Updated as of 1/17/2020
Leopold's pulse drummed a rapid rhythm into his skull. The Pirate Queen was not known to be merciful. Some said she was a demon, others a witch. Others still, like his parents, thought she was simply a being of nightmares, not a tangible person to be feared. There was one thing he knew for sure: no one who'd seen her face had lived to tell of it. His hands trembled at his sides, his feet frozen to the shore.
A strong shove from behind sent him hurtling to his knees. Jeering laughter pierced his ears. As he rose, he caught a small smile from the young woman as she looked out from pitying eyes. His cheeks flushed. Another shove sent him stumbling toward the waterline, where two small rowboats were beached.
The man from before, adorned in a white linen shirt and brown breeches, furrowed his brow and growled in a low voice, "Get yer arse in the boat, princeling."
Leo hesitated. His legs seemed as though they were rooted to the shore. But, the sting of a cold cutlass to his back persuaded him to move his feet. As soon as he felt the solid planks of the rowboat underfoot, his physical connection to his homeland, as well as much of his hope, withered and died.
His mind barely registering his movements, he picked up an oar, as instructed. Numbly, he let his mind drift into the sea around him. It swirled above him like the spray of the sea as it crashed against the craggy shore. Would he ever see Knoxport again? His parents? Sister? Younger brother? Or would he become like his older brother and Bas, another feast for the crows? His breath quickened. He didn't want to leave his home, didn't want to venture into the unknown, the unprotected. He didn't want to die.
The Arcfyre loomed before them, not a hundred paces away, its near black planks slick from the blood those aboard had spilled. Deep crimson sails were fastened to its three masts, their color a warning to fools who dared approach.
With a gulp, he realized that he would soon be one of those fools. Far, far sooner than he ever imagined. A rope ladder thudded down the side of the ship, landing with a splash in the water in front of their rowboat, which seemed like a small twig beside the massive frigate.
He looked to the pirate in front of him, a tall man he hadn't noticed before who was thin as a board with a fierce gleam in his eye. The pirate grunted, motioning with his pistol toward the ladder once he was within grasp of it. Leo got the message, rising unsteadily from the center of the small craft. He struggled to keep his balance as it rolled from side to side but somehow managed to stay upright.
He grasped the rope as if it were the thread his life clung to. His arms were growing weary by the time he could feel the smooth varnish of the railing under his fingertips. It felt slick, as though it were polished with the blood of innocents, still screaming for justice and mercy.
He shuddered slightly, but whether it was from the chilled breeze or from the tension that crackled in the air like a thunderstorm, he didn't know.
After a few seconds, he realized that he was staring off into space. The pirate probably thought he was empty-headed. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, hauled himself aboard and looked around. In front of him stood at least fifty pirates. They snarled through what few blackened teeth they had left, hands on the hilts of their various weapons. Wicked scars adorned their bodies. A few were missing limbs and sported wooden appendages as replacements. To his left, on either side of the main deck on which he stood, there were two staircases leading to an upper quarterdeck by the bow. A door lay in between the two staircases, black on black and almost invisible.
There were two more staircases to his right, mirroring those on the left and leading to another upper quarterdeck, this one at the stern. The helmsman stood on that deck, one hand on the wheel and both eyes on the churning sea. In between the staircases lay another door, this one almost ornate, with a handle which seemed to be crafted from pure gold. Golden symbols in a foreign tongue danced around the frame.
Two feet landed on the deck, followed by a grunt. Leo turned around. Reginald stood behind him, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. The monster who had ordered Bas's death thudded aboard. The sound rattled in Leo's ears like a hammer, filling him with a sinking feeling of dread, mingled with the ever-present burn of fury. His nails bit into his flesh as he dug them into the palms of his hands. The slight twinge of pain helped to distract from his anger, allowing him to focus his thoughts and clear his head.
The leader's voice, deep and guttural, rang out loudly, even though Leo and his advisor were standing paces away from the man. "Welcome aboard the infamous Arcfyre. Mah name's Gabriel, an' I'm the quartermaster an' first mate 'round here. Now, knowin' that y'all were, erm, distracted before, I'll put it plain. Yer ours s'long as yer aboard this ship. We speak, you listen. We command, you obey. 'Bein' said, nothin' we do'll harm you unless it's with mine er the cap'n's orders. 'N that'll be fer disobeyin' us." The man smirked. "Wouldn't do that if I were y'all. After all, that's what got your friend killed, ey Princeling?"
