battle born

Garfield Graves. Captain. On the run. Closed indie RP.

[captaingraves]

malle.

Get down. Had her heart not been in her throat, crouched as low as her body would let her, Malle would have scoffed. She knew well enough what to do when there was gunfire.

She was the youngest, the smallest, the least-likely of her siblings to make something of herself. Their parents made it clear her entire life. And yet – Malle alone wore the crown. She knew only a little about what that meant, but she knew exactly how to survive. Jacob’s voice ricocheted off the narrow stairwell, and she felt him brush past her. That was, after all, how they had met.

It took a moment to stand. Everything was swollen, all of the time, like she’d eaten six packs of crisps and an equivalent number of lagers. Malle’s knees creaked as she straightened, her spine flexing to support her stomach. Her vision crystalized on the sunburn peeking out of Jacob’s collar. She had such high hopes for France.

“If he was going to kill me,” Malle’s lilt was soft, like the edge of cream on a sharp tea. Her voice held endless patience. “I expect he would have done so already.”

An exhale, like steam releasing into the air.

“And if you’d like to kill him, it seems likely we’ll start a blood bath.” Malle kept her attention trained on Jacob, reading the lines of his shoulders, the angle of his jaw. She wanted to go to him, pull him back and catch his focus, create the soft, warm space that only existed when they were hip-to-hip. Instead, her hand fitted against the railing. “And you only have the one gun.”

-

Jacob focused on Malle’s voice, his eyes never leaving Hale, as the sound of his own pulse loudly pounding in his ears. The adrenaline made everything sharp, his senses attuned to every sound in front of him--behind him, too, but that was not where Malle was.

Hale stared back at him with an enraging familiarity. He slowly raised his hands. A bullet between the eyes would have solved the issue of Hale’s loyalty, and it would have been easier than trying to trust him. Just a pull of the trigger and Malle would be safe.

Even with his eyes trained on Hale, Jacob could still see Malle, standing with her hand on the railing, her presence enough to tear away his focus. He inhaled. Malle was calm in a way he wasn’t, reasonable in ways he’d never been taught. 

Jacob had always been told to shoot.

“If I may,” Hale said carefully, “I actually have two guns.”

The only part of Jacob that moved were his nostrils, flaring in annoyance.

“Your Majesty,” Hale nodded to Malle. “Inside of my jacket, left side.”

Jacob really wanted to pull the trigger and drop the man for inviting his wife inside his jacket. He sighed, his shoulders relaxed only slightly, the gun still raised unless Malle moved in front of him. There was little time to debate Hale’s loyalty as gunfire started again, louder, closer. Another sound drew his attention away.

A helicopter?

Jacob had left the open door to the roof unattended for too long. He stepped back and leaned out of the doorway. Figures shrouded in darkness were returning gunfire from below, distracted enough not to notice someone peering out from a door they thought was guarded.

Wind rushed over the rooftop as the helicopter swooped in low, a spotlight roved over the line of gunmen on the roof but landed somewhere on the ground. One of the men on the roof--Jacob recognized him--

“Dad?” His arms went slack. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

[captaingraves]

malle.

Her heart flew into her throat, the tension in her shoulders ready to strike when the scent of pine and amber fell over her, two solid arms wrapping around her back. Malle’s cheek landed on the soft slope of his neck, and a soft sound escaped at the sheer joy of it. Jacob. Home. Her home. Safe and standing. 

Malle’s hands fell between them, wrapping around his torso and holding him close. He spoke past her head, his words rugged and rough in comparison to the clipped, cold-water answers. Galen. Turning in Jacob’s arms, she gave the man a look over her shoulder – the amusement not lost on her.

Returning her attention, Malle’s hands dipped lower, running along his belt. Her fingertips stretched, seeking a familiar bulge – the handle of a knife, strapped against the small of his back, or perhaps a gun, if he’d managed to take one. Only skin, warm and slightly damp from exertion, greeted her. Malle lifted her head, doe-brown eyes searching his. Her head tilted. Nothing? It seemed to ask.

