“What do you think we should do with him?” A timid voice spoke.
“I dunno.” A deeper, more mature one answered.
“Maybe we—T-Torian, I think he’s waking up!”
“Well, whaddya want me to do about it!?”
“I don’t know, hit him with something!”
Kavo groaned, reaching up to rub at his pounding head. “Please don’t hit me,” he mumbled. He squinted against the blinding light to see two of the crew—the two men he hadn’t previously met: the tall, dark-skinned one and the young boy—looking down at him. Sort of. The boy was cowering behind the other man and clutching to his sleeve tightly, but other than that, they were both looking down at Kavo. “Who’re you?”
“Torian, don’t let it kill me!”
“Why would I… you look like you’re twelve.”
The kid bristled at that. “Seventeen,” he corrected.
“Don’ look it, does he?” The other man, Torian, said. “I’ve known Aizel since he was ten; I dun think he’s aged a day since.”
Aizel, the boy, blushed darkly. “I don’t think my age is the most pressing matter right now,” he ground out. Kavo supposed he had a point; an enemy lying at one’s feet certainly did not call for teasing prepubescent boys. “And besides, you know I can’t help it; Mum’s the same way.”
“Well, yes, but even so— wait, I thought you said it wasn’t the time.”
“It’s not.”
“Then why are you still talking about it?”
“I’m not; you are.”
Kavo watched the two bicker. They seemed entirely enthralled in arguing with each other, and Kavo saw his chance; he could quickly slip out, preferably without them noticing, and then find a new place to hide— and not fall asleep this time. He very cautiously began to crawl by them, taking great care not to make any sudden movements that would cause anything to squeak or rustle or even anticipate being touched.
Clunk. Kavo jumped back from the knife that was suddenly no more than two inches from his hand, stuck in the floor. “Don’t you move,” Torian said without so much as taking his eyes off of Aizel. “Whatever you’ve done with Ryk won’t be the same for us.”
Kavo glared. “Ryk deserved it. You two don’t… yet. Let me past you.”
“Or what? You’re outnumbered, and we could call for help. You don’t even have the element of surprise going for you.”
“I didn’t become second-in-command of the fleet for nothing.”
“We didn’t survive attacks from the first-in-command by luck, either. I suggest you sit still and behave for once.”
Frustrated but unable to further dispute his skills, Kavo did as he was told. “What are you planning?”
“If we knew, would we tell you?”
Kavo groaned. “You two… are the most frustrating people on this ship, and that’s saying something.”
Aizel and Torian exchanged a glance. “Ryk must be gone then,” they both said in unison. The fact that they’d spent seven years together was certainly evident.
Aizel coughed, seeming a little embarrassed, then said, “Torian, do you wanna go get Hawk and Mum? I’ll stay here.”
“You sure?” Aizel shot him a look, and Torian held his hands up in the universal gesture for surrender. “Fine, fine.” Torian turned his next comment to Kavo. “Don’t think you can get away without me here.” Then he vanished through the door to deck.
Aizel didn’t say anything; he didn’t seem like he would be very talkative while Torian was gone. He simply knelt down and wrenched the knife out of the floor before sheathing it about his waist.
“Wait… that was your knife?”
Aizel tilted his head. “What, you didn’t think Torian had good aim, did you? He would have hit you for sure. Well, ‘less he was aiming for you, of course.”
Kavo blinked. It seemed that there wasn’t a single normal person aboard the ship. The most normal seemed to be Torian, who apparently had a horrible aim and liked to forget that he was supposed to be punishing a prisoner of war. Kavo was reasonably sure that the entire ship must have been home to some sort of illegal drug scandal, and there were still airborne remnants of the drugs floating around. That, or the pirates were actually doing drugs; after all, they were pirates.
Torian quickly returned, Gwendolyn and Hawk in tow. Wait a tic…
Kavo looked between Gwendolyn and Aizel. He had definitely told Torian to go get his mother. Gwendolyn didn’t look old enough to be anyone’s mother, let alone a seventeen-year-old boy. Maybe Aizel’s mother had been otherwise occupied; that had to have been it.
“Have you found Ryk yet?” she asked, looking around the room.
“Er… not exactly.”
Gwendolyn looked over to Kavo. “Where is he?”
“How long was I out?”
Aizel looked confused but nonetheless said, “I don’t know, about an hour?”
“He’s about a hundred miles back, then.”
“A hundred miles— you threw him off the ship?”
“Er… would you believe me if I said he fell off?”
“It’s not likely,” she said, crossing her arms. Whatever witty response Kavo had prepared was lost then, because really, who else hadn’t wanted to stare at her chest? “You’re aware we can’t kill you, right? We can, however, make your life here as miserable as humanly possible while you continue to cause us all manner trouble.”
“I can take him,” a gruff voice interrupted. Kavo looked to see the scraggly old man from earlier— Kavo had forgotten him.
“That’s really not necessary,” Gwendolyn said gently, her hands pressing as if to quell him.
“Well, what else are ye kids gon’ do with ‘im?”
The other four looked between each other, each person seeming to ask, “Do you want to risk your life caring for him?”
Eventually, Aizel raised a hand. “I can take care of him.”
“Aizel, that’s even less necessary. You know I’d rather take care of him myself before I let you go even anywhere near him—”
“I’m still sitting right here,” Kavo reminded, annoyed. It irritated him that he’d been not only forgotten while they were speaking about him but also that everyone seemed to consider him such a bother, as if it were his own fault that he was there. He hadn’t exactly planned his own capture.
