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hrh-prince-butt · 2 years

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as promised, a pirate fic!

before anyone comes for me, keep in mind that i didn’t really try for historical accuracy. or any kind of accuracy. i wrote this for the vibes and the gay shit <3

“Henry! There you are. What on earth are you hiding down here for?”

Henry groans. There really isn’t anywhere to hide on a ship, even a large one like this. For the first time in his life, he has no viable way to avoid his brother. Or his duties, for that matter.

“Taking stock of the rations, are you?” Philip pushes when he doesn’t say anything.

“Just… taking some time for myself.” Henry doesn’t meet Philip's eyes. He is past trying to make him understand. To Philip, being on this ship is as natural as anything. Whether he is yelling orders, or sharing banter with the other Naval officers, he seems perfectly in his element.

Henry couldn’t be further from his.

“I warned you this isn’t going to be like the life you’re used to,” Philip says with a sigh. He seems more exhausted than angry, as though trying to keep Henry in line is a great, heavy burden that he couldn’t rid himself of if he tried. And perhaps it is.

“Out at sea, you can’t be some pampered prince,” Philip continues. “Some spoiled child who does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. You’re here because it’s time for you to grow up.”

Henry hangs his head, but he is annoyed more than anything. “I never asked to be here,” he mutters.

Philip laughs, but it’s a sound without any humour or understanding. “Of course. You would rather be dallying around in a field of flowers, writing poetry and befriending songbirds. Is that it?”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.” Henry knows the second he says it that it’s a mistake. He can see it in Philip’s face too, written clear as day in the lines of his mouth. The disdain for his strange, softhearted brother, his unnatural brother, who can’t seem to live up to anyone’s expectations, can’t even fit in when he tries.

Henry stands up and tries to leave, but Philip grabs his arm and pulls him back. “No, you stay here and listen to me.” He still doesn’t sound angry, exactly. Mostly, he just sounds impatient. And tired. Like he is trying to train a stubborn dog into submission, to no avail. “I have been charged with responsibility for you, and you aren’t making it easy. But, since I am your brother, I will not give up on you. As a matter of fact, I can’t, because I promised mum I would bring you back home in one piece, and I promised the Queen that I would make sure you came back from this journey a proper man. One who is ready to serve his country.”

Henry dares hope, for a moment, that that is the end of the lecture, but then Philip does another sharp intake of breath, and Henry begrudgingly steels himself for whatever is to come:

“And,” Philip says, and he really is getting quite riled up now: “I do hope you aren’t forgetting your place, you know. You should do well to remind yourself that not only am I your older brother, but as the captain of this fleet I am also your commanding officer, and if you don’t start showing me the respect that title warrants, there will be consequences.”

Henry opens his mouth, about to say something stupid, but before any words can leave his mouth, a deafening boom goes off somewhere above them.

Philip looks up and swears loudly, something that would astonish Henry on any other day. “Those weren’t our cannons,” he says, letting go of Henry in favour of drawing his weapon. “We are under attack.”

Henry isn’t sure what he imagined sailing with the Navy would be like. He knew, or at least he should have known, that it wouldn’t be without danger. But for some reason, he never had imagined that it could come to something like this.

The cannonball only went through their sail, so at least the ship itself isn’t damaged, but when Henry and Philip step up on the deck, the sight that meets them isn’t anything Henry could have prepared himself for.

Pirates. It has to be, there isn’t any other explanation for what he is witnessing. Men and women in ragged clothes have swung themselves onto the ship, weapons drawn. Already, Henry can see several men in a uniform like his own sprawled across the deck, dead or dying.

He freezes, unable to do anything but stand and watch as the chaos unfurls. Philip, for his part, leaps into action immediately, but his attempts to create any sort of order, to organize anything like a united front against the attackers, are almost fruitless. Their ship must have been the only target, too out of reach for the rest of the fleet to come to their aid before it’s too late. The crew is panicking. They are overwhelmed by the ruthless pirates.

And all Henry can do is stand there. Like a coward. Perhaps that is all he will ever be. Weak, soft, and too useless to even come to his crew’s defense against pirates. There is strength in being soft too, is what his mother always said. But right now, Henry doesn’t feel the least bit strong. All he feels, really, is an overwhelming sense of disappointment in himself. He is going to die knowing he let everyone down: His family, the Crown, his country.

Before he can wallow in his misery any further, though, a weapon is pointed at Henry. That, at least, wakes him up, and he stumbles back a few steps, putting up his hands in the universal gesture of, dont kill me.

The weapon, the cutlass, looks like it has seen its fair share of battle. Still, even to Henry’s untrained eye, it is clearly well taken care of, sharpened and polished to gleaming perfection. And there is nothing but a centimetre of air between this deadly weapon and Henry’s chest.

Rooted in place by fear and confusion, all Henry can do is let his gaze slowly move from the blade, to the arm holding it, to the pirate standing in front of him and-

Oh.

