Theme 55 Waiting (Part 1) Reader x PIRATE Spain

Theme 55 Waiting Part 1

The sun was just about to set over the ocean.  The sounds of waves crushing against the cliff face below you were just audible, and you were being continuously assaulted by the potent scent of sea water.  Hues of red, orange and yellows were scattered across the now darkening sky, your (h/l) (h/c) hair and long (f/c) dress danced in the cool afternoon wind, causing a shiver to run up your spine.  A pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around your stomach and tightened slightly, pulling you closer to the man behind you.  A smile crept onto your lips. 
“Toni… you know how improper this is, don’t you?” your fingers entwined with the Spaniards as he buried his head in the back of your neck,
“Si…” was his only response.  Your brow furrowed, something was a little off with him today.  Antonio was usually so happy-go-lucky that even in the worst situation he would smile, but today he was withdrawn. You came to consider the thoughts an unneeded source of anxiety rather quickly, and instead opted to push the thoughts aside.  You spun around to face the green-eyed man,
“So why did you insist on me sneaking out of my lessons? Mother will be terribly mad when she finds out why I’m not there.” Antonio’s gaze dropped with your words,
“Querida…” his voice was hoarse.  Your hand slipped under his chin, causing his forest green eyes to meet your (e/c) ones.  There was something there, something he wasn’t telling you but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “Querida, listen to me… I have to leave.” Your eyebrow arched slightly.
“What are you on about? I snuck out of my classes just so you could tell me you have better things to do?” you teased.
“No…” his green eyes softened as he placed his tanned hands over your cheeks and began to stroke your (s/c) skin with his thumb.  He took a deep breath and sighed, “I’m leaving Avilés.”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.  There were no words for the way you felt; hurt, sad, betrayed? No, nothing could express the full extent of your emotions.
“W-what… w-when, why?!” anger bubbled in your stuttered words but was promptly replaced with the feeling of utter powerlessness, the same as all those years ago.
“Tonight, I can’t tell you why… I’m sorry.” As soon as he finished speaking he pulled you into a tight embrace, “Querida, lo siento.  Please forgive me ______, but I have to leave.” Before you’d even realised, tears began to form in the corner of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you broke down into soft sobs.

He held you for a few minutes, whispering sweet words into your ear, though some of which you couldn’t quite understand.  But you didn’t care.  Your grip on his shirt tightened as you finally began to quell the tears.
“Oi, Carriedo you damn bastardo! Hurry up!” the Spaniard loosened his grip, giving you both room to look around for the source of the voice.  A boy, probably a few years younger than you, stood with his arms folded, light green-brown eyes narrowed and floating brown curl bobbing in the gusts of wind. Antonio turned back to you and without another word pressed his lips deeply to yours.  The kiss was deep, but was cut short.  Antonio turned and left before you had a chance to protest.

You watched as the two men slowly disappeared in the rolling hills of the cliff side.  At the beginning you were sure that he would change his mind, turn around and come back.  But as the chill of the looming night began to leech the warmth from your body, it became obvious that he was gone, and wouldn’t be coming back.

---10 Years later---

Everything changed after Antonio left.  Your mother, who had been managing one of the shops her family owned, re-married.  Your step-father was an Englishman, just like your real father, but the two men were worlds apart.  Your father, your real father, was a kind man who sort a life of peace and quiet in the country after a lifetime serving the king, and who would only fight if his family was directly threatened.  This new man sought nothing but war, he would leave for months at a time to hunt down ships or those who were traitors to His Majesty the King, and it seemed that if a stranger looked at him wrong, he would start a verbal assault that would inevitably end in an all-out-brawl.  Becoming the daughter of a naval commander apparently had its perks, though, most of which you were still yet to experience.  And all the while, there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind that said being near him was wrong.  That feeling was amplified when you left Spain to return to England.  Though moving didn’t sit right with you, it was apparently the ‘right decision in the long run for your family’.  But you soon came to realise that it was your father’s way of telling you that you had no real say in the matter.

Once you had settled his house, you found yourself running into many people you knew growing up, and meeting several new people in the process.  Of which one was particularly important, in your father’s opinion at least.  His name was Arthur Kirkland, young, strong, smart, related to one of the other commanders in the navy, and he was already making a name for himself by rising quickly through the ranks.  You didn’t know why, but your father always insisted that you and he spend time together.  You hoped that the blonde British man wasn’t getting the wrong idea, sure, he was fun to tease, but that was all.

***

You sighed at the thought, whilst continuing down the small side street.  It was getting late, the sun was still visible but it was getting cold, and the oil lamps were already being lit.  Everyone that was already lit threw a luminous glow onto the buildings, and mixed perfectly with the remaining sunlight. It was almost as if you had stepped into another world.  Sure, the air was bone chillingly cold, and there were obvious signs of poverty all around, but the glow of the oil lamps and slowly changing colour of the sky made it seem like a wonderful dream.  Your neck craned upwards to view the colours better.  Between the houses on either side of you, dark blue, purple, pink were all visible. They were all staggered so magnificently within and around each other that it didn’t really matter that the warmth of the sunset couldn’t reach you.  You were quickly dragged back to reality.  Even with the beauty of the sun and comfort of the oil lamps guiding you home, you were getting a little nervous of the growing shadows and unfamiliar sounds. 

