Dead Maiden's Rose [boyXboy]

Chapter III

Chapter III

Nathaniel

Truthfully, what upsets me more than anything is that it takes so goddamn long to get to sleep on the hard cobbles of some nameless backstreet in St. Richards town. I have to pace until the memory of Kelley's face no longer sets my blood to boiling. And then I have to work out where I am, discover I have no idea where I am, give up on any hope of returning to any kind of familiar landscape, and curl up on the ground.

Even then there is a tiresome process that must be completed before I can drift away. I have to shuffle around endlessly, loosen my shirt, and pretend the muggy heat of yet another equatorial night does not bother me. I have to close my eyes, cushion my head, discover my hips are digging into the ground, reshuffle, dust off my palms, and prop my head in the crook of my elbow a second time.

Then I have to lie there wakefully for an hour, stressing over whether anyone is stupid enough to jump me in the hopes a man without a bed might have anything useful. And then James' face has to pop into my head again, a cat yowls, I get uncomfortable, I think about James.

Finally, two hours after storming out on my oldest friend (and newest enemy), my eyes drift shut. The moon is gliding toward the western horizon but it doesn't matter because eventually, eventually, I get to sleep.

And it is only then, then, that the bastards come creeping out the black.

After all these years of seafaring and sailor gutting, I make a complete disgrace of myself. Fifteen years at sea, and for the second time I am stolen as easily as a child. The only consolation is that I did actually manage to fall asleep and it all just happens so quick that I barely have time to wake.

Someone chuckles, grabbing a handful of hair, and wrenches my head forwards just far enough to slam the pommel of a sword down onto the base of my skull.

Agony explodes through my head and I groan, all and any feeble attempt at escape abandoned instantly. I have lost control of my fingers, my fists dropping lax as my vision swims.

There is time only to listen in to somebody chastise my assailant as my world slowly turns black.

"Seriously Red," he sighs, "you don't have to enjoy it so much."

I can tell it is past noon by the time I awake, even before I manage to peel back my reluctant eyelids. The Caribbean sun is a cruel mistress, and no man could escape the way she beats down upon vulnerable skin.

My head pounds, a deep, throbbing agony that rockets sporadically through my skull. I groan and change my mind on the whole eye opening thing. The red insides of sun bullied eyelids are already too bright for my sensitive state.

"You never needed to assault me," I complain bitterly, not even certain there is someone to listen, and send tentative fingers crawling up the back of my neck to probe the sensitive area. "I was looking for work already, and trust me, I weren't looking for anything honest." I lift my free hand, waving it until the loose sleeve slips down to my elbow, revealing the twisted white 'P' branded into my arm, courtesy of James damned Kelley and his complete amorality.

As I speak, my questing fingers hit home, a lump the size of a lemon, right at the top of my neck. I only brush the surface with the lightest of touches but it is enough to pull a sharp gasp from my lips.

"Not so worried about that little burn anymore, aye, are we, Nathaniel?" A familiar voice rumbles, "Seems to me she's a handy little work ploy for ye."

My eyes shoot open then, like God himself couldn't stop them. The movement rocks my pounding head and I moan a second time, though I don't know whether it is in relation to the pain or the sight of, yes, James damned Kelley and his complete amorality.