Chapter Text
George hated pirates.
Maybe a bit of background should be laid down for this first.
Despite being the son of a navy captain, George used to not hate pirates. He admired their will to be free, the adventures they went to and ancient treasures they discovered. His grandpa used to tell him these stories with an odd glimmer in his eyes. George’s dad wasn’t a huge supporter of that but as long as George didn’t get any stupid ideas, he allowed it.
The other, cruel and disgusting things that most pirates did, George didn’t admire. But young George rarely saw or heard of those. The stories of witty and adventurous pirates that he grew up with showed him the other side of piracy, and it fascinated his younger self enough to sometimes make him forget about the rotten ones.
But now, at the age of 19, George discovered that side of pirates again. Had him loathe them from the bottom of his heart, when they dragged him away from his family and home without any mercy, with their filthy hands. He struggled against them with everything he had, but George wasn't strong enough to do much to stop them, let alone hinder them. They caught him off guard while he’d been asleep, not giving him even a chance to defend himself with a sword.
George gasped, tears welling up in his eyes involuntarily, as his arms were bent behind his back painfully, foul pirates dragging him up to their ship. Chaos had overtaken the town, fire and fighting everywhere. Men and women alike running and screaming, fighting for their lives. Up on the hill behind the town, George could see his home, black smoke raising high from the huge mansion. The flames were visible all the way down to the port.
With the last of his strength, George tried to struggle free from the calloused hands holding him back. They loosened momentarily, and George tried to make a run for it, only to be grabbed by the neck and his left arm. Gasping for air, George stopped and he was pulled back harshly, making him fall on the hard wooden deck of the ship. Everything hurt.
“Fucking hell, this brat ain’t worth the gold,” someone said over him, voice hoarse like he had smoke in his lungs. Maye he did.
“Shut up, Captain said not to kill ‘em,” another voice, nasally and disgusting, spoke above him.
Rough hands grabbed George by the elbows, hoisting him up on his wobbly feet. George felt dizzy with pain, the whole ship making rounds in his eyes. The two men dragged him somewhere below the deck and then threw him into a small cell in the corner. The cell door slammed shut, loud clunk, and increased the pain in George’s already aching head.
And that’s where Georeg resided in the next two weeks. In a small, iron barred cage. He couldn’t even lay down properly, let alone stand. The cold hard bars felt uncomfortable behind his back as he leaned against them. His bare feet were freezing, as the cold, salty wind blew right at his little corner from somewhere. George wondered if it was a major safety hazard but the pirates never did anything about it, so probably not.
The brown skirt George had been forced to wear since day three offered a little bit of warmth to his legs but not quite his feet. The white tunic he wore was ragged, thin and dirty. George really didn’t want to know when was the last time it had been washed. His original clothes had been ripped off him on the third day and had probably been thrown to the ocean.
Don’t misunderstand, George had nothing against wearing a skirt. The problem wasn’t the long garment itself, it was the fact that it came from the pirates and the implications behind it. The whistles and looks were enough for George to understand.
He was well aware of his pretty looks for a guy and how it could affect people, especially men around him, but he didn’t boast about it. Because this is what he got for his looks. Sure it was nice to be admired and gazed upon when it was respectful. But George hated how it made him feel like an object when men gave him those looks. He understood his sisters and all women so much better and how they felt once he realized that. In that sense, George was glad it had been him who got taken and not any of his sisters.
Hunger clawed inside George’s stomach, and he wrapped his arms around it to try and ease the cramps. He could almost count all the times he’d been fed with one hand within the past two weeks. Six meals. Six, very scarce meals of dried meat and stone hard bread.
George was pretty sure he was badly dehydrated as well. His mouth, lips and eyes felt dry. Most days he was given some drinkable water, but once he got salt water, and some days he was only given rum. The pirates found it hilarious to give him only rum for a few days, to try and get him drunk. To their disappointment, George wasn’t the kind of drunk they had hoped for. He didn’t get angry or over emotional. No, he just got really tired and sluggish, barely conscious only after a few sips.
It scared George. They could do anything they wanted to him when he was in that state and he wouldn’t be able to stop them. There had been implications, it was only a matter of time before they acted on their disgusting desires.
Suddenly, there was a loud boom and the whole ship rocked violently.
Dream loved being a pirate.
Dream had been a pirate as long as he could remember. He was pretty sure it was in his blood. He was born on a ship after all, to a couple of pirates.
But the ship that Dream had called home with his parents was attacked by an unknown ship, when he was five years old. It had been sheer luck that Dream survived the attack. The memory of it was hazy but Dream remembered the yelling, flying debris and smell of gunpowder.
Mere hours after it had all been over, pirate Captain Puffy’s ship, the Essempee, had arrived at the scene and taken Dream in. He had been gripping on a small overturned boat like his life depended on it, which it had.
