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Hello Hello I love your fanfictions and I would like to ask you if you could do a fan fiction about Virgel fighting with everyone and before it's got result he got kidnapped. I just love Virgil he's my baby - anon
"Let's get this burlap off you, must be quite itchy, no?"
Hands tug at the burlap sack over his head, carefully lifting it off. He blinks at the sudden brightness of candlelight as it rustles away. Another blink and a face looms in front of him. His eyes take a moment to adjust.
"Huh," the pirate captain says, tilting their head to the side, "you've got quite a nice face under there."
Virgil swallows, opening his mouth to speak when the captain raises their hand.
"Hush, hush, hush, come now," they say, petting him almost like a dog, "you don't want to make a racket, now, do you? You'll wake up the whole crew and believe me, you don't want that."
No. No, he didn't.
"There, see? That's much better. Now, all you need to do is stay quiet, alright?" They take a seat on the edge of their desk. "Otherwise, I'd have to gag you and that wouldn't be very nice. Get stains all over my nice fabric, nobody wants that."
Wisely, Virgil keeps his mouth shut. The captain smiles.
"There you go. I knew you were one of the smart ones. Unfortunately—" they stand to grab…a length of rope?— "I do refuse to extend the same courtesy to your limbs as I do to your tongue. You're one of the sneaky ones, aren't you?"
They begin to wrap the rope around Virgil's arms and legs. He stifles a sharp inhale. This is fine. This is…fine.
"The moment I take my eyes off you, you'll be gone in a blink, so…" They tie a knot and tug on it lightly. "Not too tight?"
He's shaking his head before he realizes it.
"Good."
Virgil glances around the room. It's a—is he on a ship, still? It looks like a cabin—but he's still in dock, aren't they? The ship was preparing to leave when he—
Oh, fuck, Princey's gonna kill me.
Something catches the candlelight and his eyes fix on the very sharp blade tucked into the captain's belt.
"Now, then." The captain settles back against the desk. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing sneaking onto my ship?"
Virgil's eyes narrow and he clenches his jaw. Playing along with the Imagination's characters when he has the safety of Roman or Remus is one thing, but neither of them are here right now and this…feels a little too much like one of Remus's plots for him to risk mouthing off.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did I have to run away?
"I know I said I'd gag you if you made too much noise, but I do expect you to talk." When Virgil still says nothing, the captain sighs. "Am I supposed to guess, then?"
They push slightly off the desk, walking a slow circle around the chair.
"You're young," they say quietly, as they settle back against it, "but you've been made to look older. You've not done it yourself, though. Someone's made you look older."
Virgil says nothing.
"You're stubborn, aren't you?" The captain reaches for his hands, brushing fingertips along his. "No calluses, your hands are soft, unworked…"
Their eyes flick up to catch Virgil's.
"Are you running from, or running to?"
With the captain's hand in his, there is no way to disguise the flinching twitch of his fingers.
" From, then." The captain lets him go, folding their arms. "What would someone like you have to run from?"
Words rise to the tip of his tongue and he swallows them back just in time, his lips curling into a snarl. It sounds too close to Janus scoffing that he was being paranoid again, Patton saying he was making a big deal out of nothing, kiddo. The captain quirks an eyebrow.
"Mm, sore spot, is it?" They lean down, hands on Virgil's knees, until they're almost nose to nose with him. "You've grown up sheltered. A life of safety, never having to work for what you want. What on earth could happen to make someone like you want to run?"
"You're not exactly being fair to the rest of us, Virgil. We've got things to worry about too, you can't monopolize being the only one worried about things."
"Yeah, it's not like you're the only one who goes through this. You have to let us be upset too."
A hand flashes up too quick, no—
The captain pauses. Virgil bites back a curse at how obviously he just flinched as the hand nears his face. Slowly, very slowly, the hand tips his head to the side. A finger presses lightly over the still-throbbing wound at his temple, just barely closed over.
"I didn't do that," the captain mutters, almost too quiet to hear, before the finger moves to tilt his chin back up. Virgil refuses to meet their gaze. They let out a sigh, their voice softening just the slightest amount. "You've gotten yourself into quite the mess, haven't you, little stowaway?"
"What're you going to do with me?"
"It speaks," they murmur, "where did you come from?"
