One Line Bingo, Amnesty Fics - Sky Pirates
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origfic_bingoI'm actually quite surprised that there isn't more sinister things in the warnings. Everything seems hinted at, which, I'll take for now.
I tried to write them all as stand alone writings that have ties to the larger fic at hand but the bingo card sort of threw things into a chronological twist. If you would like to keep it all chronological - or best as possible, please read "Something Lost, Something Gained" before "Wrinkle Along the Way". I hope you enjoy!
Under the "O"s we have:
Title: Once More
Prompt: O-1, Crying
Rating: PG-13
Contains: kidnapping
Summary: Josefana finds that her child is missing.
Words: 611
Mrs Josefana Adoria Médard did not cry. But given the circumstances, it seemed like now would be almost the proper time to do so.
She had heard a dastardly amount of noise: yelling and the sounds of something, that she was quite sure of being a pistol, firing - she made her way through the grand house to her only remaining son's room.
The door opened and it was as if time went backwards and she was seeing the scenes from 20 years ago play again: almost everything was done in the same way.
Coverlets and sheets dragged from the bed, to the floor, and going towards the large and very open balcony. The moon shone through the sliced curtains, merrily dancing in the slight breezes. They seemed perverted in their waves, as if nothing changed.
But things did change. Josefana's world, her last remaining son, was taken from her- but this time there was a note. It was pinned to the down feather bedding with a dagger.
The dagger wasn't one that was used in battle. It had little wear to its handle, and to it's hilt there was a shine to it, as if polished just for this purpose. A cousin of this blade sat in a cabinet, deep in her closets and soon, this one would sit next to it.
Her mind offered up the previous attack against her home, the kidnapping of one her twin boys. It wavered in front of her eyes, super-imposed amongst the empty room.
The balcony doors were thrown wide and the curtains danced in the breeze again. Her eyes flitted to where the other bed would have been, where the dagger in the mattress would have been the first time and seen nothing.
She knew the noises to come; the cries and sobbing of Thierry who would have been reaching for his captured twin. But that sound never came.
The fluttering of paper caught her attention, clearing away the memories that to easily slid to the fore front of her mind.
She walked towards the bed, a part of herself cooed that she was brave to walk deeper into the room, as her eyes were pinned to the fluttering of the paper that rested where her son's body used to lay.
The dagger slipped out of the bedding with a sickening ease and she fought an image of it slipping into the soft flesh of a body, forcing her eyes to the paper. Grey eyes roamed the paper, taking in the words, processing them.
"Josie?" The deep voice of her husband came from the doorway. He stood with pistol in hand, his head cocked as if unsure to come closer. He belted the gun when his eyes caught his wife's hand shake, the paper fluttering.
"They took him. They took Irry." She turned to Dettmar, her husband of near 30 years, with tears running tracks down her cheeks. The sight stunned him, caught him unawares and for a moment he thought her even more beautiful because she wept, showing a vulnerable side he rarely seen.
"Dettie, they took my boy. It's happening all over again." She shook, in anger, fear or something else, Dettmar couldn't say.
"We will find him Josie, my love. They left a note, is it a ransom note?"
He felt her shake her head and he barely heard her whisper against his jacket.
"It says we have to wait for further instructions."
"Then, we wait. Come. I will make you some tea and we will sit together. We will face this together."
Josefana let her husband lead her from their boy's room, just as he did so many years ago.
Title: Imprisoned
Prompt: O-2 - Imprisonment
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes/Warnings: Flashback of a kidnapping while imprisoned.
Words: 840
Thierry awoke slowly. The first thing that he became aware of was the pain behind his eyelids. It slithered and felt slick, it moved its way to the back of his head and down his neck. A wave of vertigo move over him when he tried to sit up.
He quickly lay back down, eyes closed tight and his shoulders pressing against the thin mattress that acted as a bed. His hand went out cautiously and and made contact with wood, polished and lacquered. If he opened his eyes, he may have noticed its glossy sheen.
Thierry rested a bit more, letting the pain subside just a minuscule amount before he opened his eyes.
This time, he didn't sit up but looked around. There was a small porthole window high above him; he wouldn't be able to fit through it for it was too small or he was just too large. Mentally he shrugged and let his eyes wander more. The walls were just as he thought; highly polished wood that shone even in the barest of light. In the far corner there sat a toilet, small and squat to the ground with a copper wash basin just next to it.
The aristocrat wondered what was beyond the walls of his prison. A ship, that much was clear from the existence of the porthole. But he didn't know right off the bat what type of ship and what sort of ilk kidnapped him. He tried to gather his wits to him, but they felt like spun candy floss, prone to float away on a breeze.
