Work Text:
It was a dark night. The new moon casted little light. It was eerie and the shadows stretched out like dark claws.
Sam stood at his post in the west wing of the Royal Palace. It was his first official night as a part of the Royal Guard. Excitement was still a small kindling flicker in the pit of his stomach, not entirely drowned out yet by the boredom that had started to settle in when hours had ticked by and Sam had not seen a single soul.
Serving under the Royal Guard was every new recruit’s dream. It had been Sam’s when he first joined the service. He worked hard to become a very disciplined soldier. It paid off and he managed to catch the eye of the Captain of the Royal Guard fairly quickly. The offer to join the Royal Guard came just a year into his service. He had accepted immediately, overjoyed.
There was a ceremony. He obtained his new rank and new uniform. He was ready to start down this new path in his life.
Alarm bells start to ring across the palace, cutting through the blanket of silence. Sam startled, snapping out of his daydream. Distance, muffled yells could be heard faintly as Sam left his post. His mind went over the new protocol that was read out to him like clockwork. Rendezvous at the appointed meet up spot, get briefed on the situation, execute the plan to deal with the situation, deal with the situation.
He rounded a corner and came to a stop. The lights of the hall had all been put out, casting the entire stretch in darkness. Sam’s gut twisted as he warily reached for the handle of his sword.
Movement in the shadows had Sam’s hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
“Who goes there!” He called, his voice hard and holding none of the nerves that he felt.
A man suddenly seemed to materialize from the shadows. The man wore a baggy shirt underneath a black waistcoat, with dark leather pants and black boots. He had unruly blond hair that was tied haphazardly back with a dark colored bandana, baggy shirt underneath a black waistcoat. His person was adorned with a couple of pistols and a set of twin blades hung at his waist.
Ice blue eyes stared Sam down with confidence, a smirk stretched across chapped lips.
Sam tensed, facing the pirate that stood before him bravely. His sword slid from its sheath.
“You sure you want to do that mate?” The pirate asked in amusement, tilting his head to the side. “Sure you don’t just want to step aside like a good lad and let me get out of here with my prize?” The pirate held his hand up and something dangled from his palm.
Sam’s eyes widened when he recognized what it was. The Wither Rose, the priceless Royal Heirloom - a rose shaped gemstone, black as night, that was said to contain the magics of the world.
“I can’t,” Sam shook his head, dropping himself into his battle stance. “I won’t let you make off with the Royal Heirloom thief! You’re under arrest! Surrender and return what you’ve stolen!”
The pirate tsked, shaking his head. The Wither Rose was dropped into one of the waistcoat’s pockets and the pirate unsheathed his twin blades. “Shame,” He muttered, ice blue eyes darkening and his face growing serious.
The pirate started to advance and Sam readied himself for battle.
Just outside the palace grounds a tree erupted as a murder of crows took to the sky with a casading chorus of caws and shrieks.
-
Sam regained consciousness slowly. The world was muted and blurry as he fluttered open his eyes – or attempted to. Half of his vision was obstructed with darkness and the other showed him a white curtain. He was confused until his clouded brain started to clear, then his eye widened in panic. A gasp left his lips and he found to sit up. Pain blossomed across his body but adrenaline numbed it as his mind’s eye flashed him images of a flashing sword coming right at him ready to deal the killing blow.
Hands were suddenly on him, multiple pairs wrestling him back down. He fought them, his face twisting in a snarl. Strange voices spoke rapidly above him but he didn’t catch any of their words, his eye showed him nothing but blurry figures.
He hissed at a sudden sharp pain in his arm and he glanced down recognizing the shape of a syringe as it was being pulled away. Whatever was injected in him worked fast, his body grew heavy and fell limb. His limbs became too heavy for him to lift. The darkness rose up to pull him back under its surface and his eyes slipped shut as it pulled him under.
Before he completely lost consciousness again, Sam felt someone at his bedside, soothing the covers back over his body that had been dislodged.
“It’s okay,” A voice, accented, gentle and oddly soothing, spoke to him, “You’re safe. You can rest and recover. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
-
When Sam wakes up again, his world is clearer and panic does not seize him. He blinks open his eye. He finds himself lying on a medical cot, surrounded by white curtains. A groan falls from his lips as he registers the dull throbbing pain on one side of his face.
He reaches a hand up but before he can get it to his face the curtain is parting and a nurse is coming into his makeshift room.
“No,” The nurse’s voice is gentle as he reaches out to stop Sam’s hand. lowering “The skin is still healing and is very tender.”
Sam blinks. For a moment, he is confused and the fog in his mind does not supply him an answer immediately. But as he sits there and thinks, his mind clears and the events come back to him.
A clash of swords as he fought the pirate, him realizing that he was vastly outskilled but remained determined to defeat the man and detain him. A fancy move, a flash of a sword, pain and the floor rising up to meet him.
“Sorry mate,” being breathed into the air above him and then the thudding of boots as the pirate booked it.
Muffled voices, vision blurry, hands reaching out to check to see if he was alive. Then nothing.
“I was injured,” Sam stated slowly as his memory became clearer. He looked to the nurse for confirmation. The nurse nodded. Sam swallowed, looking down at his hands. He curled them into the bed sheet before he asked, not looking up, “How bad is it?”
The nurse was silent for a while but eventually he spoke and his voice was hesitant, “Um…well.”
-
Sam’s hands shook as he stared, his good eye blown wide with shock, at the Captain of the Royal Guard as he stood at the foot of his bed. He’d just been told that, due to the extent of his injuries and the permanent loss of sight in his eye, he no longer qualified for the Royal Guard.
The Captain had come to dismiss him from their service.
“I’m sorry son, I really am, but the Royal Guard serves the Royal Family so we need all our soldiers in top shape.”
The Captain retrieved Sam’s uniform and his patches and gave him one last sympathetic glance before he walked away. The curtain closing behind the exit felt like the end.
Sam wanted to scream, let out all of his frustrations and heartache. It wasn’t fair! He never asked for this! All he wanted to do was be a soldier, a good soldier, but one pirate had ruined his one and only chance.
Ponk, the nurse that was there when he woke up and had been by his side as he recovered, found him an hour later still sitting where the Captain had left him.
“No no, none of this,” Ponk scolded immediately, putting down the armfull of fresh bandages he was carrying so he could reach over to cup Sam’s face. “You’re not in the Royal Guard anymore but who cares? There are other careers, other things you can do.”
“But that had been my lifelong goal,” Sam’s protest was weak. He was feeling down and he knew it and he knew Ponk knew it too. Ponk had been good about getting him out of his own head throughout his healing process.
“The thing about life, Samuel, is that it is long and there are many paths,” Ponk didn’t miss a beat. He drew back to retrieve the bandages and started putting them in piles on the bed. “You could choose to sit here and feel sorry for yourself because the one life goal you had reached a dead end.” The old bandages are slowly replaced and Ponk’s touch was gentle as he continued to talk and Sam continued to listen, “You can make another one, starting working towards that. You’re healing well enough that soon you’ll be well enough to be discharged from here. You’re still in the service technically right? Can’t you choose something else to do?”
By the time the new bandages were secured in place, Sam felt better. Ponk’s words had renewed his hope and their truth lifted his spirits. He was still in the service of the British Military. He could choose another path. And he was starting to know which one he wanted to choose.
He’d seen many sailors with injuries, wooden peg legs, hooks in place of hands, and even some with eye patches. He could get stationed on a ship, serving a new purpose.
The pirate flashed through his mind and his good eye narrowed.
He could get his revenge.
“You know Ponkie,” He said with a smile, “I think you might be right.”