Llyr. The name stirred nothing on her, and the absence of fear, of empathy, of a heady rush or pang of worry left a chill across her skin. Malle’s hand fell away from her husband and went to rest on her stomach, protective. “I am fine,” she said, her voice even. Almost crisp. Frustration lay beneath the surface. Neither of them – not Jacob nor Malle – had time for this. “I should like to go home soon, Jacob.”

-

Jacob’s former life brought him from one near-death experience to another, and the experience of living in full survival mode for days at a time stayed with him. But time had softened him a bit and the flow of adrenaline had him more tired than alert. Malle’s presence, her arms around his waist, dropped his guard easier than he wanted.

Her hands wandered and confusion took over, but he realized what she was searching for. If only there was a place to hide a knife where it would not have been found by their captors. He said nothing, hands resting on her arms, hoping no one had noticed that his very pregnant wife tried to find a weapon on him. Smart. She’d always been smart.

When Jacob looked up, his heart began to race again. Malle was here, and she should have been somewhere safer, not with him. He looked over her shoulder at Hale with a glare as the man looked back up at him.

“What’s the meaning of all this?” he asked.

“Well,” Hale began, but in the distance outside the stairwell the staccato rap of gunfire interrupted.

The door above to the roof was opened by the guard there, whose yelling was lost into the wind. Gunfire continued, from more than one location. Jacob needed a gun, so he took the stairs two at a time and grabbed the muzzle of the guard’s rifle while punching in his knee as hard as he could. “Malle! Get--down--”

A gun went off in the stairwell and Jacob’s ears rang, just as he wrestled the guard to the ground and knocked him in the head with the butt of the rifle. Was he shot? Was Malle--

Hale stood with his gun aimed down the stairs, his body between Malle and the now-shot guard reeling in pain down below.

When Hale looked up, Jacob had the rifle trained on his head. “Get away from her. Now.”

[captaingraves]

malle.

Lockdown night.

“Fine,” Malle snapped, exhaustion evident in her voice. The night wore long, and the heated confines of the palace caused a sweat to dampen the dark wisps along her hairline. “Then I will take the stairs.”

That proved to be difficult, each successive half-flight an aching strain on her swollen ankles, her hips and lower back aching for the relief of her bed. Doggedly, she continued, if only because if she was climbing, then she was not being held hostage.

As she reached a landing, she collided with something warm and – solid. Malle tensed from head to toe. “Let me go!” She demanded, her hand reaching out and shoving against the mass.

@captaingraves

-

“Malle, Malle--it’s me.”

Jacob didn’t let her push him away, his arms grasping around her shoulders. Disbelief at her presence quickly turned to suspicion and danger--Malle needed to be far away from him, not led around under gunpoint like he’d been. 

His mind jumped to conclusions for why Malle had been brought here, to him, and none of them were good. He didn’t let go, looking at the man--Galen Hale, if he recalled correctly--standing behind her with his hand on the banister of the steps.

“You,” he said to Hale. “Why did you--”

“Her Majesty was adamant that I brought her here,” Hale said, matter-of-fact, borderline amused.

Jacob could have pushed him down the stairs. He wanted to, but he refused to let go of Malle. The landing led up one half stair that ended in a closed door, presumably the exit to the roof. At the top of the steps was an armed guard, and at the bottom of the set of stairs below was another armed guard, who Hale brought Malle past. 

Jacob had been waiting for several minutes, just out of reach of the guards to make any moves before getting shot. The thought crossed his mind, letting some low level thug shoot him and taking the glory away from their boss.

“Are you all right?” he whispered to Malle. Oddly, Hale backed down the steps and averted his attention, or maybe Jacob imagined that. “Llyr is here,” he added with a frown. “He went on to the roof.”

