The Pirate King Ch. 14

"Fuck," Sneg muttered as they saw my smile. "Dragging us into your weird fucking foreplay." They shook their head in frustration as they went to take down the sails.

But it was more than that. I needed the Captain to know that this ship was as good as I said it was. A demonstration against his old ship seemed the best way to do that.

If it got me what I wanted in other ways, I would not complain.

This run had also put us physically where I wanted us. Right at the border of the north. A moment away from beginning our revenge.

My chest tightened for a moment, then relaxed. The Captain came first. He was what was most important.

And he was arriving. Fast.

We had slowed significantly and the Captain was finally gaining on us. I watched the ship pulling towards us, salt spray flying off the bow as it slapped the waves, skimming the ocean as if it were an extension of the sea itself.

It would be a shame to lose such a vessel. And if each ship had some beauty poured into its creation, that ship had enough for a navy.

But it would not be enough to take down the King. We would need more than beauty. Where that ship had looks, this ship had the lending of fate, and I knew when it came down to battle to which I would trust my life, and to which I merely wanted to watch, safe aboard a different ship. For now, however, I leaned into the ropes and let myself simply enjoy the view.

Sneg was back at my side as the ship came closer, shaking their head. "They're gonna ram us. Ichor agrees."

I shrugged. My eyes were caught up on the approaching ship. They hadn't slowed at all, and were directed right at our bearing.

"Prepare for impact," Sneg said drily.

I ignored them, leaning softly on the railing. Waiting.

The Captain did not disappoint. At the very last moment he turned just the slightest bit, the ship he stood on sliding past mine so close our beams nearly touched. I smiled to see it.

And then I saw him.

He stood at the railing, his arms crossed, long black cloak snapping in the wind. Even from here I could tell that those eyebrows of his were nearly fused together with the weight of everything they were carrying. His eyes landed on me and I felt a small shiver pass through every molecule of my body.

I waved cheerfully.

He threw up his hands and strode out of view. I could almost hear him cursing from here.

"That your boy?" Sneg leaned on the railing, looking bored with the whole situation.

"That's your Captain," I told them.

They looked back over to the ship. "Yeah," they said, eyes busy. It was possible to track the Captain's movements by the places the sailors were scattering not to be. Sneg and I watched it together. "You're so fucked."

I smiled. They had no idea.

"They're passing us."

"They'll come about," I said with quiet confidence. I watched Sneg carefully as they took in the other crew, waiting for them to recognize a certain member. But their eyes ran over Natch without even catching.

I waited.

It took another moment for it to settle. Then their body froze, every muscle becoming tense at once. Their eyes traced back over the deck, finding their way back into the air and up to the tow-headed boy that manned the ropes.

"His name is Natch," I told them quietly.

"I know what his fucking name is," they spat. They watched him for a moment more, then spun away so that they didn't have to look at him. "Fuck, man. You could have warned me."

"I didn't think you'd come," I told them truthfully.

"Fucking shit ass." They were collapsing in on themself as much as someone like them could, their legs crossed nonchalantly and their arms hunched before them. "Do you think he'll remember me?"

I kept my voice quiet as I watched him move through the sails. "Without a doubt."

The string of curses to my side almost made me want to smile, except that I knew it came from a place of such anxiety.

"He'll be happy to see you."

"Fuck," they said again. "No he fucking won't. Are you fucking stupid?"

I waited, knowing they would tell me what was wrong. Allowing them to speak to me like this only because I knew the sharpness they were pushing towards me was nothing compared to whatever they were carrying inside.

"I left him," they finally said.

"You survived."

"Ileft him," they repeated. "I fucking left, so fucking." They fell silent.

"Look at him." They didn't, so I said it again, more forcefully. "Sneg, look at him. He's doing fine. He's out, he's doing fine." I watched them turn to stare at him through their white lashes. The ship was coming back around, the figure growing large once more. "You can't carry guilt on the back of your freedom forever."

"Fuck," was all they had to say to that, and headed off across the deck.

***

When the Captain's ship came up alongside ours, I was waiting.

