Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Pirates Of The Caribbean (there may be some similarities)
I know I already posted this chapter but I decided to edit it and now it has a lot more descriptions.
I hope it's an improvement.
I really thank anyone who has reviewed the original chapter. It really makes my day.
The Lord And The Merchant
Lord Kaiba detested dances.
But as much as he detested dances, he hated the top of English society; those that strayed about, just for the sake of seeing and being seen. He hated the rooms, which in spite of their immense size seemed so small, so every single one of them was one too many. The wide space extending in front and around him was never enough, and as soon as anyone dared to violate even that personal area, Lord Kaiba began to hate the etiquette, which he had to keep up.
It seemed to him as if every single nobleman tried to involve him in a conversation. And even if the etiquette forbade it, he only saw either boot-lickers or widows, who wanted to bewitch him, in them. Why they'd even want that was beyond him. (Or rather, he understood exactly, but he refused to even think about those prospects.)
Someone always clung to his expensive coat hem or tried to get his attention, which he seldom gave away by nature, for the simple reason that there was barely a thing that deserved it.
Milord, I'd like to ask you where you bought this wonderful coat! Was it a tailor-made? It looks to me like a masterpiece of Italian craftsmanship!
Milord, I just wanted to tell you myself that I'm very much impressed by the capture of that criminal subject last week.
Milord, it'd be an honour to show you around.
Milord, may I ask you to grant me this dance?
Milord, I'd love to hear about your mighty fleet! People say it's impressive!
Milord, could we, would you, may I, am I allowed to, I just wanted to ask, shall we?
It disgusted him and maybe because it happened often, he began to detest it as well. So, he had never been a friend of dances or any public display of wealth, to put it mildly, and why he even appeared there astounded him every time anew. After all he was the most influential man in the entire British Kingdom, his stepfather, King Charles, included, who had grown old, but not a bit less cunning.
'To keep the image up,' his brother had said and of course that was exactly what he did. He polished the image of the responsible heir to the throne, who, even though unapproachable, would keep the influence of the English aristocracy as firm as ever. And that task he detested, too. But he had long accepted he could achieve more if he just waited for the right time.
So he appeared at every important dance there was, exchanged the essential words, which would calm the nerves of his stepfather's intimates and friends, but just glared at all other guests, kept his composure regal and disciplined. Most times he looked for a quiet corner, in which he could endure all the conversation attempts and the endless suggestions.
And that was exactly the way he knew it would be at the dance to King Charles's honour, which he of course had to attend as his stepfather's deputy, as he resided in London. It was a task he had to take over frequently since he and his brother had sailed across the Atlantic Ocean and had settled down in Jamaica, a warm island in the Caribbean.
When he entered the great ballroom, a whispering and chattering started to fill the air and he had to control himself to not make a face in disgust. The women tittered, their eyes gleaming and their fans flapping excitedly in front of their mouths, opened, so that he wouldn't notice what they were saying about him. Two or three complacently smiling Lords, who he knew were sent by his father to keep a watchful eye over him, followed his every step as soon as he crossed the threshold. He told them harshly to back off and mind their own business and didn't waste time answering their greetings.
He felt blinded by the magnificence of colour filling the ballroom. A song of pastels, dresses in all possible variations, jutting out with frilled slips and coats with richly embroidered hems, sleeves and collars, expensive leather boots, shiny earrings, rings and fob watches, which hung on their owners' waistcoats, a witness of power, influence and wealth.
All eyes rested on him, even though their owners pretended to be involved in interesting discussions with their neighbours. He ignored them deliberately, his eyes directed firmly to the front, icy and unapproachable. His night blue coat caressed his calves, his features cool and smooth as marble. Some aristocrats, who stood in his way, hastily stepped aside, bowed slightly and murmured a quiet "Milord". He didn't even glance at them.
Once he had crossed the ballroom, the conversations swelled to their usual volume. Faces turned from him and the cheerful mood filling the room before his entrance spread amongst the mass of people again. Lord Kaiba leaned against a wall as far away from the chattering crowd as he could get and tried to deter any persons coming towards him, hopeful if nervous, with a cold glare.
