Chapter Text
The clouds overhead covered the sky in a sickly gray blanket, leaving only the barest traces of sunlight to shine through. The sea was similarly dark and murky, waves rolling languidly against the bow of the tiny sailing boat. It was the second week of January, just a little over two weeks before Dean’s twenty-first birthday, and just a little over three weeks before his wedding. As the prince of the kingdom of Winchester and heir to the throne, it was Dean’s duty to be married off to secure the bloodline and diplomatic relations between kingdoms. His betrothed, Princess Sarah of Blake was nice enough; intelligent, feisty, and gorgeous. In all honesty, Dean could see himself being friends with her, and maybe someday if they were lucky romantic feelings would develop. The problem was that he was being forced to marry her. That, and honestly, his future father-in-law, King Blake was a massive dick and he really didn’t want the bastard to gain anything from the alliance between their two kingdoms.
Dean sighed and clutched the cloak around his shoulders. The Blakes were in back in the castle. They had been since the solstice, flittering around in his space, reading his books, eating in his dining room. It wouldn’t’ve been so bad, but his father was out on a hunt and his brother had left for the monastery years ago, so he was alone with the Blakes and their servants all the time. At least he had his attendants to keep him company, even if Ed and Harry got on his nerves like they had been since the three of them set foot on the boat. That’s what he got for slipping out with both of them for a little piece and quiet.
Dean liked to think that if he were born to a different family he might’ve been a fisherman. It was decent work far from the nonsense of the castle, of people fussing over him every waking second, of having the welfare of so many people in his hands. He could’ve taken up the hobby of hunting like his father had, but he preferred to spend his hobby time actually relaxing and there would be none of that if he went hunting with his father. King John was too serious most of the time. He meant well, only wanting to raise Dean to be the kind of ruler he had been; stern but fair, strict but compassionate, demanding but protective, but more often than not he came across as overbearing. He had insisted on Dean’s obedience as a child, claiming that a king who couldn’t follow orders couldn’t give them. Duty and loyalty were pounded into his head since Dean had been old enough to speak. It wasn’t all that bad, though. He was allowed his own hobbies and interests and he got to study more than just politics with his tutors, and being the heir apparent had definitely won him favor with many of his female subjects and servants (he was careful enough not to wind up with a child of his own, though). The biggest problem, of course, was that he always knew there would be a point down the line that the choices he really wanted to make for himself would be taken from him.
That day had come much sooner than he had ever wanted it to. A few years prior his father’s hunting party got lost during the winter months. Half the men he took with him came back with frostbite, and many of them lost several toes and fingers. John himself took ill after they came home and the sickness moved into his lungs and stayed there for weeks. As a result, he was prone to the sicknesses that spread through the castle every winter, though some years were worse than others. He had decided it was for the best that Dean took the throne while he was still alive, in case the sickness did in fact take him one winter. His marriage had been arranged separate from his coronation and was something he knew had been coming since the day he turned eighteen. The Kingdom had several offers from their neighbors, but ultimately the Blakes were chosen in order to tie the two kingdoms into an alliance.
It could’ve been a lot worse for Dean, but still, he couldn’t help the little pang of jealousy he felt for his brother. Sam was the younger son, he was allowed to go out and have a life as long as Dean did his duty. And, after Dean was married and he produced an heir of his own, Sam would probably never have to worry about anything that he didn’t want to for as long as he lived. Sam had chosen to go into a monastic order, to study ancient texts and sciences. It suited him, even if it sounded horribly boring. But it had been his choice and he was allowed to do it.
Dean was busy mulling these thoughts over, staring at the water sloshing against the sides of the boat when Garth’s voice called out over the waves. Dean didn’t catch what he said, but there was a tension in his voice that startled Dean. His head shot up and looked in Garth’s direction at the helm. His eyes were on the open water ahead of them, and the doree fast approaching. The ship was little bigger than the vessel Dean was currently sitting on, and there appeared to be only one man aboard. It was flying the red and gold flag of the Winchester kingdom, but the name on the side of the ship was one Dean didn’t recognize. It looked like a completely different language. Then again, it had been a while since Dean had been out on the water, so perhaps his father’s privateers had commandeered a foreign ship recently.
“Garth,” Dean called out, “do you recognize that ship?”
Garth peered over the helm at the ship that was now cutting through the water. “No, Your Majesty, she doesn’t look familiar.”
Uneasiness crept up through Dean’s insides, as one word flashed in his mind; pirates. They weren’t unheard of, but there hadn’t been an attack on a Winchester ship this close to the kingdom in decades. Dean shuddered, watching as the ship continued to run closer, Garth trying to pull out of her way.