The Russian was down putting down our anchor. Sneg was somewhere on deck, watching and waiting. Careful. Cautious. Ichor was probably in the riggings, still pulling up the last of the sails. And so it was just me on the deck, smiling softly, when the Captain strode across the gangplank looking so angry I thought the sky would open up.

Ah, the image, the moment as he crossed between the ships. Black cloak snapping, chest exposed as his shirt dipped down towards his stomach, skin smooth and dark and nearly glinting, those curls catching every hue the sun could think to throw their way and throwing them back better, more radiant. He was radiant. He was the sun, the stars, the only navigation I would ever need.

He was my world. I opened my arms and waited for him to crash into me, my chest aching, feeling how close I was to being whole.

"You fucking asshole," he snapped. Then his arms were around me, his face buried in my neck.

And the world was right.

"Hello," I told the top of his head.

"I'm so fucking mad at you," he muttered into my neck. I kissed his hair and felt him sigh in my arms.

We stayed there a moment, just holding each other. No sounds but our breaths, the creak of the ropes, the snap of canvas.

"I brought you a ship," I said quietly.

"Brought me?" he immediately answered, sounding pissed. His face came out from my neck, bringing those perfect lips into view. "Brought me? Is that what you -"

I cut him off with a kiss.

And everything was as it should be, and once again I was whole. The sky opened for me; the oceans were calmed for the first time in months. To be with him, here on the sea. It was where I belonged. It was where fate had placed me.

And who was I to argue with fate?

The kiss was long, and soft, and complete. When it ended the Captain was completely relaxed in my arms; I was settled in his. Whatever tensions we might have brought into this were gone, forgotten. How could we be tense? How could we be composed of anything but tranquility? I was a sea of glassy waters. The Captain was the softest breeze sliding over my surface. We were where we belonged. Nothing could touch us. We were at peace, in control of the channels of the world, and in love.

I rested my forehead on his, staring into his eyes. So dark. So perfect. I couldn't keep the smile from slipping across my lips.

His eyes caught the expression. "What?"

I dropped a kiss on his nose and watched his eyes flutter at the contact. "It's so good to be home."

I could feel his arms tightening around me. Then he sighed. "I missed you."

I knew that he meant having me here, on his ship. On the sea where I belonged. Seeing him on land had been good, had been amazing. But it hadn't been the same. "I know," I told him now. "I missed you too." My smile grew, just the smallest amount. "Did you get my presents?"

"Oh," he started, and I watched those eyebrows in happy pleasure, how they snapped together as he pulled away from me to put a hand up in front of my face. "And what the fuck -"

"Ghost!" I was hit from behind by a force, arms wrapping around my stomach. It was only the Captain's amused expression that kept me from throwing whoever it was to the deck. "I fucking missed you."

I turned and looked under my arm to find the beaming face of Natch. "I fucking told them you'd come back, I fucking knew it. Fuck, Ghost." I stared down, surprised, at the small blonde wrapping his arms around me. "We missed you, you idiot. God, it's good to see you on the ocean."

I looked up to the Captain. He raised an eyebrow, amused and happy with his first mates display of affection. I reached down and mussed the blonde hair. Natch leaned back and beamed up at me.

"You did say you'd bring back a ship. And what a fucking ship, huh!"

The Captain scowled, his eyes immediately everywhere at once. I knew he was looking for something to critique.

He wouldn't find anything. The ship was sound. I wouldn't have brought it otherwise.

"And -"

"Natch," I interrupted. "Where are the others?"

"Oh." He let go, stepping back. I let my arms drift back around the Captain. I had that option; I wasn't going to give up the opportunity. "They won't come over."

The Captain frowned even as he stepped closer to me, his body lightly brushing against mine. "Why not?"

"Uh." Natch looked uncomfortable. "They say it's a ghost ship."

The Captain's frown deepened. "Why?"

I could guess. I'd done this sort of thing before, sailed a full ship with a small crew. I knew well the kinds of superstitions such actions tended to raise with sailors.

And then, of course, there was my crew itself.

I pulled the Captain closer and laid a light kiss on his temple. He turned to look at me, questions clear on his face. I smiled down at him. The men would come or they would not. We didn't really need them, in the end. I opened my mouth to tell him this, but of course I never got to say what I wanted to.

