Captive, Kidnapped by a Pirate [Inactive]

Hearing her whisper the words set off something within him, something angry, something gentle and frustratingly calm. Christopher clenched his jaw and stopped his song abruptly.


Uati seemed to notice the unspoken exchange, and looked between the two of them curiously. He opened his mouth to speak but his words were sharply cut by a splash and a scream.


"Ana!" came Mama's cry, from the hull. "Captain! Captain, Ana tripped and fell overboard!"


"Shit." He left the helm immediately and felt his blood pound in his ears with anxiety, looking for the direction of the splash and diving off the edge of the Siren to rescue his little girl. Uati took the wheel and prepared to turn the ship round, to bring them back aboard once he had rescued her.
 
Adelaide rushed to where Christopher had disappeared into the depths, her concern for the girl greater than anything else and more important than her quarrel with the Captain. She was frustrated she couldn't do anything more than stand on the sidelines and watch helplessly.


Knowing there wasn't a thing she could do, she turned to the Captain's quarters and yanked the blankets from her spot on the hammock. Outside she met Daniel on the deck, and watched as the crew aimed to help the two back up.


"Daniel, what can I do?" She asked, scared for Ana. Even scared for Christopher.
 
"Pray," was the doctor's response.


As the ship came round, Christopher grabbed Ana around the waist and held the girl close to him. She was screaming, which was a good thing considering he would rather not have heard silence from her. He grabbed the rope that was thrown to him and fought against the waves to reach his ship, keeping Ana close in tow.
 
Adelaide threw the blanket around her shoulder and again found herself at the edge of the ship. She wasn't strong enough to assist the other deck hands, so she waited until the pair was close enough to the deck to extend her hands down to pull at the rope nearest to them. If she could, she'd lift them by the shirts on their backs and pull them up, but she couldn't.


"Christopher, Ana..." She panted, praying wasn't something she wanted to do. Enough of that, she wanted to do something. Anything,
 
Child and man were hauled back on deck. Ana broke into a stream of coughs and Gregory pushed everyone aside, one after the other to reach his precious granddaughter.


Christopher rolled on his back and smiled to himself, knowing he had saved Anastasia and spared the crew another trauma. The captain sat up slowly and pulled the wet shirt from his scarred, misshapen back. Marks of swords and whips and bullets adorned where muscles should have been.


"Here," he told Mama, handing his shirt to her. "Hang this up to dry, I'll get it in an hour or so."
 
Putting their silent treatments aside, she knelt on the ground beside him with a blanket in hand. Gregory wouldn't let her through to help, even if she was the Queen. It made perfect sense, it was his last living relative most likely. She seemed well off, and Adelaide had said she wanted to help, this was helping if she ever saw.


The scars across his back were horrible. Some raised above the skin, others just faint pale marks. Adelaide hesitated before reaching out to drape the blanket across his shoulders. One mark in particular caught her eye, just at the base of his neck. An ugly brand she tried not to look at, burned and scarred at the edges. Combined with the whip marks, and countless scars, it would almost make sense for him to have been a slave.


"Here." She said quietly.
 
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"Thanks." He had to stop himself from shrugging her away, but he wanted her to see. He wanted her to remember his wounds like she remembered anything else in her life, and maybe now count herself fortunate. Christopher didn't meet her eyes in the slightest notion and hugged the blanket around himself.


"She'll be fine," Daniel declared. "You saved her life, Captain. Again."


"Yeah, yeah. Don't worship me, you know I don't like it."
 
Adelaide was relieved to hear the news and smiled at Daniel before he trotted off. She was thinking about the scars. There were just so many, she couldn't wrap her head around how he'd gotten them all. She gently reached behind his neck and brushed his wet hair aside.


There, on the back of his neck, was the ugly brand she'd tried so hard to avoid. Her hand recoiled, as if the brand would mark her own skin at the touch, bring her pain, like a poison. It was Caister's brand for slaves, all servants had them. A small replication of the Everette crest with an S woven through, that's what it looked like. She'd only ever seen it a handful of times in her life.


She pulled her hands back to her lap and averted her stare. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
 
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Her touch was foreign to him, but not unwelcomed. Christopher thought it strange that someone he had loved his whole life had such cold hands, so hesitant and cautious. This was not his Addy, he knew that even from the way her fingers grazed his skin, but she was the only Addy he wanted whether she was the same or different.


"It's fine," he grimaced. "Look at it. Don't be ashamed. This is what your friends did, after all."
 
Adelaide crawled on her hands and knees until she sat behind Christopher. He towered over her, even sitting, his shoulders broad and still scarred. She slipped the blanket off of his shoulders again and pressed her hand with more strength against his back. Beneath her hand, the skin rose and fell with scars, awful.


"I know it's not much, and...god knows however many years too late, but, I'm sorry. Christopher I'm so, so sorry" Adelaide shook her head and traced a particularly long lash mark on his back. Someone in Caister did this to him, someone she must have known, a guard, another servant, Christopher himself said her 'friends' did it.


Once she had enough she pulled the blanket up to his shoulders again and slid her hands around his shoulders and pulled them away. Nothing hurt her more than to see what her Father had enforced, she was unaware. She lived in the city where he'd been tortured and technically turned a blind eye. No wonder he was so angry with her.


"How long were you a slave in Caister?" Adelaide asked, no hesitation and no fear in her voice. The fact was already there. She saw the brand, she reached out to brush his hair once more and trace the thing, he couldn't deny it even if he wanted to.
 
