Chapter quatro
Moonlight Sonata by Rodrigo Escoba
"It's the third time he's done this in the past hour!" The Spaniard yelled, as he got off his horse to grab at Arthur. The brit had tried escaping by making himself fall off from the stallion. His plan could only work if Antonio was already irritated once they arrived at the ship.
Third time's the charm, his mind repeated.
He was right. The pirate slapped the tied up Englishman with the back of his hand. "I'm wasting my time with you, cabròn." His nerves hit a tone in his throat that sounded like a voice crack. When he was done, he tied Arthur to the back of his horse.
Since his legs were also still tied together, they had to dangle on one side while his right shoulder touched Antonio's back. His hands rested on his lap, sometimes holding on to the back of the saddle.
"Why didn't you do that before?" Abel was growing impatient, waiting behind the two with arms resting on top of the saddle.
"Shut up, Abe."
The dutch rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. Once they were ready again, the captain and henchman continued their ride with no more interruptions. Arthur wasn't exactly comfortable and his body was forced to lean against Antonio's back. If he moved away, he could fall and badly injure himself. If he placed his hands in a different position, he could scare the horse--which could lead to his death if he wasn't careful.
But he was. He had calculated everything right. He knew that eventually Antonio would attach his hands to the saddle as it was. The first two times he purposely fell was to collect a sharp enough rock to cut the rope around his hands.
One step at a time.
Carriedo was beginning to suspect the brit. His lack of protest was rubbing him the wrong way up until he started forgetting about it when they made it to the ship.
"Finally. And it's dark…" Unhappy with the time, he hurried off his Andalusian companion.
Arthur had enough time to break the ropes, though he didn't reveal it yet. The horse was suddenly uneasy, stepping back and forth until the prince glared at Antonio with a wide smirk and hit the horse with the rock. He rapidly turned on his stomach to hold on to the horse as it sprung in shock. Arthur was strong enough to stick tight, but could potentially fall if he didn't get on the saddle.
"¡No!" The pirate yelped trying to grab hold of the reins. His panic was not hiding all of the rage he was feeling, but he had to calm the animal before actually getting Arthur off. The horse was uncontrollable, the neighing and rearing was dangerous. In all the comotion, the brit's ropes around his legs and feet nearly snapped, loosening the knot. "Abel! Do something!"
Unfortunately for the pirates, Kirkland was quicker and had used the last of his strength to raise his body up on the brown saddle. The horse was still rearing in confusion, but Arthur was able to grab the reins and take complete control. He carefully placed his feet through the stirrup iron, firmly resting them on the pads and ordered the animal to gallop away.
"Mierda!" Antonio was seething. He didn't take a moment to think and jumped on top of Abel's horse. "Don't let him escape! Get the guns!" He didn't care if Arthur was on his horse, he couldn't let that peste go. He needed him, he thought.
The Englishman knew he was being followed. He knew he had to ride as fast as possible, though the adrenaline was dissolving and the lack of sleep hit him. "C'mon, c'mon! Not now! Stay awake!" He slapped his cheeks, breaths faster than his heartbeat, he couldn't help but look behind. "Fuck! Shit, shit, shit! Wanker!"
"You can't escape me, Artie!"
Antonio was only a few meters away from him.
"I'll kill the horse if I have to!"
"Of course you would." Arthur mumbled, turning left and right trying to lose him in a nearby forest. Luckily for him, the forests in Spain were thick enough to lose a ship and the darkness of the night would help him get more distance. Determined, Arthur led the horse through more dangerous paths of the woodland. Hopefully, the captain wasn't as familiar with the grounds as he was with the seas. As expected, he could feel Antonio was slowing down. His voice and threats were more distant. A few sounds of missed gunshots were heard before he was eventually met with silence.
He didn't stop.
_
The Amulet.
A powerful charm believed to protect all from evil and enemies.
Only fools doubt such magic.
Only noblemen were in possession of it.
Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses.
Some believed it held eternal life.
Eternal Beauty.
Though, it brings only death and misfortunes.
