Chapter Text
The boat swayed lazily beneath his knees, and Mathias tried not to think about how dizzy it made him feel; how many times he’d been aboard ships in rough seas, at the whims of a crew he barely knew, and who had a far greater tolerance for the wind and waves than he ever would. Oftentimes, he’d found that remaining out on deck was actually the safer option, where he could keep an eye on the horizon line or even the land itself if they were close enough to shore. The open air calmed him, allowing him to breathe deeply when he needed to. It made long voyages and difficult missions much easier on his poor, beleaguered nerves.
Unfortunately, this was not such an occasion.
This was the other sort, where he was aboard for another reason entirely, and not of his own accord.
Wearing nothing more than a linen shirt and his underwear, Mathias crouched in a dark, dusty hold; bound, blindfolded, and gagged as he awaited whatever fate his captors had decided for him. It wasn’t the first time, of course. Probably wouldn’t be the last.
The deck above the hold was silent, and he wondered what had become of the crew. There should have been constant movement aboard a ship of that size. Was it night already? They could be in their bunks, with only a watch set to keep an eye out for danger. If he could slip his bonds, he knew the darkness would afford him a better chance of escape, but there were no guarantees. He’d been hauled aboard and hustled below so quickly that even before they covered his eyes he barely had more than a few precious seconds to take stock of the ship, its crew, and, perhaps most importantly, its captain.
As if on cue, Mathias heard the heavy sound of someone descending belowdecks. His heart beat faster, beads of sweat gathered on his brow, and everything narrowed down to the footsteps that slowly approached the small hold where they’d dragged him after his capture. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been taken prisoner before, or even tortured for information. But these pirates had caught him by surprise somehow, in the heat of battle, and there was no telling what they wanted. Information was one thing, but vengeance? Satisfaction for their slain comrades could mean anything, even a price taken in flesh. If he was going to escape, he would need to be able to walk on his own, run, and even swim if necessary. Avoiding serious injury was paramount.
The footsteps stopped outside the door to his makeshift cell, and then he heard keys being lifted and pushed into the lock. The door swung open on hinges turned rusty and bloated by the salt air. Mathias lifted his head. He couldn’t see who it was that had come to pay him a visit in his dark corner of the ship, but he had an idea.
“Spymaster Mathias Shaw.” It was spoken so casually that it was almost mocking, the Kul Tiran accent giving his name a veneer of ridicule it didn’t normally possess. “You’re a hard man to catch. I was truly pleased when I saw the raiding party haul you aboard.”
“If you enjoyed it so much the first time, why not let me go and try for an encore?”
The man laughed, and Mathias heard him step into the room and shut the door again. Another iron bolt slid into place, locking them away from unwanted interruptions. That did not bode well.
“What do you want from me?” he asked, refusing to show any sign of fear or hesitation. “If it’s information you’re after—”
“I’m not interested in some silly Alliance secrets, Master Shaw. And the men aboard this ship have neither the endurance nor the restraint needed to beat them out of you, in any case. Least not before they killed you.”
“Funny, I thought killing me would be the optimal result either way.”
He heard the other man make a disapproving sound, and then slow steps brought him closer, closer. Mathias did his best not to shy away or tense up, even though every part of him wanted nothing more than to react. To move. Something difficult to accomplish in such a small space.
Earlier, before the ship had fallen silent and left him alone with his thoughts, Mathias had managed to get up onto his feet and take stock of where he was. Apart from a wooden chair that had proved useless to him, the room was empty. From one wall to the other was around ten paces in either direction, and there was only the single door in or out. He couldn’t raise his arms to feel for a porthole, but the lack of any sound from outside—gulls, waves, wind—made him think there weren’t any. That meant he was surrounded by bulkheads, and about as secure as any prisoner aboard a ship could be.
“Kill you?” the other man said, sounding almost aghast and doing a fine job of drawing Mathias away from his musings on escape. “Now, why would I do that?”
“Then it’s a ransom you’re after.”
He heard footsteps circling him, coming to a stop behind his back. Even before the first faint touch of fingers in the sweat-damp fringe of hair at his nape, Mathias shivered. As if his body knew what was coming before the words had even left his captor’s lips.
“Either one would be a terrible waste, don’t you think?” the man questioned softly.
Mathias jerked his head away from the strange touch, ignoring the heat that rose beneath his skin. He knew it would be visible, how the tips of his ears would burn pink and his skin would flush scarlet, and he could not hide that reaction. All he could do was hope that this man, this pirate, did not remark on it. Being taken prisoner was humiliating enough.
“Bit unfriendly, aren’t you?” the man asked. “We can change that.”
“We?”
He heard a soft chuckle, and it made the hairs rise on his neck and his skin prickle with gooseflesh. That voice was suddenly much closer than he had expected it to be. “You and me, Spymaster. I’m loads of fun once you get to know me.”
“I don’t want to know anything about you,” Mathias spat.