"Don't stop" was what he wanted to say, but his words and courage fell short.


"Years. I don't remember how many." Christopher was glad she couldn't see the look on his face, confliction and confusion. "I ran away and became a pirate, for damned good reasons."
 
Adelaide stood up on her knees and brushed the scar with both of her thumbs, the rest of her fingers lightly rested upon his broad shoulders. "If I had known..." She bit her lip.


What could I have really done?





"Christopher, if I had known, I believe I would've done what I could to help." She whispered. The crew started to disappear to aid Ana, and were turning towards their Captain now. Adelaide didn't want to stay too long, risk them having any strange thoughts about her and her hands wrapped around his shoulders. "But, it's history now, and words mean nothing. I'm sorry, I was late."


She unclasped her hands and stood up, pacing to the side of the Captain so she could bow her head to him.
 
"If you would have done anything, you would have been thwarted by your father. I don't want your pity. What's done is done, you can't take it back." Christopher shrugged the blanket from his shoulders and let it fall to the deck, standing, a part of him wanting her to look at them more and feel the weight of what was done to him. He hoped she thought about how each physical scar left millions of others unseen to the eye.


"Keep our heading. Little Ana is fine. Alert me when we've passed the isles."


"Aye, captain."


The pirate disappeared into his cabin and closed the door.
 
Christopher had said something like that before. No matter, even if she tried to make amends, at least she understood where some of his hatred came from. It was her city that gave him the scars on his back, her city that turned him to a pirate. The fact he'd saved her was a mircle.


Not quite pity, dumbass.


Slightly irritated now, there was nothing more to do now that both Christopher and Ana were alright. She picked up the blanket and headed towards the cabin. If he didn't want it, Adelaide would put it back. After all, it came from her (Christopher's) hammock.
 
Christopher heard the door open and shut. "When a man retires to his quarters that typically means he wants to be left in private," he said with irritation as he looked over to Adelaide, standing there with his blanket.
 
"Pretend I'm not here then." She suggested. Irritation was the only emotion he had for her any more.


Adelaide took the few short steps to the hammock and placed the blanket down softly. She feared she would regret the words that came out of her mouth next, but she had to ask now that she was here. It was a silly reason to be coming in to put a blanket back in its spot.


"Are you alright, Christopher?"
 
"Do you actually care, Adelaide?" came Christopher's poorly timed response. He clutched the object he was holding in his hand, protecting it from her view. "You don't have to fake it, you know. I'm a pirate, not a high-born lord. A slave, not a king. Hatred from you will mean nothing to me."
 
"I do." She said softly, her back turned from him. "You may not like me, but I really meant it. I can understand why you might think I'm faking it after all. But, even slaves are only human."


Adelaide lightly gripped the edge of the hammock and rocked it back and forth beneath her hands. She couldn't hate him, not really. They argued, and fought, and generally disliked each other, but Adelaide couldn't find it in her heart to hate Christopher any more than she could anyone else. Evan excluded.


"I don't hate you. You're just human, we're all human." This was something she'd always believed. Always. From the time she was a child until her last breath, she firmly knew that mistakes and actions were how humanity was. She couldn't hate, not really. "Besides, if I didn't care, I wouldn't have come in, would I?" She laughed it off awkwardly, knowing it was only half true.
 
He supposed that was true. Christopher hated to admit when she was right, and he felt like it tore at his ego when his mind was more easily read by a princess than his own self. He opened a drawer and placed the necklace within, closing it quickly before she could see what he was holding.


"Human. Huh."
 
"We all screw up, we all do awful things to each other, but..." Adelaide didn't know where she was going with her pep talk, so she stopped. "I don't want to hate you. You saved me, and I should be using that chance to help you back, and find a way to end this war I didn't even know about."


She let go off the hammock and turned around to face Christopher just as he slammed the drawer shut. Adelaide didn't give it a second thought, and only focused on the scars again, and that slave brand that brought a pain in her stomach, a knot in her chest. Justifying the act by claiming ignorance wouldn't cut it, she had to do something, but nothing came to mind.
 
"I saved you from yourself," he corrected. "I didn't save you from anything or anyone else. Your ignorance about the war isn't my problem. But when you're aboard my ship, your life is in my hands and I intend to keep it safe."


Christopher poured himself a glass of red wine and looked out the small window he had, thinking troubled thoughts.
 
They weren't arguing. By some miracle, they'd managed to avoid yelling at each other and it made the girl grin from ear to ear, just like a fool. This was progress, real honest progress. She didn't poke or prod, not wanting to push the conversation any more. Tempting either of their limits would only prove to irritate.


Adelaide walked up to the table and sat down, the bottle of wine just in front of her small vial of Nightshade. She picked it up at thumbed at the cork, a newly developed habit of hers. "You didn't answer my question though, are you alright?"
 
He took a long drink and stared out his little window, his solace, and swirled the red liquid around in his glass a few times. "Yeah," Christopher spoke after a few moments of silence. "I'm fine. I'll be fine as long as you put that Nightshade down."
 
She'd almost forgotten about the vial in her hands, as her fingers tangled around the glass with ease. Adelaide had to stop and think about the action. "Oh, why?" It wasn't as if there was any noise, what was he bothered by then?
 
"It's addictive. I can't risk that with you." Christopher looked down at his nightstand, taking his pipe and lighting it as he blew rings of smoke out the open window.


"Why did Daniel allow you to have that, anyway?"
 
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