Portholes are on ships. I’m on a ship, but which sort? It couldn't be the rebels, they don't have access to a ship. Perhaps pirates? Pirates would work, but which lot has me? And then he realized: there were no soft noises of water lapping at a hull. No soft dry noise of sand moving against wood or metal. This left one type: sky pirates.
Thierry could only blink at the thought of being captured by sky pirates. Part of him felt giddy with delight- not from whatever they used to drug him unconscious, but for the sheer fact that he always wanted to see their kind up close. He could remember seeing the ships in the sky, skirting the city's air limits as if playing with that border that if crossed would end them with holes in their ships. And what a sad thought that would be to see: holes in the gleaming wood, denting the bright copper that would run along the wooden frame. Or worse yet, damage and destroy the copper and brass cogs that made the dirigible fly. The mental image of a downward spiraling ship was quickly banished from his mind and he repressed a gasp.
Of course, just as quick as the thought of giddiness came the horrifying revolution that he was indeed captured by sky pirates. There was a rumor that his twin was taken by sky pirates. It remained a rumor because no sky pirate actually spoke up and took the claim for it, which was odd. Of course, he couldn't say who stole his twin, just that it was dark and they moved in the dark so well that it was scary.
The memory came as if summoned by a witch to haunt him: he could hear those noises, the creak of the balcony door being swung open, the soft whoosh as the night's wind was let in. It was then that his twin woke with a start and cried out. They fell on him like winter wolves on prey; muffling his cries and pinning his limbs to stop him from thrashing. He himself didn't start crying until he saw the flash of the blade impale itself into the bed that his twin was plucked from and the harsh laughter of one of the men.
He screamed then, crying for his twin. He reached for him with small hands that wouldn't be able to do anything against the huge man shaped creatures that stole his brother. Their parents came in moments later only to find Irry sobbing and clutching at a bear on the balcony, watching the ships retreat with precious cargo in tow. All the while the winds still danced carelessly with the curtains.
Irry blinked away the memory and the bitter tears that it brought. He sighed and looked towards where he thought the door would be. Perhaps they were waiting for him to wake and rail against his side of the door and demand to see the captain and know why he was taken. The young man blinked and closed his eyes. He was captured by pirates and figured that demanding to see the captain would gain nothing but a spit in the eye or possibly a beating. Irry figured that when the Captain was ready to see him, he would be summoned. Why waste energy?
Instead, he lay and tried to think of the reasons why he would be imprisoned.
Title: Letters Sent
Prompt: O-4 - epistolary fic (emails, letters, etc)
Rating: G - they're civil
contains: letters between the pirates and Médard family
summary: Thierry's mother responds to ransom notes
Words: 698
We have taken Thierry Médard. Await further instructions.
**
Mr & Mrs Médard,
As you know, Thierry Médard is within our custody. He has not been harmed in any fashion other than perhaps the shock of being captive. Mr Médard has been treated quite fairly and with the utmost civility.
The purpose of this letter, is to inform you - instruct, if you will, of how to get your son back.
I have come across the knowledge that your family line has weapons of great legend as heirlooms. These are what I seek. If presented to me, I will let Thierry go without further ado.
I would like to hear a response from you. If no response is given, then Thierry will become my property and part of The Defiance's crew.
Cordially yours,
Captain Dominic Marcello
**
Captain Marcello
We are pleased to hear that our boy is being treated well despite being taken by a gaggle of brigands. He is the utmost of importance to us.
In regards to the "weapons of great legend" that are heirlooms, I quite honestly am baffled. The only pieces of weaponry that were passed down in the family is a pistol from four generations past. Apparently it was used to shoot a General gone rogue and make quick stop to a battle that might have become a war. Hardly anything that was talked about or put into history books.
We look forward to your notation.
Mr & Mrs Médard
****
Mr & Mrs Médard,
Your wording entertains me so! I am nothing like a brigand, as I am not a robber nor a bandit and I certainly do not live in forest or mountain regions. Pirate. That is me, not brigand. Please do take care to remember this in the future.
I am more than positive about the weapons. They were stories from my youth, something that Marcus Marcello sought after up until his death. An assignment given to me to carry on, by Marcus upon his deathbed. There were two items that we sought: The Nægling, a sword and it's companion dagger, The Grægmæl.
All things, by which I mean information, came back to you, to your family. Over and over again. So you see, you must be the ones who have it. I would rather you hand them over than us come and turn your home upside down and inside out while searching for them.
Awaiting your reply.
Captain Marcello
**
Captain Marcello,
Pardon me and my blunder of calling you a brigand. Such a faux pas! I never really knew that there was a preference to what your kind were called.
In regards to the weapons, those are mere legends. They are dreams of children who long for something more while playing in the backyard before they sup with family. I am sorry to think that your previous Captain would fill your head with such trivial and fancy thoughts that legendary weapons do exist.