Although they were just stories, a legend, many tried to get their hands on The Amulet.
Only to perish.
Dying a pointless death.
"I need it." The Spaniard squinted at Arthur's disappearing body. He couldn't risk getting himself lost along with the prince. So he went back to the crew along with Abel. "I knew something was up..."
Little did Antonio know, Arthur didn't have the amulet.
_
Arthur's POV thoughts :
When I was a child, my mum told me stories of men who had tried to chase after that forsaken amulet. It wasn't a story parents usually told their kids at bedtime. But my parents were fearful of ignorance. I was going to become king one day--and I did. I was crowned king of wales at 9 years old and the next crowning would be when my father would pass. That was thrown into the river when Francis betrayed me, of course. That bloody frog was out to get me from the start, I know it.
Anyway, the amulet was not exactly given to me. My family had owned it for decades and they were supposed to tell me where it was hidden when I became king of England after my father. Obviously, that would be transcended to my younger brother, Henry. So when I was sold by Francis to be tortured by that Spanish bastard, I truly meant it when I warned him I didn't know where it was. He never once believed me. Not a single word I said mattered. I never broke either, never begged for his mercy. A prince isn't supposed to. My people would probably think otherwise…
I think the boggar knew deep down that I was telling the truth. He just loved torturing me so much that he kept me.
But there's a part of me that felt like it knew… How can I explain this..? Mum always said that the legend was some kind of riddle and that I already knew where it was. But it makes no sense. How can I know where something is if I never even found it in the first place? A bloody riddle… Bullocks.
Still…
The stories, the riddle-- or legend or whatever--, kept spinning in my head while I was held captive then. I thought I would have enough time to figure the damn thing out, but I never bloody did. If anything, it just made me feel worse. I tried looking at it every way possible, but it just never made sense. It's just a legend. No matter how you look at it, magic doesn't exist.
I figured at least that much.
If there was such a thing as magic… Then the amulet would have worked right?
Something else I remember my mother saying was that it would protect me everywhere I went. Even if I didn't own it or wear it yet, I would still be under the charm of protection. So why? Why was I kidnapped? Why did I nearly die more times than I have fingers? Why did I get betrayed?
I will never believe in these stories and neither should Antonio.
I know I'm repeating myself at this point, but why was he so obsessed with it? Because someone he loved died? Well, boohoo, everyone dies! It was his own fault for driving her to it anyway.
And the amulet doesn't bring people back from the dead. So he just wanted the amulet for protection. Protection from what? He's a bloody pirate. He doesn't need it. Or maybe I'm wrong and it does bring people from the dead? Who knows…
_
Arthur wanted to find a safe place to sleep in the forest as his body became numb and his eyes fell shut a few times. He felt as if he could pass out at any given moment. Though, he had to keep going. He was close to crossing back to Portugal. So close.
The horse neighed in shock when his body hit the floor. Nearly causing a concussion. He shook his head in panic, shushing the horse to be quiet once he had gotten on his feet. The fall had injured his left foot, though, it wasn't the time to think about the pain. He went through worse before, he was capable of walking it off.
"It's alright--hey, hey… hush." He pet its coat in a circular motion, successfully relaxing the animal. Although, it didn't take long for the latter to begin to panic again. He reared, sending Arthur back and hurting his foot further, and galoped in the opposite direction. "No! I need you! Please-- Dammit, ow." He tried to get up, but this time it was too noticeable to ignore. The strawberry blond held his straining foot as he muttered complaints to himself. Thinking he was alone, he let out his weaknesses. Tears of frustration raced down to his chin. A soft sob was heard through the trees. Old forgotten souvenirs crushed his spirit. Images he never thought he would see again seemed to blur his vision into an illusion, but he couldn't tell what it was before he fainted from the pain. Of course, not just the pain ; sleep deprivation, overload of adrenaline, anxiety…
It seemed as if someone was observing the brit from behind a trunk of a tree. They came out only when they were certain he was out. There was no way Arthur would wake up unless he was cared for. Immediately. His health was in critical condition. The stranger knew.
