Chapter Text
“…thur.”
He stirred, but didn’t wake.
“ARTHUR.”
His eyes snapped open to the sound of his own name and the gentle shaking of his shoulders. Blearily, he spotted a mop of white somewhere in his vision.
“…Gil?” Arthur tried to focus on the crimson eyes of his first mate directly above him, at the same time identifying something odd on his face. “What…? Is it raining?”
Gilbert looked almost sheepish.
“No.” He cleared his throat, and averted his gaze. “You were crying. I assumed you had a nightmare.”
Arthur blinked, then raised a hand to his cheeks. To his surprise, Gilbert was right. He felt the wet streaks that ran down from the corners of his eyes instead of from the sky above, and he quickly wiped them away, embarrassed. He sat up, pushing himself up from where he’d used Gilbert’s legs as a pillow, and Gilbird the yellow chick hopped onto his shoulder and nestled into his collar. He looked around at the half dozen other boats carrying the rest of the crew and, searching for something else to say, blurted out, “Are we there yet?”
“Nearly. We anchored the ship a little too far away this time, but it’ll be safer that way. Royal guards are scheduled to be on patrol in a couple of days; we don’t want them spotting the most wanted pirate ship in the entire world floating around just off the coast now, do we?”
“Right, uh, no…”
The albino beside him was unimpressed by his attempt to change in topic. “Arthur.”
“…Yes?”
Gilbert’s eyes were narrowed to red slits, and Arthur shifted uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny. He felt it coming before Gilbert even gave voice to it.
“Your dream.”
A pause. It was hardly a question by the way Gilbert put it, but Arthur knew what he meant. Blood was still pounding through his veins from the heartache that the dream had brought back. Arthur knew there was no use in lying; there was no way Gilbert would be fooled by any other answer but the truth. They knew each other too well for that.
“Yes,” Arthur replied reluctantly, unwilling to admit his weakness in front of others. The events of that day six years before no longer haunted him every day, but it had been enough of a lesson to keep him weary of everything for years.
Wordlessly, Gilbert reached out and pulled Arthur into a tight hug. Over the years he had grown used to the fact that his best friend wanted to be seen as strong and invulnerable, but on the inside he craved to be loved. There was no more emotional barrier, but Arthur would still close himself up on occasion. The world he lived in, in addition to his dangerous life as a pirate, made it impossible to ensure that he would never have to face the loss of a loved one; the death of his brother had proved this. Gilbert grimaced into empty space where no one could see. He could understand Arthur’s situation perfectly, for he had similar experiences too, after all.
“Gil, I’m okay.” Arthur mumbled, bringing the albino back to his senses, his cheek pressed against Gilbert’s shoulder.
Gilbert pulled back slightly, and locked eyes with Arthur with a dead serious expression. “I want you to remember that no matter what happens, you’ll always have us. You’ll always have me, the awesome me. Artie, you’ve been my best friend for eleven damn years, and that’s not gonna change. You’re like a brother to us. You’ll never lose us, I promise. We’ll always be here. That’s what best friends are for, isn’t it? I’m sure if Toni were still here, he’d be saying that too.”
“You make it sound like he’s dead,” Arthur laughed softly. “By the way, do you know if he’s coming around any time soon? I miss him.”
A grin made its way back onto Gilbert’s face.
“Oh yes, I’m sure we’ll get to see our Angel again soon enough. But first,” he turned as the looming shadow of a cliff emerged from the dense fog that shrouded the shore from view. “I’m pretty sure we have other business to attend to.”
A servant was already waiting for them by the time they arrived at Howard’s mansion. They were in a medium-sized busy seaside city in Eastern Scotland, and the grey building towered over the small town houses it stood next to. The mansion was on the opposite end of the city, and the quickest route there from the docks was to cut straight through the centre of the city. But it was hardly an inconvenience; pirates, smugglers, thieves and criminals of all sorts frequented the place, and the seemingly ordinary, peaceful town was merely a front for the underground beehive that it really was, and Arthur’s presence was no surprise for the locals. They were composed of retired criminals and the like, and they didn’t care one single bit that the current most wanted person in the entire world visited regularly. In fact, they honoured their kin: so what if Arthur had a million pound bounty over his head? They would never sell him out; many owed him favours while others were old friends of his brother.
As the trusted head of Arthur’s international intelligence network, Howard was given the job of managing Arthur’s messages while he’s off pirating and plundering the seas. Arthur considered it enough that he could return every few months and deal with the pile of letters addressed to him. It had been two months since he’d last returned, and he wondered what sort of messages he’d receive this time. A letter asking to ‘borrow’ a few thousand pounds, perhaps. Or to bother him about some unimpressive matter. Once he’d even received a letter from some important figure requesting that he become the sender’s personal bodyguard, with a promised annual payment of three million pounds. Arthur had sneered at the letter and tore it in half - he could easily have ten times as much in one day if the ship he attacked was one transporting valuables, and it wasn’t like he was ever in it for the money anyway.
The servant bowed as Arthur and Gilbert stepped off the carriage that carried them across town. There were no coats or hats to hang as they’d both left their heavy overcoats back on the ship. Gesturing for them to enter, the servant said, “Master Howard is waiting for you in the usual room.”