"Priliv!" The voice leapt from the open door, making Natch and the Captain jump. I sighed and turned to face the Russian. Were the Captain and I ever to get through another conversation without an interruption? I wanted to know where the frustration of all my teasing, of all the things I had done. I needed to know where that would lead. The things that would naturally cause.

By the way the Captain was running his fingers over my spine, the Captain did as well.

But for now, the Russian was here. "The anchor, da, and is there something else?"

"Ivan," I said, drawing the Captain closer to my body. "Come and meet your Captain."

The Russian positively beamed, his arms held out and his palms upturned. " Capitan! And do you like the ship? It is a good ship, da, beautiful. Well stolen. Fun."

The Captain was staring at him, taking in the large form, the hair. The grey eyes. The scars. Many men knew the Russian from afar; very few had seen this man close up. Or, perhaps many men had, but few had lived to tell of it. And so it was only reasonable that he should be so curious.

And of course, when this man was put next to me, with my grey eyes, with my large frame, with my scars...

When the Captain turned to look at me, those brows were down tight and there were questions in his eyes and I knew he had made all the same comparisons that everyone else had. I didn't want to talk about it.

"Don't," I preempted him.

Natch didn't notice the look I was giving the Captain. "He looks -"

" I said don't."

The Captain smirked as Natch jumped yet again.

" Moi brat," the Russian was continuing, seemingly oblivious. "Where are our companions?"

"I'm pretty sure that means my brother," the Captain muttered to me.

"I don't want to talk about it," I muttered back, already feeling exhausted. Why had I even brought this man?

"Where is Sneg? Where is tryp?"

"Sneg?" Natch said.

"Sneg is somewhere on deck," I told him. "And Ichor is in the riggings."

"Ichor?" the Captain said.

Ichor chose that moment to drop from the sky.

***

I suppose, of all the emotions that come with seeing a man you believe to be dead, shock was something that I should have expected. But I was dead, and not very good at doing what was expected, and what did I know of men and their reactions when these were things I had been living for so long? And so it had not dawned on me that bringing Ichor back might be anything but convenient.

Ichor landed hard, his hands hitting the deck as his body was forced into a crouch by the velocity of his movement and the gravity of the world. I felt the Captain step back, saw his hands dart towards the impressive array of knives he'd taken to wearing since I'd seen him last. I put my hand in the way, blocked his path. He was always safe with me. He wrapped his fingers around mine and squeezed.

Ichor straitened up slowly. There was a time when his towering figure would have been merely annoying, another body to burn through if I needed to make a move. Now I knew that his soul burned at a rate that even I found impressive, that his movements were too quick for this world, his limbs used to the pressures of the deepest sea. His lungs still aching with oxygen.

That did not make him a threat to me, no. But it made him something to watch. I watched him now, my hand held tight by the Captain, as he realized that he was not alone.

"Oh," he said, taking in the people that were not his crew members, or at least not his most recent ones, that populated the deck. He still struggled with the living; this was possibly too much for him. He took a large step back, eyes wary. Limbs ready.

"Oh," the Captain repeated, his eyes on the scar that bisected his neck. A present from Wicky. It was the wrong mark to be looking at; the living could wear scars as easily as those brought back. The marks on his forearms, circular and seeming to shift when you didn't look at them directly, the ones that may as well have had as much life as Ichor himself. Those were what marked him as dangerous. Those were what marked him as one of Dave's.

The Captain's eyes flicked over to his old ship, and I knew he was thinking about how this was going to go over with the old crew. I squeezed his hand again. In the end, we didn't need them. I could crew this ship by myself if needed, and we didn't need. We had Natch. I had the Captain. And there was still Ichor, and the Russian, and Sneg.

Sneg. They moved so quietly, so easily. I had looked away for one moment, just to track the Captain's eyes. And then Natch drew in a breath, gasped, and that was so uncharacteristic, such a change from the way he had been existing, in which he held himself, and so I snapped my gaze back and found that Sneg had materialized from seemingly nowhere and placed themselves between our bodies and Ichor.

"Sneg," I said evenly. I kept my hand in the Captain's and shot a glance towards Natch. He was standing carefully. He looked frozen.