[captaingraves]

👀 for catching your muse in/leaving/entering their room. (Molly!)

The hallway just outside of their quarters was brightly lit, making the adjustment to darkness even harder. Whiskey didn’t help, either. Jacob certainly wasn’t drunk but he’d been slinging back drinks for hours now. It was past midnight and he’d just added a couple cigars into his system, too. The day had been long and not enough of it was spent with Malle, and even if she was asleep, he needed the calm of being near her.

Jacob tried to navigate the unfamiliar room as quietly as humanly possible, but seeing as ‘stealth’ was not very high on his list of skills, he knocked right into a table with his knees only a few steps in. “Shit,” he swore under his breath. He refused to turn on a light and risk waking up Malle, even though his blundering around was definitely worse. He heard the bedroom door open and a soft light poured out of the doorway. “Malle? … Did I wake you up?”

[captaingraves]

malle.

She looked up at him, in that way she always did, a little soft-eyed and adoring, and then she used his shoulder for balance as she lifted on her toes, ever so slightly, and kissed him.

“Thank you.”

He knew – and she knew that he knew, for they’d spoken of it often enough – that it wasn’t easy to feel that way. And he knew – just like she knew that he knew, for she’d shown it time and again – the only opinion that truly mattered to Malle was his. She smiled, reaching past him for the paper-wrapped block of cheese on the counter, and began to slice it. 

“This is a long way from that island,” Malle mused as she worked, casting just a quick glance at him. They spoke of it rarely, and perhaps it was the aftershock of adrenaline, or the sheer glitz that surrounded them, then, but it all seemed quite distant. “You clean up nicely, Mr. Tie–”

The knife hit a particularly tough crystal and slid sideways, slicing against her forefinger. “Shit.” Malle set it down, lifted her finger to her lips. The cut wasn’t deep, but bloody.

-

Jacob made a loud scoff in agreement. It truly was a long way from the island. The heat and sand and constant sweat from suffocating humidity and suffocating captivity. He isolated most of the memorizes from his mind, only a few remained to reminisce on during the silence of his head before falling asleep. Jacob had been fond of his master bedroom and the dark walls reminding him of the inside of a ship. The skylight that let in sun and stars and moon. And the mornings and nights and afternoons Malle spent with him. “Yeah, and I intend to keep it that way. The next time I’m on an island, it had better be for our retirement. How young is too young for our daughter to take the throne?” he teased.

He still wore most of the suit he started the night in. He’d been too busy to change out of more than just removing his tie, feeling like he spent the evening pulled in every direction. Seeing old friends, meeting new people, and avoiding certain others. Malle would have been proud of him. Or wondered if he’d been replaced with a clone. 

Jacob looked over at her, alarmed. “Shit,” he repeated. He turned to the sink and found a clean towel in a drawer, his hand closing around her wrist. “Don’t do that,” he told her with a little scolding smile, gently pulling her hand away from her mouth. He inspected the cut for a moment before pressing the fabric against her finger with a bit of pressure. “It doesn’t look so bad. Does it hurt?”

[captaingraves]

maddox.

Judging by the look on the captain’s face, Jacob might have been picking apart a flippant comment Maddox had made. An idea too far out in left field for even Riann. 

Before Maddox could say he had only been joking, Jacob returned from whatever far away place he went to. If we’re to get dragged in, whose side would we be on? The silent offer of a refill was waved off. The gunner left his post monitoring a fishing pole to take a seat and sip of his beer. “Our current arrangements clearly state what side we’re now on. I’m thinking more along the lines of… we could potentially provide useful information.” The thought of being recruited by royal navies triggered a soft scoff. “I have no desire to know what being on a naval ship as crew is like either.” 

“The Outlaws may be a different breed. But we were once pirates.” Past tense. Once, long ago to him but maybe not in the eyes of other royals. Pirates. Maddox couldn’t put a finger on what bothered him about the way he had worded it. 