They nodded in acknowledgment and marched into the mansion. Three hallways branched away from a generously spaced lobby, and the two turned into the one of the left. Arthur counted: ninth room to the right. Coming to a halt in front of the polished mahogany door, he knocked, waiting for the usual question that was asked to identify him.
“Tell me, what’s burnt and black and makes you want to cry?” asked an oddly twisted voice from the other side of the door, and Arthur suspected that Howard was trying to suppress laughter, though for what reason he didn’t know.
And then he did, after he realised what the answer would be. After ten seconds of unamused silence, Gilbert let out an ugly snort, then doubled over in fits of laughing. Arthur glared, and, turning back to the door, hollered, “Your dead body after I bloody skin you and burn you alive!”
“Ooh, terrifying, but wrong,” Howard sounded amused.
Arthur’s face darkened, and he muttered threateningly under his breath before he answered. “My goddamn cooking, alright, Howard, now let us the hell in.”
The lock clicked and swung open, revealing Howard’s smug face. Arthur fought back the temptation to smash it with something spiky. He stalked in and flung himself down on the couch. Gilbert followed suit, his yellow chick fluttering in behind him.
Arthur scowled at Howard as he seated himself across from them. “I am never cooking for you ever again, I swear to God.”
“Hm, I would certainly hope so,” came Howard’s mild reply as he sifted through a stack of letters on the desk.
“Shut up!”
“Howard, consider yourself lucky. He only cooked for you once. Imagine having to put up with that ever since you were eleven,” Gilbert put on a show of reminiscence, even reaching out a hand to grab at the air. “Imagine all the fires… Good thing we’re constantly surrounded by water.”
“Shut up!”
Howard snickered at Arthur’s embarrassment, and handed over the letters. “Well, we’re certainly not going to let you live this down. But anyway, back to business. You’ve got quite some letters thanking you, with varying degrees of gratitude and varying degrees of how much they would oh-so-very-much-indeed like a favour from you again in the future, which I know you won’t bother looking at so they’re here -” he waved the letters in the air, “- and the ones you’re holding now are the ones from some members of the British nobility, some unnamed senders whom I’m guessing are fugitives asking to be of your service on that ship of yours, and Antonio.”
“Oh goody,” Gilbert huffed out lazily, leaning back on the couch as he waited for Arthur to open the letters. “Thought that idiot might have forgotten us.”
Arthur pulled out his dagger and slit the seal apart on the letter from Antonio, trying his best to avert his gaze as he knew what deformed things would be on it but to no success. The Spaniard had doodled some ridiculously mangled unidentifiable things on the envelope and even Gilbert visibly blanched at the sight of them. Scooting over so both of them could read, Arthur unfolded the letter - which was unsurprisingly comprised fully of Spanish - to see a page-long overly-excited rant about what was most likely anything that came to Antonio’s mind while he sat there writing the letter.
Dearest Gil and Artie,
Hello from the Devilfish! Everything’s going great here, hope it’s the same for you.
…
Staying in France for a bit, near the Italian border.
…
I have a new sailor! And no, don’t tell me no-you-shouldn’t-have-taken-him-in-because-don’t-trust-the-kind-of-people-who-throw-themselves-at-you, I definitely should have, you’ll see. Don’t make the assumption that everyone’s bad, see. Blocked me at the French port and demanded to join me. Still don’t know why he’s so determined to be with me of all people. Turns out he and his little brother had escaped from some people who wanted to catch them, for what reason I don’t know, and they’d split up due to unforeseen causes and he was all alone. So he’s been on the run for a few weeks now.
He wanted to be just a cabin boy and that’s what they usually get, yeah? But no, him being a cabin boy is like… it’s kinda like throwing either of you into a fight with a child. Or a turtle. You get what I mean? He’s too good. The title of cabin boy is not even worthy of him as the bearer. Now I know how he’d managed to survive those weeks he’s been on the run, just with his intellect alone he could build up a fortune.
He can even speak fluent Spanish! English too. He’s so smart. The other day I asked him to read a map for us and he did it so quickly. Definitely worth keeping around. And he’s so cute too! He’s got this hair curl on the right side of his head but he never lets me touch it… He can be so rude sometimes. But he doesn’t really mean it, I can tell. I think it’s just the frustration of the situation he’s in.
Oh, and his name is Lovino, by the way. Can’t believe I told you guys so much about him and forgot to tell you his name. I asked him Lovino What and he said just Lovino for now. Oh well. I guess it’s the other way around with the trust issues now, isn’t it.
…
Might pay you guys a visit soon~ Don’t know when, though. It’s been too long since I last saw you guys.
I MISS YOU GUYS SO MUCH.
Want to hunt down another ship? Or… actually, five. You know the bunch of weirdos who calls themselves ‘The Red Skulls’? I heard from one of my very trusty informants that they plan to raid the London port in another few weeks. Biggest raid they’ll have ever staged if nobody stops them. That would be really quite devastating, now, huh?
Time for some fun, don’t you think.