On this side of town, the night brought out the worst characters.  Even for a supposedly a pirate free town some of the sea dogs still managed to slip passed the guards and enter the city.  More often than not they would wreak havoc, rape, kill, and destroy buildings.  Not only the very real threat of pirates caused your pace to quicken, but also the knowledge that brothels became active at night.  Many young women would go ‘missing’, and would then turn up in a brothel, drunk on every drink known to man, being ‘used’ by men without knowledge or consent and thrown into the pigpens once they were awake.
“I don’t think a lady of your stature should be on this side of town, or out this late without an escort,” a familiar voice called, his tone serious.  You turned and smiled in relief,
“Oh? Then why are you out here alone?” you teased, the man chuckled at your response.  Your eyes trailed over the person before you, his shaggy blonde hair, pristine naval uniform, and, oh so familiar, emerald green eyes.  You had to glance away for a moment to stop yourself form seeing the devilishly handsome Spaniard in Arthur’s eyes.  Upon returning to reality, a smile quickly pricked at the corner of his mouth and he moved closer to you,
“May I walk you home milady?” he asked, bowing slightly. You nodded.  With one hand hugged your (colour) shawl tighter and shifted the basket of groceries closer to your body with the other,
“Thank you Mr Kirkland,” you said, beginning to move along the path once again.
“Please, call me Arthur, we’ve known each other for years now,” he replied while trotting to catch up.
“Fine, Arthur, what are you doing out in this side of town anyway?” you mocked by mimicking his serious tone of voice from earlier. “You weren’t waiting for the brothels to open, were you?” the blonde eyed you curiously. 
“Jealous are we, Love?” the cocky smile that covered his face made you want to slap him, but his tone of voice threw you for a moment.  It was almost as if he wanted you to be jealous.  Which, to be clear, you weren’t.  You scoffed softly,
“Aren’t we getting a big head, Mr Kirkland,” You could have sworn that the British man faintly blushed at this. 

***

The walk home was far more pleasant with Arthur around.  You both chatted and laughed as you made your way through town.  The bright oil fuelled lights that lead up to your home caught your eye.  The large hedges that surrounded the main building almost seemed to glow in the dimming sunlight, and the stark white stone of the house shimmered like moonlight.  However, something wasn’t right.  It was nearly dark, and the house was completely silent.  Usually your father would be off his nut about late paper work, and concerned that dinner would have to be put off because of it.  Your mother would then try to calm him down, and fail miserably.  But there was no sound.  You could hear a hummingbirds heart beat it was so quiet.  You turned to Arthur, his eyes were narrowed and hand poised, ready to draw his pistol at a moment’s notice.
“Arthur, what’s-,”
“Hush Love…” quickly he stepped forward, gently taking hold of your upper arm he guided you to stand behind him, “Pirates,” he gestured down the worn, dirt street on the hill before you, to a ship docked in the harbour.    Panic ran through your core, causing your heart to beat abnormally fast.  Your blood turned cold and the only thing that went through your mind was that they could be in your house.  As soon as Arthur loosened his grip on your arm, you were off, sprinting up the cobblestone path to your house.

You passed small shrubs that eventually turned into roses, and then to the large hedge that enclosed the courtyard gardens that directly surrounded your home.  There was a scream.  Quickly turning you headed straight to the source.  You sprinted faster and faster down the stone hallway, a little of the retreating sunlight hit you between the pillars that held the roof up and ever-growing, lush green ivy.  Feet pounding the floor, you rounded a corner and came to a halt before a large wooden door.  The screaming was nearly deafening but quickly stopped, it was then that you were able to hear the protesting shouts coming from Arthur, who, as far as you could tell, was still a fair way behind.  Ignoring him you pressed all your weight into the heavy door, causing it to creak open slightly. 

There was blood smeared right at your feet, leading to the edge of the large carpet, but beyond that, you couldn’t see.  The large curtains were drawn shut, and allowed very little light through which made your task all the more difficult.  Softly you cursed under your breath and cautiously stepped through the dark threshold.  Almost immediately the metallic scent of blood hit your nose and made your stomach flip. You moved further into the room, just as you reached what you guessed to be the centre of the room, something limp and heavy hit your foot.  Instinctively you jumped backwards, almost managing to trip over in the process, and held your arms up ready to fight back any unseeable attack.  Only nothing came. Fear rushed through you and you ran around the unknown mound in the middle of the room to the curtains.  You pulled them open and turned back around, but you were once again met with darkness.
“Don’t look love…” Arthur whispered into your ear.  One of his hands covered your eyes; the other had a firm hold on your waist which tightened slightly just to make sure you didn’t wriggle free from his grasp.

