Shout out to Canadaorbust, The Golden Sun, BakaKurokamiShoujo, Whisky Bloodsbane Pincher, Noire Knightmore, and Guest!
AN: I would like to take a moment to point out at this time I will be taking more artistic liberties than I'm accustomed to in regards to historical facts. I realize Elizabeth of England the I was no longer in rule by the time America gained its freedom. Technically the monarch in this chapter, and mentioned in previous ones, should be George III. Overall I've never had a great fondness for monarchs, save for the current Queen of England, for whom I hold great admiration and respect. I do, however, admire the shrewd woman in a man's world. The scene in which she was portrayed is one that popped into my head some time back and I've had my heart set on it ever since. Is it historically accurate? Not at all. But this story is completely fiction and while I go out of my way to keep every other fact perfectly straight I feel I'm allowed to take the occasional artistic license.
That said- Enjoy! :)
6 Months Later
Amelia stood in the middle of what was quite easily the largest and most elaborate room she'd ever been in. It was a bit much for her taste. Honestly, one expansive room just to greet people you thought you were above? Worse still, a room where she would be greeting and paying respect to someone whom her own people had branded a hated enemy.
Oh the things we do for love, she thought half jokingly.
She had to admit, though, she did feel a bit flattered. All it took was "I have a message from Arthur Kirkland" and she got the proverbial royal treatment. Amelia was now being escorted to a privet audience with the queen herself. It was the first time it occurred to her a dress might have been better, if only so she didn't earn the looks all the guards and nobles they passed sent her way. She'd retained the style she'd adapted the first time Arthur took her to New Bangkok, and Amelia was still quite fond of it. The dark pants were of the baggy sort, the ones she selected both because they looked somewhat like skirts when she stood still and because she could fit longer blades in her boots. The corset and men's shirt was a delightful blend of femininity and masculinity, the sash a lovely place to tuck an extra pistol in addition to being an extra flair. Today her corset was blood red, her tunic white, her sash navy blue stitched with white stars. Just in case her accent didn't give her away.
The guards on either side of her stopped at what Amelia considered to be a good sized distance from the queen's throne. "Show respect before her highness," one ordered gruffly.
Amelia hesitated, then preformed a low bow. She'd been taught to curtsy, and could do it quite eloquently, but if she did it in pants the effect wasn't the same. Considering she almost doubled over performing said bow, she hoped the queen would over look the fact. Pride or no, she'd arranged things so that coming back for a second try wasn't in the cards. Arthur wouldn't let her after this. It had taken a lot of intense convincing just to get him to let her come alone this time.
"Your majesty," said Amelia as she straightened. "Thank you for seeing me so quickly."
The Queen of England was the picture of regality on her throne, but the expression on her face was half interested half vexed. Well, it was better than all vexed Amelia reasoned. All she had to do was convince the most powerful woman in the better part of Europe, which she had been informed would be difficult. Queen Elizabeth was shrewd enough to keep a strategy going to chip away at Spain's wealth while keeping her own hands clean. Tricks were out of the question. Amelia simply had to offer her a deal that was more appealing than putting a traitor at the wrong end of the hangman's rope.
"Do not waste my time. You only stand before me now because of the name you used. Do you truly have a message from the traitor or not?"
"I do, your majesty. I-
"So you have been in contact with him?"
"Yes, I-
"How? Do you know his current location?"
Amelia propped her fists on her hips. "All due respect your majesty, if you would kindly let me finish a sentence or two you might get some answers."
"You will hold your tongue!" snapped one of the guards, grabbing her roughly by the arm.
He lifted a hand, like he was about to backhand her, but the queen ordered, "Enough. I appreciate spirit, within limits. Speak, then, American."