My family has no such weaponry and I would ask that you not come back to search the house. I've had more than my share of pirates in my lifetime - thank you very much and I do not need another encounter unless it's you returning my son.
Mrs J Médard
**
Captain Marcello,
Please, I implore you to return my child. I do not think you know just how much he means to me. I fear that I may resort to begging as my heart is already breaking.
He is the only child I have left. My other boy was stolen in the dark of night, oh so many years ago. And while I do long to see him, I do not know if he is even alive anymore or who took him. We believe it to be Sky Pirates as the captors had a floating ship.
Please Captain, return my boy to me. I beg of you to prove that pirates can be painted in a light of fairness and decency.
Mrs Josefana Médard
**
Captain Marcello made no further responses to the Médard family.
There are no further letters sent by Captain Marcello. Josefana Médard sent others in a vain attept to gain her son back.
Title: Wrinkle Along the Way
Prompt: O-4, family (learning of an unexpected relative)
Rating: R
Contains: reference of incest of the m/m pairing
Summary: Dominic and Irry find out some interesting information
Words: 1028
The papers sat on the table between them but neither paid them any heed; their eyes were locked on each other.
Each set of steely grey eyes roamed the others face, looking and noticing for the things that they overlooked before: the jawline, the tilt of the eyes, the lips and their sensual curves, the hair coloring, the cheekbones - they were similar but different all at once. It was like they were looking into a warped mirror.
Dominic looked over Irry's face and the clean shaven skin, knowing, without a doubt, that if he were to shave his half-hearted mustache and goatee he would look almost the same. The aristocrat was far more pale than he was, his skin far softer to the touch but they were the same and it made his mind spin circles as to why he didn't notice before. Perhaps that was the reason why he was so attracted to him, a form of vanity shouldered with something perverse. He didn't know and to him it still didn't matter.
His twin sat and blinked at the Captain and could feel a something inside start to give. Slowly but surely little pieces were starting to fall away from him.
This man is my brother. My twin. My twin. Sky Pirates stole him and now he's here, sitting there so relaxed and nonchalant like this isn't something huge and dawning. My twin. My stolen twin. I don't know if I want to punch him or kiss him - again. Dear gods, I slept with my brother - more than once. I enjoyed it! I want to do it again. I ...am a perverse and deranged man. One shouldn't find such comfort in their sibling's arms. Not like that. Oh gods.
Irry's eyes went between gazing at his almost mirror image to getting lost in his thoughts. His twin noticed but for the moment, didn't say anything, his own thoughts occupying him as well.
The Captain processed the information that was told to him. That information now sat between the two men and the first thing that went through his mind was a mental fight that Marcus Marcello wasn't his father, like the man often claimed to be and that his flesh and blood family was sitting across from him.
His mind rolled between Marcus and Irry, questions that rose to the surface disappeared when the next one popped up.
Marcus wasn't my father. He lied. Irry is my twin. I was taken from him, from my family. Why would Marcus lie to me? Why did he kidnap me, what was there to gain from it? ...I was his successor; he groomed me to become the next Captain upon his death. Would my family even welcome me back, knowing that I kidnapped my twin? ...my brother that I bedded.
A knock at the door came but neither man heard it. It came again a bit louder but still, their thoughts thundered over the noise. The door swung inward and a blonde woman peeked her head in and gave a roll of her eyes.
She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her before making her way over to the table and the two seated and visibly shocked men. Picking up the papers, she skimmed quickly. Her and the crew's suspicions were correct- the two men were siblings. Anna allowed herself a small grin at the won wager she'd be collecting from some of them later. Anna spoke, halting all thoughts as her voice cut through the mental din: It was followed by the shuffling of the papers that were on the desk.
"Well this is very unexpected. Cap'n, what are you planning to do?"
Both sets of grey eyes looked up at the short blonde woman. She cocked her hip and flipped through the rest of the papers before dropping them back where she found them.
Dominic gave a shaky sigh and licked his lips. "I don't think I've thought past that."
"Still in shock huh?" Anna said.
"Shock would be putting it mildly." Irry muttered.
Blue eyes regarded both men, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she thought. Her hand came up and pointed quickly between the two. "You're both hung up on the fact that you slept with each other, aren't you? But you know what? It happened in the past when you didn't have this knowledge. Cap'n, never once have I seen you live with any sort of regret and I certainly don't expect you to start now."
"Oh Anna, I have regrets. I have a good handful."
"Name one."
"Plucking you from your home." He watched a myriad of emotions play on her face and he held up a hand. "I've wondered if I've done good by you for it."
