Author's Note: Content warnings for this chapter, pirate typical violence & emotional turmoil. Things get dicey here and rather intense.
Chapter 33Commodore Fundinul was barking orders as soon as he returned to the Warmaster.
"Weigh anchor and make ready tae sail," he roared, "I want full canvas and roll out the guns!"
"But, sir, the blockade!" His Lieutenant Commander followed him, "We break it now we give the pirates a way in!"
"I said make ready, Lieutenant!"
"We don't have the tide, Commodore! We'll be fighting sea to get any speed!"
"Then set top sails! I want movement, now!" Taking a place at the quarter-deck, he pulled out his glass again and focused it on the Crimson Dragon. He couldn't see her but then again he supposed he wouldn't, Drake would be keeping her in his cabin to negotiate. He heard his lieutenants snapping out orders to the sailors, the marines working to get the Warmaster moving. When he got his hands on the privateer, he would strangle Nori for letting his wife do this.
The Warmaster turned, men ran the lines and rolled out the guns. Portals from the lower deck opened, weapons rolled out. And the man o' war caught the wind to send them across the waves toward the pirate ship.
As they remained still he had seen how the faster frigates of the Armada had inched ever closer. Enemy guns were aimed at the harbour forts, ready to fight a bloody battle.
He was about to give an order when an explosion from the shore shook them all.
"What was that?" He demanded.
"One of the gatehouses, Commodore! It's been blown up!"
Dwalin looked to port and saw smoke and carnage. The gatehouse was a steaming wreck. As was the giant pulley that held the harbour chain. For an awful moment Dwalin was torn. Duty or heart? He was a Commodore of the Royal Navy of Erebor, his duty was to defend the city and his country from the enemy. But his heart screamed at him to get her back, to find his wife and get her out of danger.
"Orders, sir?"
Let the rest of the defensive blockade handle the pirates. He refocused on the pirate flagship running the crimson dragon on the black field that all ships in the Misty Sea knew.
"Pull us alongside them," he ordered, "Erebor willnae go down without a fight."
The pirates noticed the ship's approach and the officers called out their own orders to roll out their guns and prepare boarding parties to meet the marines with blade and gunpowder. The scarred quartermaster looked only too eager to shed blood and the pirates set up their jeers and insults as soon as possible.
Through the glass, Dwalin examined the ship, looking for any sign of his wife anywhere. He saw the traitor Easterling perched in the ratlines and his brows furrowed as he noticed the other rats, the riggers and the powder monkeys were stone faced and all but white knuckled. They muttered amongst each other, Micoz whispering things that they relayed amongst themselves with nods and quick glances to the approaching ship.
The Warmaster approached, the marines waiting for the Commodore's orders.
"Prepare tae fire!"
"Oh, Commodore, I would rethink that order if I were you."
The ships were close enough that Smaug Drake could be heard as he called across the water.
"I think you might want to attend to your own house before you try sinking mine."
He stood on his quarterdeck, perfectly visible, beautifully framed by his sails and his ships behind him. And in front of him was Glaes, leaning quite comfortably back against his chest as his hands rested on her shoulders, thumbs rubbing the skin laid bare by her chemise with a casual intimacy.
It was damn near like the last time he had come face to face with this beast. Two ships broadside to one another. Two armies prepared to fight to the death. And one woman between them. Only now she was not struggling or afraid.
"Hand back my wife and I won't send more men tae the Locker." And he damn well meant it.
Drake had the audacity to sneer in amusement at the Commodore's fury. His hand stroked Glaes' throat possessively and he asked her quite conversationally, "Whatever did you see in him, precious?"
She gave a single shrug and Drake lifted her onto the railing, it was easy since she was such a little thing. He gripped her hand and looked at the Commodore, "Hand her over? Hardly safe. That's a long way to fall and the sea is unforgivable at best. No, I think I'll keep her nice and safe here."
He caught her in his arms and flaunted her as his prize, carrying her as a groom carries a bride, twirling with her and letting her laugh wildly before he set her down and turned his heartless, reptilian eyes back to the Navy ship.
"After all, Commodore, a battle is no place for your wife." His hand slid down the front of her bodice to rest on her belly, "Or your unborn son. Is it?"