Almost an hour passed before the dance itself began and the floor slowly filled. Lord Kaiba didn't concentrate on the crowd for long, but contemplated important things like checking letters, which he had yet to send, devising his schedule for the next day, calculating whether or not the new trading route was in fact the shortest and most practical and if there were any dangers along the way.
"Milord, may I-"
"No."
The merchant approaching him opened his mouth to answer, but paled considerably when the crown prince sent him a silent, stern look. He bowed hurriedly and stuttered something unintelligible. Kaiba raised an eyebrow interrogatively and the merchant turned scarlet red and hurried with a ducked head away. A bright, high-pitched voice, which he knew too well, caught his attention and he turned his head, eyes cool and reflecting.
"What is it you find funny, Lady Rebecca?"
The blonde grandchild of his stepfather's good friend giggled, her light blue dress glittering, in the glow, of the many chandeliers in the ballroom. She waved her fan slowly while she batted her lashes seductively.
"Oh, nothing at all, Milord, nothing at all. I only wished to congratulate you to the expansion of your fleet."
Lord Kaiba's mouth twitched slightly at that statement and he glanced disapprovingly down on the young woman.
"Thank you very much, Lady Rebecca. It's reassuring to know my political successes are already the newest gossip in the kingdom."
Rebecca's eyes grew cool and hard and she flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. She hated to be openly rejected.
Then she answered coolly, "It was nice meeting you again, your highness," before she turned around and strode back to the dance floor. In the back of his mind Lord Kaiba registered amusedly that her ears were a flaming red.
Meanwhile the dance had changed into a faster pace and on the entire dance floor whirled and swung dresses, flitted coats. It was a constant "Right, one, two, three. Turn, two, three. Kaiba furrowed his brow disgustedly. He didn't dance. On principle. He averted his gaze, the line around his mouth hard and his eyes cool. The music sounded hollow and false to him.
One, two, three. Turn, two, three…
His glance was caught by the window. Darkly he noticed that the night had already climbed above the horizon and that the hour was already late. The moon was thin and weak, only a transparent variation of its full self. The curtains in front of the balcony, at the inlet to the Caribbean Sea fluttered in the wind, the doors half-opened. He inspected the darkness, dimly lit by the chandelier light, closely, and his interest just barely sparked. He could barely make out the silhouette of a person, a grey trace in front of a blanket of black.
He thought indifferently, "At least one person is sane enough to escape this farce."
The music slowed down again. A new dance had begun. Common time. Laughter filled the ballroom's warm air; the conversations grew louder and more intensive.
"Milord, may I congratulate you to those wonderful thighs?"
Kaiba snorted and glanced coolly at his stepcousin. "Your humour is atrocious, Jounouchi."
The blonde grinned broadly. The two top buttons of his beige shirt were undone, his hair ruffled and rosé lipstick prints on collar and neck. "Well, at least I'm not standing alone in some corner glaring at everyone moving."
Lord Kaiba frowned, his sapphire eyes calm. "I honestly don't want to know where you've been."
Jou nodded meaningfully, his cheerful mood not marred by his stepcousin's rude rejection. "Oh no, I believe you don't."
And that was the last word on that subject. Kaiba and Jou had never got along very well, but they had agreed on an unspoken truce, a contract to let the weapons lie. Lord Kaiba had never approved of the loose lifestyle his blonde cousin chose to lead. In his view Jounouchi's life was a complete waste, but he knew he couldn't or wouldn't change him; he had better things to do than arguing with his useless stepcousin.
Jou on the other hand was of the opinion that Kaiba, the adopted son of his mother's brother, let the joys of life glide out of his hands. Years ago they had decided to keep out of the other's way and to just exchange the most necessary words; to be seen together once in a while; to keep the image up.
