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

𝚇𝚇𝙸

(Name's) POV

I pace, anxiously, back and forth in front of the makeshift Infirmary's door, biting my thumb nail to ground myself; I hadn't seen either of the men since they were taken into Toby's care. I was informed that Kirkland was injured more severely out of the two, but thanks to our amazing doctor, he had been stabilized fairly quickly.

I am just awaiting the ok to check on them for myself.

The door creaking open breaks my zoning out, and I look up, making eye contact with an exhausted Toby. Although both patients are in good enough condition, taking care of the sick and wounded is a lot of work. "How are you doing?" I walk over to him, reaching up to place my hand on his forehead. "You need to be sure you're not overworking yourself. What shall we do if you end up bedridden?"

"I assure you, (Name), I am quite alright," he chuckles in response. "Even if I were to find myself confined to my bed, I have enough confidence in your knowledge and skills to know that the three of us would be well taken care of."

I scoff, sarcastically, "I'm glad someone recognizes what I do."

"You've been out here pacing for hours. Would you like to check on them?" I nod. "Would you mind changing Arthur's bandage for me?" I find myself hesitantly nodding once more. He smiles, opening the door for me and I walk in, quiet as possible as to not disturb the two, who are both asleep. "Abel will be released from my care when he wakes up, and will most likely be put in the actual infirmary for now so I can monitor him before he's placed back in the cell. Arthur will remain here for a few more days," he informs me before shutting the door.

I make my way to Kirkland's bedside, and begin checking his symptoms. "No fever," I make a mental note as I place the back of my hand to his forehead, the strong from his eyepatch rubbing against my skin. I stare at him; I'd never been able to take in his features before. I know that he is the notorious Pirate King, but this man doesn't look like a gruff pirate to me— he reminds me more of a nobleman from my history books, or perhaps a haughty prince from my childhood bedtime stories. When I break from my thoughts, I find my fingertips brushing against the fabric of the eyepatch, and notice something peeking out from underneath.

A scar...?

Everything in me wants to remove the patch and get a better look, but I choose to continue my check up. I press two fingers to his neck, counting his heart rate, before beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt to reveal his, faintly bloodied, wrapped torso. I decide to grab a knife and cut the bandages off, as to not disturb him too much. I grab the dagger from my boot and pull at the bottom of the bandages by his hips, lifting it enough to slide the blade underneath without touching his skin. Gently, I saw at the cloth until I reach the top and peel them back to reveal the wound, which Toby had, so tactfully, stitched up. Kirkland is lucky it was a very clean cut, otherwise it would not have been so easily mended. I walk over and gab the bucket of water and rag he had left for me and strain the water from the cloth before pressing it, ever so slightly, to the wound. He winces, his eyebrows scrunch up and I see him bite his inner cheek. "I'm sorry, Captain. Toby asked me to change your bandages, so I have to clean it."

"It's alright," he groans. "It just stings, is all."

"Well, you have been through worse, I'm sure," I whisper back, taking a quick glance at the eyepatch again.

"That I have," he chuckles quietly. "Yet, any sort of  pain in my midsection, I cannot stand."

We sit in silence for a few moments, the only sounds filling the room are Abel's quiet snores, and the water dripping from the rag into the bucket when I re-wet it. This is the most civilized, normal conversation we have ever had. "Alright, I'm going to need you to sit up so I can re-wrap your wound." He lets out a dreaded sigh, and I place my hand on the back of his shoulder, assisting him as he sits up. I reach over to the table nearby and grab the wound dressing, unraveling it a bit so I can start wrapping it around his torso. My arms reach around his back, handing the cloth to each other so I can wrap it around the front. Every time I do so, however, I just about get a face full of the man's chest. He is surprisingly muscular, though it makes sense: he is a pirate. I wrap it around again, glancing up at him to see him glaring at the wall, the tips of his ears bright red. I sharply turn away, deciding that the amount I have wrapped will do just fine. After tying off the end, I help him lie back down, checking his temperature with my hand once more. "Your temperature has gone up," I say in a concerned voice.