The bottle slid into a holder beside his seat. He stretched his legs to rest on the cooler, crossed at the ankles. Memory of his mother’s ship being reduced to splinters and casualties had been submerged in the recesses of his mind for so long. Flashes returned then. The scent of seawater among burning wreckage, sounds of struggle and screams amid the waves. The sprawl of loss too great to digest all at once, twisting around his neck and shaking him out of sleep for years to come. It had to be even worse for a captured captain. 

He sat in silence for several long seconds. “How would you take matters in your own hands? Hypothetically speaking, of course.” 

On the one hand, it felt completely strange and utterly foreign to be on the royal’s side, after everything that happened, and everything they’d lost to power thirsty royal navies. The former pirates both knew in their own ways what it was like to lose everything, and everyone. To have no one to trust. Or to trust someone who would ultimately betray them. 

To have someone in his life he trusted completely and implicitly was much easier than he thought it would be. And it wasn’t just Malle. Since leaving the island, Jacob felt more like a true leader of a crew whose trust he earned on his own merit, not just being Riann’s puppet.

Jacob’s choice of a side in a conflict between Queen Margaret and the Outlaws was plainly obvious. But at times the thought of cooperating with other countries still left an odd taste in his mouth. Having Maddox across the channel in Germany was a comfort, in a way. The world was changing. They weren’t living in the same zero tolerance seascape of their former pirate years.

“Every time I come up with a plan, it ends some version of a suicide mission. I’m not too keen on winning no matter the cost, not anymore. A prolonged fight on the sea until every last Outlaw is rounded up seems to be the only way. Guess we should let the royals handle it, give them whatever we know about who’s involved. And then we’ll go fishing instead.”

Strategizing about fixing the problem of radicalized pirates could be saved for another day. They were on vacation. “I want to hear all about this tiny house Herzog keeps you in. Or is it the other way around? And I heard something about you getting a new boat?”

[captaingraves]

llyr.

-

Llyr thought to point out that he had clearly not received any additional information about his sister’s whereabouts in the past ten seconds or so since she’d last been brought up in this conversation. How could he possibly give that assurance? Or perhaps he ought to bring up the hypocrisy in the way Jacob only seemed to care about the welfare of royals when it affected him directly. Hypocrisy or human nature, Llyr mused silently.

But the prospect of compliance was enticing. He certainly did not relish the thought of marching a prisoner around at gunpoint or, even worse, getting into some kind of tussle with the beast that was Jacob Tierney. If Llyr had learned one thing in his life, it was to avoid any fight he could not win.

“Malle’s safe.”

He paused.

“I’ll find her. Make sure,” said Llyr, amending himself. He suspected logic might catch up with the former captain eventually and expose the previous lie - that he could not know his sister was safe until he knew where she was. “Anything else before we go? Smoke? You might need it.”

“Not sure why I have to be the one to tell you to make sure your own sister’s safe. She’s been nothing but kind to you. And you repay her by joining the fucking circus.” 

It took a massive cock up to get Jacob to actively sound rankled. The guns aimed at his head dampened things, but he couldn’t remember the last time he was this spitting mad.

No, that wasn’t true. It was the night he killed Riann.

“I don’t need a smoke.” He would have thrown it to the fucking ground. “And let’s go. I’m ready to meet your ringleader.”

[captaingraves]

👀 for catching your muse in/leaving/entering their room. (Molly!)

The hallway just outside of their quarters was brightly lit, making the adjustment to darkness even harder. Whiskey didn’t help, either. Jacob certainly wasn’t drunk but he’d been slinging back drinks for hours now. It was past midnight and he’d just added a couple cigars into his system, too. The day had been long and not enough of it was spent with Malle, and even if she was asleep, he needed the calm of being near her.