Amelia took a deep breath, swallowing down her nerves, and began. "I won't deny that Captain Kirkland deserted the Royal Navy. But ever since he's gone out of his way to avoid British ship. Think about it, how many reports of attacks with his name on it were on a ship flying your flag? Otherwise, expect for focusing on French and Spanish ships, he doesn't exactly discriminate. He has accumulated a lot of wealth, most of it is French and Spanish. I know you're inclined to hang traitors, but the whole reason you turned your attention back to my homeland was because you needed money, right? I know you split your power with Parliament, and you've gone out of your way to keep what you can. It's why you let the privateers run wild. It's all about the money.
"You have a reward of exactly £ 2450 on Captain Kirkland. Twice that amount is all yours if you call off the hunt for Captain Kirkland, and write him off as a free man. Think about it, all that money straight to the coffers. Your coffers, money you get to use as you wish and Parliament can't touch. All it'll cost you is letting one former pirate go, your majesty."
The Queen seemed to consider this, eyeing her critically. "An interesting offer. Why make it now? And why send you?"
"Captain Kirkland has decided he no longer wants to pursue a carrier as a criminal. The activities he does want to engage in are not only legitimate, but they would keep him well away from you and yours. Even what little family he has left he has no wish to see, and they're not within your boarders these days. It's a deal where everyone comes out ahead, your majesty."
"Perhaps. But you didn't answer my question. He has any number of lieutenants, crewmen, who'd be willing to risk their heads to come here. Why send you?"
Amelia smiled a little. "I'm a friend, 'majesty. He trusts me to carry a message you'd listen to."
"Because you're a woman?"
"And I'm told I can be very persuasive."
"There's another reason," mused the queen slowly, studying her. "I was acquainted with Captain Kirkland before he turned traitor, he was a noble whose family took part in my court. I'm also acquainted with the family you mentioned. I care not if he goes to Scotland, and I always welcome an addition to my coffers. But you will understand if I am reluctant to let a traitor go free, no matter the price."
"Yes, but he'd not only be out of your way, he'd be completely legitimate, no illegal business whatsoever. If anything he's actually helped you as a pirate. He never passed up a chance to sink a cargo ship with a French or Spanish flag."
"I'm well aware. It's why I am listening to you now rather than making arrangements for you to join him in the gallows. I'm well aware the Jeweled Blood is lurking nearby, Miss Jones. I'm hearing you out to satisfy my curiosity. You've peeked it. Congratulations. Now give me a single reason why not to send you both to the executioner, and I will take your deal."
Amelia twitched a little when the name of the ship she'd taken across the Atlantic left the queen's lips. It also made her very glad she'd taken extra precautions. Normally, the idea of doing what she'd done without breathing a word to Arthur would be out of the question. But it was honestly the only thing she could conger that would bring an execution to a halt, if only long enough for her to make an argument.
"I can give you two. I know your laws prevent you from executing a woman who pleads the belly. And my name's not Amelia Jones anymore, your majesty. It's Amelia Kirkland."
Amelia could hear muttering amongst the nobles, all of the scandalized variety. While she couldn't blame them, she was a bit scandalized herself, she stood her ground. Lying to Arthur about the timing of her biological clock in order to get pregnant was something she felt extremely guilty about, but she took a speck of solace to see it was working.
The queen slowly rose, eyes narrowing. "You want me to pardon a man coward enough to send his pregnant wife-
"He doesn't know," Amelia defended. "If he did we'd be in hiding instead of bargaining for his freedom. He wouldn't have let me within spitting distance of the shoreline otherwise. You wouldn't believe how long it took for me to convince him to let me come here even without him knowing. I spent the better part of the sail from the Caribbean to here talking him out of coming to you himself."
For a minute the queen just stood there, studying Amelia. Then, slowly, she sank back into her throne. "Would you be willing to swear under oath that all you have told me is true?"
"Yes, your majesty," said Amelia, head held high.
"Why would a woman who values honor marry a pirate?" asked the queen.
"Why would a queen who's meant to uphold the law employ criminals?"