Leo seethed with anger and frustration, but the ever-increasing digging of nails into flesh kept him from doing anything rash. He kept his eyes on the planks, praying to the goddess Mysta that the pirate wouldn't notice his fists clenched at his sides, shaking with rage. Of all the pantheon, perhaps the goddess of the sea would answer his plea.
After looking at Leo for a few seconds, Gabriel moved on. "S'long as you do as yer told, you won't join yer mate in the grave." He motioned to a three pirates who were standing apart from the others, waiting for orders. "They'll take you down to the brig. If you give 'em trouble, I'll hear." With a nod to the rest of the pirates, he turned and walked toward the helm. With their leader at the helm and the commotion over, the gathered pirates went back to their daily routine, creating a hubbub of energy and movement on deck.
Rough hands grasped Leo's arms, tightening to the point of pain. Pirates that reeked of rum and sweat forced him forward, into the depths of the dark, the gloom of the underworld. He could see nothing, not even his fingertips in front of his face. He could feel the pirate's thick, odorous breath on the back of his neck, could hear a voice whisper, "No escape now, princey boy." He breathed out sharply, almost laughing. "We'll take good care of you 'round here." Leo didn't need to see to know the man was smirking.
The prince's heart hammered so loudly that he thought the pirate might hear it. Eyes straight, he peered into the darkness ahead. The murky black gave away few of her secrets, forcing Leo to stumble as if blind through the dark. The pirate drew away after failing to get a rise out of Leo. Silence filled the damp, musty air.
It stayed that way for a few minutes, before the sharp clang of metal hinges incinerated the still, silent, heavy air. Reflexively, Leo jumped a little, enough to cause the pirates surrounding him to mutter jeers under their breath. With one quick shove, he was forced into what could only be a cell. He stumbled slightly, falling to his knees with a grunt. The rough wood under him felt filthy and worn. How many people had succumbed to the warm, inviting embrace of death in this very spot?
He heard footsteps. The door shifted further open. Reginald and the young lady were both shoved into the cell with him. No one said anything until long after they heard their escorts shuffle away.
As he sat, Leo's sight began to adjust to the gloom. Within a minute or two, he could make out the shapes of things around him and could see roughly where Reginald and the young woman were. He turned his head, looking toward her. "Are you all right, madam?"
Her voice was light and airy. "I ain't no madame, sir." Pausing, she added, "But I'm all right."
A smile formed on his face. "Good." The silence settled around them like a cape of Althenian wool. Leo sat listening to the gentle rocking of the ship against the waves and to the men who scurried like mice above deck, unsure of what to say. "What shall I call you, if not madame?"
"Selina," she said, pushing a loose hair behind her ear. "Selina Gardavi."
"I'm Leo —"
The sharp bangs of over thirty simultaneous cannon blasts interrupted him. It was like a spark lit a fuse, and all of a sudden, chaos erupted all around them. Feet clamored on the stairs, thumping their way towards the cell.
"Up." It was the voice of the man from earlier: Gabriel, the first mate. "You." He pointed at Selina. "Cap'n wants to see ya. Topside. Now."
Selina scrambled away from the entrance to the cell. Leo moved toward it. The pirates were not going to take her without a fight, not when they had taken so much from him already.
He was nearly to the door when the pirate slammed it open. He threw a punch, but while he prided himself on his strength, he was no match for the man in front of him. Leo was shoved out of the way as if he were a paper doll. He was thrown to the solid planks, the wind knocked out of him. There was nothing he could do but watch as the woman who his dear friend had given his life to help save was taken away.
Her sobs filled his ears for more than the next few minutes, ringing about in his head as if they were the drums of his execution. Would he ever see her again? He doubted it.
He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. "It is not your fault, Your Highness. There was nothing you could have done."
Leo turned, facing his advisor. "I should have protected her, Reg. She was my subject," he said, his voice breaking.
"She could still be alive."
Leo scoffed. His advisor's false hope would do little for either he or Selina now. "And what kind of life would that be? A prisoner to pirates. The gods only know what she's going through."
As the blasts of cannons and the clangs of swords erupted from above them, advisor and prince set their heads against the cold metal bars, lost in thoughts and nightmares. Despite the noise, the tension hung like a blanket of death upon the cell, luring both occupants into a fitful slumber.