"Dominic! You saved me. That man would have killed me and then you! You set me free from his tyranny. I am thankful every day for it. I am part of your crew and never once have I looked back."
The sky pirate cocked his head at her and gave a weak smile. "You cook and do cleaning. The only difference between my ship and there is that we don't beat you."
"I am a part of your crew. I have been out with the men doing what they do. I hold my own and you know it." Anna was angry now; angry that he would dismiss this so casually but he nodded at the points she made. "I do the cooking because Gunthrey cooked like shit. He says he doesn't mind doing the laundry so it was fair. And, I get to go on raids which is far more fun than being married to that horrid man."
The two pirates went silent then sighed and then chuckled. Irry failed to see how any of that was amusing but kept quiet. He wanted to ask, wanted to know more about this woman who was so cavalier with his brother.
Now was not the time as Anna piped up once more. "I didn't just come to give pause to your current thoughts. We have company and I'm pretty sure they're hostile."
Title: Something Lost, Something Gained
Prompt: o-5, character death
Rating: PG for death
Contains: character death
Summary: Dominic is summoned to his father's death bed.
Words: 792
He was coughing for months and had doctors brought aboard for almost as long. To say that the crew were worried was an understatement; they were terrified.
The Captain was weakened. His breathing had become labored and sounded almost wheezy on both inhalation and exhalation. None were trained in the arts of medicine and they felt at a loss, even more so than if they had been put onto a Sand Pirate's boat and told to work.
Marcus Marcello tried to placate the fears by filling their minds of future raids, all the while hunting down The Nægling and it's companion dagger, The Grægmæl. He created yarns of victory yet to be gained and how their fame would reach across skies, seas, and sands- and how all others would envy them and their power. It left the crews excited; their raids were filled with arm loads of booty to be melted down and turned into something more fashionable to trade with.
They had leave and partook of wine, partners of the flesh and good relaxation. The crew would return and see their Captain in somewhat better spirits and composition. But it wouldn't last long. It never lasted long and ended up becoming a vicious cycle of looting, leave and quiet discontent.
The trips for healers and doctors alike became more and more frequent. They never said a word to the crew; they took their solemn leave with grim expressions.
One night, Dominic was summoned hastily to the Captain's quarters. He knew his father wasn't well, knew that it would be soon that he passed on. He loathed this knowledge, loathed it more than scrubbing floors and cleaning potatoes and the decks.
Dominic followed Gunthrey to the Captain's door and stood for a moment. His eyes took in the copper inlay that rested in the wood, that scrolled its way down the door and its frame. He could smell the heady aroma of scented wax from beyond the door. Its presence trying to mask the bitter scent of death that was lurking around Marcus lately. Gunthrey made a soft noise in his throat reminding Dominic that time was short.
The handle felt far too cold in his hand as he pressed the latch. He felt hyper aware of these few precious moments and that alone lodged itself in the pit of his stomach, making him taste bile. He swallowed hard and pushed the door open.
There were candles burning everywhere. The room barely held any darkness in it and only of couple flames went out as Gunthrey shut the door behind him, leaving a soft lemon scent to envelop Dominic. From where he stood, he could see Marcus's eyes glittering like jewels.
The walk from the door to the bed seemed to stretch out like a vast horizon and Dominic felt as though he would never get to the side of the bed. It gave him time to look over his father's figure.
Marcus still managed to look regal despite his illness; brown hair with its few grey streaks spilled out onto the pillow, curling at the ends. His profile was strong until Dominic came closer and saw the gauntness of his cheeks. The lips that were forever parched and cracked. His eyes still shone even though they looked sunken and dark.
Dominic knelt beside the bed and tucked his unruly dark hair behind his ears before taking the frail hand in his. Marcus started, blinking away thoughts and let his eyes focus on Dominic's.
"My boy. It. It is time. You... will take The Defiance. She is... your flagship. Be the Captain I never was. Everything you need-" The older man swallowed hard and Dominic panicked for water, but Marcus silently urged him to remain still. "Listen to me boy. Everything you need is in the Gold Cupboards. Everything. Promise me, Dominic, that you will keep looking. It is...your charge now."
Tears crept to the corners of the younger man's eyes and he was unable to keep them from rolling down his cheeks but Dominic nodded.
"Say it. Say it Dominic."
"I promise, I will keep looking. I promise, father."
Marcus gave a deep sigh, as if all air was pushed from his body and rattled it's fingers along every rib until it was expelled past his lips. Dominic gripped the bed sheets and screamed into the bedding at his loss.
Eventually he would be forced to think of the funeral, of the ceremony with the other Pirate factions to become Captain of all that Marcus had, and then try to focus on something other than the lingering emptiness that was left. That was neither here nor there yet and now, he still felt the pain of his father’s loss all too keenly.