The hand abruptly returned to his hair, but it was no longer stroking softly. Fingers worn rough from years of life aboard ship grasped his hair and twisted, and Mathias hissed through clenched teeth.
“That’s not the sort of talk that’s going to make us friends, is it?” the man demanded. He finished his question by shoving Mathias forward, nearly sending him face-first onto the deck of the small hold. Only a swift hand grasping the back of his shirt stopped him at the last second.
Mathias blinked hard behind the blindfold, trying to clear the brief, instinctual panic from his mind and settle his nerves. He was not going to play whatever twisted game this bastard had in mind. “You’re not the first piece of trash who thought he could intimidate me,” he said.
“Intimidate you? Oh, Shaw,” the man sighed, “is that what you think I’m after?”
“I can’t think of anything else you would gain from this farce.”
Suddenly there was a hand at his throat, pulling him back against what he quickly realized was a broad, muscular chest. At some point his captor had knelt behind him, and now they were pressed against one another, back to front, and Mathias knew he couldn’t hide the way it made his pulse jump and his breath quicken. “Funny,” the other man muttered in his ear. “From where I’m at, it seems like there’s plenty to be… gained.”
The hand on his throat squeezed gently; not enough to cut off his air, but more than enough to make the implicit threat very clear. He was letting Mathias know who was in charge, and how easily he could assert that power if he so wished.
Then, as quickly as it had settled there, the hand disappeared again. This time it came to rest just beneath the loose collar of his shirt. When an errant finger grazed one of his nipples, Mathias jerked away from the touch.
“Don’t,” he gasped.
“Sensitive, are we?” Another brush, far more deliberate and followed by a quick pinch. “You squirm easily for a master spy.”
“You son of a bitch—”
“That’s Captain Son of a Bitch, to you, Shaw.” Another pinch, much harder than before, and Mathias couldn’t stop himself from crying out softly. He bit down on the sound as quickly as he could manage, but it wasn’t fast enough to keep from delighting his captor—his tormentor, and apparently the captain of the vessel he was aboard. “Come on,” the captain prompted, using his finger to give Mathias’ abused nipple another rub. “Say it.”
Mathias panted into the close air of the hold, throwing his head to the side in refusal. He would not cave to the whims of some degenerate pirate trash. “Fuck off.”
“That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you,” the captain said with a laugh. He stood, and Mathias heard him circle back around to his front. Even blindfolded, it was clear he’d come to a stop where he was once more standing uncomfortably close. “I wonder what other sort of filth it can get up to. Perhaps you’d like to show me?” Fingers returned to his hair, this time sliding gently up past his hairline, and Mathias tried not to shiver.
“I’d be more than happy to show you what my teeth can do,” he growled, doing his best to pull away from the unwelcome touch.
“You could, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Not if you want to get off this ship alive.”
“So that’s it, then? That’s what you want? Some… debauched little conquest?” He shook his head, smirking beneath the blindfold. “I expected something more elaborate.”
“Would you prefer I ransomed you to your king? Or tossed you overboard as you are, tied and helpless? As I said, seems like an awful waste.”
The way he said the word helpless made Mathias’ jaw clench in rage. “I’d prefer you let me go.”
“Well, we both know there’s only one way that’s going to happen. So,” with whiplash familiarity, the rough pads of the captain’s fingertips returned to cup Mathias’ jaw, tilting his chin up. If he’d been able to see, he thought they might have been looking into each other’s eyes. Distantly, some part of him wondered what the pirate captain’s gaze looked like. Whether his eyes would be dark and full of lust, or bright and menacing, watching him with greedy anticipation. “Why don’t you get to work convincing me?”
It seemed like such a simple choice, but in reality there was nothing simple about it. Not least of all because he had no reason to think the offer, if it could even be called that, was genuine. “I couldn’t trust you to make good on a deal like that even if I agreed. Which I’m not.”
The captain laughed. “There’s really only one way to find out, Shaw. What other options have you got?”
Another gentle touch, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. Mathias swallowed thickly and looked up for no other reason than force of habit. His heart pounded in his chest, and the sweat on his brow soaked into the top of the blindfold. Was he really considering it? Did he have any other choice?
Before he could give an answer, he heard the faint creak of leather and the telltale slide of cloth. He heard the captain working at the knot that almost certainly held his trousers closed, and then the hushed suggestion of movement, barely a sound at all, as they fell away. A part of him thought he could actually feel the heat of the captain’s stare, and sense the weight of the moment as it bore down on him. Now or never. Do or die.
“Give me your word,” he whispered.
The pirate knew he’d won, or perhaps he’d always known he would. It didn’t matter much either way. Mathias could hear the grin in his voice as he said, “For whatever it’s worth, you have my word.” Then he moved in, and a hand came to settle on the back of Mathias’ head, gently urging him closer. “Now,” the captain ordered, his voice gone rough in a way that spoke of his own desire, “why don’t you show me just how much you want off this ship.”