"So long ago / Certain place / Certain time
You touched my hand / All the way
All the way down to Emmiline."
"Don't. Scream."
A pair of eyes had never glared so dryly at him before in all his years, and he would have laughed under different circumstances. But the situation was unexpected. It was a good thing the young woman was gagged with the toughest muzzle he'd ever seen on a junker ship like the one his crew was currently cleaning out, the kind with a rivet smack in the middle to tell him that it had a rubber peg on the other side, preventing her from speaking even behind it without the possibility of really damaging her teeth or tongue. Otherwise, he wondered if she might not pose a problem.
Slowly, Yondu gestured with two fingers that she should unfurl herself from her hiding place and follow him. The gag, the cuffs… well, maybe she was valuable to someone, somewhere.
"Now, what's a Sakaaran scrapper doin' with a little Terran girl all the way out here?" he asked calmly, gripping her firmly by the elbow and leading her out of the storage room that she had been using for shelter. Silence. Also a tingling sensation on the edge of his jaw that told him she was still glaring him down, and he chuckled. "Don' worry, we'll have that taken off once we know why it's on you in the first place. Can't have a fire-breather or nothing running around the place."
The first sound he heard her make since accidentally tripping over her in the first place was a frustrated huff.
"I'm just sayin', don't get your panties in a twist."
They had found her entirely by accident; this was supposed to be a simple recovery mission to Datera, where they had tracked the pirates who had stolen goods from a Xandarian merchant who was less than reputable as it was. He had promised them a decent price for the returned loot but said nothing of the thieves. Nor had he mentioned anything about a living, sentient lifeform as part of his roster of wares. When Yondu marched her by the surrendering Sakaaran pirates, clearly with every intention of taking her to the dock to transfer ships, they hissed with aggravation.
"That isn't yours to take," one of them spat.
"I reckon it ain't yours, neither, like the rest of this Xandarian junk," he retorted carelessly, "'Cause I don't recall any bounty on no Terran recently." He caught out of the corner of his eye the way her fiery eyes locked onto the ones who had been keeping her captive, and he certainly recognized the look. Bloodthirsty vengeance.
For a brief moment, his smile faltered.
" There's no bounty, but it's worth much to the Grandmaster," another one of the enemy crew members informed him. "We were to take it to his tower for his entertainment ."
"Well, that's just too damn bad for the Grandmaster, isn't it? Just for that, I think I will take it." In the first place, he didn't approve of the slave trade, but he also knew what happened to people turned over to the insane, peacocking manchild who ruled this planet. The thought of a scrawny, little Terran girl like her being thrown into the gladiator's ring…?
She coughed as he wrenched the leather buckle on the gagging mask apart and freed her face from its prison, rubber peg and all, and she made to whirl on the Sakaarans - who immediately started to yowl about how stupid of a decision unmuting her had been - but Yondu caught her by the chin and forced her to look up at him.
"What's your name, girl?" he demanded, keeping his expression cool and neutral.
"Selina," she croaked out angrily; she hadn't spoken a word in days, thanks to that stupid muzzle. Her skin had been rubbed red and raw where the mask had been, and her lips were cracked and bleeding.
"What would the Grandmaster want with a Terran?" Her hands, still tied together at the front, had grabbed his wrist, but she wasn't strong enough to pry it away.
"Let me go, and I'll show you," Selina growled, and he watched her eyes flick back in the direction of the scrappers. Was it a threat or a promise?
He cracked a smirk and told her, "Nah, sweetheart, I don't think so. Just get your ass on my ship like good cargo. Go quietly, and maybe the boys won't eat you for supper."
Selina needed to be pushed again to get the idea, but she at least started walking, casting one final glare over her shoulder at her erstwhile captors before having to be thrown into a lion's den full of Ravagers. To her credit, she kept her head high and her eyes up, challenging them to do something. Apparently, it was sharp enough to make Brahl do a double-take and put a few more feet between himself and the new prisoner as he helped Tullk haul a crate by. For a moment, Yondu wondered if he shouldn't find a new muzzle. Just in case.
"Throw her in the brig while we take care of the rest of the trash," he ordered Oblo, shoving Selina down the hallway to keep her going in the right direction. "I'll decide what to do with her after we get back in the air."
