Lost At Sea
Disclaimer: GW: not mine. Things would have turned out veeeery differently if I owned the G-boys. MWAHAHA.
Warnings: Anachronisms, slight OOC, Relena bashing and man love. Don't like, don't read.
I'll try to keep this as historically accurate as I can, but it may slip once in a while. Obviously the way they speak will mostly be current for the simple reason of readability.
Prologue: Once More into the Breach
In the year 1700 during the celebration of the New Year, a ship of the Royal Navy was lost at sea never to be heard from again. By their own act of betrayal and murder what is left of her crew is forever cursed. At the start of every one hundred years the Captain is given a chance to go ashore in search of love. Only then can they be free of their bondage on the ghost ship, The Merry Dawn.
Ghost Ships of the 18th Century by E.D. Lansing, 1935
Captain Yuy watched the waves crash against the hull of his gun frigate as the fog lifted and the last slip of land disappeared over the horizon. He absently listened to his first mate's flute play the tune of the perpetually lost. Trowa always did have a way capturing the melancholy mood, but in all the time the Frenchman spent twittering that bloody song Heero had yet to learn the name.
He sighed, and rested a bandaged hand on the side of the bulwark. Heero took a twisted comfort in the sound of the wood creaking around him. His cobalt eyes shut of their own accord as he let the sun glare down on his upturned face. He couldn't feel it. Neither could he feel the biting cold that no doubt anyone living would experience. He wouldn't be able to feel it for at least another century, because he had failed. Again.
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," Wufei proclaimed, coming up behind him to lean his arms against the side. "It wasn't technically your fault."
Ridiculously enough, in his 20th century attire, Heero felt anachronistically garbed next to the former pirate, who was once again dressed in his customary red long vest. His chest was scandalously bare otherwise, showing the intricately decorated dragon tattoo that appeared to cover the whole of his body, dipping below the loosely fitted breeches. In times long since past, when women wore whale bone stays and the men still donned powdered wigs, the sight of a bare-chested man would have been considered indecent on any proper ship of the Queen's Navy, and would have earned him a flogging. Now, however, the once straight-laced captain had grown accustomed to the sight.
"You don't mean that, Mr. Chang,' Heero replied bitingly.
His traveling companion during all these long voyages -Heero still felt uncomfortable calling him a "friend"- simply shrugged and said, "Maybe."
"Doesn't mean he's wrong," Trowa said from his perch on an unused barrel of gunpowder. He slipped the flute into the pocket of his russet vest clasped smartly over his flowing blouse. "That girl you chose this time was hardly pure. Definitely wasn't right for you." He pointedly ignored the Death Glare Heero sent his way, flicking a nonexistent flint off his tight trousers. "Besides I'm glad it didn't turn out this time. The clothes were ridiculous."
"The women, deformed," Wufei piped up.
"The food was disgusting."
"Not to men-"
"Understood!" Heero shouted, though a smirk was forming.
"Good," Trowa said suddenly serious, "Because we can't have you wallowing like you did last time."
Wufei nodded. "You're a man. A captain. Act like one, string up your bootstraps, and tell us what needs to be done."
Heero let his smirk bloom in full before barking out, "Hoist the mainsail!"
"Hoist the mainsail!" Trowa relayed unnecessarily, but it made Heero feel right at home again.
The once-young captain's eyes roved over his ship, from bow to stern. From the lanyards to the swaying helm. For now, this was truly his home. He could wait for freedom. He knew he could, because he had to. Yes, he wanted to live again, feel the sun and salt air, but before that he had to break this curse of the sea. He had to find love. True, no easy task for a man only allowed ashore every dawn of a new century.
He looked back as his two man crew watched the mainsail rig itself in place. Love can wait, Heero decided. Now is the time for adventure.
Before he moved to his cabin to change, he surveyed the endless water surrounding the doomed crew of the Merry Dawn. His smirk morphed into a heated scowl. And here there be monsters.
A/N Either way, good or bad, my lovely readers, let me know what you think.
Yes, yes, I know I'm starting another fic with three others waiting in the wings, but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone. Chapter one shouldn't be too far behind but you never know when it comes to me. One minute the plot bunnies are nibbling incessantly on my ears the next they decide to take a nap.
I suppose this story is a Frankenstein mixture of old Ghost Ship tales (i.e. The Flying Dutchman, Young Teazer), the wonderfully Steampunk-ey movie Kate and Leopold,and an Alex Beecroft novel. Look them up, great books. alexbeecroft. Com
P.S. If anyone knows how to use html for better spacing, I would much appreciate the advice.