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“By Lord decree…”
Antonin refused to bow his head for these fools, even in this position with shackles binding his wrists in front of him. A noose hung in front of him, swinging from the light breeze of the wind. A scowl grew on his face as the memory bringing him to his moment played in his mind.
He’d been caught attempting to pillage the Governor’s mistress’ estate. The wanker and his wench returned to her quarters earlier than they were meant to–lookouts were bloody useless these days–when he and his crew were closing in on her jewels. His men had escaped without their captain; a mishap Antonin wouldn’t make again.
He was in that cell for at least a fortnight, and it was time for his life to end in front of the entire population of Hogsmeade. Idiots.
Captain Antonin Dolohov was not some average scallywag looking for a come up. He was prepared beyond their imaginations–ignoring this incident in the first place as it was typically one of his crew to be caught.
“You are convicted of piracy…”
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the executioner prattling on about Antonin’s crimes. The man must think this was some honor as he stood there in his horrid powdered wig and attire that was far too tight to be his own. He would learn that this would not be a day of hanging; no, this would be the day they almost killed Captain Antonin Dolohov.
“And you are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead.”
Antonin leered, seeing shadows moving across the way in the crowd in front of the gallows. The captain knew that the civilians, as well as the executioner, were oblivious to what was happening. He just had to wait for the opportune moment to initiate his escape.
“Any final words, pirate?”
Ah, there it is.
Antonin slowly raised his head and looked towards the man. “As a matter of fact...I do,” he said. His eyes shifted ever so briefly at the shadows being close enough before meeting the man’s hateful gaze with smugness. “I’d duck if I were you, mate.”
The man’s confused expression only lasted for a moment or so before the explosion sounded. A large cannonball shot through the crowd, causing the people of Hogsmeade to scream in panic and frenzy.
Antonin stepped to the side swiftly, bracing himself when the cannonball landed onto the platform of the gallows. It crushed the pillar holding the rope that nearly led to his death and created a hole right underneath the executioner. The platform started to topple over to the side; the man lost his balance and cried out as he fell into the stampede of the frantic crowd; only his muffled sounds of pain could be heard amidst the chaos. His powdered wig was nowhere to be found.
As the platform tipped to the other side, Antonin peered down the hole and shook his head with a taunting tut, all the while keeping his balance; he was a pirate, after all. Them be the gift of having sea legs.
“I told you to duck,” he called out with a smirk. The pirate then straightened up and scanned the crowd.
There were King’s Men everywhere with their swords drawn, but he easily recognized his crew preparing to attack from the rear. He taught them well. Before he could be apprehended again, Antonin dove off the rocking platform–his hands still bound–and he ran through the crowd, ducking or tripping whoever crossed his path.
That’s when he saw her. Her eyes were dark brown, but the sunshine reflected the flame hiding inside that highlighted the honey undertone. He dared to think that she looked sympathetic to his situation. Her cheekbones were high yet soft, accentuating the fullness of her lips. Her hair was pinned up in curls, the color resembling fresh wood from a ship.
And that dress. The striped material looked divine on her figure; the bodice hugged her waist like heat on the isle sands. This woman looked like a damsel waiting to be tainted by something sinful. That something sinful would be Captain Antonin Dolohov.
He licked his lips, their gaze unwavering, and he began to approach her. Yes, he was still bound at the wrists, but that wouldn’t stop him from charming the woman a short pace away.
Antonin hopped flippantly over a young lad that had fallen from the chaos. There was a hint of realization that shone in the woman’s eyes right before they flashed and she scowled.
Antonin pushed an elder–whether it was a woman or man he didn’t care–that was standing there with their cane. The damsel took a step back, bunching the skirt of her dress with one hand.
Antonin side-stepped a guard when he charged for him. The young woman wound her arm back when Antonin was a step away.
Fortunately for the pirate, he was quicker. He raised his arms and trapped the lady in an embrace. She squirmed, attempting to free herself, but with Antonin’s strength and the shackles holding his wrists together, there was not much she could do.
“Such an ungraceful gesture for a graceful woman,” Antonin remarked, a grin forming on his face. She had nerve; he admired that in a woman.