"On it, Cap'n. C'mon, you…"
Again, he felt the burning, stinging gaze lingering on his face, and he turned to look the girl in the eye… and then grinned a little, laughing at her attempt at ferocity. It was a little like watching a scrappy puppy trying to be tough. She was certainly not Aleta Ogord by any means, but boy, was she trying. Maybe Aleta had been this way when she was young, before the Ravagers.
Aleta would have approved and offered her the chance to earn the flames.
But if there was a bounty on her head, then it could very well be worth more than adding another mouth to feed to his already large clan.
He went back outside just as his boys packed the rest of the stolen loot back into the Eclector and looked down at the tied-up Sakaarans with his hands on his hips. "I ain't turnin' you in for theft," he informed. "The bounty on the contraband is high enough. Just tell me what the Grandmaster was gonna do with a squishy little Terran."
"No Terran," one gargled in their craggy language. " It would make a nice pet for the Grandmaster, and he would pay well for our finding."
"And what makes you say that?"
"Removing the binding was dangerous, Centaurian. You'll want to muzzle it again before it wreaks its havoc amongst your men."
His arms crossed impatiently over his chest and a small whistle chirped between his lips. The Yaka arrow floated at once above its wielder's shoulder, pointing dangerously at the group of captives and ready to strike without another thought. "But why is what I asked you, idiots," he reminded them.
"The Collector has one!" another, one that was less stupid and stubborn than its comrade, cried out. "And what one has, the brother also lusts to have, you know that! The Grandmaster would enjoy a Vahkyl for his own."
"Is that so?" Vahkyl? And the Collector had one? Well, if he was interested in a pet, then at least it was less likely for the Grandmaster to throw her into an arena. That didn't make him more willing to go against his value system. "Well, thank you, gentleman. I'd say our business is done for today."
"Then let us-"
The whistle sounded over the Sakaaran's words, and the arrow was back at Yondu's side in seconds flat after it had cleanly slid through the skulls of each crew member. It wouldn't do to have them on their asses again if they decided to regroup and try to recapture the girl. That was more effort than he wanted to deal with.
Padding up the latticed ramp to go back to the craft, he tapped on the outer shell of metal and yelled out, "Alright, boys, bring this bird up!"
The hatch closed behind him and he kept on walking. The way the metal rumbled and vibrated beneath his feet was far more comforting than the solidity of being on the ground could ever be, and he took a special pleasure in feeling the ship lift off. This was where he belonged, in the sky and flying between the stars, not stuck on some rock hurtling through the universe, spinning aimlessly. He was a Ravager, and the fact of his exile didn't change that. Not in his heart.
He walked confidently through the halls, the sounds of his heavy boot-steps swallowed up in the clamor of his crew as they returned to their usual work within the ship. One left turn, and he was heading to the brig to check on their new captive, knowing that he should make sure that his "family" wasn't already hounding her as they were so wont to do. He expected to hear at least someone catcalling her from her defenseless position behind bars.
"Love pays no mind to desolation. It flows like a river through the soul."
He paused and frowned. That was not catcalling, and it wasn't anyone he had hired on his ship. Something about the tone of tune gave him the shivers - and not the good kind, either. Maybe it was because he was hearing the echo, but it was almost… sinister. Which was weird for a sappy love ballad. None of Quill's music had ever done that. Granted, Quill's music had actual instruments backing up the vocals, whereas this odd enchantment seemed to make music out of nothing. The instrumentals weren't there, but it wasn't so hard to imagine them, either.
"Minutes turn to hours, days to years and gone. But when all else has been forgotten, still our song lives on. How does a moment last forever when our song lives on?"
Somehow, Selina had managed to collect four or five crewmembers who had been happening to walk by with the sound, and all she had to do was sit there in her little cell hugging her knees, lean against the wall, and sing. Her voice had changed, steady and crystal clear, and she seemed entirely unbothered by the completely frozen alien men staring at her. Neither did his crew seem to realize what they were doing - their eyes were glazed over and everything. Waving his hand in front of their faces did absolutely nothing.