“Garth, take us back to shore,” Dean ordered, clutching the cloak around his chest tighter.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Garth said, steering the ship in a large U, pulling away from the approaching doree.
That’s when a shot rang out in the air. Dean ducked, and both Ed and Harry threw themselves over his body, pinning him to the deck. A heavy silence fell over the water.
“Drop anchor!” A voice called out, “We won’t ask again.”
Shit. It was definitely pirates.
The boat stalled and Dean was certain that Garth had dropped the anchor. Dean didn’t dare look up, and neither Ed nor Harry made a move to pull off of him. There was a thud and the boat swayed to the side, before steadying, and then there was the thump of heavy boots against the deck.
“You there, up,” the voice hollered.
Ed and Harry shifted above him, rising to their feet. Dean glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of three pairs of black boots.
“You too,” the voice snapped.
Dean stood, taking in the men in front of him. There were three of them, two relatively large with squared shoulders and thick beards. They were armed, each with a blade sheathed at the hip. The third was shorter than he was, and looked more like a troll than a man, with frizzy dark hair, a thick nose and a cocky grin plastered across his face. In his right hand, he brandished a pistol.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” The trollish man mused, waving his pistol up and down in front of Dean’s chest. “You shouldn’t be this far from home.”
Dean squared his shoulders, puffing his chest slightly. “These are my waters. You’re the ones who shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“That so princess?” The man sneered, his lips twisted in a wicked smile. “You hear that,boys? Apparently, we’re not supposed to be here.”
The twin brutes behind the trollish man snickered, crossing their arms over their chests. Beside him, Dean could feel both Ed and Harry tremble.
“Well then, this has been a simple misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about, we can get this all sorted out. I’m sure our captain would love to hear how wrong he was to bring us here,” the trollish man said.
Dean’s stomach churned. He’d heard stories from fishermen and merchants about what happened aboard pirate ships. If they were lucky they’d get their throats cut. If they weren’t…well, Dean didn’t want to think about that.
It was Garth who piped up next, “Look, fellas, there isn’t any need for that,” he held his palms out in front of him and spoke in a soft voice, “we don’t have anything of value, we’d be a waste of your captain’s time.”
The trollish man snorted and rolled his eyes. He turned towards his companions and said, “Benny, Eli, tie the prisoners.”
The two hulking stepped closer, the first jerking Garths wrists and binding them in front of him, the other binding both Ed and Harry. When one of the men stood in front of Dean, grabbing left his wrist in his calloused hands, Dean reeled back, pulling a fist. He had every intention of swinging until he felt cold metal against his temple. The trollish man had his gun flush against Dean’s skin. “Try it if you want, but I would advise against it,” he said.
Dean stilled, glaring at the man in front of him. Benny, or Eli, whichever one was currently binding his wrists smiled slightly, his shoulders jerking in silent laughter. Dean sneered at him, but the pirate simply smiled. It made Dean’s blood run cold.
The four captives were then herded back onto the pirate’s boat, and one of the twins raised the anchor while the other took sat watch over Dean and his companions. The trollish man took the helm.
Dean had never been one to get sea sick, but the further they got from his ship the more he wanted to throw up. He could only hope that these pirates were greedier than they were cruel. Even still, however long his stay on the pirate ship was going to be, it was unlikely to be pleasant. He should’ve just stayed in bed today. Perhaps this was a punishment from the Gods for being so petulant. He had a good life. He was a prince to God’s sake. He had anything and everything anyone could ever want, but he just had to complain about it. Granted, he didn’t do it out loud, but thinking it was as good as speaking it. If he ever got out of this he was never going to complain about anything ever again. He’d just shut up and do what he was supposed to do, no questions asked, for the rest of his life.
It didn’t take long for the doree to make its way to a cove in one of the many uninhabited isles that dotted the water not far from the mainland. The cove itself was sheltered from wind and rain by large rock formations and a line of thick palm trees. It was a good hiding place, but probably not ideal for keeping an eye out for incoming ships. Docked in the cove was a massive galleon made of dark wood. It cast its shadow over the doree as they pulled closer until they were at its side.
The trollish man called out to the ship and a rope ladder came tumbling down the side. Dean’s wrists were untied and he was pushed towards the ladder. He glanced over his shoulder as the brief thought of escape flashed through his mind. He could jump into the water, but there was no way he’d get away. Even if he dove under and hid from the pirates, he’d get exhausted and drown before he got to the shore. With one of the twins hovering behind him, Dean took hold of the rope and began his slow ascent, keeping his eyes on the wood in front of him and not daring for a second to look down. When he reached the top, he was greeted by a blond man who pulled yanked him aboard by his wrist. Dean fell over the side, landing on his knees on the deck.