She, in turn, glared at him. “I’ll show you ungraceful gestures you rotten scoun–” she retorted before a hustle of feet formed around them.
Antonin looked at the owners of these feet, chuckling to himself. The guards held their swords and guns in his direction with the lady, his crew right behind them with their swords and the cannon used for the escape.
“I can’t wait to see those, Luv,” he replied with a wink, causing her to scoff in disgust. Her sympathetic thoughts were gone now.
“Unhand Admiral Black’s daughter,” one of the guards shouted. “Or we will shoot!”
Ah, so she was a spawn of Admiral Black. He was notorious for being a pirate killer across the seas, sending many to Davy Jones’ Locker. It would explain why her first reaction was to strike at the pirate instead of running like the typical woman. That was a change in the tide for him.
“Easy there, mates,” Antonin said smoothly to the decorated men surrounding him and the struggling woman in his hold. “We wouldn’t want Admiral Black’s daughter to be put in harm’s way, would we?”
The men froze, glancing between one another. Antonin smirked as the crew laughed menacingly behind them. He watched as they looked behind them and realized the situation.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Antonin continued. “I’m going to hold onto this one ‘til me and my crew are back on our ship. Then I’ll let her go, and you can go about yer merry lives like this day didn’t happen.” He looked at the men individually. “Any of you stray from that and the woman dies. Savvy?”
Without much of motion in disagreement, Antonin nodded. “Alright then. Nott, grab the woman and let’s march on.”
The lanky and surly-looking pirate addressed as Nott grabbed the tip of the knot holding his dirty, purple bandana in place on his head and nodded. “Aye, Cap’n,” he said. He wasted no time reaching for the woman–who was very much fighting and protesting–and slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of coins. He was stronger than he appeared to be, and that’s a reason Antonin kept him on the crew.
The group proceeded to a large ship. There were a few boards chipped in various areas near the bow of the ship. A figurine of a woman with an outstretched arm, holding a skull that had a snake wrapped through the eyes and open mouth, rested in the front of the ship. The flag couldn’t be seen clearly, but Antonin knew what it would show; bones positioned to resemble a snake with the illusion of smoke behind it. This was his baby, the Deathly Hallow.
He and his crew boarded the ship, his bonds finally broken by the force of a sword–he’d have had someone’s head if they’d cut his hand off instead. The Admiral’s daughter was held tightly by the elbow by one of his crew.
“You’re aboard your miserable ship,” she said in a firm, hard tone. “Now let me go.”
Antonin tilted his head, looking at the decorated men awaiting her safe return to them. He could do the honorable thing and keep his word; he did make the deal after all. On the other hand, Antonin and his mates weren’t able to acquire all the valuables to split it evenly. Keeping the Admiral’s child could be of some value with the information she unwittingly had, and it would allow him to distribute wages until their next stop. There was another reason that lingered in the back of his mind.
Thus pegged the decision between honor and enjoying the spoils. Antonin inwardly scolded himself for producing such a thought; there was no difficult decision to be made here. Plus this would teach these bilge rats and Admiral Black not to trifle with the good captain and his crew. He gave the command by clicking his tongue and whisking his head shortly to the side.
“Mulciber,” Antonin said and a tall, pasty-looking man, who also happened to be missing his left eye—if the ‘X’ scar cut across that section and the milky blue color was anything to go by—skidded towards the edge of the ship and lit the cannon they’d used for Antonin’s escape. Within seconds it blasted off in the direction of the waiting officers. As they screamed from the sudden attack and tried to retaliate, Antonin glanced at his captive.
To say she was shocked would have been an understatement. It was almost comical watching her mouth open and close like a fish out of water. Whatever nonsense she was sputtering was ignored by Antonin; the choice was made and not changing.
“Apologies, Luv. You’re part of the loot,” he replied in a cheeky tone before his demeanor became more serious and powerful. “Weigh anchor! We sail for Crystal Cave!” Antonin declared, and the men rushed about the deck to get the ship moving. Nott and another man held the Admiral’s daughter firmly in their clutches, and she glared heatedly at them.
“You said you would let me go!” she spat unsuccessfully attempting to jerk her arms from the men’s grasps. “What about honoring your word?”