"Alright, quit drooling, you morons," he snapped, whacking one of them over the back of the head. That seemed to do the trick because at once, they all seemed to come out of their trances and quickly tried to scramble away. "Get back to work! Did you forget? This is cargo, not a radio." Only when they had scattered, he glared at the girl, who had gone quiet but otherwise didn't seem fazed by his arrival. Or the yelling. "Now, I know that didn't just happen because they think your singin's pretty," he said in a low tone, seating himself on a box. "How did you do that?"
Without looking at him, she slowly rolled her head from side to side. "I didn't mean to. It's just something I do," she murmured, and her voice had lost the chilling timbre of the song. In fact, she sounded downright tired. "It started when I was a teenager. Moderate rhythmic compulsion using auditory stimuli. Apparently, those moronic peabrains think it's something valuable, but I dunno about all that. I don't even realize that I'm doing it, most of the time."
"'Course not," he grunted, still carefully watching her. "You're Terran. Don't know much about nothin'."
"You know, normally I'd argue with you and your bad grammar," she sighed sardonically, "But I've never felt more stupid than I have since leaving Earth and finding out that aliens actually are real, so I'll let you have that one."
"If you can make men freeze where they stand," he continued, furrowing his brow a touch more, "Then how come those peabrains caught you?"
"Snuck up on me. I didn't see them coming. I was too confused after being punted through a wormhole to know what was going on." She was certainly free with information, but that was a side effect of being held captive and she knew it. Actually, they both did. Liberally apply particulars to a long-term hostage situation and avoid physical beatings. Turning her head again, she gazed at him and added, "If you're not taking me to this Grandmaster, then what are you planning on doing with me? I don't dare hope you're taking me back to Earth."
"Selling you to the highest bidder," he retorted, straightening up where he sat. "Maybe. Or maybe we'll keep you around for entertainment. You'll make a change of scene from the usual whorehouse, that's for certain." He was grinning again, and while her distasteful glare returned, he really was kidding. He wasn't about to pass her around the entire ship like some sort of toy they had to share.
Yet.
"The real question is," he said, getting up so that he could crouch in front of the bars. Being on her level put more weight in his eyes and words alike, but it was in a way that he could keep the authority. "Can I trust a little songbird to not screw with my crew while she's in a cage? Or would it be smarter to get that muzzle back?"
"No."
It was in the tremble of her too-quick response and the twitch of her hands that he finally saw the distress. No, she did not want that damnable muzzle tied around her mouth again, or any other, and like most beaten dogs threatened with a whip, she was extremely eager to avoid it at all costs. And if he was willing to let her breathe freely, then… well…
"I'll try not to be disruptive," she agreed in a soft murmur, dipping her head so she could look away. Just as expected. "Do what you want. Just… just not that."
"Good girl." His red eyes lingered on her face for a moment more; they had similar hang-ups, it seemed. He grunted a little as he pushed himself back to his feet. "Don't worry 'bout getting fed. It wouldn't do to starve the cargo."
"I have a name, you know," she called over irritably. "And it isn't Cargo."
"Yeah, yeah. Selina." He turned to her for a moment, walking backward. "And I am Yondu Udonta, greatest Ravager captain in the galaxy. You should be thankin' me for my hospitality."
She held his gaze for a few seconds before finally saying flatly, "Well, captain, thank you for neither immediately killing me nor ejecting me into space. Your hospitality is unquestionable."
"My pleasure." He snickered again as he rounded the corner; at least this prisoner was spunky.
But he was still concerned about what exactly they had brought on board because she definitely wasn't just a Terran. Not like Quill had been, that was for sure, but she was still something a little more. What were they called? Metaterrans ? The Sakaarans apparently had another word for her, and he should probably find out what it meant.
"Kraglin!" he called once he reached the bridge; it would be gnawing at him if he didn't find out the definition. Maybe his first mate knew. Once the thin man appeared at his elbow, still walking, he said, "Now keep your voice down. Have you ever heard of somethin' called a Vahkyl?"
"'Course I have, Captain." Prompt, as usual, and eager to please. It had gotten worse since Quill had run off with his Guardian friends and left a hole that Kraglin was more than happy to fill. "I've never met one, but they come from Xandar lookin' just like the rest of us. Ain't a lot of them around no more."
