Chapter 2
"Unless what." Arthur managed through clenched teeth. He dug his nails into his leg, trying to stop himself from snapping and killing Alfred where he stood. Alfred's crew stood behind him, creating a looming dark presence that he felt he couldn't escape. Arthur smiled sadistically.
"You could join me on my ship."
No one made a sound. The only audible thing was the waves gently sloshing against the wooden sides of the ship. Arthur paused. Alfred glared.
"What's it going to be?" the taller man asked with a sly smirk. "You can either die here or come join me. It's your choice." Alfred pondered for a moment. "Honestly, I think we could work excellently together. It would be quite….refreshing." he said, a malevolent grin dancing upon his countenance.
"Bloody bastard…" Arthur mumbled, using the back of his hand to wipe away a thin line of blood that dribbled from the corner of his mouth. His hand returned to the ground next to him. "I'd rather die than work with you." Arthur sneered, then spat at Alfred's feet, who just smiled calmly. Alfred slowly strode over to where Arthur sat, placing his heeled boot upon Arthur's chest, roughly pushing him to the ground. Arthur's head made contact with the wooden floor with a loud crack. He coughed violently, staring up at Alfred with hatred in his eyes. Alfred slowly crouched over Arthur's body.
"If you'd rather die, it will happen here and now." Alfred declared, drawing a knife from its small holster which was hooked on one of the belt loops on his trousers. He pressed the knife to Arthur's throat, not hard enough for it to actually cause blood to be drawn, but hard enough that it would cause him pain. "I could slit your throat right this second." Alfred remarked in a dreamy voice, as if he was enjoying himself. Hell, he probably was. He lazily traced the knife in patterns on Arthur's throat, much like one would trace letters or pictures on their lover's back. "Or I could give you an Italian necktie, if you'd rather. It'd be much more painful for you, but much more fun for me." Alfred chuckled to himself, the sick bastard. Arthur knew he got off to things like this, but he'd never experienced it firsthand before this moment.
"Sick pillock." Arthur muttered under his breath, so quietly he didn't even think Alfred heard him, though he did. Alfred grabbed a handful of Arthur's hair, forcing his head back against the floor and pressed his knife harshly onto Arthur's neck, right above his Adam's apple. Alfred now sat on Arthur's chest, knowing perfectly well that he was heavier than the other but not caring, so that he was unable to move. He delicately traced Arthur's jawline with his knife, wanting so badly to draw blood but knowing he couldn't just yet. All good things to those who wait.
"So, what's it going to be, Kirkland?" Alfred implored, leaning down so his face was just inches from Arthur's. "You either die at the hand of my blade, or submit to me, and you and your crew are mine." Arthur wriggled under Alfred's weight, trying to lessen the pressure of the sharp edge of the knife pressing into his neck, then stopped, finding it useless. His gaze went straight to Alfred's eyes, as if the two were having a silent battle with just their eyes. Finally, he spoke.
"You're fucked up, invading my ship out of the blue like this, Alfred. You and your damn crew. If I could personally send you to hell myself, I would." Arthur's sentence was forceful, but trailed off at the end. Alfred knew he had meant to say more.
"But?" Alfred inquired, raising an eyebrow slightly. He withdrew his blade from Arthur's neck, holding it so it hovered approximately an inch above its previous place, in case it needed to be re-placed.
Arthur let out a long, exasperated sigh. He closed his eyes, letting his head drop back and hit the floor, not even caring about the pain. "You fucking win." He was disgusted with himself, hearing those words leave his mouth, but he had no choice. At least with Jones, there was still a chance they'd make it to Allaura. Of course, were he dead, it was out of the question.
Arthur heard unanimous groans from his crew. They knew that now that their crew would be doubling in size, most of them would now be unneeded. After seeing how ruthless Alfred had been out of nowhere, they were sure he wouldn't hesitate to kill them, just for being extras. A smile spread itself across Alfred's face. "Delightful," he insinuated, returning his knife to its holster.
Slowly but carefully he returned to his feet, standing over Arthur, who was still on the ground. Alfred stared down at him, feeling cockier than he had in years. He knew Arthur Kirkland was a great pirate- who knew he'd give in so easily over a simple death threat? Alfred, of course, hadn't intended to kill the other man. He'd just needed leverage. But Arthur didn't know that. Had he been aware of Alfred's true intentions, Arthur probably would have jumped off the side of the ship and killed himself, Alfred figured. But what's done is done, it was all in the past now.
"Are you ready to join me? You know we'd be an excellent team." Alfred held out his hand, offering it to Arthur to help him stand up. The blonde simply swatted away the hand and stood up on his own. Brushing himself off, he glared at Alfred.
"I don't need your help. I don't need you." Arthur turned, his back facing Alfred, his coat tangling itself about his legs as he spun. Wordlessly, he returned to his cabin.
Alfred stood triumphantly on the deck, laughing to himself in victory. The joint crews regarded him with expressions of puzzlement. They'd known he was a strange, sadistic man. Now they were beginning to think that he was actually psychopathic.
Alone in his cabin, with the door locked and all the lights shut off, Arthur sat in his chair for what he thought could be the last time. He buried his face in his hands and let out a sigh, then ran a hand through his blonde hair and leaned back into the plush velvet of the recliner. Upon closing his eyes, he suddenly realized how tired this whole ordeal had made him. A gentle knock came at the door, but he ignored it as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.