Antonin raised an eyebrow, amused at her exclamation. She and those men were complete fools to trust a common criminal who narrowly escaped the dance of the hempen jig.
“Pirate, Poppet. Remember?” He replied cheekily then snapped his head towards Nott. “Place her in the brig fer the time being. I’ll let her out when she’s shown she’ll be on her best, graceful behavior.”
He turned his back to them, heading upwards to steer the ship. He could hear her protests behind him, and it made him laugh. This would be an entertaining venture, to say the least.
The entertainment value had dropped incredibly after two days for Antonin. Andromeda–he’d learned her given name when she demanded to be released–had been quite the fighter against the crew’s attempt to intimidate her through her cell bars, it was only a matter of time before one of them became more savage than the captain wished. His aspirations included pleasuring or even teasing women, not harming them. In addition, this one would be of some use to him.
He’d ordered the lot to keep away from the brig ‘for tormenting purposes’ and anyone found disobeying him would share a dance with his cutlass and finish the evening in Davy Jones’ Locker. It sufficed to say that his crew did as their captain commanded.
As an extra precaution, Antonin would keep watch on his prisoner. He’d settle near the entrance, leaning against the post with his hat tilted nearly over his entire face. While she would believe him to be sleep or something of the sort, Antonin would be using his other senses to keep watch.
He wouldn’t admit it to himself that it was because he had to force himself not to stare at her. When he first laid eyes on her during his escape, Antonin felt the thrall she could easily possess over him. Her defensive nature had been amusing, but that strength...resilience... defiance that flashed in her eyes every time she stood up against him and his men, it stirred something within the captain. He was uncertain on whether he should allow it to fester or attempt to remove it.
Antonin was certain of some things. Stirrings, no matter what they were, would be considered a weakness for a pirate. Any enemy he’d acquired over the years that managed to live would no doubt use it against him. Besides, he’d have to rid himself of the girl once he no longer needed her, so these stirrings would have to make peace and go away.
Instead of going away, however, one of the days after they surfaced the damn stirrings made him stand in front of her cell and address her, his eyes taking everything in despite his best efforts.
“‘Ello, Poppet.”
Andromeda tucked her legs underneath her as she heard the pirate approaching her putrid, dirty confinement. She would have been able to hide her legs within the skirt of her dress, except she’d used a few pieces of it to keep her face clean of any grime–Andromeda was not a stuck-up, but she did prefer to be clean. The remaining pieces were tied together in a long knot to toss through the cell bars in an effort to retrieve the keys set on the wall across from her.
As one could tell with her still being in the cell, the brunette’s efforts were naught but fruitless attempts to gain her freedom.
She didn’t know how many days had come and gone during her imprisonment; though, Andromeda was beginning to wonder if it mattered. As much as she hated to admit it aloud, Andromeda knew that her father would not come for her.
He may have ventured in one of his vessels as far as the townsfolk could see, but it was solely for the reputation of a determined father; he did not care for her as much as the people presumed. Admiral Black would consider her wretched and useless for allowing a measly pirate to apprehend her in the first place. Despite the lessons he bestowed on her and her sisters, she was still a woman above all.
The irony of knowing what his thoughts were made Andromeda snort to herself. Dolohov escaped under his lawmen’s watchful eyes, yet women are meant to be comforted by declarations stating that men would handle abominable fugitives like Dolohov? Utter rubbish was Andromeda’s thoughts on the matter.
Though, since Dolohov had gotten away, her father might be tempted to pursue the pirate hunt; it still wouldn’t do Andromeda a bit of good. Her merely setting foot on the ship–despite the small detail that it was unwilling –with the pirates had sullied that perfect image for the hard man that raised her.
That’s what he’d use against her, but Andromeda knew the truth; Andromeda had not been considered a daughter like her sisters for a long time now regardless of her efforts. Not after she defended a child who was born with pirate blood flowing in his veins.
He was nothing but a few years old found upon a shipwreck; he knew nothing of that life. Admiral Black didn’t see it that way. Her father only saw the skull stitched into the boy’s breeches and wanted the young child’s neck in a noose.