I tried to write them all as stand alone writings that have ties to the larger fic at hand but the bingo card sort of threw things into a chronological twist. If you would like to keep it all chronological - or best as possible, please read "Something Lost, Something Gained" before "Wrinkle Along the Way". I hope you enjoy!
Under the "O"s we have:
Title: Once More
Prompt: O-1, Crying
Rating: PG-13
Contains: kidnapping
Summary: Josefana finds that her child is missing.
Words: 611
Mrs Josefana Adoria Médard did not cry. But given the circumstances, it seemed like now would be almost the proper time to do so.
She had heard a dastardly amount of noise: yelling and the sounds of something, that she was quite sure of being a pistol, firing - she made her way through the grand house to her only remaining son's room.
The door opened and it was as if time went backwards and she was seeing the scenes from 20 years ago play again: almost everything was done in the same way.
Coverlets and sheets dragged from the bed, to the floor, and going towards the large and very open balcony. The moon shone through the sliced curtains, merrily dancing in the slight breezes. They seemed perverted in their waves, as if nothing changed.
But things did change. Josefana's world, her last remaining son, was taken from her- but this time there was a note. It was pinned to the down feather bedding with a dagger.
The dagger wasn't one that was used in battle. It had little wear to its handle, and to it's hilt there was a shine to it, as if polished just for this purpose. A cousin of this blade sat in a cabinet, deep in her closets and soon, this one would sit next to it.
Her mind offered up the previous attack against her home, the kidnapping of one her twin boys. It wavered in front of her eyes, super-imposed amongst the empty room.
The balcony doors were thrown wide and the curtains danced in the breeze again. Her eyes flitted to where the other bed would have been, where the dagger in the mattress would have been the first time and seen nothing.
She knew the noises to come; the cries and sobbing of Thierry who would have been reaching for his captured twin. But that sound never came.
The fluttering of paper caught her attention, clearing away the memories that to easily slid to the fore front of her mind.
She walked towards the bed, a part of herself cooed that she was brave to walk deeper into the room, as her eyes were pinned to the fluttering of the paper that rested where her son's body used to lay.
The dagger slipped out of the bedding with a sickening ease and she fought an image of it slipping into the soft flesh of a body, forcing her eyes to the paper. Grey eyes roamed the paper, taking in the words, processing them.
"Josie?" The deep voice of her husband came from the doorway. He stood with pistol in hand, his head cocked as if unsure to come closer. He belted the gun when his eyes caught his wife's hand shake, the paper fluttering.
"They took him. They took Irry." She turned to Dettmar, her husband of near 30 years, with tears running tracks down her cheeks. The sight stunned him, caught him unawares and for a moment he thought her even more beautiful because she wept, showing a vulnerable side he rarely seen.
"Dettie, they took my boy. It's happening all over again." She shook, in anger, fear or something else, Dettmar couldn't say.
"We will find him Josie, my love. They left a note, is it a ransom note?"
He felt her shake her head and he barely heard her whisper against his jacket.
"It says we have to wait for further instructions."
"Then, we wait. Come. I will make you some tea and we will sit together. We will face this together."
Josefana let her husband lead her from their boy's room, just as he did so many years ago.
Title: Imprisoned
Prompt: O-2 - Imprisonment
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes/Warnings: Flashback of a kidnapping while imprisoned.
Words: 840
Thierry awoke slowly. The first thing that he became aware of was the pain behind his eyelids. It slithered and felt slick, it moved its way to the back of his head and down his neck. A wave of vertigo move over him when he tried to sit up.
He quickly lay back down, eyes closed tight and his shoulders pressing against the thin mattress that acted as a bed. His hand went out cautiously and and made contact with wood, polished and lacquered. If he opened his eyes, he may have noticed its glossy sheen.
Thierry rested a bit more, letting the pain subside just a minuscule amount before he opened his eyes.
This time, he didn't sit up but looked around. There was a small porthole window high above him; he wouldn't be able to fit through it for it was too small or he was just too large. Mentally he shrugged and let his eyes wander more. The walls were just as he thought; highly polished wood that shone even in the barest of light. In the far corner there sat a toilet, small and squat to the ground with a copper wash basin just next to it.
The aristocrat wondered what was beyond the walls of his prison. A ship, that much was clear from the existence of the porthole. But he didn't know right off the bat what type of ship and what sort of ilk kidnapped him. He tried to gather his wits to him, but they felt like spun candy floss, prone to float away on a breeze.
Portholes are on ships. I’m on a ship, but which sort? It couldn't be the rebels, they don't have access to a ship. Perhaps pirates? Pirates would work, but which lot has me? And then he realized: there were no soft noises of water lapping at a hull. No soft dry noise of sand moving against wood or metal. This left one type: sky pirates.
