Refrain (Pirate!England x Princess!Reader)

The pirates were led through the filthy streets in chains after they were captured, subject to both great ceremony and great scorn on the part of the people. Taken after eight hours of conflict at sea, it was little surprise that the local papers soon fell into line, boasting for weeks about the victory against such scabs upon society. In time, the royal family themselves were incorporated into the festivities; for far too long, their reward for capture had been unanswered. As time passed, the figures had doubled, then tripled, fuelled by the ever present desire to see the pirates hanged at Execution Dock.

The High Court of Admiralty wasted few hours in condemnation - the sentence was passed (slow strangulation, of all things!). Afterwards their bodies would be preserved in tar and hung up by the shoreline. Nobody frowned on such a brutal means of deterrence; hardly anybody even held a handkerchief to their nose as they passed by the cages months down the track.

It was far from easy to fathom why, then, the princess of the time found in herself a macabre fascination, a preoccupation with this lewd sector of society, a severed group beyond reckoning. It was beyond her to understand what inspired the lies about her intentions.

"I wish to hear their explanation for how they have rooted themselves so strongly along our trade routes. If this is known, it'll be far easier to prevent this in future," was her excuse. She thought her words pathetic, but all the same it was deemed believable, and her request allowed. As for why it could not be anyone else - well, she had a right. A good moral education and some first-hand experience of society's greatest dregs did an heiress no harm.

In her life she had seen quite enough of death - seen the gibbet, and seen dozens of men drawn from the prisons to be hanged and sometimes worse; certainly, she was no stranger to spilled blood and murmuring crowds, to seeing God's greatest errors on public display. That aside, she could hardly condone this desire to meet with the men, exposed to their rough words and mannerisms; the thought kept her awake and made her hands quaver at breakfast, but she was unrelenting. I am above them, she told herself. I will not be made laughable in their sight. I will merely converse with them.

To understand that she was to be breathing the same air made her shudder. But her resolve merely hardened.

They guided her to the common section of Newgate when she asked, past a hundred cells concealing dull-eyed figures and distant yells, the obscure sounds of agony. His cell was indistinguishable from the rest, a simple room that stank of refuse and would have anywhere else been deemed unsuitable. The captain could afford no better, clearly, yet still his situation was utterly pitiful - confined to a corner with wounds still weeping, he was no man of freedom now, not even a social pariah clinging to Jacobite, or else democratic values. His society, and all they stood for, had been thoroughly purged.

His cell was a place of rust and disease, so much so that if he were not executed tomorrow, the fear was that he would contract gaol fever, and the whole point would be gone.

A number of guards positioned themselves outside his door once the princess entered, speaking to her in disconnected strings of exposition, of rumour. "He was the captain of their brood. His name is Arthur Kirkland and he is on multiple charges of murder - they will execute him last tomorrow. Should you wish to be accompanied it will be done."

The suggestion heralded an instant flood of relief, yet oddly enough, a moment afterwards she felt a strange urge, a will to decline. And decline she did. "I will be alright. I don't think he'll harm me."

"You are certain, Royal Highness?"

"I am."

The captain lay in a complete state of calm upon his bed, the lines of his face smoothed clean by tranquility. He did not even rise in welcome, tip his hat or speak any words of acknowledgement. Loose hands crept constantly nearer to the exposed skin of his wounds, although he demonstrated no sign of pain. His eyes were still closed when he spoke.

"You're a woman, aren't you? You've got soft hands. I thought you'd tend to my wounds while you're here."

It was impossible to describe the pure immediacy of the fury and bewilderment that rushed to her head, mangling all the greetings she had spent so many hours devising. "Do not mock me. I am the furthest thing from a common woman you might dare to imagine."

"How strange. I've heard tales of wealth tiring the wealthy, but perhaps you have styled yourself as an exception."

"I am here only to see how the wretched and the inferior are punished," she answered through her teeth.

"Is that so? So which am I?"

"You are both."

"Perhaps you're right," he responded, sinking his hands into the mattress. "But you are not truly in a place to insult me."

Every part of her mind urged her to retort, but instead she stood in utter unremedied discomfort. Her eyes traced him, observing his condition, trying to understand better what a pirate really looked like, to put a face to those bodies in iron cages by the shore.

His jaw was moving stiffly, up and down and then back again. "Where did you get that?" she asked, brusquer than intended. "I was under the impression tobacco was forbidden."

"It seems we are both still affiliating ourselves with the laws of Newgate. But, if you must know, bribery is effective in prisons. Have you heard of bribery? I doubt you even know who you are speaking with." As he finished he opened his eyes, which all at once rendered his visage unsightly, made her think now I can never marry a man with green eyes. "What a foolish girl. I struggle to imagine how England has fallen to this repulsive state."