Andromeda saw to it that it wouldn’t happen and sent the boy away before he met his death. Her sister Bellatrix and her mother had discovered Andromeda’s ‘crime’ and informed Admiral Black. He’d spat and delivered a hateful assault of words to her. It would have been a lashing had her sister Narcissa not stepped in and suggested Andromeda proved herself to be a proper Black through her further actions.
It would preserve the reputation since no one else was privy to her actions in her parents’ eyes, so he agreed. Despite his reluctant acceptance of the proposal, nothing was the same after that between Andromeda and her family. It was all a pretense and performance for the community.
Now that she’d been taken hostage for whatever bleeding reason and her name was potentially tarnished in Hogsmeade, she could see now was the time to stop pretending. Andromeda was not a Black, and she would be whoever she wished to be. Well, as soon as she could get off the damn ship she could think of such a thing.
The brunette shook out of her thoughts because thinking about the ship reminded her that she was no longer alone and had been addressed. With her defenses prepared mentally and physically, she tilted her head up and met those sharp, onyx eyes belonging to her captor as he adjusted his hat. There was a look that shimmered in his eyes; a look that almost caused the brunette’s breath to hitch. Almost .
He donned a black, ruggedly large hat fit for a captain; rich, dark curls were seen hanging from the nape of his neck. Andromeda mused that he only wore it that way solely for his hat; it didn’t matter anyhow. This wasn’t a time to muse; this was a time to earn her freedom no matter where that may lead her.
“What’s the matter, Luv?” he drawled as he wrapped his hand around one of the prison bars. “Finding yerself a bit curious about what real men should look like?”
She took that back; Andromeda took a quick moment to muse on the image of her smashing his hat in his face and shoving the captain off of his own ship. It wouldn’t be considered mutinous by his crew as she was a mere prisoner, yes? Unfortunately, Andromeda couldn’t take that risk, not even in her thoughts.
“If such a man were aboard the ship,” she retorted, showing him that she would fight back like she had against his crew times before. “Unfortunately, I’m surrounded by nothing but greedy brutes.”
Antonin had the gall to tilt his head towards the floor and chuckle. Afterward, he met her gaze once again with unflinching mirth.
“Sticks and stones, Luv,” he said. “You may kill me, but you can never insult me.”
She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest. “Are you allowing me to kill you?”
He scoffed. “Simply stating a fact. I’m but a pirate, a rather cunning, handsome pirate with the desires to explore and exploit the wonders of the seas. I’m no god.”
“If that’s the case,” Andromeda said, “you could release me and continue your ‘desires’.” Saying that left a lead feeling on her tongue, and she was sure her disgust was evident. She couldn’t imagine the appeal of piracy. She wasn’t her father, but the horrid, rude things that pirates were capable of and did was not lost on the young woman.
Antonin made a tutting sound, shaking his head. “In order to access my current desires, Poppet, I must keep you here–”
“What more could you possibly gain by keeping me here?” she interrupted with a hiss, rising from her position and standing less than a step away from the terrible man. “Your crew hasn’t attempted to torment me for however long, and I’m of no value to you as a ransom. My father won’t be coming to rescue me, I know it.”
Antonin quirked a brow and lifted his chin. Andromeda detested the smugness in his demeanor; it made her think of more barbaric means of retaliation, which made her hate him even more. She was not thinking like the woman she knew herself to be, and it sickened her. Yes, she acknowledged that she wasn’t a dainty, nonviolent woman, but this was worse. She was quickly thinking like a savage, a crass individual going against her refined image. Like a...a pirate .
Her previous thoughts of no longer being a Black echoed in her mind. That perfect Black facade wasn’t necessary among a group of unethical, unruly pirates...Andromeda shook out of her whimsical planning of ‘what if’ when the sudden image of a pirate flashing his rotten, putrid teeth at her appeared in her head.
Her future couldn’t be on this ship; however, there would be no future for Andromeda if she remained in the brig.
“Before you so rudely interrupted me with your serpent tongue and nodding off beyond through the Seven Seas,” Antonin replied smoothly in a low timber. His eyes drifted through the bars and across her form, all the while a wicked, sinister smile formed on his face. “I intended to say that I must keep you here for a particular asset you possess. And I’m sure we’ll get to know all about yer other wonderful assets, Poppet .”