That would explain why a Terran like Selina would be confused physically for a Vahkyl. Terrans and Xandarians were already identical to look at, so the jump from Terran to something else Xandarian wasn't very large. "I got that much," he growled, lightly smacking his shoulder. "What are they, though?"
"Singers, mostly," Kraglin continued. "It's how they talk, see? They speak like regular people, too, they learned that from the Xandarians, but when they get all worked up it turns into music. They can use it to make people do some funny stuff, I'll tell you. One time, I heard that there was a Xandarian festival and the Nova Corps had to be called in because the Vahkyl entertainer accidentally put everyone into a never-ending dance fit-"
"What happened to 'em, if they ain't around?" Yondu pressed, ignoring the continued rambling.
Kraglin shrugged. "I 'unno. I 'spose most of 'em took up with Xandarians, and the species sort of bred itself out. I heard they can go for a lot on the black market if you find the right buyer."
Which was why the Grandmaster would have taken interest in her: she was allegedly a specimen of a rare, nearly extinct species who could. "Don't tell anyone we had this conversation," he said, cracking his neck. "Set a course for Xandar, and we'll give back the crap we got from the Sakaarans and collect the credits."
"What... what are we doin' about the girl, though?" Kraglin murmured. "She weren't part of the deal or the loot. You ain't thinkin' about selling her-"
"Of course we ain't sellin' her, you idiot," Yondu cut off. Not without doing some serious research about their options. The only money they would get for her would be from a bounty that might not even exist, and if it didn't, then what were they supposed to do with her? Either way, he was glad that Kraglin hadn't seemed to put the pieces together about his questions and Selina. "And don't you worry about her none, just make sure she stays in the brig and out of trouble."
"Aye, Cap'n."
"Hold on a minute," he put in as an afterthought. "Run 'er through the database and see if she comes up on any lists with a price for her return. Then don't worry about her none."
With a nod, Kraglin said, "Right away, Cap'n," and bounded off.
The thing she hated most about space was how impossible it was to keep track of time. So she couldn't call for help, the Sakaarans had taken Selina's cell phone. A primitive communicator, they called it, and that had been simply insulting for how much the damned thing had cost her. But without its clock or even a sun to keep time, she couldn't tell how many days it had been since she was captured, or how long it had been since she'd last seen Earth.
Caught in the crossfire of some idiot in a cape fighting a different idiot in a cape on her morning jog.
Even her body was confused, and she knew at least that her circadian rhythm was being thrown too far off. Regardless of how tired she was due to recent events, she had difficulties falling asleep and it was a light, restless affair whenever she managed a few precious hours. Still, she supposed that this was a step up from the Sakaaran ship. These Ravagers, as they called themselves, had freed her hands upon locking her away, and they didn't make her wear the gag, either. But their captain was a lecherous-looking old creep, however well-meaning he tried to make himself seem, and she already didn't trust him any farther than she could throw him.
On the other hand, if she played her cards correctly and could keep him happy, then perhaps he might end up being her ride home.
She closed her eyes and sighed. It wasn't like she could stoop to using her powers on him; she didn't even know where to start. Holding someone still for a few minutes was already an art she had yet to perfect.
Music was all she could think to do with herself in the meantime in the face of her lack of phone, regardless of her intentions. Nothing too terrible would happen to anyone if they came within earshot, so long as she chose the right songs. A soft tapping echoed in here cell in time with her foot, and she started to intone, "But if our paths never cross, well you know I'm sorry but if I live to see the Seven Wonders, I'll make a path to the rainbow's end. I'll never live to match the beauty again-"
"Girl, what I tell you about singin'?"
She looked up and there he was, standing over her. The big, blue creep. And oh, look, her "savior" came bearing gifts: a bundle was tucked under one arm, as well as a sealed pack of… something. Jerky?
"No one was around," she huffed, looking back at the wall across from her.
"Except me, who you didn't see comin'." He tossed her the bundle and allowed her to inspect it. "You need to be more careful, else you might do somethin' to irritate me."
