The shackles dangled around his thin wrists, the heavy metal dragging his hands above his head, the iron cannonballs burdening his ankles, constraining his movement. The pirate swore, he had never expected the pathetic admiral to employ a privateer, and to employ the only privateer that knew his weaknesses. What was even worse, this particular privateer was a girl. There was no way anyone could confine the awesome Black Eagle. Three days, it had been three days without beer…or food but starvation he could handle, beer shortage, not so much.
"Once I get out of here, he is so going to get it. That arschloch." He chuckled darkly, the shackles jingling at the shaking motion, his head resting on the damp, cold, slate-grey stones that enclosed him. The small, square window leaden with bars were teasing him, laughing at this prisoned form. He was slumped on the floor with his hands chained above his head and chains around his ankles. Damn it. He was getting pins and needles. His pale white hair collapsed over his head, clasped with dirt and thinning in the damp air. Oh how he was going to destroy those bars. He had put him in here on purpose. Why did that pansy think he was weak? Thinking that awesome him wasn't worth at least a windowless cell; which would have made his escape more awesome. Not that he could get any more awesome.
Sighing, he slumped back to the wall, the water sinking into his back. "But why…?" Examining the cell around him for what felt like the millionth time, he stared at the rotting wooden door, the bricks that fenced in the square room, the drains where rust infested water trickled into oblivion and the black lead shackles and chains that held him. However, there was no doubt they had held the skeletons of people, pirates before him. He watched exhausted at the rats that peeped out from the crevices in the stone, chewing on the bones in between their tainted paws, their putrid yellow teeth scratching the white that was probably someone's finger bone. Disgusting. But he was sure that being chewed on by rats wasn't going to be his fate, someone of his calibre would be hanged with their decaying body hung up to scare away bold pirates, who would ignore his hollow laughing eyes. Or maybe they would sell his head to one of his many enemies, where he would watch forever on their fireplace at their squandered lives and futile reactions to the pimples that they called problems. Or hopefully he would watch them get murdered in a good raid or a robbery gone wrong.
Laughing in the many ways he could imagine his own death, Gilbert preferred only one way that his death could come and that was in the thrill and climax of battle, of a good swordfight and maybe of a punctured heart.
As the water dripped, ever in the same rhythm without ever any change, it was quietly accompanied by the soft sound of footsteps. Gilbert smiled; he knew the sound of those footsteps, delicate but definitely not gentle or weak. He smirked as they got louder, eventually coming to a stop at the door that separated him and the pirate that captured him. The sound of keys rung loudly in his ears, and the rough click of the door unlocking revealed the pirate in all her glory. Her long brown hair flowing around her face was accented by her sharp bottle green eyes which stared directly at Gilbert's unnatural red ones. Her uniform shaped her body in a way that boasted her strength and her feminism and her heels boosted her superiority. But even in her heels, if he stood up he would still be taller than her.
"Haven't got your precious frying pan?"
"Shut up. I don't need a frying pan to defeat you."
"So what calls her royal highness," Gilbert's voice was full of sarcasm, "to my humble prison cell?"
"Your last meal." Elizabeta sneered at Gilbert's face, the façade of overconfidence falling in the smallest of fractions.
"But with my arms shackled so, I'm afraid the awesome me can't eat." His face mocking false pity, but then he sneered, "Unless you want to feed me?'
Elizabeta's eye twitched but sarcastically held up the keys, "You're lucky Roderich pities you."
Gilbert's eyebrows furrowed at the words, "Then I'd rather not eat, just give me a good barrel of quality German beer." Elizabeta sighed, "You drunkard."
She walked towards the barred window, her nose scrunching at the sheer scent of the room, "You're not planning to die are you?"
"The awesome me die? Never!"
"It's going to be different this time you know, you aren't going to escape. I know you did in Budapest and in Paris, hell you escaped in Moscow."
