Author's note:
First time posting here! Yay! :D
This is one of two stories I wrote for this year's Sanctuary Big Bang. This is a mini bang (5k).
Many thanks to featherxquill who made an awesome banner for the story as well as icons to go with it. I can't tell you how much I love that banner and how excited I am to have pirate!Magnus icons! Sadly the size doesn't fit ffnet's covers. If you'd like to see the image please head over to AO3 where I'm also posting the story, banner included :) Thanks also to adeclanfan who helped me when I was stuck.
Warning: I know that for some non- or dub-con is a problem and I realize that often it isn't properly labeled as such (I read some interesting discussions on whether dub-con should even exist as a label) - so I'm being very careful with this one: This contains pirate-y smut as in 'the Captain gets what she wants' and consent is given because there isn't much choice. Also, past sexual abuse is mentioned. So if you're sensitive in this regard you might want to skip this story.
But the attraction is there and the story has a happy ending :)
Kit stands at the railing of the Victoria, his eyes glued to the other ship.
It is a calm, beautiful night. The sea is slow, barely any froth on the waves' crests as they gently rock the ship, yet wind enough to keep them moving. The sky is clear; a myriad of stars sparkle above them. It is even cool enough now for the sweat on their skin to dry, leaving crusty white stripes behind on their clothes. Everything is perfect - expect for the dark vessel behind them.
Early that morning, it appeared at the horizon, seemingly out of nowhere. Since then it has steadily drawn nearer, its speed almost unnatural, even considering its lithe form. Black sails adorn its masts - Kit has no doubt this is a pirate vessel.
The crew has been tense all day, their eyes drawn to their pursuers at every opportunity. Pirates are always bad news - but something about this vessel instils a bone deep apprehension that is almost palpable on board. It is Kit's first encounter with pirates and he's often imagined a glorious fight against any pirates that might dare to cross the governor's vessel's path; seeing the vessel, though, and feeling the tension that seems to thicken the air until it could be cut with a knife... It makes the colourful tales he's been told seem to fade, and he observes the crew growing more and more quiet and subdued as the day progresses.
It is almost midnight, and the other vessel is now close enough for Kit to be able to discern single forms hurrying across its deck, when the unexpected happens. Waiting with baited breath for the other vessel to enter canons' range, the crew watches as it seems to slow instead. At first it is barely noticeable, but by the time the activity on board the other vessel seems to calm, it has become obvious that they are matching the Victoria's speed.
Kit's hands grip the wood of the railing, the knuckles white, his eyes fixed to the other vessel. The crew begins to murmur in low, confused voices, and the unease tightens in his stomach till it feels as if a hard knot keeps him from breathing, reducing him to almost gasping for air. Like many of the crew, he cries out in surprise when large shadows seem to grow out of the dark sails, rising from the vessel, rising into the air like huge, over-sized birds. They gain height, and speed, and shoot towards them, closing the short distance so fast the crew has barely started to wonder what is happening when already they are above them.
They are large indeed, three giant eagle-like creatures hovering right above the masts of the Victoria. Close enough so that they could easily be taken down by guns, or maybe harpoons, if only any of their weapons were able to pierce their coat. But their only reaction to the crew's attempted defence are loud, shrill cries echoing across the waves.
Then they open their talons.
Kit isn't a sailor, even though he has chartered on the Victoria. He had to get away from that sorry island his parents have died on and had been quick to seize the opportunity when the Victoria called for hands, looking for help with its strange freight. Said strange freight has dealt Kit many a burn, scratch, cut, and bruise - and ironically now seems the one thing that's going to save him. For Kit has learnt the hard way that things strange creatures throw at you seldom are things you'd welcome if you had a choice. Without a second thought, he ducks the first black ball, then a second, and scrambles across the deck to whatever safety there is to find. He almost collides with another sailor as he, too, tries to avoid a black missile, when they suddenly seem to grow legs and jump at him. Kit completely skips any attempt at even thinking about fighting the unknown and dives right through an open hatch into the vessel's belly instead.
He manages to catch himself in time to drop inelegantly down beside the ladder, and even lands awkwardly on his feet. Ignoring the loud noise of aggravated animals as well as the sharp pain shooting up his legs, Kit hastens down the corridor between various cages until he comes across an empty one, half hidden behind another cage, and slips inside, acting purely on instinct. He pulls the door closed, barely manages to take care not to let the hatch lock, then curls up as tightly as he can in the dirty straw. He never notices the black creature at the back of his shoulder, nor the tiny sting of it trying to bite him through the cloth of his shirt and all the layers below it. His last thought is a hazy bewilderment about how silent the world seems to have become all of a sudden...