Virgil snaps his head up to glare at them. The captain raises their hands in surrender and moves back to lean against the desk again.
"Feisty little stowaway, aren't you?" They shrug. "So where will you go, then? You're not going much of anywhere right now."
They indicate the ropes.
"What was your plan, little stowaway? It can't have been to get caught so easily."
No. No, it had not. And for a moment, Virgil's mind fills with the possibilities of what could happen, of what happens to unsuspecting and foolish people in these types of stories who wander too far into the docks and stumble into the path of the wrong ship. Of horror stories and missing victims and waves that churn a little too easily for it to just be fish.
Then he remembers that this is the Imagination, and if anything actually bad were to happen to him, the twins would know about it instantly.
Then he remembers he's been kidnapped and there's been absolutely no sign of them.
The captain's been watching him with an inscrutable expression. Virgil tenses, taking stock of his body. No other injuries past what he already knew about, the rope's pretty sturdy but there's a good chance the chair isn't. That dagger looks really sharp.
"Oh, little stowaway," the captain sighs after a moment, "what will we do with you?"
His eyes don't leave the dagger.
The captain sighs again, before carefully removing the dagger from their belt and placing it on the other side of the desk.
…wait, what?
"I'm not going to hurt you," the captain says softly, "look, see? The sharp thing is over there now."
You don't need a sharp thing to hurt someone.
"Hey."
The captain is closer now. When did that happen? Their eyes scan his expression. The wrinkle of their brows seems sincere, as does the curve of their frown.
"I'm not going to hurt you," they say again as their eyes meet, "I'm not going to hurt you."
Virgil's arms flex in the ropes.
"If I untie you, will you try to run?" Virgil doesn't reply. "That's a yes, then. How about this: you stay here, in the chair, as you've been doing so nicely for me, and I'll let your legs go, okay?"
…better than nothing.
"Good. Hold still, alright?"
A very strong part of Virgil is tempted to kick the captain in the head as hard as he can, but that's not the smart option. He needs to be smart now.
"Very good," the captain murmurs as he pulls away, discarding the rope and standing up. "When's the last time you ate?"
Virgil blinks.
"Come on," the captain coaxes, suddenly much more patiently, "it can't have been easy getting here. You must be hungry, aren't you?"
Before he can decide how he wants to answer, his traitor of a stomach answers for him. The captain chuckles, walking over to a drawer and opening it, returning with a roll of bread in their hands.
"Don't be stubborn," they say, still speaking softly, softly, always softly now, as they hold the roll up to his mouth. "It's just bread. Good bread, but just bread."
Virgil warily opens his mouth to take a bite. The captain doesn't move, letting him tear off a piece of the bread.
…of course it has to taste good. Of course it does.
"Easy," comes the low voice as he tries to wolf down the bread in earnest, "I'm not going to take it away from you. You can slow down, don't make yourself sick."
He does manage to slow down, just a little bit. The captain doesn't say anything, just holds the roll still until he can figure out how to rip off the next bite. They place the last bite delicately into his mouth and smile.
"Better?" He nods begrudgingly. "Good. Are you thirsty?"
"Why are you doing this?"
To their credit, the captain only pauses. "Doing what?"
" This." He gestures as best he can. "Food. Drink. Not killing me."
"You make it sounds as if you're complaining."
Shit.
"Hush," they say, softer again, a slight bit of amusement in their voice as they continue to fuss with a bottle, "it's alright, I'm not angry."
"…that's not answer," Virgil prods warily.
"Believe me, I am not thrilled about using up precious rations," they say as they turn back, "but I would be less thrilled if you were to faint from undernourishment or dehydration. I'd be liable to handle your catatonic form and I don't think either of us wants that again."
Virgil's hands twitch slightly as the captain leans against the desk, the bottle finally in the light enough for him to properly identify it as a tankard of…something.
"And, as I said, I'm not going to hurt you."
"What's in that, then?"
"Ale." They take a sip themselves to prove it. "See?"
A hand cups his head and raises the tankard to his lips. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and drinks. The taste is…unfamiliar, but not altogether unpleasant. They keep it there until Virgil pulls away slightly, setting it on the desk.
"Now," they continue, "I may not be one of the captains in that precious upper circle, but I know my way around these parts well enough to recognize someone of the Prince's ilk when I see them."