Thierry could only blink at the thought of being captured by sky pirates. Part of him felt giddy with delight- not from whatever they used to drug him unconscious, but for the sheer fact that he always wanted to see their kind up close. He could remember seeing the ships in the sky, skirting the city's air limits as if playing with that border that if crossed would end them with holes in their ships. And what a sad thought that would be to see: holes in the gleaming wood, denting the bright copper that would run along the wooden frame. Or worse yet, damage and destroy the copper and brass cogs that made the dirigible fly. The mental image of a downward spiraling ship was quickly banished from his mind and he repressed a gasp.
Of course, just as quick as the thought of giddiness came the horrifying revolution that he was indeed captured by sky pirates. There was a rumor that his twin was taken by sky pirates. It remained a rumor because no sky pirate actually spoke up and took the claim for it, which was odd. Of course, he couldn't say who stole his twin, just that it was dark and they moved in the dark so well that it was scary.
The memory came as if summoned by a witch to haunt him: he could hear those noises, the creak of the balcony door being swung open, the soft whoosh as the night's wind was let in. It was then that his twin woke with a start and cried out. They fell on him like winter wolves on prey; muffling his cries and pinning his limbs to stop him from thrashing. He himself didn't start crying until he saw the flash of the blade impale itself into the bed that his twin was plucked from and the harsh laughter of one of the men.
He screamed then, crying for his twin. He reached for him with small hands that wouldn't be able to do anything against the huge man shaped creatures that stole his brother. Their parents came in moments later only to find Irry sobbing and clutching at a bear on the balcony, watching the ships retreat with precious cargo in tow. All the while the winds still danced carelessly with the curtains.
Irry blinked away the memory and the bitter tears that it brought. He sighed and looked towards where he thought the door would be. Perhaps they were waiting for him to wake and rail against his side of the door and demand to see the captain and know why he was taken. The young man blinked and closed his eyes. He was captured by pirates and figured that demanding to see the captain would gain nothing but a spit in the eye or possibly a beating. Irry figured that when the Captain was ready to see him, he would be summoned. Why waste energy?
Instead, he lay and tried to think of the reasons why he would be imprisoned.
Title: Letters Sent
Prompt: O-4 - epistolary fic (emails, letters, etc)
Rating: G - they're civil
contains: letters between the pirates and Médard family
summary: Thierry's mother responds to ransom notes
Words: 698
We have taken Thierry Médard. Await further instructions.
**
Mr & Mrs Médard,
As you know, Thierry Médard is within our custody. He has not been harmed in any fashion other than perhaps the shock of being captive. Mr Médard has been treated quite fairly and with the utmost civility.
The purpose of this letter, is to inform you - instruct, if you will, of how to get your son back.
I have come across the knowledge that your family line has weapons of great legend as heirlooms. These are what I seek. If presented to me, I will let Thierry go without further ado.
I would like to hear a response from you. If no response is given, then Thierry will become my property and part of The Defiance's crew.
Cordially yours,
Captain Dominic Marcello
**
Captain Marcello
We are pleased to hear that our boy is being treated well despite being taken by a gaggle of brigands. He is the utmost of importance to us.
In regards to the "weapons of great legend" that are heirlooms, I quite honestly am baffled. The only pieces of weaponry that were passed down in the family is a pistol from four generations past. Apparently it was used to shoot a General gone rogue and make quick stop to a battle that might have become a war. Hardly anything that was talked about or put into history books.
We look forward to your notation.
Mr & Mrs Médard
****
Mr & Mrs Médard,
Your wording entertains me so! I am nothing like a brigand, as I am not a robber nor a bandit and I certainly do not live in forest or mountain regions. Pirate. That is me, not brigand. Please do take care to remember this in the future.
I am more than positive about the weapons. They were stories from my youth, something that Marcus Marcello sought after up until his death. An assignment given to me to carry on, by Marcus upon his deathbed. There were two items that we sought: The Nægling, a sword and it's companion dagger, The Grægmæl.
All things, by which I mean information, came back to you, to your family. Over and over again. So you see, you must be the ones who have it. I would rather you hand them over than us come and turn your home upside down and inside out while searching for them.
Awaiting your reply.
Captain Marcello
**
Captain Marcello,
Pardon me and my blunder of calling you a brigand. Such a faux pas! I never really knew that there was a preference to what your kind were called.
In regards to the weapons, those are mere legends. They are dreams of children who long for something more while playing in the backyard before they sup with family. I am sorry to think that your previous Captain would fill your head with such trivial and fancy thoughts that legendary weapons do exist.
My family has no such weaponry and I would ask that you not come back to search the house. I've had more than my share of pirates in my lifetime - thank you very much and I do not need another encounter unless it's you returning my son.
