Cross the Seven Seas for You
Chapter XI: Glitter of Hope
The storm was long gone. Despite being miles away from where the unfortunate incident had happened, you still could see wooden planks floating around in the murky waters of the Indian Ocean. There were barrels, remains of doors, even parts of the deck; but there was not a single sign of life anywhere. The silence that reigned over the water was deadly eerie, so eerie everyone aboard the Lady of Atlantis felt utter shock, while their nervousness was ravaging their stomachs.
But somewhere deeper in the ship, which means in the headquarters, was the most devastated man in the world. And that was Arthur Kirkland.
-I killed him! I bloody killed Alfred! "Fire" and boom, dead, gone, drowned, I killed him!
The crew had never seen him like this, even before they had left to conquer the world on their own ship. They could barely recognize their captain; his courageous, triumphant look and posture, handsome face full of confidence and strength, the skilled and at times cruel young man that slowly gained a terrorizing reputation in the world…
All of that was gone, leaving nothing but a miserable, lovesick creature with no other thought than the one that it killed the most precious thing to it.
Arthur walked around his room, enraged and pained at the same time, not minding the fact he was throwing objects off of their places and onto the floor, some even crashing loudly and breaking into a million pieces.
Brendon Carlson, Jack Sanders, Yao Wang and Peter Kirkland were all standing quietly at the door, wincing every time a precious vase or plate would come smashing to the wooden floor. For them, Arthur had completely lost his mind. Of course, he killed Alfred, along with Matthew, but how could he have possibly known?
-Look, captain, the lad's dead, too bad he didn't receive a proper funeral, stop yapping and co…
Jack Sanders was cut off when Arthur's hands grappled onto his collar and lifted him off the ground. From behind those messy and spiky blonde bangs, he could see the captain's bright green eyes surrounded by a deep red, almost as if he were possessed. His slashed bushy eyebrows, despite their position above his eyes, didn't even make Sanders smirk. For now, he felt terror growing inside of him.
-Mind saying that again, if you dare, Sanders.
Shivers slithered all the way up Jack's back. He never heard Arthur speak in such a tone and voice. It was grave, menacing, as if he spit burning poison onto Jack's horrified face at every word he pronounced. Kirkland was now glaring at him straight in the eyes, his lip slightly quivering and tears slowly forming themselves again. Jack raised his arms in resignation.
-I'm sorry captain, but what I said is true! Alfred's somewhere at the bottom of the Indian ocean by now, and it's time for us to…
-SHUT UP!
Jack was sent tumbling onto the floor in the middle of the crashed vases and plates. Brendon Carlson and the others ran to him to help him get up, with Arthur looking after them. They carried him out of the headquarters, and just when they removed their foot out of the room, the door was shut with such strength every single window on the ship vibrated dangerously. On that, Arthur walked slowly to his desk, let himself fall on the chair and broke down in tears, his head embedded in his arms crossed on the bureau. Never had he realized how much Alfred meant for him. And now, he was dead. For him, it was as if his own life ended.
The day turned sunny after the heavy storm and rain. The water regained its usual calm, as a fresh breeze swayed the palm trees back and forth, also sending small waves slashing against some rocks near the coast of a small island. A little girl was walking down that very beach, searching for seashells and, hopefully, some crabs or fish she could catch to feed her large family.
She was a light, innocent and adorable child, with gently tanned skin and wearing a frilly blue as the sky dress that ended below her knee. With her hair tied into two pigtails with red ribbons dangling over her shoulders and her big, expressive brown eyes, Maisha was just about the cutest little being anyone could ever see.
As she walked about, some clear blue ocean water wet her feet, although she was wearing white sandals tied with matching cords. Amused, she ran along, the wind swaying her hair behind her.
And then she stopped.
For a moment, she thought her brown eyes were playing a nasty trick on her; but after rubbing them with her tiny clenched fists, she realized they weren't. Maisha dropped her basket and ran into the water, and began screaming at the top of her lungs for help to arrive. In the ocean, on their backs or stomachs, four beat men were floating lifelessly.