Lord Kaiba's mood sank slowly but steadily to its low. Not, that he would show it outwardly. Probably only his brother would have recognized the tightness of his lips and the threatening gleam of his eyes as signs of emotion, everyone else would have chalked them up to his usual, cold attitude.
He muttered, "I hate dances."
Jou, who had fetched a drink, which smelled sweetly of alcohol, in the meantime, just grinned. "I can imagine; with your view of things."
Kaiba only snorted, absent-mindedly crossing his arms in front of his chest. His cuff-links glittered in the chandelier light. He registered out of the corner of his eye that his cousin had put the glass away and asked a brunette lady to dance. She sighed deeply and laid her hand on the blonde aristocrat's arm. They joined the waltz together and blended with the turning crowd.
The crown prince watched the dance floor for a while; the endless one, two, three continued. He counted time in his mind, counted the steps, even played the piece of music mentally on the grand piano of his large mansion. And mentally he had as many mistakes as he'd have in reality. None.
After a while he averted his eyes again and let his gaze wander through the large room. Again they were caught by the night sky. The moon had wandered so high, he couldn't see it through the windows, instead the stars shone brighter and brighter, in growing night blackness. And still he could make out the dim outline of a person out on the balcony.
The music stopped, a short silence, and then came in again, this time quieter, carrying.
Lord Kaiba chose to get some fresh air. The closed air of the ballroom, which was misty with all kinds of different perfumes; it started to eat into his clothes and if there was something he hated more than dances, it was lack of personal hygiene, though it seemed high esteemed by the other lords.
He crossed the distance between himself and the balcony at an adequate pace, a few ladies began whispering, sending him poorly hidden indecent looks as he passed them by, but he ignored them as he ignored everyone else. When he pushed away the heavy, blue curtains and crossed the threshold of the large balcony, the warm tropical wind brushed against his face. He could hear the quiet sound of the waves hitting against the wooden fastening, a lapping which interrupted the steadily quieting sound of the music in just as steady a beat. The air was fresh and slightly salty but it was a welcome change to the thick atmosphere of the ballroom.
And now that he was sure that his eyes were not deceiving him, he could see the contour of the person who he had laid his eyes on before. Hand resting on the balustrade, the man stared absent-mindedly at the sea glittering below them, as black as the night sky above. It was definitely a man, though Kaiba couldn't say if he was of aristocracy or not. His composure was straight and dignified even if he was about a head shorter than Kaiba, who was even for English nobility impressively tall. The moon's and ballroom's lights painted him in a soft, white gleam. They illuminated an olive-green coat, richly decorated with dark green embroideries, and the back of a head being covered by a just as green hat with a large brim and a high peacock feather.
With a smug smirk on his lips Lord Kaiba went slowly to the balcony's railing, his boots almost gliding soundlessly over the freshly polished marble.
"A good evening, your Highness. May I ask you what brings you out here?" asked an amused voice.
Kaiba raised an eyebrow, but didn't once stop in his steps. "I could ask you the same, Mr…"
"Summer."
"…dear Mr Summer."
The man laughed quietly and his hands ran almost gently over the wooden banister under his fingers. He looked up to the sky and Lord Kaiba could make out blonde bangs under the large hat's brim.
"I was getting some fresh air when the silence of the ocean bewitched me. And what about you, Lord Kaiba? Why don't you have anything to do? I thought a man of your calibre wouldn't be short of people to converse with."
The heir to the throne snorted scornfully and approached the young man until he stood next to him. He stared thoughtfully at the wide sea beneath them, which was more of a little bay than the open sea. He could see the two lights of lighthouses in the distance and answered calmly, "Who has said that I'm looking for people to converse with at all, Mr Summer?"
He looked expectantly down at the young man next to him and an application on the green coat-sleeve caught his eye. It was a certain badge he knew very well.
"A merchant," he registered indifferently in the back of his mind.
Summer laughed deeply and warmly, interrupted the silence, which had slowly settled between them. His hands left the balustrade and he looked up, eyes twinkling with open amusement.
