," the Russian said.

"Please, brother."

"He's just counting," I told him. "I don't see any hard in it."

"Eighty." A pause. I could feel Val waiting. Waiting. Waiting...

"Eighty one," the Russian said.

Val rounded on him. "Gods all, Jesus, the mother goddamn ocean herself if you don't -"

"There they are." I interrupted him. Or maybe the Russian, who looked like he was just about to take a swing at the small man glaring down at him. There was no time for such distractions.

Sneg was in a porthole waving a small yellow flag. I waved my flag back and they ducked inside.

Yellow, I thought. That meant two down. One more to go.

"What are they even doing out there?" Val muttered. I shrugged. I didn't know, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to. When I had known Sneg they could do very little but hold information, gathering knowledge like power until it could be realized as such. The first day I had met them, when I had been newborn and delicate and aching, they had already been crackling with a power that was just waiting to explode. It had made us seem to be nearly equals at the time. It certainly had made me not want to be on their bad side.

Yarrick was not only a poor excuse for a human being with no moral compass, but an idiot to boot.

These days, they seemed to have that quite under control. It made them all the more dangerous.

Of course, I was more dangerous too.

"Eighty six," the Russian said quietly behind us.

"Whatever it is," Val continued, his hands clenching into fists, "they'd better hurry it the fuck up."

Sneg reappeared with a white flag. I pulled myself to standing. "Our turn."

"I have not yet finished my count," the Russian told me solemnly.

"You can join us when you're done," I let him know.

"Thank you." He settled back and said, "Eighty eight."

Val let out a strangled noise that I chose to ignore.

"Ichor," I called. The man stood up, eyes on the water. I spared the briefest moment to wonder what he must be thinking, staring into the inky black expanses. Then my mind was back at the task at hand. "Let's go."

For the first time since I had pulled him from Davey's grasps, Ichor met my eyes. Then he smiled, straightened up, and stepped off the dock where he promptly sunk out of view.

***

Once Val was away from the Russian, and once Ichor had been properly explained to about the necessity of oxygen on this side of the divide for the third or fourth time, things went smoothly.

Sneg greeted us in the anchor room, somehow looking dry and put together after having made this swim themselves merely a Russian's count of one hundred before. "They're in the mess hall," they told us. "I don't know where the other two are."

I nodded. That was expected. Val would be coming up to the ship with some of his workers soon, and then that would be that. "Show me."

Sneg handed each of us a set of clothes that they must have scrounged from the bunks of the men we were displacing. I pulled on just the shirt; Ichor ignored the offering entirely.