Jacob tried to navigate the unfamiliar room as quietly as humanly possible, but seeing as ‘stealth’ was not very high on his list of skills, he knocked right into a table with his knees only a few steps in. “Shit,” he swore under his breath. He refused to turn on a light and risk waking up Malle, even though his blundering around was definitely worse. He heard the bedroom door open and a soft light poured out of the doorway. “Malle? ... Did I wake you up?”

[captaingraves]

-

malle.

He was all questions, in a strange twist of character. She rarely knew Jacob to be peppery; he tended to observe, think, internalize before he spoke. But this was all immediate, the book, the bar, what she’d been up to. Malle leaned against a cabinet in the small, marble kitchen. Watching him, his silhouette in relief from the refrigerator light, she worked at a smile.

It was all questions without asking the one question she owed an answer to. Where were you? And she was tired of questions, of answering them without getting her own met, of having to arch her voice loudly to be heard by her lords, of the questions in her mind that didn’t even make it to her lips – but she owed it to him. She knew. 

“I’m sorry that I was so late tonight,” Malle answered. “It wasn’t going well. It isn’t going well.” She exhaled, slowly, like a pressure valve finally released. “Gareth and Rhedyn–” Two clans, two leaders, nestled in the mountains away from the coast. “–are plotting something. I need you to go up there, when we get back. Rhedyn is testing me, and I can manage that. But Gareth–” 

The Pers were an unruly clan, far away from the softness of Cardiff. Nestled into the crags of the Berwyn mountains, she remembered skirmishes along the border of their land and Snowdonia as a child. Harmless, usually, just a few wounds on either side was enough to satiate both clans. But there were others, with casualties, bloody, gory matches set against the dull reeds and stones. 

Malle came back to the present, stepped over to him. Pulling a plate down, she worked next to him at the counter, glad for the closeness. “Gareth needs to be taught a lesson.”

-

Jacob pressed his lips together to suppress a smile when Malle apologized to him. It’s okay. He knew Malle would elaborate, as an explanation often followed an apology, so Jacob watched her with the extra attention paid when his mind was buzzing. Processing her words with a half second delay. 

Gareth and Rhedyn, he knew the names well. The troublemakers of the Welsh clans that hadn’t given the queen a moment’s rest for all of her reign. Rhedyn’s tactics, prodding at Malle to see how she would react, were all too familiar to Jacob. Growing up, just about every member of his family or person of authority was tested too. Often brutally.

His hand moved to Malle’s side, his arm firmly planted around her back. “I can go up there. I’ll do anything you need of me. And I’ll try not to enjoy it, only for you.” Confrontation was not Jacob’s forte, but ending them was.

“You’re doing great. For what that’s worth, coming from me.” As if Jacob could judge how a country was being ruled. Jacob looked down at her with an adoring smile. “I’m proud of you.”

[captaingraves]

llyr.

-

“This is…” He scratched his forehead, trying to find the right word to describe what was happening here. So much he could say. Could did not mean should, though. Any good will he might have owed Jacob due to them technically being in-laws was thoroughly at odds with his current mission. Llyr gestured vaguely around the courtyard, and all those stationed around them.

“Inevitable.”

However many years in the making as pirates had been at odds with the rest of civilization. It had all been building toward this moment, had it not? Or series of moments. He took another drag to steady himself with a familiar sense of motion.

“I didn’t know it would be you. Brought out here.” Llyr spoke quietly. Barely raised his eyes from the ground. He’d known a lot more about the initial infiltration phase of the plan. “But it’s you he wants then.”

Jacob’s patience wore thin and he thought to interrupt Llyr to spit it out already. Inevitable? Jacob didn’t know the scope of what was going on at the palace, but if his current situation with several guns pointed in his direction was any indication, then he wasn’t the only one in trouble. Why they felt the need to endanger innocent people just to get to him was unfathomable, and stupid.

So it was probably the Outlaws.

“Who’s responsible for this operation? Deacon?” Who else would have wanted Jacob Tierney? Jacob could count on one hand the number of pirates still alive that hated his guts. Otherwise, he hadn’t made a habit out of making enemies.