She turned her voice to ice. "You are already condemned to the gallows, so I fail to see why you believe taunting me will improve your cause."

"Because you intrigue me. You're here for something and whatever your status, you seem very prepared to go to great lengths to obtain it. That is intriguing." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, interlocking his hands over his knees in an absurdly civil sort of manner. Even though his accent was coarse, he had a way of speaking very eloquently. When she retreated slightly, grasping for the security of the door, he laughed, revealing darkened gums. "I'm not going to touch you. I have no interest in tainted women."

"Obviously," she forced out. Thinking quickly for a response, she fought to calm her breathing. "There is a story circulating about London, which might be relevant to you. I'm sure you don't hear many stories where you come from. Shall I tell it to you?"

Somehow the pirate succeeded in crafting his expression into one of equal inquisitiveness and disdain. "I should be delighted."

Hesitating for a moment longer, the princess allowed herself to begin. "The story speaks of a young woman, a lady of noble blood, who grows restless waiting for security of her marriage. Her first suitor, the only one she loves, runs off to war to command a great battle, and never returns. She cannot bear any of the others. Eventually, she becomes obsessed with a freedom beyond the waiting game, and all the untiring negotiations back and forth, and decides she wants to escape to a different living. At the time there are pirates in the nearby prison, awaiting execution, so she hurries there in the middle of the night to bargain - she will unlock their cell if they take her away with them. To her surprise the men agree, and she sails away that very evening, upon a stolen brigantine.

"Legend cannot say for certain what she endured, yet two weeks later her body is found on the shore, bloodied and naked. They seem to have tortured and killed her as soon as the opportunity arose, taking her fine clothing and running off. The story is told to deter young girls from thinking a life beyond normality is, in any way, alluring."

When she finished the pirate was staring, scrutinising, all before he brought his hands together, clapping slowly and in such a way that she felt even colder. "An effective deterrent, indeed. Let them know who is at fault in the world and they will know better, certainly. Yet I cannot tell you I think you above such a crime."

Her hands clenched behind her back, before they went up to her shoulders as she enveloped herself, relishing any security she could get. "You do not know me! I am engaged and I am in love. I am a woman of high purpose."

"And what purpose you must have, to consult me!" He peered closely at her, starting to grin, the lack of affirmation disturbing her. "I suppose it was an arrangement?"

"A happy one."

The pirate's look of amusement solidified. "I should be very pleased to know you are beyond believing that a man of the sea would ever be after a bride. Yet still, you astound me! Do you think yourself comfortable in your marriage, a bearer of children with unfulfilled aspirations of having the throne? Your father will always be before you, along with any brothers, and even if they are to die, they will put uncles and cousins before they have you. Your worth is dwindling, Royal Highness."

It didn't sound true - it didn't feel true - but that didn't change anything. Any thoughts of decorum and polite conduct were entirely banished from her mind, joining whatever original ideas she had entertained of gathering information from this utterly detestable individual. It was all she could do not to scream and order him killed at that very moment. "You know nothing of me," she at last managed, fumbling for the door at her back, "for you are a dead man and nothing else. I will see you at the gallows tomorrow, and I will smile."

His answering grin was the most horrid thing she had ever seen. "I will smile back."

Almost retching, tasting bile behind her teeth as the guards fussed over her condition, the princess began to feel light-headed. She left his cell feeling as though she was to be executed rather than him, so greatly did the weight of his insults rest on her shoulders and his smile in her memory.

-

Fear was still perfectly alive and well in her heart the following day, when Kirkland and the rest of his kin were led to the dock in a loaded cart, accompanied by a chaplain pressing for confessions and resting his fingers on their foreheads. They drank their last drink at the public house adjacent to the dock and spoke quietly among themselves, no doubt trying to put death on hold somehow, even if it had been promised to them from the very beginning of their venture.

By the time the cart was forced through the swarming crowd, several of the men lost all sense of self, sullying themselves, wetting themselves, clawing at their own faces as well as those of their brethren, yelling and pleading as they clung to the cart's side. Officials followed shortly after, representatives of the High Court of Admiralty, and then the customary words were said with vigour enough to exhilarate the buzzing masses.

The shouts only escalated as the princess leant forward to better see the platform, safely kept back and out of the throng, hand across her mouth, inhaling sharply as the pirates' nooses were tied; many were delirious, many were white with fear, but the captain of them was unaffected, an unyielding figure who still sought to exude authority.

He could be seen laughing even as the platform was pulled from beneath his feet and he hung there on his short rope, skin discolouring rapidly. They would not grant him the mercy of a broken neck.

As he died, the princess was certain he looked to her, mouthing her name with his dying breath.