With careful, mute steps, the small physique approached the unconscious man.
_
The captain was pacing the wooden floor of his ship. He had completely lost his temper. The crew was nervous to even approach him. That is, until Abel lost all patience and grabbed his shoulder, stopping Antonio in his repeated tracks.
"What's the plan exactly?" He wasn't always this blunt, but just like his captain, they all had a goal and weren't going to give up. Especially since the crew needed directions.
Carriedo looked around, noticing every hesitant gaze on him. Their eyes averted when he would catch them staring for too long. "...I have no clue." He admitted defeat too early. His angry, tired eyes glared in front of him--no era specifically, simply ahead of him. His tone was hushed, though Abel's sharp ears caught his words.
He swung a fist into Antonio's jaw. His body fell back, but he was still on his two feet. Everyone gasped, staying clear of the two. The captain, not wearing his hat nor his coat, appeared like any other pirate on the ship. Although, he wasn't treated like the others, hence he wouldn't appreciate that hit.
"Get your shit together, Anto. What is the plan?" Somehow, the Dutchman managed to stay calm. He wasn't easily intimidated, especially that he knew the Spaniard very well.
"..." The other refused to speak. His hand held his now bruised cheek as he spat blood from his mouth.
They both kept a glare as deadly and stubborn as the other.
After a few moments, Antonio laughed. "You're right! I have to keep my shit together." He took out a knife from his boot and scarred his henchman right under his left eye--to everyone's disbelief. Blood followed the blade's singular motion. Though, Abel didn't flinch in the least. Or even even blink.
Swallowing back his pride the taller man knelt down in front of his captain and placed his right hand over his chest. He lowered his head and sighed heavily. "Me disculpo. (I apologize)" He made the effort to speak in Antonio's language for the extra mile. He truly hoped to be forgiven.
"And for what exactly?" Carriedo couldn't care less about the punch and his henchman knew that. He crouched down to Abel's level, lifting his chin up with the sharp end of his knife. His menacing grin iced the atmosphere around them.
"For letting the prince escape. It was my fault, I should have been more careful." His dead eyes didn't show a single hint of emotion, reminding Antonio why he had kept him so close all this time.
"Bien." The Spaniard stood back up. "Listen, amigos. Vamos a encontrar a la zorra francesa y él trabajará para nosotros. Y si se niega, lo haremos nosotros. (We're going to find the french bitch/slut and he will work for us. And if he refuses, we'll make him.)"
The crew members regained their usual attitudes and chanted happily. Antonio knew exactly where to find Francis and he wasn't going to stop until he had him on his ship.
"Caribbeans?"
"Caribbeans." the brunet replied to his second in command still wearing his grin and walked to his private office.
They sailed to the caribbeans shortly after getting ready. For now, Arthur would be safe.
Or so he hoped.
_
"Capitão? … Capitão." A voice was not received on the captain's end until he was tapped on his shoulder. "Capitão, estamos no Caribe há muito tempo. A tripulação está entediada e bêbada… Fiquei um pouco preocupado. (Captain, we've been in the Caribbeans for far too long. The crew is bored and drunk… I've been a little worried.)"
João snapped out of his concentration, letting go of the letter he had been reading for the past hour. He wasn't absorbing any information whatsoever. "Ah- bem… (well…)" His green orbs directed towards his guitar hanging from the wall.
"É sobre o Arthur, não é? (It's about Arthur, isn't it?)" João looked back at the other's perplexed face.
"...Sim. Você pode me culpar? (Can you blame me?)"
"Não. Mas precisamos de ordens. Se ficarmos aqui por mais tempo, a marinha real vai- (No. But we need orders. If we stay here any longer, the royal navy will-)" The sailor seemed to insist his captain to the limit. He was cut off by an annoyed glare while João reached for his neck. Though he didn't actually do anything, the man took a few steps back in fear.
"Não mencione a marinha real na minha presença, Leonor. (Don't mention the royal navy in my presence, Leonor.)" His squinty eyes dared the sailor to add anything about the topic. He didn't. He simply apologized and walked away to get drunk with the rest of the crew.