"Because I would hate to irritate the person who decided to throw me into another cage." The red and black fabric unfolded in her hands and she tilted her head a little. A belt had been wrapped around a long, leather jacket, which in turn contained a shirt and pants that wouldn't really fit without the belt's assistance. "What else do you expect me to do with my copious amounts of me-time? You people and your leather…"
"Watch it," he growled. "I'm the only reason you're still alive and the one who gave you that smartass mouth back. Be grateful I'm giving you anything at all."
She did something very surprising, then. With a look of consideration, she nodded a little and said, "You're right." She held the clothing to her chest and stood up, then hesitated for a moment before she slowly reached out her hand between the bars. He knew the gesture. How many times had Quill tried to use it when he was growing up? "I'm sorry. Thank you."
Yondu's gaze flicked from her face to her hand. Was this some kind of trick she was planning? Well, if it was, it wasn't like he couldn't subdue her, so he reached out and firmly grasped her hand, giving it a brief shake. Her palm, like every other Terran's, was so much softer than his, free of callouses and scars. The barely-scabbed, skinless patches on her wrists where the rope had been tied too tightly and left for several days looked nasty, though. "There's food for you, too," he added, pressing the bag into her hand as an excuse to release it sooner. Definitely jerky, but she couldn't tell what sort of meat it was. "I figured them Sakaarans didn't feed you none."
"They didn't," she confirmed, quickly withdrawing her hand. That was the first gesture of something other than aggression or possession that she'd had in days. "How long should I make it last?"
He let out a bark of laughter. "Girl, don't act like I'm going to make you go a week without eating. We're pirates, sure, but Ravagers got a code."
"Let me guess: part of it involves not letting cargo starve?" For the first time, she actually looked him in the eye and cracked the smallest edge of a smirk.
"And not lettin' it die of something as stupid as a fool infection. One of the boys'll look at your arms."
"Are you planning on letting me out, then?" she questioned.
The joking air evaporated at once and gave way to the annoyance again. "Now, what in the hell gave you that idea?"
"Well, these look like the clothes the rest of your crew is wearing, fire symbol on the sleeve and everything," she replied, looking back down at the insignia emblazoned on the jacket. "You're making me blend in with them, which makes me think you don't intend on keeping me in here forever. Or, on the other hand, maybe you just don't want anyone else to know about me, and this disguise gives you an excuse if anyone sees me. Maybe I'm just a rowdy crew member who is being punished for some slight that you'll invent on the spot."
He gave her an appraising look from tangled braid to dirt-toed shoes. "We-hell, look at that. I got me a Terran who ain't entirely stupid."
"Ooh, talking about me like you own me?" she chided, cocking an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure you've got to earn that privilege, sir."
He repeated, "Watch it." Only this time, there was a lingering grin on his face. "You're still technically our prisoner until further notice. Now eat. You'll get somethin' else in the morning, and maybe I'll have decided what to do with you."
"Aye-aye, Captain."
After a half-hearted, nearly mocking salute, Selina watched him walk away while she leaned against the bars. So, he liked his women snarky and assertive? Good. That would come in handy.
Just as Yondu had promised, she received another visitor an hour later in the form of the first-mate, carrying a dubious-looking glass bottle full of clear liquid and a roll of bandages. He was the only one who looked relatively friendly and didn't make her think that she was about to get felt up.
"Are you the one who's going to fix me up?" she asked. She had picked out a new corner towards the back of the cell that still allowed her to see anyone who walked by, slowly eating her jerky. Starvation made it taste amazing and kept her too engrossed to notice the space pirates who passed her and made the occasional rude comment.
"That's what the Cap'n said, anyhow," he replied with a bit of a giggle. "I'm the only one what's any good at rollin' bandages. C'mere, girl, let me take a look."
"My name's Selina," she corrected as she picked herself up from the ground and approached the bars, but she was kinder about it to him than she had been to Yondu.
"Kraglin Obfonteri," he replied back. "Roll 'em up."
She had thrown on the leather jacket for warmth since a wifebeater did very little to keep out the chill and the only songs she knew to help keep warm would either accidentally set fire to something or make an unsuspecting bystander lose their minds, and the jacket was far too long in the sleeves and wide in the shoulders. Clearly, it was made for a larger woman. But she was eager to tug up the sleeves.
