Chapter Text
Battle won, Laurence surveyed the disarmed captives as the ship swayed gently from side to side. Many of the men seemed fearful, though it was unnecessary. Oh, he was plenty willing to kill should anyone go on fighting after the order to surrender had been issued, but most of these men would end up in a lifeboat. They were sailors, just like his crew, and deserved that much respect–especially since they weren’t worth a whole lot as hostages.
His eyes were drawn to the end of the line, where a rather large young man–who didn’t look at all frightened–was baring his teeth at Mikey. Laurence took in the fine white silk of the captive’s shirt and the fact that there was not a speck of dirt visible on him, and knew immediately why Mikey had singled him out–he was no seaman. He was a noble. And noblemen were worth money.
Laurence sauntered down the line of mostly exhausted, dejected men his crew were holding at sword- and gunpoint. “Find someone interesting, Mikey?” He eyed Mikey’s captive; he was about the same height as Laurence, but the nobleman had a more solid build. He was also surprisingly attractive–not that Laurence cared. His intuition, which he tended to rely on, told him that this was not someone he was meant to be friends with. Perhaps it was the fact that the big man showed absolutely no fear. Perhaps it was the way he was eyeing Laurence’s first mate as if Mikey was somehow less than the dirt beneath his shoes.
Which, technically, he was. Neither Laurence nor Mikey owned any land or held any titles. Sons of poor laborers, they’d made their way in life by becoming pirates and taking what they deserved instead of having it handed to them on a silver spoon.
“These two fuckers,” Mikey told him, nodding to the large fellow in front of him and–ah. Laurence hadn’t spotted the other, as he’d been mostly hidden behind the first’s bulk. A thin reed of a man, with hair as dark as the first man’s was blonde. This one had much the same expression of disdain on his face–and was even more stunning than the other, with eyes the color of storm clouds. Laurence couldn’t quite keep the smirk off of his face as he looked the second man over, taking in his absolutely ridiculous frilly blue and white outfit.
“Leave him alone,” the big man demanded, now glaring at Laurence. “Don’t touch my brother.” Ah. Odd; they looked almost nothing alike, but Laurence supposed they could be partners who just pretended to be brothers. Or perhaps not; another glance at the big man led him to the realization that the two men had the same eye color.
“Aye,” Laurence replied to Mikey, ignoring the large man’s demand for now. “Any idea who they are?”
“Captain’s log says they’re brothers. Name of D’Arcy. Sons of–get this–the fucking Duke of fucking Oxford, no less,” his first mate replied.
Laurence’s eyebrows rose. If he recalled correctly, that made the two very valuable hostages. “We keep them.” This statement led to fearful murmuring among the now-defeated crew, so Laurence raised his voice, and added, “Put the rest in the lifeboats with enough food and water to get them somewhere safe.” No need to have someone do something desperate in an attempt to save their lives. One or two of the captives shot Laurence grateful looks as his men (and women) started marching them toward the boats.
“Wait,” the blonde insisted. “Let my brother go with them. I give you my word, Father will pay you for both of us, even if I am your only physical hostage. Should he refuse, I shall pay you myself. On my honor.”
Laurence gave the man his best unimpressed look. “And ruin a perfectly good method of keeping you both in line? I think not. Mikey…” Laurence knew he should bring the large man aboard the Goddess and leave the weaker one with Mikey, who wasn’t always the best leader, but…something stopped him. “Keep this one. I’ll take him,” here he nodded to the black-haired individual, “On the Goddess. Oh, by the way, congratulations, Captain Mikey, this is now your ship. Please feel free to rename her.”
The red-haired man turned to him, grinning from ear to ear. “Thanks, Captain!”
“That’s Admiral to you,” Laurence shot back, but before he could saunter away, the large D’Arcy brother grabbed him by the wrist.
“So help me,” he hissed, “If you injure my brother, I will see you beg for the sweet release of death before I see fit to grant it to you.”
Mikey was the closest thing Laurence had to a sibling, but he still respected the brotherly threat. “Both of you will be perfectly safe, as long as neither of you pull any stupid shit, like attempting to escape,” he replied firmly, glancing between the two brothers. “After all, I’m sure your father will pay us more if you’re both unharmed.”
The large man stared into his eyes for a moment, and then nodded and released Laurence’s wrist. The blonde turned to the dark-haired man, and they had a brief conversation without speaking before the first said, “It will be okay, Icky. You know Father will not pay them anything if they hurt us.” More gently than Laurence expected, the blonde took hold of his brother’s shoulder and pushed him toward Laurence.