Dwalin heard her voice, the memory of the last thing she had said to him before she had kissed him farewell.
I love you, he had told her.
I know, she had replied, Don't forget that before the end.
He looked at her, tried to search past the mask she had put on. It had to be a mask. It had to be an act. She couldn't really be leaving him. Not for this monster. His blue eyes dropped to where the Dragon was touching her belly. She had been more moody and unable to keep food down but he had thought it was the stress of knowing Drake was coming. He had given her space and tried not to hover, it was only too easy with his meetings. But was it true? Was she…?
"You didn't tell him," Drake was delighted.
"Of course not," Glaes said coldly, "It would have distracted him and made him a gaoler in his worry over me." Her face turned to look up at her Captain, smiling at him, "Besides, I knew you were coming."
"Shall I strip her and show you the little bump where your son is growing, Commodore?" Drake fed on the man's pain, his anguish floating across the air for the pirate to inhale on the salt breeze. "She told me the Royal Physician confirmed it. I'll allow you to send a bird back to the city to hear from him yourself. Since you won't believe my word. Though I have no reason to lie to you about this," green eyes gleamed, "The truth is far too painful."
As though he would waste time sending a bird to Oin. That was a cruel jest. And the barb hit its mark.
Dwalin waved his bosun over. Leaning down he gave his orders in a low rumble, "Prepare tae fire first gun deck. Aim for the hull. Mortars tae the sails. Chain shot if we aren't already loaded. Cripple and then we board."
The man nodded. Yet he looked conflicted, he had grown fond of the Mrs. during the journey to Erebor after her rescue and their honeymoon cruise. Her betrayal hurt the entire crew.
"And your wife, sir?"
Dwalin breathed deep. "Dinnae harm her. She's tae be arrested for her crime. I'll handle it from there."
"Aye, sir."
As much as it pained him, it was the only safety he could offer now. For her and...their unborn child.
Glaes' laughter brought his attention back to the Crimson Dragon. Bright and heartless, her eyes were as hard as the amber in the ring still on her finger. More insult to injury as she taunted him, separating from the captain to jeer, "That's right, Commodore. Ready your guns and prepare to board. That's the way with you, isn't it? No thought, no words, no finesse, just action and violence. I liked it in bed well enough. But how could that compare with him? He's more of a gentleman than you'll ever be and more of a pirate than you could bear. He's perfect for me."
She descended the steps to the main deck, the pirates backing out of her way as she drew level with where her husband stood on his deck.
"So, fine, Dwalin," she strode to the railing, a deck away from the captain who was watching this with a smug sort of pleasure, "Do what you do best. Take your shot."
The pirates were calling insults, shaking weapons and allowing the blood lust to grow hot in their veins. Battle was imminent.
And Dwalin tried to reason some alternative to accidentally harming his errant wife. What had he done wrong? Were the cannons ready? Did she really hate him so much? Which men would charge first? His mind was a typhoon of competing thoughts.
His hand pulled the pistol from his belt.
"Prepare tae fire!" Dwalin roared and raised his hand, pistol cocked.
Down came his arm and before the first cannon could blow, he pulled the trigger.
Drake's green eyes widened. It was almost comical. But Glaes' head turned to watch, honey hair tossing as the pistol fired. The metal ball flew true and ripped into Drake's shoulder. He screamed and Glaes flew to him.
"Captain! Captain!"
Together, they staggered back from the railing and the pirates were there, Mr. Azog and Mr. Bolg roaring commands to make ready and signal the rest of the fleet. Drake looked down at his shoulder and so did Glaes and in that moment he saw the vicious triumph in her eyes.
"Clever girl," he rasped in his pain. "It was a good plan."
"It still is," she argued with a smile, "I have defences, a husband that will kill to protect me, and even now my agents are working on your crew."
"He will kill to protect you," Smaug Drake agreed, "But I will kill to destroy him. If I fall, then you're coming with me."
His arms locked around her and she struggled, realising what he was about to do quick enough to cry out, not to her husband, but to the one being that could protect her.
"Ulmo!"
Together, the two pirates pitched over the opposite side of the ship, falling into the sea.