Alfred was walking in the middle of, well, he himself didn't know exactly where. The only thing he knew was that he was alive and well, with not a single visible scratch from all the splinters and bruises he received after the ship exploded. Everything around him was bathed in white light, which blurred the rest of the scenery. Despite that, a soft wind flowed gently through his hair as he marched forward, not expecting anything or anyone. Alfred! Was someone calling him? Nah, must've been the wind. Alfred, over here! He turned around sharply. No one was there. Am I in Heaven? he thought, does that mean he's dead too? He turned to walk away when something grabbed his shoulder. This time, there was someone there when he turned back. He saw the green eyes that he locked his with seconds before he was engulfed into the ocean, with pieces of the Spanish ship and heavy currents sending him deeper and deeper to the bottom, drowning him. Tears flowed down his cheeks, messing his blue eyes as he narrowed them from joy. Arthur… so you're here, dead? Although he said that, no words flew out of his mouth, just a huff of his breath. Arthur, who was dressed in his red pirate clothes and hat, shook his head in disagreement; his thin, firm face frowned. Then what are you doing here? Arthur moved his lips but, just like in Alfred's case, what he said was inaudible. Alfred tried reading their movement, but didn't manage to get a word. Well, forget everything, you're here, finally! Gosh, you have no clue how much I wanted to see you! After three full years! And he embraced the shorter man, holding Arthur's head in his hands over his shoulder. Arthur wanted to break free, but finally quit and hugged him back. Alfred could feel a warm stream of tears down his back. Then, just as he thought they would last forever like this, the wind suddenly became much stronger, and darkness reigned, replacing the previously white landscape. He instinctively strengthened his grip around Arthur, as if to keep him safe from something. And then, out of the complete blue, Alfred felt the captain flinch, and what he saw made his eyes widen. A sharp blade was implanted deep into Arthur's back, and warm streams of blood flew out of the flesh-wound. Arthur! He saw a large shadow approach them from behind his friend. Arthur, speak to me, come on, Art! The shadow took the proportions of a tall, muscular man. Who the hell are you? As he asked mutely, the shadow was now fully human, and had blonde, almost platinum hair, with those murder purple eyes, and reached for the sword in Arthur's back. You… it's you… Aleksandr! What do you want from Arthur? You'll pay for that, you stupid, drunken… His blue eyes reflected the blood-stained blade being lift up, and Aleksandr transpierced Arthur's back once more, even deeper into the wound. Alfred moved away rapidly, with his dying friend in his arms against his chest. Alfred… The man looked down, as Aleksandr approached slowly towards him, brandishing his sword. What? What is it, Artie? Don't die, you have no clue how life's already unbearable enough! The dead emerald eyes sank into his and Arthur lifted his head. With his last breath, he managed to whisper out: "…van… raginski…". And when he said those words, his blonde head tilted back; his life had just run out, making of him nothing but a heavy, cold and stiff corpse. Alfred felt his eyes burn him. Arthur! Arthur, man, you're can't be dead! Come on, wake up, please! ARTHUR! When he turned around, the sharp blade was a few inches from his back, reflecting the insane face of Aleksandr Dubrovskiy…
-NO!
Alfred jumped up, expecting to be pierced with the sword already colored with Arthur's blood.
But then he felt something warm and soft under him. He opened his eyes. He was in a three-walled room made of wood, opened to the beach in front of him. Where am I? He looked down. He was lying on a white bed, with a large sheet as a blanket. The warm breeze calmed him down, as he sat up, admiring the view in shock. Was he on an island? If so, where? And who treated his wounds? Who bandaged his injuries up for him? Whatever happened to…
-Mattie!
His head turned to the right and he saw, to his immense relief, his brother, sound asleep. On his left were Antonio Fernández Carriedo and Máximo. Thank God… it was all a dream… But then the look of the Russian man came back to him. Why, in his dream, did Arthur say those two incomprehensible words… that's when he remembered. Do not meet with Ivan Braginski. Something flashed in his mind. Was Arthur, back then, trying to warn him? But who was Ivan? He didn't know any Ivan.
Alfred was lost deep in his thoughts as he tried to connect everything. Arthur knew a certain Ivan Braginski, but who was he? Some old enemy of his? A rival similar to Antonio? Or what if…
-Oh, God…
Ivan Braginski was Aleksandr Dubrovskiy.