You were frozen.  An uncountable amount of emotions ran through you, making you want to just run and hide, but Arthur’s grip on you prevented that.
“My, my, what do we ‘ave ‘ere?” an unknown voice called, with an obviously French accent to it.  Arthur stiffened,
“When I let you go, run straight back out the door. Don’t stop…” footsteps echoed in the now silent room, and your breathing quickened.  Was it a pirate? Of course it was, otherwise Arthur wouldn’t make you leave… was he the one that… no, you couldn’t let your mind slip to the thought of the unknown pirate killing your parents.  Even if you were almost sure that was what happened.
“Hm, what’s with zhat look?” he must have been talking to Arthur.
“I don’t like the thought of _________ being in the company of a disgusting frog,” the last word had bitter emphasis to it.  The French man chuckled slightly.

Suddenly Arthur released you and threw you forward, before you could even register your surroundings, you were forced forward and quickly followed the nagging voice in your mind.  Run. Run faster.  Faster! You moved through the room, not stopping to see the identity of the bodies that lay in the middle of the floor, and dodged passed the blonde haired, blue eyed pirate.  He turned and tried to grab you, but Arthur pulled out his gun and shot.  He missed, but fortunately, the shot distracted the pirate long enough for you to make it out of the room and at least halfway down the hallway. 

You stopped and turned, Arthur was still squabbling with the blonde pirate.  Guilt caused your chest to tighten, and your head to spin.  The pirate wrestled the gun away from Arthur, and drew his sword. Your breath caught in your throat, and you dashed back to the room, but before you could pass through the door, something snaked around your waist and held you back. You fought harshly against the person that held you, but nothing you did seemed to work.
“Fraulein, calm down vould you?” There was more than one pirate skulking through your house?! Panic ran through you and you struggled harder against the unknown man.  You beat the pirate’s chest, causing an irritated groan to escape his lips.  “Verdammt Frau…!” He quickly spun you around so you were facing each other and pinned your upper arms at your side to keep you from moving.

You were right, another pirate.  However this one wasn’t as well presented, or so you guessed, as the other.  This one had messy silver hair, raggedy clothes that were filled with holes and vicious blood red eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.  Your eyes widened slightly when you realised the full extent of your situation; this only made the albino smile widely.  A scuffling sound echoed from behind you,
“Put her down, now!” Arthur yelled.  The pirates smile quickly turned into a scowl, and he shifted you around in his arms so you were facing the out of breath English man.  Except this time, it wasn’t done to hold you still. It was so he could hold a pistol to your head.   

You struggled against him again and again, but it was no use, the sea dog had a firm grip on you.
“Vhy vould I do zhat?” he chuckled darkly, nuzzling into your neck, “She’s zhe only reason you haven’t shot me….” He began fondling your body with one hand, which made you want to gag.  Arthur was more than displeased.  He stepped forward but before he could do anything, the blonde pirate snuck up behind him and hit him across the head with the handle of his pistol. 

Your mouth fell open, words were unable to pass your lips, and tears pricked at the edges of your eyes.  Once again you struggled in vain against the albino pirate, attempting to reach your now unconscious friend.
“What are you going to do with zhat one Gilbert?” The French pirate asked his comrade as he walked closer to the two of you.  Gilbert shrugged but smirked a moment later,
“Maybe our poor excuse for a Captain will let me keep her,” he sounded far too excited for your liking.  You opened you mouth to protest, as you did, a piece of cloth was shoved in your mouth, and hands placed in rusty shackles.

***

The boat was like many in the naval fleet… in a matter of speaking.  Albeit a little older than the ones that you were used to seeing, it was still a very well maintained ship.  Near spotless decks and thick, steady sails.  Any signs of damage were either nearly repaired, or completely fixed.  It probably would have been a nice ship, if it weren’t occupied with pirates that is. Gilbert’s hold on your arm tightened as he and Francis led you further onto the deck.
“Mon ami!” the blonde called to a man resting against the rail of the quarter deck.  “Where is zhe Captain?”  The man turned around and visibly shuddered at the sight of the French pirate.
“The hell should I know!” he mumbled something unintelligible before continuing, “Probably off drinking and sleeping,” something about the man seemed eerily familiar.  His lightly tanned skin, and gravity defying curl that came off one side of his head.  You thought back. Where had you seen him before? Then it hit you. No, it couldn’t be.  The memory of that day flashed before your eyes.  They were so similar… was he the same boy that left with Antonio?  Panic ran through your core, causing your stomach to flip.  Was he dead? Or was he a pirate? Your mind was going a mile a minute, and tuned everything that was going on around you out.
“Honestly Roma, can’t a Captain go and enjoy a peaceful afternoon without having to hear you whine about it?”  A voice joked, pulling you from your trance like state.  Suddenly a figure jumped down form the sails, landing almost directly in front of you.  It took a moment for your brain to completely process the man before you.  That same voice, the same hair, those same eyes… this time your mind had no second thoughts about the man before you.  This was Antonio.