He is younger than Henry imagined, perhaps the same age as himself. The evening sun falls through his hair, making it look more gold than brown, almost like a halo despite the mischievous glint in his eyes - oh, and the fact that he is probably going to kill Henry any second now.

Still, Henry finds his heart speed up for reasons that aren’t entirely linked to the cutlass drawn on him, or the battle raging on around him. Rather, it’s something in the way the young pirate carries himself, the way his brown eyes, almost amber in the steadily setting sun, dart across Henry, studying him like a map.

“Are you going to draw your weapon and make this a fair fight?” the pirate asks, raising one eyebrow in a sort of challenge. “Or would you rather die like a coward?”

That strikes a cord in Henry and, finally, he draws his weapon, a sword he has barely any practical experience using. It won’t be a “fair fight” as the pirate so generously called it.

No, this is how Henry dies. He gulps, fighting for control of his own breathing, and trying desperately not to show his fear in the way his sword wavers.

Will it hurt? What will await him once it is over? Has he been good enough for a place in heaven, and will his father be waiting for him there? It is almost a relief to imagine it. What is there for him in this life, anyway? He will only continue to disappoint everyone around him. He will never be what people want him to be. Perhaps, death is a kindness. And he does miss his dad so terribly, the thought makes his chest ache as bad as if he had been stabbed already.

But as he is waiting for his fate to come, for the cutlass to tear through him and shower the deck in his blood, Henry sees something. A good bit away from them, behind the pirate: Philip, tucked away in relative safety, with his gun out and pointed at the pirate’s head. Philip is going to shoot the pirate threatening Henry’s life.

That is when Henry does something very deeply stupid. Something so stupid, they may well write about it in history books. He grabs the pirate by the sleeve - the arm that isn’t holding a deadly weapon - and pulls him down.

It’s a clumsy pull. The pirate stumbles and falls on top of Henry, pinning him uncomfortably, but not unpleasantly, to the wooden deck. Both of them lose their grasp on their weapons, which fall to the deck with a metallic clatter. They both look up in surprise as a bullet flies through the air, at the exact place where the pirate’s head was just a moment ago.

“What on earth did you do that for?” the pirate asks, looking back at Henry.

Henry is painfully aware of their bodies pressed against each other, a fact that seems entirely lost on the pirate. “I-”

What did he do that for?

“I don’t know.”

The pirate lifts himself up and crouches next to Henry. He picks up his own cutlass but lets Henry’s sword stay on the ground. “You saved my life. I was probably going to kill you.”

“Probably?”

The pirate shrugs, an easy smile taking form on his lips.

“I… I’m Henry.” Henry recoils the moment he says it. What is he thinking, giving a pirate his name?

The young man next to him seems equally bewildered. But there is something else too, something in the way he cocks his head as he looks at Henry. He is no longer studying him like a map, or sizing him up like a foe in battle. From the look in his eyes, you would think Henry was a peculiar insect he had never seen before.

“I’m Alex,” the pirate says, and he actually extends his hand for Henry to shake. “And I won’t kill you, if you promise not to tell anyone you saved my life.”

Henry, still sprawled rather uncomfortably on his back but unable to move, stares from the hand in front of him, to the face of the boy who almost killed him. “What?”

“Well, it would be embarrassing if anyone found out.” The pirate - Alex - is still smiling. Despite everything, despite the chaos around them, the gunshots and screams and men pleading for their lives, Alex is smiling at Henry.

And all Henry can do is lie there and look up at him, at his bright and effortless smile, his deep brown eyes, the unruly curls of dark hair falling onto his forehead.

Then, suddenly there is a shout. It sounds like a girl’s voice, but Henry can’t be sure. “Alex! The rest of the fleet is coming to their rescue. It’s time to retreat.”

Alex gets to his feet, a little too clumsily for the impression of a fearsome pirate to stick. He looks down at Henry, that glint of mischief back in his eyes. “This is just our little secret, then, yeah?”

As the pirate turns to follow his mates, Henry does something stupid again. “Wait!” he shouts. He pushes himself off the ground and scrambles to his feet. Alex watches with something like intrigue as Henry picks up his sword, straightens his back, and looks Alex in the eye. It only now occurs to him that the pirate is shorter than him.

“What?”

This time, Henry isn’t shaking and the sword stays steady in his hands. “Take me with you,” he says, stupidly.

That makes the pirate laugh. “Are you… actually asking to be taken hostage?” he asks, incredulous. “Jesus. I knew the English were useless, but you’re just… surrendering? Why?”

“No,” Henry says, with more determination than he remembers ever feeling before. “I am asking to join your crew.”

#please let me know what you guys think it has been a while since i posted any writing so i'm quite nervous haha #if people are into the idea and i keep feelng motivated i could probably see this coming a longer project?#red white & royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fanfic #historical au #pirate au #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #firstprince

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