“Come along, ‘Icky,’ Laurence ordered, turning and walking away. His hand went to his sword automatically, to keep it from swinging into anything as he walked. He heard footsteps start behind him after only a moment or two of hesitation. While his hearing was nothing compared to Estelita’s, it was still fairly sharp.
There was only a fraction of the other man’s steel in the dark-haired man’s voice when he finally spoke. “You will address me as ‘Earl of Banbury,’ or ‘My Lord Banbury,’ Captain.”
“Sure thing, Icky,” Laurence replied, his tone jovial. His crew was efficient, and already had the rest of the captives in the lifeboats–they were just handing over the promised food and water, which the defeated crew members were accepting gratefully. “You can call me Admiral.” He heard a huff behind him, but chose to ignore it.
Laurence made his way over to the spot where his crew had tethered the Goddess’ rowboat. His second–no, his new first mate, Rufus, was already in it, along with Estelita and Soraya. “After you, Icky,” he said, waving his tanned hand at the rope ladder.
He hadn’t thought the Englishman could get any paler, but somehow he did. “One cannot be expected to expose one’s self to a rickety death trap such as that,” the hostage announced, taking a step backward and bringing up his hands as if to protect himself from it.
Laurence gave the man a flat look. “Climb down, or I’ll fucking push you over the side and you can hope the sharks don’t get you before my crew fish you out of the fucking sea.” It was an idle threat; he just wanted to get back to the familiar planks of the Goddess, and this man was slowing that process down for absolutely no reason.
The man went even…well, if the sun wasn’t beating down on them, Laurence would have sworn that he was a vampire. “One cannot swim!” he protested.
Laurence rolled his eyes. “Then get your British ass–sorry, arse–onto that ladder,” he replied, pointing at it.
“English.” It seemed ‘Icky’ liked to have the final word on things. The man swallowed hard, but eventually did as Laurence told him–or, at least, he tried to. Laurence’s eyebrows rose as he watched; he had never seen anyone use a rope ladder quite so…clumsily. The man managed to get the ladder swaying dangerously, and at one point, Icky was more horizontal than vertical. Both Soraya and Estelita had to help steady the ladder, and Rufus ended up pulling Icky into the boat and pushing him to the bottom when he looked as if he were going to fall over the side instead of landing in the rowboat.
Laurence descended with a great deal more grace, having been a pirate for most of his life. Soraya and Estelita took up the oars and began rowing them back; Rufus was sneering down at the nobleman, who was trying to scramble up into a sitting position. “The fuck’s this?” he asked.
“Apparently, it’s an Icky, and it’s the son of a fucking duke,” Laurence said, shrugging his shoulders. “I left his brother on whatever Mikey decides to name his new ship. So be nice, and we can all look forward to a big, fat payday at the end of our trip.”
Now Icky went red. “One has already informed you that the proper form of address is–”
Laurence held up a hand, stopping him cold. “Unless you’re about to give me an actual fucking name, don’t bother. I’ll call you Icky before I call you any of that other fucking nonsense.”
The man muttered under his breath as he glared at the now-Admiral. Laurence caught the word ‘Yank’ amongst the tirade. Then, the fire slowly went out of Icky’s eyes, and Laurence blinked, pushing down a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to push the Englishman so far. “Quentin,” the man breathed. Someone had fucked him up, and Laurence found himself unreasonably angry at the person who had done it.
“My name is Laurence,” he offered. “And I meant what I said earlier, Quentin. You and your brother won’t be harmed–unless you attempt to escape or threaten my crew.”
“One is hardly a fighter,” Quentin murmured, just a trace of sarcasm creeping back into his voice as he wrapped his arms around himself.
“I guess that that’s settled, then,” Laurence replied. “We’re a little short of crewmembers at the moment, so we’ll put you to work. Rufus, he’s going to be on your shift–I gave Mikey Sebastian for a first mate.”
Rufus grunted, which Laurence took as assent, and turned back to face their destination. Quentin, meanwhile, looked up, outrage marring his face once again. “Work? But surely my ransom will more than pay for my passage on this ship.”
“Probably,” Laurence agreed, keeping his tone light. Good God, could Quentin get any more entitled? “But I’ve just had to divide my crew among two vessels, and as you might notice, we’re in the middle of the fucking ocean; it’s not as if I can hire more. So, you’ll pitch in, and do as you’re told.”
“And just so you know, I consider arguing with the Captain a fucking threat,” Rufus growled, cutting off whatever response Quentin was about to give. Laurence shot the back of Rufus’ head a Look; the man wasn’t normally so hostile.
“Don’t worry, we’ll start you off easy. Mending sails and shit,” Laurence added, to soothe the sting of Rufus’ words. Quentin closed his open mouth, and hugged himself more tightly.
They made the rest of the trip to the Goddess in silence.