"...Maybe things would have been different if I would have confessed that night." The annoying emotion he felt melted away as he got up and grabbed his instrument. Leonor was right, even he had to admit it. The ponytail brunette whispered a song to himself as he thought of the special night he and Arthur had spent alone on that island. It was almost magical ; the way they stared at each other, the way Arthur laughed and smiled, the way the stars shined… And plainly put how João Henrique fell in love with his Inglaterra. They didn't exactly exchange deep stories about themselves, but spoke about dreams they had, about a place in the universe or about how beautiful the Atlantic was.
_
Flashback
Listen to I won't give up by Jason Mraz
Right now.
The two members of the Gaivota Voadora took a short vacation away from their drunk crew on an abandoned island not too far from where they left the ship. There were no signs of enemy vessels around and it seemed as if no one had set foot on the white sand in a long time. It was good enough for João and Arthur.
João took out two bottles of rum and his precious instrument from the boat they had settled on the beach. Arthur was already close to the greener parts of the island ; palm trees, different kinds of plants, tall grass and bird chants drew the prince's attention. Though, he would be stopped by his captain who wanted to stay closer to the water.
"I'll teach you how to dance like the women in my country. Venha." He placed a hand behind Arthur's back to lead him to a perfect spot.
"I will not dance like a woman!" The brit protested, though it only made the portuguese laugh.
"Come on, for me?"
Arthur never really gave in to João's inviting tones, but since they were alone--and honestly, the brit was starting to grow weak when he would bat his eyelashes like that--he thought it wouldn't hurt to humour him. "Alright, but only after a few drinks. And I'll need you to teach me first."
"I'm sure you're a natural." A finger made its way through Arthur's strawberry blond coloured hair, making him blush lightly.
The night was clear and full of stars. Kirkland had never seen such a beautiful sight. But not as beautiful as the way his 'Portugal' smiled at him.
João was right though. It didn't take long for Arthur to pick up what he was showing him and they were able to dance in sync. Then, it was time for the "guitarra" to join the brit. The brunette played as he sang and kept his foot work in sync with his friend. They laughed, sometimes messing up, but kept a bright smile as they enjoyed each other's company.
After a while, though, they began to slow down. It was a lot more tiring than what Arthur remembered back when he practiced at home. They both dropped on the sand, still warm from being in the sun all day. The minerals rendered the ground as soft as a pillow.
"I told you you were a natural!" The portuguese chuckled, putting away the instrument for the night, panting.
"Well, I used to practice a few steps at home--" He cut himself off, trying to keep his past a secret. "...Mostly for my mother. She insisted on lessons." Arthur didn't think too much of it. It wasn't major information and it wasn't like his people were uncultured.
"Really? So the British are talented, huh?" Lisboa was showing genuine interest in the man.
"Well… Generally speaking. Yes." His gaze shot up to the skies while João kept his on Arthur.
"How do you keep impressing me every time you teach me something new about yourself?"
"You're too easily impressed, capitão." Kirkland snorted, making fun of him a little bit.
"Bem, quando é você. (When it's you.)" The aforementioned captain mumbled, looking up to the stars as well.
Arthur was certain he'd heard a sentence like this before and guessed what he said in his head correctly. They didn't exchange a single word for half an hour, quietly counting the constellations and slowly intertwining their fingers together. They were both too awkward to say out loud anything they were thinking and preferred keeping it for themselves.
"Arthur…" The words had slipped through his lips without intending to. João wasn't certain of how to continue his phrase.
"Hm?" The brit faced him with his big emerald orbs like shining jewels.
"..." The portuguese opened his mouth, but quickly closed it. Why did he even say anything, he asked himself.
"There's something you want to tell me, isn't there?" Arthur tilted his head to the side curiously. "You can tell me." His hand squeezed João's, successfully reassuring him that he could trust him.
The other's jaw clenched in deep thought. "Why haven't you told me anything about yourself yet?" And again, the moment was ruined.