"Heh, mein gott I remember that, now that was a blast, the look on his face." Gilbert beamed, "Personally, I don't think Paris counts but Budapest…"
"You're not going to survive! Stop treating it like it's a joke already, I only came because I'm certain tonight will be your last."
"You're going to miss me, aren't you?"
"Of course not, you've been a thorn in my side since we were children."
Gilbert's voice turned serious, his red eyes glaring, "Don't expect me to give up, we will meet again and trust me, it's going to be on the high seas, whether you like it or not."
"Don't you ever get tired to going against the inevitable?" Elizabeta wearily asked.
"Get tired of being awesome? How could you even ask such a question." His eyes on Elizabeta as she glanced despondently at him "Anyway if you are so convinced that I will finally take my last breath why don't you give me a goodbye kiss and make it good."
Taken aback at the preposterous condition she stalked over and proceeded to punch the living daylights out of the unfortunate pirate. Patting her hands after she considered her beating enough, leaving him slumped with a black eye, his arms sagged by his sides and a plate of soft bread complemented by a rusted mug of beer. Blinking his injured eyes open and wiping away the tears at the corners of his eyes he smiled, "That's the Elizabeta I know."
Smirking at the beer and the bread, Gilbert stuffed the entire loaf into his mouth, chewing the dry flesh and feeling the lumpy flour sink through his throat, gripping onto the dehydrated gullet before passing it into his empty stomach, where it sat, lonely. Peering at the golden liquid that sat, swishing in the mug, he took a small sip, tasting the bitter aftertaste, the slight fizzing resting on his tongue before gulping down the rest of the contents, his head whipping back to give access to the rest of the beer. "Still not German." He critiqued, wiping away the drops that had escaped his mouth, the beer gushing down to meet the remnants of the bread. His stomach at least, was not completely empty, but still gurgling for more. His face though, was another story. Set upon the pale skin, his eyes were alight in crimson red and a feral grin plastered on his face, beer running through his veins, "Elizabeta, you really wanted me to escape, didn't you?"
Stretching out with his feet still encased in the iron shackles, Gilbert snatched at the skeleton of an unfortunate prisoner, settling for an unnaturally sharpened bone around the length of his finger. He poked the sharpened edge into the keyhole of the iron cuff, the bone chinking to the edges of the hole. He desperately tried to unlock the manacles, twisting the makeshift lock pick into the hole, the decaying lock pick cracking at the force, splitting in half, the uneven jagged edges pointing out to the missing bone. Annoyed Gilbert grabbed another bone, shoved it into the keyhole, flicking it around and waited eagerly for the resounding click.
Sighing indignantly, Gilbert threw the unsuccessful bone into the steadily growing pile, the pile of sharp joints making the corner of the jail look like a small graveyard. Pushing his hair back in frustration, he looked dejectedly at the shackles imprisoning his feet, clasped around his ankles.
"Gott verdammt." Cocking his head and narrowing his eyes, Gilbert handled the chains connecting the anklets to the iron ball weighing him down, pulling softly at the metal links. "If only I had my gun. But I guess it could be worse." Knotting the chains around his hand, Gilbert pulled roughly, dismantling the chains from his ankle, destroying the bounds that held him. "That pansy can't even afford good quality chains." He sneered, looking at the grey, chipped remains that were the chains holding him in place, pulling the other one free before getting up in the first time in three days. He heard his spine crack as he stretched backwards, electricity running up his leg as the blood rushed through the unused muscles. Jogging on the spot to warm up his probably dead legs, Gilbert walked to the barred window, leaning on the small width between the bars and the walls, a small yellow speck in the distance.
Grinning awesomely, Gilbert moved away from the bars, the wisps of twilight moving from the horizon, the sea sparkling in the distance, the silent shadows of a ship wavering on the line of visibility and disappearance. He moved out of the limited light just as a yellow cannonball of feathers shot throw the iron poles, flapping frivolously to keep afloat.