“Oh, Hell,” the blond man scoffed. He had a strange accent that Dean couldn’t quite place, and it made his voice both nasally and lilted. He glanced down at Dean then back over the side of the ship, “What part of ‘scout the area’ don’t you understand, Marv?”
Dean rose to his feet, taking in the ship around him. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the whole thing was much more vacant than he was expecting. There were a few men sitting on the deck, shouting at each other while playing cards and a few checking the ropes and rigging, but there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of men aboard. Maybe they were out scouting, or maybe they were below deck.
“I saw an opportunity, and I took it,” the voice of the trollish man called from the side of the boat. Dean didn’t bother looking over the side.
The blond man rolled his eyes and tutted. “That’s going to go over well.”
“Hey, I brought back a prince. He’s got to be worth something. We play our cards right and we can all retire to the southern isles and die, rich old men,” the trollish man said as the blond pulled him up over the side.
After him, Ed, Harry, Garth, and the other twin were pulled aboard. The blond stood silently in front of Dean for a moment, scanning him up and down with a calculating stare. They were about the same height, thought Dean was just a little wider.
“Right then, this should be interesting. Benny,” he turned to the twin standing at Dean’s right, “would you fetch the captain?”
The twin, Benny, nodded and disappeared through a door under the raised deck where the helm stood. It didn’t take long for the door to swing open once again, this time with a man Dean could only assume was the captain walking through. He was dressed simply, in black trousers and a white blouse like the rest of the pirates. The only thing that signified him as captain was his jacket, which was a deep navy blue, emblazoned with silver stitching.
The blond man moved to the side as the captain approached, stopping in front of Dean. “Who is this?” He asked, not taking his eyes off Dean. His voice was rough like the man gargled with whiskey. He probably did.
“This is the young prince Winchester.” It was Marv who spoke.
“And what is he doing here?” The captain asked. He continued to stare at Dean with cold, ice blue eyes. Dean stared back, unwilling to betray just how anxious he was feeling. The captain was a few inches shorter than he was, but it still felt as if the man was looming over him.
“You said to scout for ships carrying valuable cargo, so I brought you valuable cargo,” Marv said.
The captain’s head snapped in Marv’s direction, “Is that what you thought you did?”
“We could hold him for ransom. I’m sure the kingdom would pay a pretty penny to get him back,” Marv said.
The captain swung his head back slowly, dragging his eyes up and down Dean’s body before settling back to his face. Dean gulped reflexively. The man set a single, slender finger on his lip and hummed to himself. “And the other three?”
“They were on the boat with him,” Marv said.
The captain took a step back and moved to stand in front of Garth. Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.
“You,” the captain said, addressing Garth, “will be taken back to your vessel. Once there you will head back to the castle and tell the king we have his son. You will tell the king that if he ever wishes to see his child again he will send a single ship to the cove at the northernmost isle at his borders two weeks from now. This ship will contain 10,000 gold pieces, 5,000 silver pieces, and ten barrels of whiskey. If your king attempts to send his navy he will never see his son alive again. If he complies, your prince will be returned, safe and sound. Is that understood?”
Garth nodded.
“But sir,” Marv interjected, “he’s got to be worth more than that!”
The captain swung past Garth, towering over Marv, his shoulders arched high. “Did I ask for your opinion?”
“N-no, but sir…”
“Then hold your tongue,” the captain all but snarled, turning away.
“But Castiel…”
The captain, Castiel, swung around, a blade suddenly in his hand and pressed against Marv’s neck. “I told you to hold your tongue.”
Marv went still, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Dean shuddered.
“I really should end you right here and now, with all the trouble you’ve caused. You don’t even know how many problems this…” Castiel trailed off, shutting his eyes and steeling himself, “I should end you, but death would teach you nothing.”
Marv gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the blade.
“Benny, escort the messenger back to his vessel. And Eli, explain the options to the other two.”
“Aye,” the twins said in unison.
Dean shot Ed and Harry an apologetic glance. They were both too focused on Castiel to pay attention.
“Balthazar, take our guest below,” Castiel said.
“Aye,” the blond man said, wrapping his hands around Dean’s biceps and guiding him away.
It was a short trip from the upper deck to the brig, which was more like a barred off corner than an actual cell. Balthazar practically threw him in before shutting and locking the door without a word. It wasn’t until after he left that Dean crumpled in on himself on the floor and finally allowed himself to be sick.