Mrs J Médard
**
Captain Marcello,
Please, I implore you to return my child. I do not think you know just how much he means to me. I fear that I may resort to begging as my heart is already breaking.
He is the only child I have left. My other boy was stolen in the dark of night, oh so many years ago. And while I do long to see him, I do not know if he is even alive anymore or who took him. We believe it to be Sky Pirates as the captors had a floating ship.
Please Captain, return my boy to me. I beg of you to prove that pirates can be painted in a light of fairness and decency.
Mrs Josefana Médard
**
Captain Marcello made no further responses to the Médard family.
There are no further letters sent by Captain Marcello. Josefana Médard sent others in a vain attept to gain her son back.
Title: Wrinkle Along the Way
Prompt: O-4, family (learning of an unexpected relative)
Rating: R
Contains: reference of incest of the m/m pairing
Summary: Dominic and Irry find out some interesting information
Words: 1028
The papers sat on the table between them but neither paid them any heed; their eyes were locked on each other.
Each set of steely grey eyes roamed the others face, looking and noticing for the things that they overlooked before: the jawline, the tilt of the eyes, the lips and their sensual curves, the hair coloring, the cheekbones - they were similar but different all at once. It was like they were looking into a warped mirror.
Dominic looked over Irry's face and the clean shaven skin, knowing, without a doubt, that if he were to shave his half-hearted mustache and goatee he would look almost the same. The aristocrat was far more pale than he was, his skin far softer to the touch but they were the same and it made his mind spin circles as to why he didn't notice before. Perhaps that was the reason why he was so attracted to him, a form of vanity shouldered with something perverse. He didn't know and to him it still didn't matter.
His twin sat and blinked at the Captain and could feel a something inside start to give. Slowly but surely little pieces were starting to fall away from him.
This man is my brother. My twin. My twin. Sky Pirates stole him and now he's here, sitting there so relaxed and nonchalant like this isn't something huge and dawning. My twin. My stolen twin. I don't know if I want to punch him or kiss him - again. Dear gods, I slept with my brother - more than once. I enjoyed it! I want to do it again. I ...am a perverse and deranged man. One shouldn't find such comfort in their sibling's arms. Not like that. Oh gods.
Irry's eyes went between gazing at his almost mirror image to getting lost in his thoughts. His twin noticed but for the moment, didn't say anything, his own thoughts occupying him as well.
The Captain processed the information that was told to him. That information now sat between the two men and the first thing that went through his mind was a mental fight that Marcus Marcello wasn't his father, like the man often claimed to be and that his flesh and blood family was sitting across from him.
His mind rolled between Marcus and Irry, questions that rose to the surface disappeared when the next one popped up.
Marcus wasn't my father. He lied. Irry is my twin. I was taken from him, from my family. Why would Marcus lie to me? Why did he kidnap me, what was there to gain from it? ...I was his successor; he groomed me to become the next Captain upon his death. Would my family even welcome me back, knowing that I kidnapped my twin? ...my brother that I bedded.
A knock at the door came but neither man heard it. It came again a bit louder but still, their thoughts thundered over the noise. The door swung inward and a blonde woman peeked her head in and gave a roll of her eyes.
She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her before making her way over to the table and the two seated and visibly shocked men. Picking up the papers, she skimmed quickly. Her and the crew's suspicions were correct- the two men were siblings. Anna allowed herself a small grin at the won wager she'd be collecting from some of them later. Anna spoke, halting all thoughts as her voice cut through the mental din: It was followed by the shuffling of the papers that were on the desk.
"Well this is very unexpected. Cap'n, what are you planning to do?"
Both sets of grey eyes looked up at the short blonde woman. She cocked her hip and flipped through the rest of the papers before dropping them back where she found them.
Dominic gave a shaky sigh and licked his lips. "I don't think I've thought past that."
"Still in shock huh?" Anna said.
"Shock would be putting it mildly." Irry muttered.
Blue eyes regarded both men, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she thought. Her hand came up and pointed quickly between the two. "You're both hung up on the fact that you slept with each other, aren't you? But you know what? It happened in the past when you didn't have this knowledge. Cap'n, never once have I seen you live with any sort of regret and I certainly don't expect you to start now."
"Oh Anna, I have regrets. I have a good handful."
"Name one."
"Plucking you from your home." He watched a myriad of emotions play on her face and he held up a hand. "I've wondered if I've done good by you for it."
"Dominic! You saved me. That man would have killed me and then you! You set me free from his tyranny. I am thankful every day for it. I am part of your crew and never once have I looked back."
The sky pirate cocked his head at her and gave a weak smile. "You cook and do cleaning. The only difference between my ship and there is that we don't beat you."