That explained everything. That explained Arthur's reaction when he first met them and when they told him about Aleksandr. He began crying when they described him and his almost silver hair and purple eyes.
And a darker theory appeared in his mind; was his life in danger?
Panicked, he got up, and realized that the pain was half-gone, due to the bandages around his forehead, arms and chest, the stomach as well. And, surprisingly, all of the splinters were gone. Now how did they… hey, who's that over there?
He looked at a blue silhouette walking from the beach towards the house. Despite his poor view, he recognized a small girl with brown hair tied into pigtails. Did she save us? When she came in, she said something in a strange language, cheerfully, nevertheless.
-I don't speak… whatever you're speaking, he said to her, smiling.
She seemed perplexed. He asked her if she knew English, she nearly laughed. Man, she doesn't know English! What island am I on, anyway? Wait! Maybe Antonio will know what she's saying!
And he turned to the Spaniard on his left and shook his shoulder.
-Antonio, Antonio, wake up!
The Spanish captain mumbled something under his breath. Alfred shook him with more force, and he finally woke up.
-Dios mío...¿dónde estamos?
He got up and saw the little girl. His eyes lit up a bit. He spoke to her in a complicated language, and she seemed to understand. They conversed, as Alfred woke up Matthew slowly.
-Mattie, you awake?
-Yeah, sort of… where are we?
-We're on some sort of island, and Antonio's talking with the girl that, I think, saved us. You feeling alright?
-Yes, but I feel as if I still have some water in my lungs… You?
-I'm fine, just had this strange dream… about Arthur… and Aleksandr Dubrovskiy.
And he told Matthew his reflections, and who Aleksandr really was. His brother's lavender eyes widened.
-Are you serious? So Arthur knew that mob?
Alfred nodded, as worried as Matthew. Meanwhile, Antonio had already finished saying what had happened to them, and the girl told him her name was Maisha and that she lived on this island with a small community, including her large family whom lived deeper in the forest. She was 9 years old, and that her older brothers helped her carry them to this shack after she found them in the water. Antonio suddenly grabbed her hand and kissed it softly, as a sign of gratitude and admiration. He reported everything to his friends.
-So what do we do now, Antonio? asked Matthew.
-This little señorita said that we're on an island in the Indian Ocean, not far from the western coast of Africa, near the Red Sea. I asked her how we could get back home, and she replied that the Ottoman Empire has been at war with the Habsburg Monarchy for over a year, along with Spain and some other countries, but we could still navigate through the Red Sea and straight into the Mediterranean, for the war isn't localized on the African continent for now.
-But… but… we don't even have a ship! exclaimed Matthew and Alfred at the same time.
Antonio smiled cheerfully.
-Luckily for us, we're not the only ones here.
-Whatever do you mean?
-Maisha said a group of Italians accosted on the other side of the island, because they got lost, even if they had a well-drawn map.
After the four men were able to walk normally, Maisha accompanied them to the other edge of her island, along with her parents and siblings. There, much to their amazement, they saw a fine Italian ship made of the finest wood, with its white flag waving proudly on top of the mast.
-This is… the Italian ship, Maisha?
Even if she didn't understand quite well, she knew what "Italian" meant, and nodded. She called out to the men on the ship.
A few minutes later, they heard someone talking with a calm, cheerful and melodious voice, followed by an enraged and rough one. That's when they saw the ever so famous Italians.
They looked like twins, for their faces were pretty much alike. One of them had a very happy face with fair skin, closed eyes, light brown hair parted in the middle. He also had a long curl at standing out near his left ear. He was dressed in light blue clothes and had a matching hat.
Next to him was his older-looking brother, who was his complete opposite. His hair was dark, parted on the left side of his head; he was clearly tanned, had amber eyes, an angered look on his face and had a light brown complet suit on him. The supposedly twin also had a curl, which stood wildly up from his hair resting on his forehead. Alfred saw Antonio smirking and twitching slightly as the two Italians went off the boat to greet them.
-Buongiorno a tutti, my name is Feliciano Vargas, and this is my brother, Lovino, said the elated one, his eyes still closed (Alfred was wondering how he managed to get down the "bridge plank" without tumbling over into the ocean).