As soon as the words were out Amelia was kicking herself. Then, to her surprise, the queen cracked a smile. She even chuckled. "I like you, Mrs. Kirkland. It would be a shame to execute you, belly or no. Go, then. Report to your husband. Bring in his ship tonight, I will have given the order by then. By sundown the word will be spreading. Former Admiral Kirkland is no longer wanted, provided he never sets foot on British soil again. If Parliament doesn't like it they can bring their complaints to me."
Amelia bowed low again, relief making her knees weak. "Thank you, your majesty."
BREAK/BREAK\BREAK
Madeline hummed softly to herself as she ascended the stairs, one hand on the banister. Once she reached the top of the wide, polished steps, she turned and whistled softly. It was a long, low note, one that Gilbert had taught her. A minute later, Gilbird fluttered in through one of the open windows, squawking hoarsely. He dropped into her bosom with practiced ease, fluffing himself up contentedly.
"You are the cutest little pervert I've ever met," she informed the canary, striding down the hall.
A hoarse cheep was the only response.
"I don't know what's more worrisome, you or the fact I'm used to having you there," Madeline mused.
Gilbird didn't offer a response this time. The blond continued down the hallway until she reached one of the large doors at the end. There was no guard, just a key ring hanging next to the door. She took it down, jamming the key into the lock and turning it. The heavy bolt turned back, and she pulled the large door open.
"'Morning," she said cheerfully, letting herself in.
"Guten Morgen," was the grumbled response.
Madeline glanced at the bed. While unmade and completely mussed, it was also empty. It was a start. She glanced around the set of rooms, and soon found who she was looking for sprawled on a rug under the large double windows. Setting the book she'd brought on the messy desk, she went to stand over the sprawled figure, propping her hands on her hips.
The last six months had been going quite well for Madeline, or at least she certainly thought so. She'd sent a letter to her parents before leaving Port Diego, an update of sorts with a promise to visit in the reasonably near future. While Madeline was certain they wouldn't be overly thrilled, she had surprised herself when she realized that this fact no longer bothered her.
Gilbert, though hardly happy with his current imprisonment, was cooperating. Germania was a man of his word, but for this case he made a slight exception. Gilbert would be behind locked doors, but he was hardly in a dank prison. Madeline visited him at least once a day, teaching him as well as visiting him. Ludwig came to see him as well, though with Feliciana starting to show he'd taken to hovering over his pregnant wife. Madeline was the most frequent of his visitors, save for Gilbird.
The albino was still wearing the rumbled clothes he'd been in for the last week, sprawled out on his stomach. A glance at a nearby table showed a tray of uneaten breakfast. Madeline sighed, reaching out to give his skull a poke. When he lifted his face to glare at her she reminded him, "No lessons until you eat. We have a deal, Gil."
"The Awesome me is not hungry," grumbled the albino, letting his head drop back down again.
Madeline sighed, straightening and shaking out her skirts. Half her wardrobe still consisted of breeches and tunics, but she still liked to wear dresses every now and again. Germania, while quite stern in the standards he'd set for his sons, didn't seem to mind her somewhat less conservative tastes. One of her favorite sashes was a gift from the man, blood red and made of silk from China. It hadn't been an announced gift, and she took it as a wordless sign of approval.
Gilbert rolled onto his back, jamming a hand back through his hair. "I never do anything, Birdie, how can I be hungry?"
"Just take a few bites. You can't be awesome on an empty stomach," she informed him, turning back to the tray.
For the most part Gilbert endured his imprisonment without protest. But every now and then there would be brief bouts of depression, usually curable via the proverbial kick to the behind. Initially Madeline had been allotted only one visit a week. When both his father and brother tried and failed to snap him out of it, Germania had brought her in. He had since removed the limit to her visits.
"Yes, I can."
"Stop acting like a spoiled lord and get off the floor," snapped Madeline, irritated.
Gilbird cheeped his agreement.
"It's not awesome to gang up on the Awesome me," Gilbert grumbled, sitting up.