"Gilbird!" Gilbert rushed to the yellow bird, rubbing his cheek on the soft feathers, delicately holding the small bird in his hands, soft cheeps erupting musically from the petite body. "I've missed you so much!" Gilbird chirped brightly, placing the small scroll into Gilbert's hands, before settling into his silvery hair. Unfolding the scroll, Gilbert scanned through the black inked words, smiling before slipping the small note into the pocket of his coat. He picked up the discarded hat in the corner of the room, brushing off the feathers and the tinted leather. "Gilbird." He warned as he motioned the hat towards his head, waiting for the familiar weight to disappear before fitting the hat warmly on his head, the yellow bird landing on the dark navy hat, complementing the gold decorations.
Looking at the window once more, Gilbert gazed at the moon, now swimming in the clouds, peering from its high throne in the dusky azure skies. "I'm afraid the awesome me can't bless you with my presence any longer, Roderich." And with that Gilbert, strutted to the door, turning to a slim angle, he kicked out, the door crumbling at his feet, rotten splinters raining to the ground, thin-coated in damp water and now the wooden remains of his imprisonment.
Walking out of the room, Gilbert found himself staring out, the blowing embers of a coastal town below him, the horizon and the glinting sea in his sight. So they had actually held him in the tower. Whistling at the amazing view from the strategically placed prison, Gilbert continued walking, hands digging into his pockets, acting completely unaware of the guards poising to strike behind him.
Gilbert sighed. Ducking while the spear rushed above his head, jumping at the sudden sweep at his ankles, his hands still fumbled with the inside folds of his coat. Using the friction of the white stone walls, he jumped, kicking in mid-air at the guards, knocking them out. About to advance on to the stone bridge, Gilbert stopped himself, revolving towards the guards. Kneeling at their unconscious bodies, his eyes searched, until he found the coin purses tied on their belts, accompanied by plain but good quality daggers, "Free stuff!" Unbuckling the belts, Gilbert decided to take the whole package, it was good leather anyway.
Strutting onto the regally constructed bridge, Gilbert hummed, enjoying the sight, the heels of his boots clicking and his coat blowing in the wind. But his eyes flickered as he heard wincing murmurs behind him, cursing "Oi! Where you going pirate!"
"Scheiße."
Gilbert faced the guards, pointing backwards at the sea. They sniggered, "Well you're not going anywhere!" Their badly spoken threat only reasonable under the thundering call of a horn, rung out to the rest of the small palace, followed by a tense silence, then the gathering calls of men and the metal. The tower guards laughed towards the organising guards, eyes away from the now running Prussian as he scampered into the main building. "Hahaha…where did he go?!"
Gilbert stumbled into the majestically decorated room, the windows letting in the shadows as he walked on the embodied carpets, navigating the uninhabited hallways. Hiding in his enemy's stronghold, creeping around the suits of armour and tapestries, Gilbert breathed stifling, barely letting the air through his throat, sweat accumulating on his forehead. Seeing a flash of white in the corner of his eye, he headed towards the opening, feeling the rush of wind when he stepped out onto a tiled veranda looking over the candle lights of windows.
"Welcome, you rogue."
"Ahh, a pleasure to grace you with my awesomeness, Roderich." Gilbert smirked, his back to the man.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be rotting in that tower?"
"Got bored," came his cool response. "By the way, you need to spend more money on locks, guards and privateers. You're lacking in quality, well not really on the privateer part but yeah." Gilbert faced his nemesis, a grin plastered on his face but his eyes burning in icy flames. His red eyes duelling with refined violet ones behind thin glasses, set on a pale face outlined by short, wavy, brown hair, a single kink curling vertically, identifying itself from the waves of brown locks. But the admiral wasn't alone, adjoining the well-defined noble was an entire platoon of guards, all encased in fancy coats and buttons. They brandished their swords greedily; their stoic faces silent as they forced Gilbert back against the balcony, his back feeling the smooth stones. "Come on, I'm sure you're better than this. Remember, I'm worth more alive than dead." The Prussian sang.