“I need assurance that Malle is safe. Then I’ll go with you.” He wasn’t in a place to negotiate, but if he couldn’t get through to Malle’s own brother, then at least he wouldn’t feel sorry about beating the shit out of him the first chance he got.

[keyes-tothecrown]

🔑 for your muse to tell my muse that they overheard a guest has gone missing. (With Jacob and smokes??)

@captaingraves

As planned, Maddox met Jacob on a balcony ten minutes or so before midnight. The cigar offered was taken with a ‘thank you’. Before lighting it up, he thought he might as well ask. 

“There’s some talk about missing guests.” If names had been passed along in whispers, Maddox hadn’t heard them. He had noticed a few countries shifting around, coming and going or craning necks to watch entrances. “Lecia’s brother is worried he can’t find her.” But. “Did Malle turn in for the night? If not, I thought maybe they could be having a chat somewhere?” 

[keyes-tothecrown]

captaingraves​:

Jacob had just inhaled a long toke off the cigar when Maddox immediately brought up something about missing guests. Jacob spluttered and coughed in surprise with a hard shake of his head. “What?”

Lecia going missing wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary for the princess taken as a fact on its own, but Jacob hadn’t heard anything about guests disappearing. “Malle’s turned in for the night. Last I checked. But I guess it’s not out of the question she had Lecia over for a chat.” Jacob looked down from the balcony, lost in thought. A little rude that the Portuguese prince decided to outright ask Maddox if he knew where Lecia was, like the ex-pirate was supposed to have any idea.

“What’s Herzog doing? They probably got bored and snuck off somewhere,” Jacob said, only half-believing his own suggestion. “Or she’s with Simon and I don’t want to know what they’re up to.”

Reactions from Jacob mostly swung non-emotional, not unlike his own. A cloud of smoke came from the captain broken by a few raspy coughs. No, it wasn’t unheard of for Lecia to be unaccounted for. For a moment Maddox had forgotten he was the last person to care what the reason was. 

As for Aaron, they tended to split up at royal gatherings. The king went about his very boring business. They caught sight of each other throughout the evening and met up occasionally, a vestige from the early days when a king and a pirate hid from the public eye. 

“I don’t know what he’s doing.” He stood frozen with a cigar in hand and then quickly typed with his other hand a text where r u

He waited to receive the teasing such a text should get. Maddox never resorted to short hand, like an old man he always used punctuation. 

“I know Lecia is prone to disappearing.” It didn’t seem right, but there wasn’t a reason he could say it was wrong either. The natural defense of a gunner going up. Suspicious, a stab in the gut. 

A look was cast behind them. Another off the balcony, a scan for anything significant. Outside seemed relatively calmer than inside. “You’re... probably right about her being with Simon.” Maddox focused on rolling the cigar between his fingers for a second or two. “Perhaps with pirates in the room, the others have become paranoid. I don’t know about you, but when I was collecting that meaningless reward, I just saw a sea of angry faces staring back at me.” 

[captaingraves]

Jacob watched as Maddox looked down at his phone, typing briefly one-handed. Jacob retrieved his phone and checked it. Should he text Malle? If she heard it, she would wake up and check it. He didn’t want to disturb her. No, this was ridiculous. Nobody was missing.

He let out a short breath through his nose and nodded slowly at Maddox’s hypothesis about everyone being paranoid. The bit about the meaningless reward made him scoff. “It was a gesture. An over-the-top gesture so that royal society could accept the likes of us. I don’t think it took.”

A pause to enjoy the cigar. Any excuse for a smoke was fine by him. “There are very few royals whose opinions I value, one of whom I’m married to. Since I’m friends with Lecia, I would like for her father to stop alluding to my demise every time we speak.” He snorted. “Herzog’s all right. Can’t get a read on Simon or whatever his name is, but Malle seems friendly with him. That’s about it. The rest of them can glare all they want. We aren’t going anywhere.”