Madeline studied the tray, picking up the cup of water. The toast was cold, but the rest looked fine. She picked up the plate that had slices of meat on bread, taking them over to Gilbert. She plunked the plate in front of him, pushing the cup into his hand.
"Essen," she ordered.
While she taught him to read first English, and more recently French, he was teaching her German. He was picking up faster than she was, but Madeline felt she was doing well enough. She might not be able to hold a conversation, but she could make a point. Besides, she was learning to read it as well.
Obediently Gilbert took the cup, reaching for the plate. Satisfied, Madeline busied herself making the bed. As she worked, she told him, "You know you're almost halfway done now. You've been here five months."
"Don't remind me, Birdie," grumbled Gilbert around a mouthful of food.
"Would you prefer to be in a jail cell?"
The albino pointed to his ankle. The shackle that wrapped it was connected to a chain long enough for him to move around all the rooms easy enough, but it did keep him located. "The only difference is the bars."
"We've been over this, Gilbert. I'm done arguing with you."
"Could you fix that sheet again?"
Madeline straightened, turning to give the grinning man a dirty look. Well, at least she wouldn't have to worry about his mental state. The last sheet she'd adjusted had involved her bending at a ninety degree angle over his bed. Sometimes she wondered if he did this on purpose just so he'd get to see her do that.
"Keep that up and I might just decide to go on a little trip," she quipped, fluffing a pillow.
Gilbert was still grinning, but opted to keep eating rather than speaking. It fascinated her, for all his jibes and teasing, all it took was the slightest hint she might leave and he straightened up right quick. While she did plan to visit her parents in Virginia, she had agreed to wait so Gilbert could go with her. She'd meant to go months ago, had made plans three separate times, but each time they ended up canceled. Now she didn't even bother with the pretense.
Drifting over to the window, Madeline said carefully, "Es ist ein schöner Tag."
She didn't turn, but she could feel his eyes on her.
"Ja. Aber meine Birdie ist hübscher."
It took Madeline a minute, but when she understood heat started to climb her face. Unwilling to turn around, she held very still, staring hard out the window. Chain links clicked softly behind her, and a moment later two arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind.
"Do you know why I get like this?" he asked, lips not an inch from her ear.
Fighting a shiver, Madeline asked crisply, "Because you're an oversized child?"
"Nein. Es ist, weil ich fürchte."
"Warum?" whispered Madeline, though she was genuinely baffled.. "What is there to be afraid of?"
"The cage was never locked. You have every reason to fly away. What if you get tired of waiting?" asked Gilbert quietly.
Madeline was fully aware of just how hard it was for Gilbert to admit to something like this. Reaching up to lay a hand over his arm, she said simply, "You know the difference between me and a canary, Gil?"
"Was?"
"They don't mate for life."
The arms around her tightened.
"Ich liebe dich, Birdie," he whispered.
Leaning back against him, she said simply, "Und ich dich, Gil."
AN: I did my research for this part- in today's US dollars the reward for Arthur was $500,000. A half a million sounds like a pretty good offer for a traitor, right? (If you disagree please review and explain why. I plan to edit this story from the beginning, and if you make a valid point I will gladly fix it.) In modern conversion that's still £329,800, but money isn't worth what it used to be no matter where you are in the world. The amount used in this chapter was the conversion done to the best of my abilities.
-Also, pleading the belly was a legit thing as early as the 1300's, and used by women pirates in the past to delay a hanging. Mary Read and Anne Bonny were female pirates I read up on when I was first writing this story, and both are easily searched for those who'd like to confirm my info.
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Essen - eat
Es ist ein schöner Tag- it's a beautiful day
Ja. Aber meine Birdie ist hübscher.- Yes. But my Birdie is prettier.
Es ist, weil ich fürchte- It's because I'm afraid.
Warum?- why?
Was?- what?
Ich liebe dich - I love you
Und ich dich- And I you
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