The Dagger Key~ Pirate!England x Reader Part Three

You nodded once to Mickey, acknowledging his commands just before turning on your heel to head to the captain’s quarters. Men scrambled about the deck in a mad frenzy of preparation; you weaved around rolling cannons and freshly drawn blades, surprisingly able to keep your footing through the commotion.

Upon reaching the black door to Kirkland’s room, you thrust out your hands to shove it open.

“Captain! We’re being attacked!” you called before noticing the room was empty.

You paused to survey the room in earnest, but Kirkland was nowhere to be found.

“Dammit!” you spat, spinning back around and dashing back out on deck.

Suddenly, your entire weight slammed into something hard, nearly knocking you off your boots. A hand shot out to your waist, steadying you as you regained your composure.

“Watch yourself, you useless whelp! Next time, mark me, I will let you fall!”

You blinked. “Captain!”

A half-dressed Kirkland glared down at you, his eyes burning with an emerald rage. He must have already been in bed when the ruckus began—though you were positive that was not why he was so enraged.

“What are you doing up here, brat!? Get below decks where you belong!”

Your jaw tightened as you grit back a smart remark. Any lesser man would have died where he stood had he uttered such comments to you, but this was your Captain—your free ride—and killing him would severely set back your mission.
“Sir,” you began after a deep breath, “Mickey sent me to find you. I can handle a sword well enough, and a pair of eyes looking out for you could help ensure this vessel’s victory.”

“You? A swordsman?! I’ve heard better jokes from a drunken goat in Tortuga, now get out of my sight!”

“You trust Mickey, do you not!?”

Kirkland’s snarl twitched. Your words had struck a chord—nay, an act of God.

“If you do, then you know he would not have sent me to you had I not been capable.” You determinedly drew your dagger, looking Kirkland directly in the eye. “Let me fight at your side… Sir.”

Kirkland looked away from you, turning his gaze to the encroaching armada. They were close enough now to clearly see the flags—the colors of the Spaniards.

“Those are the ships of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo of Spain. We’ve had our share of clashes, but he’s never attacked me outright like this. I do not know what we face here tonight… however… if you are that determined to die, I won’t stop you.”

You smirked.

“Hmph. Thank you, kindly.”

As soon as you finished speaking, the head of the armada made a slow roundabout until it was side-by-side with Kirkland’s. A tall, handsome man stepped onto the railing, holding fast to a rope for support. His face was fixed in an expression of pure hatred, directed solely at Kirkland. It was enough to make you wonder what exactly Kirkland had done to infuriate him so.

“Arthur Kirkland!” the Spaniard called, “I have held my peace long enough! This is the night I send you back to hell, you villainous traitor!”

Kirkland laughed.

“Haven’t I already ‘apologized’ about that little tiff in the Spanish Main last year? I swear that fire was started by a drunken goat.”

“You know damned well what this is about, bastardo! I will not let you get away this time!” Antonio raised his hand in the air. “FIRE AT WILL!!!”

“FIRE ALL!!!” Kirkland retorted, and the cannons exploded.

You barely had time to dodge an oncoming cannonball, but another was aimed perfectly at your head. Kirkland’s weight threw you to the ground, wood and men bursting to bits all around you. He hastily shoved your shoulder, urging to get a move on towards his cabin. You didn’t argue—the cabin would provide cover while Kirkland thought of a strategy. You prayed he knew what he was doing—you sure as hell had never been in a naval battle before.

At last you reached the cabin. You dove behind it, followed closely by Kirkland. The moment he ducked down, he pulled a pistol from his belt and began to load bullet after bullet into the barrel.

“We’re going to have to get close enough to board their main vessel… the one carrying Antonio,” he said. “Forget the other ships, they’re probably just decoys to frighten us. He has been in cahoots with that French frog Francis Bonnefoy for years now. The bastard must have lent them to him just for this attack. Probably all filled with cooks and dancing monkeys.”