Virgil tenses. The captain rolls their eyes—fondly? No, surely not—and taps his ankle with the toe of their boot.
"Don't look so frightened, little stowaway, I'm not exactly about to hold you for ransom, I'm not looking to have my ship slashed to timbers. I only mean that you're not exactly inconspicuous here."
"So?"
" So, if you're going to get caught sneaking around, you might want to know that not everyone has as discerning an eye as I do, and some of those pretty trinkets around your neck would have other captains ready to slit it over them."
"If you're aiming for comforting, you're really fucking missing."
The captain lets out a surprised bark of laughter. "Feisty! Where was this earlier? Is a roll of bread and a sip of ale all it takes to reignite that spark in you? I'm not in the habit of comforting stowaways, but I am quite practiced in telling people when they've been remarkably foolish."
Virgil glares at them and they shake their head, still chuckling.
"You're about as intimidating as a kitten, little stowaway, you can save your glares."
"What the hell do you want?"
"You're a fascinating creature," they say, "and I'd hate to see something truly awful happen to you. And I must admit, I am curious as to what could have happened to drive you so far away from the safety of the inland villages."
He bites his tongue. He's not going to spill his guts. He's not. The Imagination may be a great many things, but good at keeping things from Roman and Remus, it isn't. The captain doesn't say anything else for a long moment, before their boot nudges Virgil's ankle again.
"Where did that nasty head wound come from?"
"I don't know."
"Don't lie to me, little stowaway."
"I don't know," he repeats, gritting his teeth slightly. "I was running—I don't—I only remember getting to the docks, okay? Then I woke up here."
He raises his head.
"Why do you care?"
"That's not the first time you've asked a question like that. Fishing for a certain answer, are we?" They tilt their head. "Or is the idea that someone cares even a little bit for you so foreign?"
What is it with the Imagination and making weirdly perceptive and insightful characters? Virgil squirms a little under the captain's gaze, which is probably enough of an answer in and of itself. Sure enough, the captain sighs.
"You're a bigger fool than I thought."
"What?"
"If you believe the Prince doesn't care for you, you're a bigger fool than I thought."
He can't stop the mirthless laughter that barks out of his mouth. "What the hell would you know about that?"
The captain opens their mouth to answer when a chorus of shouts and clanging steel comes from outside. They reach forward and undo the bindings on Virgil's wrists, giving him a look just as the door bursts open.
"He's unharmed, mostly," they say as Virgil turns around to see— Roman, standing there, Remus looming threateningly over his shoulder— "there's a head wound we can't account for."
"Virgil? Are you okay?"
"You…you came?"
The captain huffs quietly as Remus growls, Roman putting a hand on his shoulder with such an earnest expression that Virgil's chest starts to ache. "Of course we did, Virgil. We've been looking everywhere for you."
"Did this bitch hurt you?"
"What? No—no—we just talked. They didn't do anything."
The captain looks remarkably calm for someone with Remus's morningstar a little too close to their neck, but Remus only growls threateningly again before scooping Virgil into his arms and marching out of the cabin. The captain makes eye contact with him one last time, gives a small wave, and mouths don't be a fool before the Imagination bends and twists around them—
"I'm so sorry," Roman says as soon as they're back in the more familiar parts of the castle, "I should've—I didn't mean for that to get so out of hand, I'm sorry—"
"Me too," Virgil mumbles, "I didn't…I shouldn't have run."
"Oh, god, Virgil, no, that's not your fault. That isn't your fault at all, I swear."
"Did someone hurt you?" Remus's fingers are gentle as he examines the wound. "What happened?"
"I don't know, I don't remember."
"We're gonna have Lolo look at you anyway. Oh, shit, little spider, I'm so fucking sorry—we didn't mean to gang up on you, it wasn't meant to be like that."
"…yeah." Suddenly, the rush of the argument followed by the oh-shit-I-was-just-kidnapped catches up with him and he all but falls into Roman's arms. "Oh, shit."
"Hey, hey, come here, shadow-ling, we've got you, you're safe now. Come one, let's—let's go get you patched up and then to movie night, okay? You're okay, you're gonna be okay."
As he's shepherded out of the Imagination, he can't help glancing over his shoulder one last time. Perhaps he'll have to track down that captain again once all of this is over.