-Zitto, Feliciano! yelled out his brother, whose voice appeared rocky compared to the other one's.
Antonio seemed as if he was floating on a cloud. He walked heavenly towards them, to Feliciano in particular.
-Buongiorno, buongiorno, mis amigos. Me llamo Antonio Fernández Carriedo, soy de España, he said solemnly, bowing almost to the sand whilst taking off his large red and yellow hat.
The brothers looked at each other, confused. Antonio, who was still bowing and facing the ground, started to understand what had happened. Matthew bent down to his ear.
-I don't think they understand Spanish that well, capitán. They're Italian after all, and your language isn't as similar to theirs as we might think.
Antonio stoned. His little showoff just got crushed into little pieces. The two Italians were still looking at him, when Feliciano said kindly, like an angel:
-Wow, you Spanish have a very nice language! I wish I could learn it!
He slurred at the end of every word, his face turning more innocent every second. Alfred glanced at Antonio; he was near letting out a small drool, his green eyes on that Italian lad. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer and squeezed him into a tight hug.
-You are so cute! You are the most adorable Italian I have ever met!
Something shoved him violently face first to the ground. It was Lovino.
-Don't touch my fratello, you idiota!
Antonio looked into his amber eyes and, as swift and quick as a snake, he was back on his feet, hugging the dark-toned Italian.
-You are also so adorable! And both of you have these curls…
He pulled on the curled up strand of hair. Alfred, Matthew and Máximo saw Lovino's eyes widen, his irises shrink and his face become as red as a tomato.
-GET AWAY FROM ME, IMBECILLE!
His head went crashing into Antonio's stomach like a cannonball. The Spaniard choked, fell to the ground and passed out. Maisha, who was watching all of this quietly, walked towards the five men and pointed to the other side of the island. It indicated that it would be better to discuss the whole thing in the little hut.
-So it seems you want to get back to England through our boat, am I right? asked Feliciano, with a worried voice.
-Yes, that's right; we've wanted that for three years, justified Alfred and Matthew.
The Italians seemed shocked.
-Three years? All because of that idiot over there?
They pointed at Antonio, who was resting on his bed, still out from the hit he received from Lovino.
-Yes, all because of that idiot, agreed Alfred, would it bother you if we journey with you to Europe?
-But of course not! You are most welcome on our ship! assured them Feliciano, waving his pale hand back and forth as if it weren't any trouble to take all of them.
-Well then, in that case we shall set off in two hours. But I'm not taking that pervert with us, said coldly Lovino, pointing disgustingly at the Spaniard.
-Oh, but he's not always that bad, I assure you, hurried Matthew.
The amber-eyed Italian looked at him, and softened a bit.
-Fine; all of you be ready, we'll be leaving.
Alfred, his brother, Máximo and Antonio were all set on the Italian ship, waving farewell to Maisha and her family on the beach. The little girl had packed lots of food supplies with the help of her mother and sisters, and all of her brothers did a few arrangements to the ship, checking if everything was alright and helped Feliciano and Lovino carry some barrels of water onto the ship. Antonio waved and saluted the large family in their language, to which they responded. Alfred and Matthew went below the deck, after the Italians showed them to their rooms. They were going to sleep on hammocks, just like in their old ship.
-Well, Mattie, said Alfred, throwing himself onto a hammock, we're going to England!
Notes:
I'm honestly not that proud of this chapter, really… but anyways, translations:
-Dios mío… dónde estamos (Spanish) =My God… where are we?
-señorita (Spanish) =miss
-Buongiorno a tutti (Italian) =Good morning, everyone
-Zitto (Italian) =Shut up!
Now for some history! First of all, I must precise that Seychelles, even though she appeared here, wasn't a known island back then, and was becoming more populated in the 1600s. Nevertheless, I added her, she's such a nice country ^ ^ The war we're talking about here between the Ottoman Empire (or Turkey) and the Habsburg Monarchy (Austria), also called the Long War, began in 1591/1593 and ended in 1604/1606. For Austria, their goal was to free the central Hungarian territories occupied by the Turks, while the Ottoman Empire wanted to conquer Vienna.
Hope you enjoyed this (sucky, in my opinion) chapter, there's more on the way! :D