Title: swashbuckler

Theme: fantasy, #37 treasure

Word Count: 659


"Well, well, well, look what we've got here?"

Sakura, despite her awkward situation (she had hid herself in a wooden barrel when the pirates attacked her father's ship; it was a tight fit, but she fit nonetheless), lifted her head high, and properly sneered at the pirate with strange red triangles tattooed on his cheeks. She was a noble, daughter of the Mayor of their little town on the edge of Fire Country, and she was not going to be treated this way.

"Stay away from me, you barbarian," she said angrily, and made an attempt to curl in a smaller ball, away from the man's grabby hands reaching into her barrel. His hands rummaged around, grappling at her, and nearly tearing off the sleeve of her (gorgeous, terribly expensive muslin) dress. Sakura breathed out in relief when he finally withdrew with a curse on his lips, but her ease was short-lived, as all of a sudden, her barrel toppled over, and she with it. She landed painfully onto the wooden deck, and when the pirate heaved her over his shoulder, like a potato sack, she let out an indignant gasp, which was immediately muffled as her head collided with his lean back.

"Unhand me, you heathen!" she screeched into his ear, and a little part of her grinned smugly at the sight of his wince. She began pounding her little fists onto his back, but he didn't do anything but laugh at her weak attempts. With another fiery shout, she began to struggle as much as she could, trying to get out of his grasp.

"Shut up!" the pirate hissed, covering her mouth with his hand. She looked disgusted for a moment at what she was going to do—who knew where those hands have been—but nevertheless sunk her teeth into his palm. The man yelled in pain, dropping her onto the hard deck. She immediately tried to scramble away, make a run for it, but her efforts were stopped when a heavy boot planted itself in the maroon tresses of her dress. Paling considerably, Sakura's eyes focused on that blasted boot that had hindered her escape plan, and trailed upward, to the leg that the boot was connected to, to the body, which was fit and—shut up, right now, Sakura! she thought, commanding herself harshly to put a halt to her train of thought before something bad happened.

Not that what was happening right now was anything besides a disaster, of course.

Mentally scolding herself for her indecent thoughts (she was a lady, for God's sake!), she looked up at her captor, only to be shocked into submission.

Man, this guy was pretty. His looks rivaled that of a Greek god, with artfully messy black hair, deep, mesmerizing onyx eyes, and a pale, unblemished complexion, which should have been anything but, seeing as he was a pirate, and undoubtedly spent most of his time under the glare of the sun. His face was perfectly proportional, with sharp, aristocratic features, and his lips—oh God, his lips

Stop it! she mentally berated herself again, almost bringing up her hand to physically slap her into reality, which would've directed a few odd stares her way. This was her enemy. She should be attacking him with full force (or at least running away as fast as she could), not bloody ogling him like a blushing schoolgirl!

Snapped back into attention, Sakura twisted her pretty features into a scowl. "Let me go."

The unbelievably dashing man gave her a devilish smirk that made her knees tremble, even though she was on the ground, and he bent down to look her right in the face. His voice was so deep and husky and—

"Tell me where the treasure is, and you might just get to escape from here in one piece—that is," his eyes glinted maliciously, sending shivers down her spine, "if you're still alive by then."

Well, shit.