When he finally comes to, it is thanks to loud cursing right next to his ear.
"Sodding bastard," a man's rumbling voice continues; the sharp words feel like daggers stabbing his head. "'Docile' m'ass! See who's goin' ta feed ya, bloody cat!"
Kit groans, a noise completely drowned by the colourful cursing.
Bat cats only feed at night, he is about to grind out, when suddenly his brain catches up.
That isn't a voice he knows.
That isn't any member of the crew!
He bites his lip and freezes. The man is standing right next to the cage he is hiding in and the bat cat's wings are constantly rapping against the bars his shoulder is pressed against. Claws scratch his skin as it paces in agitation, but the fiery pain barely pierces the haze of his panicking brain.
His cage will be up next for feeding, one step, one look, and he'll-
But the cat's attack seems to have been the final straw of what Kit can only guess has been a number of 'uncomfortable' welcomes so far. Quite a few of these strange animals have very peculiar habits. Kit sighs quietly in relief when instead of continuing his path down the row of cages, the stranger turns and stomps away, his curses growing more quiet the further he moves away.
Have they been boarded? They must have been - why else would a stranger be attempting to feed the animals? What does that mean? What has happened? Is anyone else still alive?
Kit's thoughts race. He can't stay here, hiding in a cage. Sooner or later, someone will continue the abandoned task, inevitably discovering him. That, and his limbs are burning from cramps, vicious protests of laying crouched in such a tight space for who knows how long.
He presses his feet against the door. It doesn't move.
His breath hitches; this can't be happening!
He presses his feet harder against the bars, puts all his strength into opening the cage.
The door doesn't budge. He's panicking now, his heart racing. He has to get out! He is huffing in short gasps of air, fighting a frightening sense of vertigo as he wriggles around, trying to get a look at the door. He manages to slip his fingers through the bars, feeling for the latch, praying that- He almost sobs with relief as he finds it shut, yet not locked. Somehow it must have closed, maybe from the cat's cage rocking against this one. Whatever the reason, the latch itself he can get open. Straining and twisting, he manages to get his finger under the latch, breathing a huge sigh of relief when he feels it move.
The noise around him rises when the cage door bangs open under the pressure of his bent legs, but Kit couldn't care less. He is finally able to slip out of the cage and there are no words to describe the sense of relief as he is able to take deep breaths, his panic subsiding.
Free, he is free.
He groans as he lies stretched out on the ground, his muscles protesting painfully.
Sooner than he would have liked he hears footsteps, as well as a man's grumbling voice. Kit scrambles to his knees, then half runs, half stumbles further down the length of the ship, praying to reach his hidden little corner before anyone sees him.
Only it isn't there.
He gasps and stares at the wall of wooden crates where the ship should continue for several meters.
This is wrong.
This is - not the right ship!
A hand grips his shoulder and he screams, flying around with his hands balled into fists, aiming for the head of his attacker - and finds them caught in the steel-like grip of a huge man, holding them easily despite Kit's wild struggling.
"Who are you?" he huffs in a low, rough voice, sniffing the air in front of him. "Shouldn't be here!"
His scream and his struggling cause the monsters around them to go wild, snarling and hissing and rocking their cages. Kit doesn't pay them any attention; he has to get free, has to get away.
"Let me go!"
He struggles harder, trying everything to escape the strange man's grip.
"Let me go! Let me GO!"
But his struggles don't even seem to register. One moment his hands are free, the next he loses contact with the ground and finds himself flung across the other's shoulder, carried away completely unheeding of his kicking, screaming, and pummelling the man's broad back.
Blinding light greets him on deck, and he stops struggling in favour of shielding his eyes with his hands. After such a long time in badly lit darkness, Kit can only discern vague shadows at first. They are shadows of people, shadows of people who are staring at him.
As the shadows grow sharper, Kit realises for the first time the situation he is in. Caught by pirates, on their own vessel, and, to top it off, thrown over a man's shoulder like an empty waterskin - it is most undignified and he can see wide corresponding grins on the faces around him. Grins that will grow even wider as soon as his secret is discovered.
That thought makes her freeze with fear.
Dear god.
Sweat begins to bead on her forehead, and her limbs start to shake.
"Let me down," she demands hoarsely, struggling once more. She has no idea how to escape this. Certainly death is preferable to being at the mercy of a ship full of pirates - but there are so many men around her, she has no illusions that she could get past them. The man grunts at her and she swallows. Does he already know?
If he does, he doesn't give any indications. Instead he keeps on walking straight across the vessel's deck, followed by a growing number of increasingly boisterous pirates.