Captain Puffy taught him everything his parents hadn’t had the chance to, and Dream learned quickly. By the age of thirteen, he was the best swordsman in the ship, his new mother only one that still bested him. By then he had also learned everything one could about sailing, but the gorgeous blue still taught him new things nearly everyday, now that he was nineteen and had his own ship.
The Eye of Ender was Dream’s pride and joy. She had been a gift from Puffy, when he finally beat her in a sword fight three years ago. The lady was smaller than the Essempee but a lot quicker and absolutely perfect for Dream’s style, which included outsmarting his enemies and making daring escapes through shallow and rocky areas.
Two younger men from Puffy’s crew, who Dream had pretty much grown up with, followed him when they set sail on their own. One being Sapnap, Dream’s first mate and best friend since they were children. Sapnap was a strong, rough looking man with a heart of gold and great sense of humor that matched Dream’s own. Bad, the surgeon of Puffy’s crew, took Sapnap in two years after Dream had been found.
The other one was Quackity, the master gunner’s, Sam’s adopted son. He joined them a year after Sapnap. At first, he was a bit shy and tended to stay close to his guardian, but eventually joined in on Dream’s and Sapnap’s training and shenanigans. Since then, they’ve been thick as thieves.
Dream scanned the deck, a smile on his face, hidden under a white porcelain mask. His green coat hung loosely on his shoulders, the salty breeze swaying it. It was a bit too warm over the white tunic he wore, but Dream insisted on wearing it for aesthetic purposes.
“You never know when you need to look like a captain,” he’d told his crewmates, who had just rolled their eyes at his antics.
A triangle shaped leather hat completed his captain look, with a few added accessories.
Some of his crewmates were on deck as well, mostly just lazing around. It was midday and very peaceful, no enemies or troubles in sight. The sea was at ease and there were no signs of the weather changing any time soon.
A few of his mates were sparing, running across the deck and jumping around on top of barrels, no care in the world. Even if they had sharp objects in their hands. Two younger boys were watching them, cheering them on from the side. Someone was in the crows nest, probably napping. On Dream’s left, on the quarter deck, a young woman held the helm, a bright smile on her face as she watched the sparring men.
The rest of the crew was under the deck, doing their duties or, most likely taking a nap. Dream allowed it, letting it be a prize for all the good work they’d done in the past few weeks. A lot of navy ships had been robbed, so they deserved to take it easy for now.
Pushing himself away from the railing, Dream climbed on the quarter deck and greeted the navigator of the ship. She was a young woman with short pink hair, but fierce and kind.
“We’re on course, Captain,” she told him. “The winds are on our side today.”
“That’s good to hear. Keep it up, Niki,” Dream said, and leaned against the railing again, letting the wind ruffle his blond hair.
“Will do, Captain!” the young woman, Niki, said cheerfully. She was one of the brightest people on board, and Dream was often very grateful for that. Thanks to her, everyone could find at least a little bit of a silver lining every day.
Dream hummed, content with the warm air and good mood that seemed to be constant today all over the ship. Sure it sucked that he couldn’t feel the warmth of the sun on his face, because of the mask, but Dream was used to it. Seven months was a long time but enough to get used to the constant weight on his face.
Loud laughing caught the Captain’s attention, and he turned to the deck. The raven haired young man, Sapnap, was flat on his back with the blond man’s sword on his throat. They were both laughing and the two younger boys were as well, holding their stomachs.
“We’re still friends, right Punz?” Sapnap asked, a small uneasy smile on his face.
“Hmmm I don’t know, are we?” Punz held his chin in his hand, acting as if he was thinking very hard. “What do you two think? Will we spare Sapnap?” He asked, turning to the two young boys sitting on barrels nearby.
The blond one of the two shook his head.
“To the sharks I say.”
Punz and the other boy burst out laughing.
Dream chuckled and decided to help his first mate out. Knowing the master gunner and the two apprentices of the crew, they’d feed Sapnap to the sharks. But Dream didn’t need a sulking crewmate today.
“Okay boys, maybe let’s not make shark food out of Sapnap today, okay?” Dream said, stopping to stand right next to Sapnap’s head. “I still kind of need him as the first mate, you know?”
The two boys scampered up as they heard the Captain, but Punz just pouted.
“You’re no fun.”
“I know, Punz, but one day. One day.”
“I’m right here!” Sapnap exclaimed, throwing his arms up. Dream grinned but caught his wrists and pulled him up on his feet.
“Get over it you big baby,” Dream teased, dusting the other’s shoulders. “You’re fine.”
Sapnap rolled his eyes before heading down under the deck, the taller boy with dual colored hair following after him.
“Are you ready to start the lesson of the day?” Punz asked the blond boy.
“Yes sir!” The boy exclaimed.
Dream nodded to them, and headed to the tip of the ship to give them space.
Only ten minutes later, Dream noticed something in the distance. As soon as he did, a familiar voice shouted from the crows nest. Quackity hadn’t been napping after all.
“ENEMY SHIP APPROACHING!”