“We know,” Aizel and Gwendolyn replied. When they did that, they did sound awfully similar, but Kavo was still convinced it must have been a mistake.
“Look, Mum,” Or not, apparently, “I know it’s dangerous, but what other choice do we have? If you take care of him and you die, we don’t even have another captain. If I die, we still have Torian and Jal left.”
Gwendolyn sighed. “I don’t like this, at all.”
“Neither do I. Aizel, you are not going to be left alone with him,” Torian spoke up. “If something happened to you, it would destroy all of us.”
“But I’m the one least likely to die, aren’t I? I mean, no offense, Tor, but you have crap aim, and Jal can hardly even hold a knife anymore.”
“You make a valid argument.” Hawk’s deep voice suddenly filled the room. “However, I think you are forgetting me. I am perfectly capable of keeping watch over him.”
Gwendolyn raised her eyebrow. “You two hate each other.”
“Can you blame us? He is a captive. It is his duty to hate us, as it is ours to fuel that hatred. Once he sees he is not truly the captive here, then I will be polite. Until then, I see no reason.”
“I ‘ave a better idea,” the old man, Jal, said. “Aizel wants to prove ‘imself, let ‘im. ‘e and ‘awk can share a room.”
“That does make me feel much better…” Gwendolyn murmured. “Losing either of you could destroy us.”
Hawk looked uncomfortable, but he gave a nod. Aizel seemed pleased, while Torian was wrenching his hands. He and Aizel must have been very close.
“Is it settled, then?” Aizel asked. He did seem eager to prove himself, as Jal had said. If Gwendolyn really was his mother, it was probably hard to live up to the standards she had set. Apparently she was the new captain, and she was fierce and powerful. Aizel was timid and shy sometimes, only coming out of his shell when speaking to his mother or Torian. They hardly seemed to be related at all.
“It seems so,” Gwendolyn said. “How soon can the two of you move into a room together?”
Hawk looked over to Aizel. “Would you like to keep your own room or move into mine?”
Aizel hardly even thought about it. “Let’s move to yours. Then Torian can keep his bed.”
Torian, who still didn’t look too sure about sending Aizel to the lions, said, “I’ll help you move your things.”
The four men, including Jal, for no apparent reason, left; it was only Kavo and Gwendolyn sitting there.
“Why did you kill him?” Gwendolyn asked eventually.
“What do you mean, why? There was no reason for me not to, except escaping punishment. He was an asshole, he tried to rape me, he was commanding the ship that had captured me… not to mention he’d apparently made advances on at least Hawk, so he was a dick to everyone and not just to me.”
“Don’t pretend that our well-being matters to you,” she said harshly. “Don’t you think we were aware of all that? He was alive for a reason. Asshole or not, he was a good fucking captain, and he was the reason that we were all alive.”
“So you’re saying Hawk owed him sex?”
“I’m saying nothing of the sort— you’re putting words in my mouth. I know that Hawk, more than anyone except Aizel, owed Ryk his life. It was up to him to determine how to repay his debt, and he simply did not choose Ryk’s preferred way. That has nothing to do with everything else.”
“I think it has everything to do with everything else! Taking that sort of thing lightly… I can’t even begin to wonder at how I was the first one to kill him.”
“The rest of us appreciated him,” she ground out, “Even Hawk. You have no place here. You don’t understand what he had done for the rest of us.”
“No, I don’t, and I’m glad I don’t. Apparently it has muddled your definitions of right and wrong. Here’s a hint: rape is wrong.”
Gwendolyn tossed her head to the side. “You were the only person he ever took to his room. Raping wasn’t his usual style.”
“I wasn’t about to be his first victim. If you all are fucking retarded enough to let him get away with things like that, it’s your own problem. I, on the other hand, have a little bit of dignity left!”
“Where?” Gwendolyn shouted suddenly. “You’re still sitting there on the fucking floor, covered in his blood! You threw him out the fucking window to get away! In what land does any of that show that you’re dignified?” She turned, chest heaving. After a moment she said, “I hope you fucking rot.” Then she swept out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Kavo had to admit she wasn’t entirely wrong, too. He hadn’t wanted to lose his dignity, so he’d killed a man. It wasn’t the first man he’d killed, but it was by far the most personal. It was also the only one whose friends he’d had to stare in the faces afterward; it was the only one where he’d had to see the people his murder had affected.
And then what after? What was it all for? He had planned on hiding like a rat. Where was the dignity in that? He tried to reason that he’d simply panicked, but while that was true, he couldn’t lie that he hadn’t truly wanted Ryk dead. He had enjoyed killing him, but now… he was beginning to wonder if the after-effects were worth it. He was still a captive. All he’d managed to relieve himself of was unwanted advances.
Kavo hadn’t ever wondered what a life was worth before. It was an odd sensation. Why did it matter to him how things affected the pirates? They were pirates.
He was sure Stockholm Syndrome was kicking in at this point. It would have been nice if it were working the other way— if the villains were beginning to identify with his needs— but that did not seem to be the case.
Again, though, he had to admit that they had always been reasonable and justified in their actions, aside from Ryk’s taste for sexual harassment. They hadn’t even tortured him or really punished him for his crime. Maybe they already had been noticing his needs. It was hard to think he was the unreasonable one. Was he?
Kavo wasn’t sure anymore.
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