Everything Kirkland said went flying over your head (along with a cannonball) but at least one thing was clear—your objective was to take out Antonio, and that was all that mattered to you.

“Would you like to save the Spaniard for yourself, sir?” you asked out of politeness.

He scoffed. “I could care less who gets him off my back, I just want him gone.”

“Then I’ll use the ropes from the masts to get across when they swing back on our starboard. You may have to turn the ship slightly so I can get close enough.”

“Pretentious little runt, aren’t you?” Kirkland teased, though you could sense a hint of fascination in the resonance of his voice. You must have impressed him with your willingness to brave the frontlines.

You smiled nonchalantly. “Blame my mother.”

Kirkland laughed, though it was abruptly curtailed by a massive cannon blast slamming into the railing opposite you. Out of instinct, you reached out to block Kirkland’s body from the misguided shrapnel. You hissed as bits of razor-sharp debris ripped through your coat and dug into the skin of your arm and shoulder. Fresh blood poured from the wounds, staining both your and Kirkland’s clothes.

“You damned fool! If you want to carry out your plan, you need to be alive first!” Kirkland scolded you.

“Why, you’re very welcome, Captain! It was an absolute pleasure saving your life!” you barked back as you tugged off your coat. You immediately regretted doing so, as you were much more ‘exposed’ than you would have liked, but you were small enough that the constricting leather vest you put on after your first near-discovery was sufficient a cover as any… so long as it didn’t get ripped up as well…

Kirkland moved towards you. “Here, let me—”

“No!” You shouted, scooting away from his outstretched hand. “I… It will be fine for now. I’ll bandage it once the fight is over.” You pushed yourself to your haunches, preparing to make a dash for the crow’s nest. “Get to the helm and turn the ship rightward. They’re coming about now. Please, sir, hurry!”

Kirkland cursed under his breath as he moved around you to the stairs leading up to the helm. Just before heading up, he paused. Without looking back, he told you, “You’re a brave lad… Don’t you dare die on me.”

A strange warmth filled your chest, and you had to fight to keep from smiling.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

Not wasting any more time, Kirkland bounded up the staircase, while you darted toward the center of the deck. Keeping as low as you could, you swerved around your crewmates—both living and dead—until you finally reached the main mast. You looked up to locate the main ship; it was still making the turn to attack your starboard side. The wind was against them, making the maneuver rather difficult—a distraction you could most definitely use to your advantage.

A lull between cannon fire finally allowed you time to make your way up the mast using the metal stepping poles poking out its sides. You had a few close shaves with bullets flying toward your legs, but you made your way into the crow’s nest unscathed. Once inside the wooden platform, you looked back down to see where Kirkland was. He stood fast at the helm, pulling the wheel as hard to the right as he could whilst shouting orders to the crew. With your mind a little more at ease, you turned back and guesstimated the trajectory from your current position to the enemy ship—it would indeed take a rather long rope…

You climbed onto the rim of the nest, using the ropes for support, and slid your dagger along each reachable braid. The angle had to be exact; otherwise you’d be dumping yourself into a watery grave. Finally, you decided, and hoped for the best.

Once Antonio’s ship was within range, you sliced the rope you chose and held on for dear life as you kicked into the wind. Your stomach launched into your throat as you flew, the men below you appearing as tiny as toy soldiers.

All too soon, the enemy’s mast was quickly approaching your path. You reached out for it, but much to your chagrin, you missed and looped back around toward your own ship.

“Shit…!” you cursed. You had to act fast—and your only option was to let go of the rope. You let your hands slip, bracing yourself for a fall that was going to be very… very painful…

You hit the deck with a loud CRASH, your body nearly breaking through to the floor below. Your back rapidly filled with a tight aching which spread to your lungs, making it momentarily impossible to breathe. The broken wood surrounding you carved fresh wounds into your flesh. Still, as much pain as you were in, you had to move if you were to take down Antonio. You rolled yourself onto your hands and knees, fighting for air.