"Of course, your Highness, I didn't expect anything less."
Lord Kaiba's eyes widened slightly in surprise and he felt his fingertips tingling. Deep, crimson eyes, locked attentively with his own, kept a warmth and gentleness in their depths. They twinkled amusedly and somehow Lord Kaiba thought he himself had gone pale.
He felt a tremor run through him.
But even though his reaction surprised and annoyed him, he had to admit he had never seen eyes like those before. He had never seen eyes the colour of blood, whose colour was so exotic and foreign that he almost believed his own eyes were deceiving him. Warm and gentle; yes, they were, but they had a hard edge which would have intimidated a lesser man. Lord Kaiba was immediately fascinated and if he had had less control over himself, he'd have surely have stared openly. But he was a master of self-control and so he got a grip on himself very quickly and straightened his shoulders. A thin, challenging smile flickered over his lips.
The merchant, who – though Lord Kaiba quickly covered it up – had recognized the flicker in the blue depths for what it was, raised his eyebrows interestedly and a smug smile touched his pale lips. The twinkle in his crimson eyes grew and he tilted his head slightly to the side, a few blonde bangs falling into his handsome face. Then he chuckled meaningfully, his eyes narrowing with suppressed amusement, and he leaned a few inches forward.
He murmured quietly, "I've had enough of this silence out here, your Highness. I think I'll go dancing."
He laughed as Lord Kaiba regarded him silently and raised an eyebrow. Then he turned around, his green coat flapping slightly around his slender form. His hand brushed against the crown prince's for a second and with quick, but dignified steps he disappeared behind the heavy blue curtains again. The music became louder, then quiet again, a barely audible background noise like the cawing of crows or parrots through an open window.
And silently Lord Kaiba accepted the unspoken challenge. Challenges in themselves had always tempted him, but this one did especially. A smug smile touched his lips and he calmly straightened his shoulders and tugged at his sleeves and collar. Then he followed the merchant with long, quick strides.
The moon had disappeared behind the residence by now and the night was pitch-black.
As he entered the room, Lord Kaiba frowned. The stuffy air once again overpowered his senses with an unbearable intensity and the music's volume increased tenfold. He pushed the curtains carelessly aside. Two lords who had stood nearby having a lively conversation stepped hastily aside as he passed them and then bowed deeply. He nodded shortly and abruptly to them then he focused his attention on the ballroom, his eyes searching for someone. He registered vaguely that Jou was still dancing with the brunette woman, a broad, complacent grin on his lips. Then his gaze was caught by the one he was looking for.
Summer stood leaned against a wall, his green feather hat drawn into his face and arms crossed in front of his chest. His right leg was put up against the wall and he somehow seemed too quiet in the midst of all the people bustling by. He was just standing there, an awaiting smile on his pale lips, shoulders straight and eyes closed under the shadow of his hat's brim. A smug-looking lord addressed him, but the merchant ignored him, he didn't even move the slightest bit and soon the importunate person went away, a withering look in his eyes.
Lord Kaiba smirked sharply, his lips spreading into a half-grin which might have given anyone a heart attack. Slowly he crossed the crowd, his sapphire, cold eyes focused on his destination. He felt that this was the challenge, the break with daily life which he had been looking for a long time. And this time he didn't care if his father would know about it. His stepfather was far away at the moment, thousands of miles across the Atlantic in London.
After a short pause the music sped up again.
The crown prince was very much aware of all the eyes looking intently at him as they always did when he left his usual position at the wall and he had to admit with a certain pleasure that their outraged faces tempted him to no end.
He stopped in front of Summer. The olive-coloured hat shifted upwards and crimson eyes opened, locking with his. They seemed to challenge him and he accepted it with pleasure, sapphire eyes cold, but amused. Without wasting another thought on the consequences he offered the handsome merchant his hand.
Immediately all the conversations stopped, before they returned twice as loud and animated and apparently one of the violinists lost control over his bow, so that a harsh distorted sound cut through the constant, rhythmic music. All the while he was only aware of the flicker in Summer's crimson-coloured eyes and the honest smile on those soft lips, lighting the fine features.