But, I reasoned. He looked better than he had when he had faced my brother, and he had made it through that. I turned away from him to face Sneg fully.

"Yo," they responded. Their eyes were on the Captain. "This is your boy?" I watched their hand slip behind them to land on Ichor's arm; he shuffled to stand directly behind them. Not even half his bulk was hidden by their small frame.

"This," I repeated, letting some of the sea slip into my voice at the need for reiteration. "Is your Captain."

Sneg's eyes darted over the Captain's body, finishing on the hand that was held tight in mine. They were unimpressed; it was easy to see it on their body, hear it in their voice. "Sure, man. I just didn't expect him, is all."

"I'm sorry." The Captain's voice had picked up something too, some hint of the darkness I knew he carried. It made my spine start to tingle. "Do I know you?"

"No," Sneg shrugged, seeming unaffected. How could anyone be unaffected by such a voice as that? "But I know you."

"Sneg," I said, a quiet warning in my voice. They were standing between the Captain and his man. This was not well done. "Watch yourself."

But Sneg seemed not to hear me. "The gods know what you've done, boy." Their light eyes ran up against the Captain's dark ones; I raised my brow when neither gave way. "More importantly, I know what you've done."

"Sneg," I said again. I could feel the Captain's hand tighten in mine.

Sneg ignored me. They were something more than Sneg, I think, in that moment. In the same way I pulled forward the sea, and the Captain often wore the sky like a second skin, Sneg held something just under their eyes. On the tip of their tongue. "The things you dream of," they said as they took a step forward. The Captain's fingers began looking for his knives. I held his hand fast; my presence was the only weapon he needed. "The man you used to serve."

"You don't know me," the Captain said. His hand squeezed mine.

"Perhaps not," the thing that usually was Sneg agreed. "But we know who you are going to be."

"Sneg." I watched Natch's voice hit Sneg with a force they were not expecting. It shook loose all the things they had become, pushing them back a step and when they landed back in front of Ichor they were once again simply who they were supposed to be. Or at least who they had been when I had first met them.

Well, I thought. That was informative. I glanced over to the Captain to see how he was doing and found him dark, so dark.

"My love," I murmured. The Captain's eyes flashed towards me, and I did not like what I saw. There was more than just darkness hiding in those brows. I pulled him over to me, settling him in my arms. "My love," I repeated, this time not a call but a reminder, spoken gently into the side of his head.

"Natch." Sneg sounded surprised. This time when they reached back to Ichor they were the one looking for comfort.

"Sailor," the Captain whispered to me. There was something there, something he couldn't shake loose...

"Ivan!" the Russian said, throwing his hands up, a happy grin on his face. As one we turned to him. Our annoyance might have pressed a lesser man flat, but he was not a lesser man and merely smiled into our combined gaze.

I sighed. This was not going as I had planned. This mix of people was dangerous, was no good. Tensions were high and needed to be dispersed, shaken to the winds in their individual ways before more bodies and more misgivings could be added to the mix. "Sneg," I called. "Why don't you take Natch up to show him how the rigging system works?"

Sneg turned to me with a look that bordered on panic, if they could be said to have such a look.

"He's going to be first mate," I explained patiently. "He'll need to know."

"I -" they started.

" Now."

There was a moment of silence.

"Yeah." They took a deep breath. "Natch. Uh. Fuck, let's go." They whirled around and were gone before any of us could say anything more.

Natch turned me be with an expression so concerned I had to reach out. "Don't be worried, lad. They just don't do well with others."

He dodged my touch. "I'm not supposed to be an other."

"No," I agreed. "Get to the riggings. Spend some time alone with them."

He bounced next to me for a moment, nodding, before setting off.

Then I turned to Ichor.

"What the fuck?" the Captain muttered in my arms. I ignored him for now; Ichor was looking distressed without the shadow in negative he had found in Sneg.

"Ichor." He looked up at me. "Find somewhere where you're comfortable. Let Ivan know where you are. I'll send for you when we're ready to introduce you back to the crew."

He stared at me unhappily. I understood his concerns. "I know you don't want to be around them, but you need to meet them all again. They think you dead."

He watched me for a moment, then nodded and headed below decks. Two down.

I turned the the Russian.