"I am a part of your crew. I have been out with the men doing what they do. I hold my own and you know it." Anna was angry now; angry that he would dismiss this so casually but he nodded at the points she made. "I do the cooking because Gunthrey cooked like shit. He says he doesn't mind doing the laundry so it was fair. And, I get to go on raids which is far more fun than being married to that horrid man."
The two pirates went silent then sighed and then chuckled. Irry failed to see how any of that was amusing but kept quiet. He wanted to ask, wanted to know more about this woman who was so cavalier with his brother.
Now was not the time as Anna piped up once more. "I didn't just come to give pause to your current thoughts. We have company and I'm pretty sure they're hostile."
Title: Something Lost, Something Gained
Prompt: o-5, character death
Rating: PG for death
Contains: character death
Summary: Dominic is summoned to his father's death bed.
Words: 792
He was coughing for months and had doctors brought aboard for almost as long. To say that the crew were worried was an understatement; they were terrified.
The Captain was weakened. His breathing had become labored and sounded almost wheezy on both inhalation and exhalation. None were trained in the arts of medicine and they felt at a loss, even more so than if they had been put onto a Sand Pirate's boat and told to work.
Marcus Marcello tried to placate the fears by filling their minds of future raids, all the while hunting down The Nægling and it's companion dagger, The Grægmæl. He created yarns of victory yet to be gained and how their fame would reach across skies, seas, and sands- and how all others would envy them and their power. It left the crews excited; their raids were filled with arm loads of booty to be melted down and turned into something more fashionable to trade with.
They had leave and partook of wine, partners of the flesh and good relaxation. The crew would return and see their Captain in somewhat better spirits and composition. But it wouldn't last long. It never lasted long and ended up becoming a vicious cycle of looting, leave and quiet discontent.
The trips for healers and doctors alike became more and more frequent. They never said a word to the crew; they took their solemn leave with grim expressions.
One night, Dominic was summoned hastily to the Captain's quarters. He knew his father wasn't well, knew that it would be soon that he passed on. He loathed this knowledge, loathed it more than scrubbing floors and cleaning potatoes and the decks.
Dominic followed Gunthrey to the Captain's door and stood for a moment. His eyes took in the copper inlay that rested in the wood, that scrolled its way down the door and its frame. He could smell the heady aroma of scented wax from beyond the door. Its presence trying to mask the bitter scent of death that was lurking around Marcus lately. Gunthrey made a soft noise in his throat reminding Dominic that time was short.
The handle felt far too cold in his hand as he pressed the latch. He felt hyper aware of these few precious moments and that alone lodged itself in the pit of his stomach, making him taste bile. He swallowed hard and pushed the door open.
There were candles burning everywhere. The room barely held any darkness in it and only of couple flames went out as Gunthrey shut the door behind him, leaving a soft lemon scent to envelop Dominic. From where he stood, he could see Marcus's eyes glittering like jewels.
The walk from the door to the bed seemed to stretch out like a vast horizon and Dominic felt as though he would never get to the side of the bed. It gave him time to look over his father's figure.
Marcus still managed to look regal despite his illness; brown hair with its few grey streaks spilled out onto the pillow, curling at the ends. His profile was strong until Dominic came closer and saw the gauntness of his cheeks. The lips that were forever parched and cracked. His eyes still shone even though they looked sunken and dark.
Dominic knelt beside the bed and tucked his unruly dark hair behind his ears before taking the frail hand in his. Marcus started, blinking away thoughts and let his eyes focus on Dominic's.
"My boy. It. It is time. You... will take The Defiance. She is... your flagship. Be the Captain I never was. Everything you need-" The older man swallowed hard and Dominic panicked for water, but Marcus silently urged him to remain still. "Listen to me boy. Everything you need is in the Gold Cupboards. Everything. Promise me, Dominic, that you will keep looking. It is...your charge now."
Tears crept to the corners of the younger man's eyes and he was unable to keep them from rolling down his cheeks but Dominic nodded.
"Say it. Say it Dominic."
"I promise, I will keep looking. I promise, father."
Marcus gave a deep sigh, as if all air was pushed from his body and rattled it's fingers along every rib until it was expelled past his lips. Dominic gripped the bed sheets and screamed into the bedding at his loss.
Eventually he would be forced to think of the funeral, of the ceremony with the other Pirate factions to become Captain of all that Marcus had, and then try to focus on something other than the lingering emptiness that was left. That was neither here nor there yet and now, he still felt the pain of his father’s loss all too keenly.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-07 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-07 11:59 pm (UTC)I did have so much fun with these! And I'm really glad that they're willing to play with other parts of the cards!
Sooo many pirates! *dances for joy with all the pirate-y goodness!*