A blush flushed her cheeks as she felt equally exposed and repulsed at his actions and words. Andromeda was no fool; a feeling settled heavily in her stomach as her mind warned her that his coquettish behavior was not to be trusted.
“Such eloquence, Captain ,” Andromeda said once she regained her nerve, “but pretty words behind bars lose their charm.”
Antonin nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis why I’m in front of them.” He tilted his head and glanced at her beneath the rim of his hood. “Are you really going to deny yourself freedom? A taste of the life you’ve never experienced before?”
She knew better than to take his bait, but there was a part of Andromeda that couldn’t help but be curious; she inwardly cursed that side of her as her next words left her lips.
“What are you talking about?”
He tilted his head and beckoned her closer. Andromeda didn’t dare move closer to the pirate. The reaction she’d expected was a nasty scowl, not a wicked smirk. Before she could process the sudden, thunderous beating of her heart at witnessing the expression, Antonin spoke.
“You’re aware that the respected Admiral Black, your father, was a renowned pirate killer,” he started, a scathing undertone in his words, “that he prided himself on stating dead men tell no tales after a successful hunt in the pubs off the Spanish Main.”
Andromeda didn’t answer, though she glanced down at the ground. The Spanish Main was known for its brothels, illegal transactions, and corruption to even the purest man. Her father would never venture to those islands…
“More often than not, he spouted about the stories he told his daughters in order to rouse a sense of admiration,” Antonin continued, “stories about how he’ll rid the world of disgusting pirates using seven pieces of a monster’s soul.”
‘ The tales of the Cursed Child ,’ she thought suddenly, ‘ They’re real ? ’ As memories of the items her father told her contained fragments of a young man’s soul swam through her mind, Andromeda failed to notice the calloused hand reaching through the bars to grip her chin. Once he had, Andromeda gasped at the sudden action; the blush on her cheeks returned due to the surprisingly soft touch from his bristly fingers when he made her face him.
“That asset mentioned earlier was the information you possess that most of us filthy scoundrels would like to have for ourselves.” His stare was intense, and Andromeda couldn’t look away. “In exchange for that information and guiding us to the seven pieces, you’ll gain that freedom you want so much.”
She bit her bottom lip subconsciously, not missing the quick shift his eyes made towards them when she did it. It had to take someone to be so unpleasant to also be beguiling with the simplest of gestures.
“As tempting as that offer is, Captain,” Andromeda said, “I can’t trust you to keep your word.”
Antonin let go of Andromeda’s chin, yet his attention was still completely on her face. “You don’t have to trust me, Luv,” he replied. “Trust your instincts and that inquisitive , adventurous flame inside of you wishing to be ablaze. You won’t be confined to this little space in the brig, and my men won’t lay a hand on you. I’ll see to it.” She saw his grip tighten on the bar. “Say the words, Andromeda . Help me and become your own woman with the free will of the seas.”
At some point, she’d parted her lips and her breaths had become shallow. It’d taken his use of her given name to make her aware of her actions.
Captain Antonin couldn’t be trusted, Andromeda knew that, but she’d be lying if the offer wasn’t enticing. ‘ You’re no longer a Black ,’ a cold voice whispered inside her head. ‘ You’re dead to the House of Black .’
Andromeda finally saw that it was time to stop pretending with the lies she’d carried to keep her family’s legacy sacred. Now that she was gone, there was no further use for it or her.
This was the opportune moment for Andromeda and she wouldn’t hesitate any longer with a decision, even if she despised the company she’d keep.
She lifted her chin once more, her eyes remaining on the captain’s as she said, “I suggest that you find some clothing that will fit me well enough because I refuse to stand on deck exposed and uncomfortable in my linen and underwear.”
The way his eyes glittered victoriously made her want to strike him as soon as she was free and in a better position to do so, yet the way he licked his upper lip from corner to corner sent flutters in her chest. She couldn’t verbally in fear of what would blurt out, so she pursed her lips and took a step back, watching the captain turn and retrieve the keys to her physical prison.