…
Oh dearie me I actually wrote quite a lot. Time to wrap up. Arthur, lot of love, don’t get mad too much since it’s not good for your health, try to eat something decent for once, don’t get busted, don’t die. Gil, lot of love for you too, try to keep Arthur from going on a rampage every single time someone disses tea or his cooking, don’t let him drink too much of that tea either, please be careful, don’t waste your bullets, don’t squish Gilbird.
As much love as I can give,
Toni
A.K.A. Your best friend whether you like it or not. But I’m sure you like it.
Underneath which was a rather large and rather ugly splotch of ink which had unsuccessfully been covered with a drawing of a tomato. Arthur’s mouth twitched in amusement. He folded the letter and handed it to Gilbert along with a muttered “Lovino, huh… interesting…” who then folded it yet again and put in into one of his many secret pockets.
Arthur shuffled through the pile of letters, cringing in disgust at the shamelessness of some, rolling his eyes at the meaninglessness of others, until he found the one letter he had been expecting. Neatly written in royal blue ink were the words “To his excellency Earl Asa I. Kerr”.
“Finally,” Gilbert mumbled as he saw it too. “One addressed to the other you. I was just getting bored. A nice masquerade or something would help.”
Your excellency Asa Iggy Kerr,
We are pleased and honoured to inform you that you have been invited to a formal event hosted by Sir Francis Bonnefoy.
Date: 7th February
Venue: La Rose Bleue, London
Time: 4 p.m., sharp. Dinner would be served.
Note that this is merely a formal event and not a ball or serious social gathering. It is also a celebration of sorts. The Marquess’s adoptive son, Alfred F. Jones, will join us for the first time since coming to England. This also marks his true entry into the world of the nobility, as he had been made Viscount as of two days ago, on the 22nd of January. As your position is distinguished and somewhat special, we expect you to be there. It would surely make the young Mister Jones feel more welcome.
Sincerely,
The Royal Messengers, on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen.
24th of January, 1738
“Alfred Jones, huh.” Arthur looked up at Howard. “What have you got on this guy?”
“Let’s see…” Howard tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “Nineteen years old, American, very intelligent - I heard that’s why the marquess had his eyes set on adopting him in the first place - and on top of that he is really quite charming. I’ve heard that many young ladies all across England have set their eyes on him already. He has a bright future ahead of him, and the Marquess should feel rather satisfied that he has a such a reliable son.”
“But there’s nothing really special about him?”
“Eh, nah. Just has a lot of potential.”
“So basically they just want me there for a party thrown for this Jones?” Arthur’s asked in disbelief. “Nothing useful to do then?”
Gilbert punched his arm. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Told you, I’m bored.”
“Oh? As far as I can tell, you’re never bored, especially if me or Toni were around.”
“…Sometimes I seriously wonder who is the more egoistical between the two of us.”
Arthur smirked. “But fine, I’ll go.”
They quickly finished the rest of the letters, gave Howard yet another box full of riches, and left the mansion.
As they made their way back across town, Gilbert’s pockets stuffed full with crumpled letters, they crossed the bustling marketplace that took up most of the city centre. Arthur and Gilbert strolled leisurely around, having already given their crew a four-day break - they were probably already roaming the town, visiting friends, buying whatever they fancied, going to brothels. Gilbert was happy enough simply being with Arthur. As they passed stand after stand displaying wicked blades and the finest jewellery, something oddly familiar in his peripheral vision caught Arthur’s attention. He halted in his tracks and swivelled around to have a look.
It was a brilliant green ribbon.
“What are you looking at?” Gilbert asked curiously, coming to a stop as well and squinting in the general direction of Arthur’s gaze.
Arthur ignored him, and strode over to the stall that sold priceless jewellery of pearls, gold, and other precious metals. The ribbon itself was magnificent, yet it had been discarded to a corner of the table everything else was laden on. Arthur held it up gingerly to inspect it.
Upon closer examination, it became apparent that the ribbon was not pure green. Small crimson rubies were embedded in the outline of the cloth, and on either end were two masses of black gemstones packed rather tightly to nearly completely cover the green underneath. As he stared at the green cloth, he couldn’t help but think of how similar it was to the colour of his own eyes. But he knew there was a pair of eyes that were brighter than his own, as this ribbon was. The colour of the ribbon was bright and full of joy, full of laughter and warm, loving friendliness. It wasn’t a cold, skeptical, and sarcastic green. And he knew that Antonio currently sported an ugly brown rag to tie his half-long curls in a low ponytail. It didn’t suit the Spaniard at all.
“Hey, how much should I pay for this?” he asked the shopkeeper - a large man whom he often traded with, holding up the ribbon so the man could see.
An eyebrow was raised. “Just pay whatever, Kirkland. That thing came with my last shipment, was someone’s heirloom or some shit, and my men thought it was pretty so they brought it to me. Hardly worth anything compared to the other things I sell. You can just take it if you want. My treat.”
Arthur considered the offer for a moment, then tucked the ribbon away safely in his pocket and placed a few gold coins down on the table. Nodding to the shopkeeper, he turned away and headed towards an inn with Gilbert beside him, his mind already busy contemplating all the things that needed restocking.