How could João Henrique Lisboa ruin such a perfect moment? He was too afraid that Arthur wouldn't feel the same. It's not like sailors weren't getting commonly married. But confessing seemed so difficult.
"I've told you before. I don't like thinking about it, let alone talk." His hand had disappeared from under João's.
"That's not what I meant."
"...What do you mean, then?" The brit raised an eyebrow, questioning his captain as if he couldn't find any other meaning behind his words.
"You never talk about what your interests are or what you always dreamed of." The brunette threw a casual smile at his friend, giggling at his reaction.
"Oh-... des-desculpa." Kirkland placed back a strand of hair behind his ear in slight embarrassment. The switch in languages made João bite his inner bottom lip, restraining himself from kissing him. "I guess… I do have a few interests. But I never really had a dream." Arthur seemed to become a bit distant. His tone was low. His body language meant that he was getting uneasy.
"It's okay. I bet you just haven't found one yet."
It's more like he never really had a free mind of his own. Being prince and next in line to be the king was a stressful life. Of course, now, he was free. But he didn't know what that meant to him. Which was the main reason why he hadn't left João's side yet. He was confused, but being around his friend made him feel like he didn't need to think about anyone back home or think about being king. He knew Henry would be more than capable. Arthur wasn't worried in the least, even as he sailed with pirates. They were his family now.
"Or... I already achieved my dream." He brought the special moment back to its original feeling with a soft smile and a gaze that could melt João's heart.
The pirate ran a hand through blond locks, this time getting a little closer to the brit and admiring his facial features. Arthur was frozen in place, but he let him play in his hair tenderly. Every move the portuguese made was slow and careful. And his Englishman made sure to give him consent with nods. They didn't need to speak, they didn't have to speak. The love and respect they had for each other was enough to make every married couple on earth jealous.
"Would you like to… kiss me?" Arthur asked, dampening his lips as a reflex.
Without a single second of hesitation, João took his opportunity. Their lips met like destiny. All his fears of not being accepted or rejected, flew away into the void. Suddenly, they were together. Lisboa's hand gently held the other's head as they deepened the kiss. Arthur didn't have the experience as he was supposed to keep the kiss for marriage before the trip, though Francis made sure it was cancelled for it. The lead was all in 'Portugal's' favor.
João broke the kiss, staring at Arthur a little longer. It was almost more satisfying to look at him than to kiss him.
"What...What will this mean?"
The question captain Lisboa tried to avoid in his head was still asked on Arthur's side. "Let's not think about that."
With a nod, they decided to just cuddle up to watch the stars. Naturally, Kirkland wasn't going to start holding hands or even mention it again. It was probably an inaccurate memory since a bottle had been emptied over the night.
Although, João would remember it well and in its entirety. If Arthur wanted to forget it, then he would let him. Then, things seemed so much simpler. They didn't have to think about saying goodbye or restrain their bodies from doing something so bold. Arthur had fallen asleep not long after the kiss, which led him to believe that that part was only a dream.
When the morning came, they had the same gaze, the same close bond. Nothing was ruined, but something seemed a little cold. The "dreamlike kiss" made the prince a little ill at ease. But he ignored it. João realized what Arthur was feeling, "reading the room" as if he knew him better than the world.
_
Arthur steadily opened his eyes ; shapes coming together to reveal the inside of a home. Though, the house didn't seem human like. It was small and mossy. He hurried up in a sitting position, immediately regretting his actions when his forehead met with the ceiling.
"Não! Não!" A small voice screamed after coming back from the outside.
"Bloody he--" When he came to and tried to find where the voice was coming from, he jumped back away from the creature forcing his back against the wall against his bed.
The prince had been taken by an elf-like creature known as El Duende. He was attended to inside of its little elf house. They were only a legend-- much like the amulet-- recognized in Spain and Portugal as mischievous creatures. Although, elf folklore was different in many other countries in Europe. Arthur never thought they were real until then.
"What the fack are you?!"
The Duende was not impressed. He simply stood by, fuming and hoping Kirkland would quickly get over it. The creature didn't speak many words and certainly didn't speak english--which caused more panic to the brit.
