Treasure: ℛℯ-𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓃 |Pirate!England X Reader|

𝙸

TW!!!
Depictions of GRAPHIC VIOLENCE and SA

"Ow!"

"(Name), did you prick yourself again?" My mother winces as I stare at the dot of blood forming on my finger.

"Yes," I sigh in frustration. "This is a lot harder than it looks."

"You'll get the hang of it in due time," she shakes her head with a gentle smile, reaching for a handkerchief to wipe my finger. As I hold it out to her, her skin slightly pales before she covers it with the cloth.

"Can't handle a little blood, mama?" I chuckle.

She wrinkles her nose, teasingly, "I never liked the color red."

Today is my 16th birthday, and after much procrastination on my part, mother decided it was time I learned how to sew my own dresses and patch up our family's clothes, though I'd prefer to be in the Village Square with my brother, learning to swing a sword. Nikolaus is, truly, a gifted swordsman. He's never actually sparred against anyone other than boys his own age, but receives daily praise from the men in the village for his raw talent.

"Perfect form, Luca!" The Master Swordsman beams with pride as his students slash it out. Luca retreats slightly, creating space between the two. His green eyes flicker with confidence, my brother, in turn, rolls his blue hues before pointing his sword at him from afar. "You're awfully cocky for someone who hasn't laid a mere scratch on me." The opposing dueler clicks his tongue in annoyance and readjusts the grip on his sword, because Klaus was right; he rarely takes the offensive in a fight.

Mama nudges me slightly and points at the boys; she, too, had been watching them fight. "Luca is very skilled and precise in his movements, as he has trained with a sword far longer than your brother."

I cock my head to the side and question, "If he is superior in skill, why is he experiencing such difficulty?"

She continues with a mischievous grin, "The Master Swordsman often describes Klaus as careless, yet cunning in the art, he doesn't follow the traditional rules, and that's exactly what makes him so dangerous."

He is unpredictable.

Klaus runs and quickly thrusts his blade at the swordsman's shoulder. Not given much time to block, Luca sloppily ducks, the ends of his light brown hair narrowly avoiding the path of the attack. Seeing an opening, he sweeps his sword at my brother's belly. Instead of blocking and retaliating, my brother responds with a swift upswing, knocking the sword clean out of Luca's hand, throwing off his center of balance in the process. As his back hits the dirt, the tip of Klaus' sword presses sharply against his throat.

I may be quite a distance away, but I can still see my brother's face: his eyebrows furrowed into a hateful glare, and the messy brown locks he never cared to brush blew in the silence of the wind. The look on his face sent shivers down my spine.

He looks absolutely menacing.

The blonde pathetically paws at the dirt around him, seemingly looking for the sword he dropped, but he doesn't dare break his eyes away from the one who holds the sword to his neck. "Go ahead and finish the job, you bastard," he growls up at him in disgusted defeat.

Klaus doesn't respond, nor does he move or acknowledge Luca's words. Then, as if to cut the tension, Klaus stabs his sword into the ground and offers him his hand with a smile. "You fought well today."

Luca grasps his hand tightly and stands, throwing an arm over his shoulder, "Not as well as you, my friend! That last move really caught me off guard!"

"Well done, Nikolaus!" My mother stands as she calls out to him, "You looked like a seasoned knight in battle!"

The brunette runs up the path and onto the porch, taking mother into his arms. "Thank you, mama. I'll have to duel you next. That will be the true test of strength!"