Until he poured the liquid over her raw wrists, anyway. It burned and she yelped, trying to yank herself out of his grip.
"Oh, calm down," he said smoothly, never once letting up. "Terrans are such sissies. This'll kill any bugs that you might've caught, of course it ain't gonna feel too good going on."
"This is way worse than the stuff we use on Earth..." she mumbled with a wince.
"Well, you ain't going back there, so you'll have to make do with what we've got." He gave her an encouraging sort of smile and wiped the remaining liquid away from her stinging flesh, then began wrapping the bandages securely around each wrist. She instinctively tugged away from that, too. "Don't worry, I'm not tyin' you up or nothing."
She flushed a little out of shame and tried to cover it up by giving him a quizzical look. "... I didn't think you were."
"Part of you did," he replied, not fooled in the least.
"How can you tell?"
"'Course I can tell," he chuckled. He might have sounded stupid, but he wasn't. Not really. "Everyone what's ever been a slave or a prisoner don't like it none."
She snorted a little but settled down for him. "I've only been a captive for a week. Or two. I'm not sure."
"Don't matter how long, you hate it just the same." He gave the back of her hand a light, playful tap when he was finished and looked back up at her. "You'll be out soon. I know there ain't no bounty on you anywhere, I looked."
"But Yondu said you were going to sell me to the highest bidder," she replied with a slight frown. "So releasing me if I'm just going to be a slave-"
"Naw, we don't deal in slaves." Kraglin shook his head firmly and almost looked proud that their code had some sort of morality clause. "Money's good, but the Cap'n can't stand to do it."
"But he said-"
"He was just bein' funny. It's his way. We ain't gonna sell you, Selina. Don't rightly know what we're gonna do with you, but don't you worry about bein' no slave."
Her eyes were bright but watching him cautiously all the while. She rubbed idly at her wrists - they did already feel much better than before - and mulled over what Kraglin was telling her. So, if they weren't going to throw her into some Earthling - Terran - whatever - market, then what was going to happen to her?
And how much easier had her job of staying alive and going back home just gotten?
"... Thank you for all your help, Kraglin," she finally said, and even returned his smile. "And for telling me that. I feel... much better, actually."
"Aw, waren't nothin'. 'Fraid I don't have much for your face, though." That, too, had been rubbed quite raw from the gag's mask. "Ravagers like havin' tough skin."
"It's fine. Can I have some more of that, though? I'll put it on myself." She was gesturing to the bottle; though it felt awful, she knew it would still help. It's better than nothing, she kept repeating to herself over and over again as she dabbed the burning solution around her chin and jawline, trying to keep it away from her lips. "Gods, that's awful. What is it?"
"Centraxian starshine," he snickered. "So you know it's good."
She didn't like the way he said that and chose not to question him further. If it worked, it worked. Much like the jerky, it wouldn't do her any good to learn about its origins.
Handing him back the bottle, she said, "So, what do you do around here, Kraglin?"
"I'm the Cap'n's first mate," he told her proudly, tapping his fist against his chest. "Mostly I control navigatin' and flyin' the Eclector, but I'm his right-hand man for everything else."
"You could probably tell me everything there is to know about this ship and the Ravagers, couldn't you?" she guessed with a smile, trying very hard to make it look sweet through her exhaustion.
"'Course I could."
"... Will you?"
He looked surprised, but she was honestly curious - she needed to know everything she could about his clan. The reasons behind it didn't seem to concern him, as he just sat down across from her on the other side of the bars. "Well, sure I can, but I might get to ramblin' a while."
She grinned helplessly and rested her cheek against one palm. "Trust me, I've got all the time in the world on my hands right now."
Author's Note: Uhm... so it's almost four in the morning, I'm really tired, and I've been watching way too much Marvel lately. Also, there was this really good smut-fic that I stumbled upon and it gave me ideas.
So... enjoy a Yondu/Reader-Oc-Whatever, smutty, jukebox-fic.
There's plot, I promise. And a sister fic that's less smutty and Loki-centric, but we'll see about getting that one written.