"El Duende! Dormir." The elf argued with the human to lay back down.
"Duende-- What? Sleep…?" Arthur knew that word from both french and portuguese. It was the same and meant the same. But he couldn't understand the first part. "...This can't be possible… You're--"
The creature lost its tolerance, walking up to the prince and trying to lay him down himself. Still freaked out by the inhuman form, he raised his voice again with his hands flying around to protect himself. The elf was having none of it, reaching for his pouch full of a strange yellow like powder to splash in Arthur's face. It wasn't easy, but El Duende came victorious, resulting in calming the human. Nothing dangerous, just a relaxing spell. Inexplicably, the prince was numb, incapable of moving his arms, feeling nauseous and his eyelids fluttering. As if he was forced into slumber.
"What… did you do to me..?" Arthur asked as he was moved down back into bed. The elf couldn't understand english, so he was ignored. He began to go back to his healing work, but not before placing a bucket next to the human brit. "You think I'm going to need this?"
The elf guessed his second question and simply waved from the side ; as if to say "trust me, you will."
The blond didn't have a choice but to watch helplessly in his bed--seemingly made of moss and flowers. The ground was not like any floor he'd ever seen and the interior of the house appeared to be the inside of a tree. There were rocks and stones all around the room used as tables, chairs or counters. It seemed as if the bed was specially made for him, but everything else was too small for a man over four feet tall to physically move in.
When the creature was finished with mixing herbs together, he walked to Arthur's twisted ankle and began messaging him with the green cream. Kirkland was a little surprised, but he couldn't fight him nor feel anything. He wished he could run away, but also research the creature. His confusion had added saliva in his mouth, soon needing the bucket to throw up in.
"Ugh, fuck… I hate throwing up." He could feel his eyes becoming heavier by the millisecond.
"Te disse." The elf grumbled. He forwarded back to the little kitchen-like space.
Green eyes followed him, studying every movement. His steps were penguin-like, his voice was gravely but high pitched like a parrot, his skin was a bizarre tone of grey and green, the clothes he was wearing appeared to be all from lost people's clothes--ripped and dirty--and his teeth were pointier than his ears.
"Am I allowed to leave or are you going to keep me here forever?"
"..." Duende still couldn't understand the brit.
"How do you say this again.." Kirkland thought hard, trying to remember all the words João taught him to form a sentence. "Uh, você… vai? … uhm você vai me… manter aqui? (Are you going to keep me here?)" He was able to ask his question properly before he had to hurl back into the bucket.
Surprised, the elf glared at him with his yellow eyes. "Para sempre? Não. (Forever? No.)" He drowned an old rag in clean water freshly picked out from the trees after a rainforest. "Mas sim. (But yes.)"
"W-what do you mean 'but yes'?"
"Testa. Testa!" The creature gave Arthur the cold, wet rag to place on his forehead, though he hadn't learnt that word yet.
He wasn't stupid. Arthur found out that he meant to place it over his head. So he did.
Eventually, the prince had warmed up to the elf-like creature, practicing the little portuguese he knew and studying what kind of magic or healing properties he was capable of. El Duende wasn't so fond of him. Mainly because he didn't like humans. Though, he didn't mind Arthur too much. The human didn't stay for longer than two more days until the cream completely healed Arthur's ankle. Until then, the creature kept repeating something to the prince ; "Para dentro. Magia." The brit wasn't capable of understanding what he meant even though he knew what they meant in english.
Once the Englishman was able to walk on his two feet again, El Duende helped him out of his house. He left him a pouch full of fresh medicinal herbs and leftover cream to message if it ever stung again.
"Obrigado, El Duende. Until we meet again." Arthur had only smiled like that around João. Now that he believed in magic, he would cherish this encounter in his life forever even if no one would believe him.
"Sim. Adeus." The elf grumbled, walking back into his home and shutting the door behind him.
The brit's smile faded, reminding himself that he was back in the game and still in deep danger. "I can't go back home through Spain, that's for bloody sure. Guess I don't have a choice but to go back to the shore where I came from."
_
End chapter.