"Counting your sheer annoyingness, I doubt you'd die from such a fall, but I guess you're also expendable." Gilberts face sunk at the word expendable, but the arrogant smile returned, "If I'm so expendable, you won't mind if I do this." Gilbert jumped on the balcony, balancing on the edge of the veranda and the fall to solid ground.
"You don't have the guts." The Austrian pushed his glasses back, his eyes mocking the pirate, standing on the edge of life and death.
"Do I?" the Prussian lifted his foot, setting it behind the balcony, into mid-air.
Roderich watched, seeing something unusual in the Prussian's eyes, "Wait!"
"Goodbye, Mr Edelstein." Gilbert stepped back, letting the air rush, feeling himself fall to gravity.
Gilbert fell, a belt in his hands, "…2…1" His hand flew to the quivering tail of the belt, the rush of free-fall, stopping abruptly, head ringing with the stop. His hands clenched on the leather belt, the leather clinching on the partial cord lines of lanterns, the Prussian looking at the bobbing of the orange lights. Soon the pull of the ground returned, pushing him slowly down the lines of cords, getting faster at the second. "Hang on, Gilbird!" And the Prussian laughed, he screamed in the wind as he rushed back down, the wind spelling his freedom and the frazzled cries of the man he left behind. Letting go of the temporary flying fox, he landed on the fabric roof of an unfortunate shop, picking up some of the rings being shown, fancying a silver ring, the black jewel winking at him. Emptying the store front of jewels into his pocket, Gilbert ran.
"Get him! No matter what, capture that pirate!" Roderich ordered, "And someone fetch Miss Hedervary! Now!"
"Don't worry, Roderich, I'm here." Elizabeta stepped out, her voice came and a frying pan in her hands, "I've got him." She spied the Prussian running, his laughing face visibly obvious, frustrating her beyond where that fool wanted to go, taking aim; the Hungarian flung her frying pan into the air.
Gilbert hooted, running, he knew they couldn't capture him. Feeling odd, Gilbert felt something was heading towards him, something hard and painful.
He collapsed. The frying pan sticking on his head at a weird angle.
Blinking away the stars popping in front of him, his head throbbed, feeling to minimise the pain, his hands felt the hard metal of a handle, the handle of a frying pan, "Oh Elizabeta."
Grumbling up, he still ran, albeit a bit slower, his vision swaying at the sudden hit.
"Why did you just throw your frying pan?" An Austrian man asked, looking from far away at the collapsed Prussian.
"Don't worry it was just a spare."
"But he's getting up."
"Oh shoot, it was the wrong one." But Elizabeta smiled, her voice not mirroring her expressions,
"How many do you have?"
Elizabeta turned to the Austrian her smile disturbing him slightly.
The Prussian turned to the balcony, where he could still see the figures of Roderich and Elizabeta. He brought the frying pan to his face, kissing the cool metal, predicting her face as he reached the port. Reaching the majestic ship moored on the coast, waiting for his return, he felt the tough rope caress his hands as he was hoisted back on board his ship.
"THE AWESOME ME HAS RETURNED ARSCHLOCHS!"
His shout of victory was answered by hearty and rough cheers, his crew erupted in shouts, both in English and rough German. But they stopped at the sounds of a light chinking, "Nein, you didn't!" as the captain spoke the words, glasses of quality brewed German beer were smacked onto a barrel, the Prussian already high without the influence of alcohol.
"But." Abruptly silence filled the deck.
"Let's get onto the high seas before we ruin the coast with our awesomeness, I've been missing the smell of salt and beer!" Cheers once again filled the ship, their captain hoisting a large cup of beer in his hand and their pirate flag burning the sky with its black tongues. Like the feathers of a Prussian Black Eagle.
A/N: Please read & review~~~