Summer raised his hand and accepted the invitation, a contented and promising gleam in his narrowed eyes. He seemed not to mind the accusing, partly disgusted looks given him as well; he didn't even glance at them as if their opinion didn't matter to him, as if he didn't care. And Lord Kaiba liked that.
The crown prince led them to the dance floor, his boots clicking against the even ground and he sent the smiling merchant a last, meaningful look. Summer just raised his elegant eyebrow as if he wanted to ask what the English aristocrat was waiting for. The prince smirked and took the merchant's other, slender hand in his own, duly, just as the etiquette dictated. The music seemed a lot more bearable now, the mute one, two, three now an ever-repeating mantra, which seemed to lead his steps. He noticed pleased that the merchant was following him wordlessly, his steps as perfect as his own.
Out of the corner of his blue eyes Lord Kaiba registered another couples was now parting from the staring crowd. It started to move to the music as well, slowly turning and stepping forward and backward. To his utter amusement he recognized the shaggy blonde hair of his stepcousin, who was still dancing with the brunette Lady, who had a rather pleased smile on her lips as well.
The spell was broken and, even if slowly, the dance floor began to fill again with a mass of people but by that time the heir to the throne had already focused his attention only on his dance partner again, who, eyes lowered, was matching his own pace brilliantly, in perfect synchronicity.
Lord Kaiba studied Summer intently now and concentrated on the fine details, which he hadn't noticed before. He had an indubitably handsome, almost noble face, the pale complexion being an indication that the young man did not work much, in the harsh, warm weather. A straight nose and elegant, dark eyebrows, but he decided that what fascinated him most were still those deep, mysterious, crimson eyes.
The audience moving around their prince, dresses rustling and coats flapping in movement, watched silently the perfect harmony and balance between elegance, dignity and attraction, the silent communication between two individuals. And the situation seemed so surreal to them that they almost forgot all their surprise. Only the two lords at the vast front doors studied the whole scene critically and worriedly, their voices lowered to quiet whispers.
The crown prince felt his hand tingle where he held the merchant's pale one, a completely unexpected reaction and he narrowed his eyes. He pressed their two bodies closer together. Crimson eyes looked amusedly up at him from under the hat's brim, and the brunet growled possessively in the back of his throat.
Summer smirked teasingly up at him, the twinkle in his eyes stronger than ever before and with a quick, graceful movement he let go of the aristocrat's hand, tore them out of the unspoken harmony. He laughed, deep voice amused and husky before he glanced a last time into the sapphire eyes of his dance partner and turned around, his hat's feather brushing against the surprised crown prince's face as he walked away.
Lord Kaiba, who quickly recovered from the sudden loss of proximity, growled deeply and dangerously, his hand grabbed the merchant's fleeting, pale one and spun the handsome young man around, pulling them together again.
As Summer turned around and looked up at him a dangerous glint was buried in his eyes. The honesty had changed into calm calculation and his soft, pale lips were parted into an amused, but suggestive smirk.
To Lord Kaiba's horror he felt something cold pressed against his chest, usually calm blue eyes widened slightly and he looked down, only to find that the pale hands he had held mere moments before were draped around a weather-worn pistol. He felt as if someone had swept a bucket of icy water over him, tearing him out of his intoxication and into reality.
The weapon clicked quietly as the merchant loaded it.
The heir to the throne looked up, his eyes disbelieving and he himself unusually pale. A strange cold washed through his paralysed body as he saw the amused smile on his dance partner's delicate features. He tried to wake up from his shock, to regain composure.
He hissed between clenched teeth, "You're no merchant."
The young man's grin broadened, showing even, white teeth. "No."
"And you're name is not Summer."
"No."
The stranger pressed the loaded weapon close to the lord's heart. "We'll take a nice trip now, your highness. Enjoy the view."