The enemy crew rapidly shouted at each other in their native Spanish; you had no clue what they were saying, but you assumed it was something along the lines of, “What the hell is that fool doing?”

“Die, worm!” one pirate yelled, running at you with his sword raised.

You swirled your foot around, tripping him as he approached you. He was unable to regain his footing, and fell sword-first into another man. The disarray allowed you time to hop to your feet and ready your dagger. Men flew at you, but you made a quick trail through them, stabbing any who got too close. You moved with a smooth, flowing finesse, almost too fast even for yourself to keep up with. When you struck with your dagger, it was as if the rest of the world moved in slow-motion. Before you realized, you had stained the deck with the thick, red blood of a third of the crew.

“A demon! He’s a demon!” one man cried, moving away as you neared him.

“Where is your captain!?” you demanded, holding your bloody dagger to his throat.

“Enough!”

The men backed down, making way for Antonio. His face was a conglomeration of rage and distress. His jade eyes locked onto your _______ ones, and immediately filled with a chilling abhorrence.

“Such a dirty trick… But now you have what you wanted, you dog of the devil!” He drew his sword. “Face me like a man!”

You grinned. “With pleasure!”

You ran to him, meeting him blade-to-blade. Yours was much smaller in length, but his was vastly thinner—a pathetic fire poker with a golden hilt. He swung, and you parried, matching him strike for strike. Even with a dagger, you were able to hold your own, eventually moving in to take the advantage. You managed to catch him off-guard, moving left when he dove right and slamming your elbow into his side. He toppled to the ground, and you dropped to your knees on top of him. Before he could raise his head, you pressed your dagger to his jugular, poised for the kill.

Antonio clenched his teeth in pure fury.

“Kirkland is a coward… Sending a demon like you to handle what should have been an honorable duel…”

“Honorable? I wouldn’t exactly call your unannounced assault very ‘honorable’ either, amigo,” you responded, using what little you knew of his own language to spite him.

“He deserves to die for what he did! I had hoped to spare most of your crew if I could… But now I see you all hail from hell, just like him!”

You hesitated upon hearing the word “spare.” Usually pirates were cutthroat and merciless—attacks either lead to death or captivity, never mercy. You looked down at him, utterly confounded.

“You would—AAH!”

A deafening BANG resounded, and in an instant you were doubled over, gripping the explosive pain in your left shoulder. Blood fountained out of the tiny chunk of flesh that had been blasted away by a bullet. You fell against Antonio, who spared you no kindness and shoved you away from him.

“Lovino?! What are you doing up here!?” Antonio said.

You whipped your head around to see a young boy not much older than Alfred, with brown hair and tear-stained hazel eyes. In his quivering hands, he held a smoking gun.

“Get away from my big brother, you bastard!” he commanded, his voice firm despite his trembling body.

Your vision began to blur from the blood loss, but you forced yourself back onto your feet.

“Little… brat…” you panted, squeezing your dagger.

Antonio must have thought you would attack the child, and swiftly swung his blade before you.

“Not another step! You are beaten, dog! Drop your blade and surrender quietly, and I may show you mercy yet…”

It was no use. You had already lost so much blood. Fighting in this condition would only make matters worse. But… there was no way you could relinquish your dagger… Doing so would mean breaking your promise to your mother, and there was no way you were about to do that. You tried to keep hold on the dagger’s hilt, but your grip began to waver more and more.

“I said drop it!” Antonio bellowed, but you refused to comply.

You had to come up with something… anything…

The next thing you knew, the dagger was jerked from your hand, and your senses were reawakened. Lovino ran past you and Antonio, his gun held tightly in one hand… and your dagger in the other.

“What are you waiting for!? Finish that dumbass off, Antonio!” he called behind him.

A rush of panic electrified your nerves. The dagger… Your mother’s dagger… You had to get it back! You had to…

“Cabin boy!”

You heard Mickey’s voice calling for you from somewhere nearby…

Then you heard nothing…

~ TO BE CONTINUED ~