He motioned towards the richly covered buffet table, which was bending under the weight of meat, fruit and wine. Kaiba, tense, face stony and even, eyes fixed forward, passed all the dancing couples by, who – he noted ironically– noticed nothing at all. Each one of his steps was one of steely determination and dignity, although the cool metal against his chest quickly persuaded him to make haste, towards the destination, to which the stranger was leading him.
He saw out of the corner of his eye his cousin's blonde hair again and Lord Kaiba would have gladly wiped the satisfied grin from Jou's lips. But it didn't matter; he would lose it soon enough.
He lowered his eyes to look at the pistol pressed against his chest by the young man, who was guiding him with a hand on the small of his back. He noticed indifferently that it was a six-bullet weapon and that it looked, even if it couldn't be too old, as if it was a pistol not seldom used. The handle was weathered, the barrel scratched and the hammer black with gun-powder.
Lord Kaiba raised an eyebrow as he saw pale smears running across the barrel and handle and to his annoyance he noticed that the slender hand he had held minutes ago had lost its pale complexion and now exposed a deep, bronze colour. He cursed inaudibly and furrowed his eyebrows.
That man was indeed neither merchant nor aristocrat.
He looked fiercely into the crimson eyes, which were laughing, almost laughing at him, soft lips parted into a wide grin. He growled deeply when the criminal lead him to the buffet table. The crown prince clenched his teeth harshly and humiliated as the stranger shoved him roughly against the table's edge, so that he tilted forward before he could catch himself in mid-air. The brunet watched grimly as 'Summer' jumped on the table, a single, graceful leap, almost like a cat, and held the pistol against the crown prince's temple, while he leaned forward and murmured suggestively into his ear,
"Let's begin, what do you say, your highness?"
Kaiba just snorted disapprovingly and threw a calm glance into the large ballroom and discovered with pleasure that a hard, disparaging smile touched his lips as the young criminal shot once into the high ceiling, dust crumbling down onto the expensive food. The music stopped abruptly. People stopped dancing, spun around and looked at the two of them in utter disbelief and surprise. Many of them turned deathly pale and their eyes widened in frightful horror.
"Fools," he thought disgustedly as a lord who held a lady in half a spin let her hopelessly fall and she hit the earth with a dull thud.
Deathly silence hung thickly in the air of the vast ballroom, nobody dared to move. They all just stared.
The young criminal propped his leg comfortably on a chair and once again placed the pistol against the lord's temple. The 'merchant' coughed slightly, clearing his throat and announced in a calm, amused voice, "This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is a raid."
Lord Kaiba's blue eyes widened in surprise as people all around the ballroom drew pistols from their coats or from under their dresses and put them against their dance partner's heads.
There was a click as almost two dozen hammers were drawn back.
An elderly woman began to scream, her high-pitched voice like metal scratching on metal in the deathly quiet room. She screamed and sobbed, stumbled a step forward before her eyes rolled back in their sockets and she fell on the ground with a thud.
'Summer' sighed deeply, a sharp edge to his deep voice, which reminded Kaiba strangely of fresh honey.
"Oh well."
Women began to cry, their breath coming short and fast. The lords began to sweat, some bit their lips and chewed on them, others glanced hectically around.
The young criminal laughed quietly.
"Bastard. He tricked me," Lord Kaiba cursed mentally and sent those crimson eyes a look full of hatred.
Then he glanced around the room, tried to assess the situation like he always did, searched a way out of this calamity, but had to admit grudgingly that there was no gap he could use in the criminal's plan. They simply were too many. Too many lunatics and too many fools, who just stood frozen on a spot and gaped.
He recognized the brunette lady whom had danced with his stepcousin now wearing a nasty sneer on her pretty face, the blue eyes cold and a pistol pressed against the blonde hair of his cousin, who looked at Kaiba helplessly and miserably. The prince just snorted scornfully and Jou lowered his eyes in shame. He ignored him. Furthermore he saw an albino with long, wild, white hair who had thrown his hat, sure of his success. He was now holding his weapon pressed against the nose of an old trembling lord, who cowered in front of him.
Before he could study the room further, the leader, with the exotic eyes clapped his shoulder, a broad, dangerous grin on his handsome face and he chuckled. He raised warningly his right index finger.
"Now, my dear Lords and Ladies! As always: Don't try to sneak away, to inform someone, to attack or to commit any other foolish actions. It's better you don't move at all, unless told to, or else my crew and I will unfortunately have to settle nice, little bullets inside your pretty heads, alright?"
A lady began to sob loudly and to Lord Kaiba's satisfaction he saw Lady Rebecca sunken to the ground and her drink spilled all over her pastel dress.
A few men clenched their teeth and fists.
Suddenly an elderly earl broke the spell of silence; he stepped from the frozen crowd, a vein pulsing on his neck and pointed with a mad flicker in his widened eyes towards the handsome leader, who was still holding the pistol pointed against Lord Kaiba's temple.
He screamed piercingly and loudly, "Bastard! I know you! I know all of you! You're pirates!"
Then he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening before he fell forward, knocked out cold. Behind him stood a sandy-haired young man, a wide grin on his lips, holding his pistol by the barrel. His deep lavender eyes seemed to laugh out loud.
A whispering filled the ballroom, Rebecca cried out loudly and desperately before she as well lost consciousness and the empty glass in her hands rolled across the floor.
Other women screamed and grouped together, their dresses ruffled and eyes fearful. They looked hastily around, the wives to their husbands, who seemed just as helpless, arms powerless by their sides, shoulders slumped and the faces pale and old.
The pirate leader smiled, amusement in the depths of his mysterious eyes. He sighed and leaned forward, his lithe body stretching and his soft lips brushing against Kaiba's ear, who felt his body tingle and clenched his hands.
"You better tell them to hand over all their valuables…," he sighed deep and theatrically, hot breath tickling pale skin, "…lest they tragically lose the heir to the throne and that'd be such a shame, don't you think?" His eyes were laughing. "I'd hate to hurt that pretty face of yours, Milord."
Kaiba ground his teeth, his sapphire eyes cold as ice. "You bastard," he hissed between clenched teeth, his skin pale with humiliation.
The pirate laughed freely, head laid back and answered with his honeyed voice, "Yes, I love you, too, Milord. Would your majesty now lower himself to saving innocent lives?"
Kaiba stared darkly at the young man, cursed those amused, twinkling, crimson eyes. He wanted to retort something harsh, but bit his tongue furiously, an action which cost him a lot of strength. He knew if he hadn't had a loaded weapon pointed at his head, he would have strangled that pretty throat until no breath could hitch from it anymore.
"You tricked me, you..."
The pirate shook his head, the blonde bangs falling into his face. He sighed and clapped reassuringly the prince's shoulder.
"Now, don't be a sore loser, Lord Kaiba."
Then he straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat loudly. All eyes spun to him, either venomous or scared.
"My dear Sirs and Ladies, Earls and Lords, I'm exceedingly dejected to announce that your precious crown prince here has decided to let our fifty bullets decorate your nice dresses and coats with a completely wonderful and fresh colour!"
He laughed now deep and harsh, his crimson eyes now calm and intelligent, but dangerous. His voice echoed through the ballroom.
"RED!"
People began to scream. Kaiba's eyes widened, even as he clenched his teeth and discovered to his surprise that his heart was racing. The pirates raised their pistols, their grins broadening. Men and women began begging, pleading, sobbing and Lord Kaiba noticed that the trigger of the pistol against his temple was slowly being drawn back. Noises mixed and voices cracked and suddenly his thoughts started to race as well. He weighted out, divided situations and then he closed his eyes for a second. His pride hurt, but then, suddenly and almost indistinctly-
"Stop."
A/N: Better? Worse? I had to cut the original chapter in two parts, so the chapters didn't go on and on. What do you say?
I especially want to thank Blue September for her immense help in editing this chapter. I'd be hopelessly lost without her help.