[captaingraves]

llyr.

-

“I don’t watch over princesses anymore.”

Queens. His sister was a queen now. Though he had not meant to slight her position nor reference any ambitions toward his own birthright, he cringed. He would have suspected both if the roles had been reversed. Of all the things he hated about court, the little word games were near the top of the list. Llyr hunched forward. He dragged the bottom of his shoes against the pavement, moving away from the security of the wall. Paused. Glanced toward the guns on the roof. 

“Where’d you see her last?” he asked. “I can ask around.”

A heavy exhale. Jacob clenched and unclenched his fist at his side. What he’d give to land his knuckles between the traitor’s eyes. Family or not. Jacob helped Llyr escape the shitshow that ended Riann’s island scheme, but nothing about their current situation led Jacob to believe they were still on the same side. As far as Jacob was concerned, Llyr was now the sludge on the bottom of his boot.

Jacob wasn’t thinking straight enough to suss out whether or not Llyr actually knew where Malle was. Or that he cared about his sister. Maybe Llyr wanted the throne. Or was it something bigger than that? Every second passed in the pulse pounding into his ears. “What’s all this? What do you want?”

[captaingraves]

llyr.

Every palace held a wisp of familiarity. Manicured lawns and ancient stone etched so firmly into his soul that even decades of time spent elsewhere could not erase it. He slouched against one of the palace walls, keeping to the shadows. His hand shook once as he brought a cigarette to his lips. Not from any lingering doubts about being here, but the entrenching feeling of being cold he could never seem to shake. He clicked his lighter. Tilted his head, and cupped his hand around the flame.

Llyr drew in a deep breath. He wondered if this was, as so many things were, yet another test of his loyalty. Though that begged the question of why stick him with the husband rather than a once beloved sister. Maybe not a test then, but a final severing of ties. Forgiveness could surely not be sought with the Welsh court after whatever happened next. Which was fine. What chance had he ever had at forgiveness anyway?

“It’s a good night for star watching,” he said, noting the direction Jacob was looking.

@captaingraves​

A voice broke through the silence, not a gunshot. Jacob glanced over his shoulder to find that the gunman that had prodded him into the courtyard had stepped back and away. Then he looked straight ahead again, squinting into the shadows to try and see the face of whoever was smoking in the shadows.

The voice was familiar. Jacob knew viscerally a split second before he actually placed it. This was a new low for Llyr.

Jacob expected one of the gunmen would take him out before long and he couldn’t stand the thought of his last few moments being wasted on pointless conversation. On the other hand, they might want something, which could actually be worse.

Jacob took one breath in and one breath out. Still alive. “Tell me where Malle is.”

[keyes-tothecrown]

🔑 for your muse to tell my muse that they overheard a guest has gone missing. (With Jacob and smokes??)

@captaingraves

As planned, Maddox met Jacob on a balcony ten minutes or so before midnight. The cigar offered was taken with a ‘thank you’. Before lighting it up, he thought he might as well ask. 

“There’s some talk about missing guests.” If names had been passed along in whispers, Maddox hadn’t heard them. He had noticed a few countries shifting around, coming and going or craning necks to watch entrances. “Lecia’s brother is worried he can’t find her.” But. “Did Malle turn in for the night? If not, I thought maybe they could be having a chat somewhere?” 

[captaingraves]

Jacob had just inhaled a long toke off the cigar when Maddox immediately brought up something about missing guests. Jacob spluttered and coughed in surprise with a hard shake of his head. “What?”

Lecia going missing wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary for the princess taken as a fact on its own, but Jacob hadn’t heard anything about guests disappearing. “Malle’s turned in for the night. Last I checked. But I guess it’s not out of the question she had Lecia over for a chat.” Jacob looked down from the balcony, lost in thought. A little rude that the Portuguese prince decided to outright ask Maddox if he knew where Lecia was, like the ex-pirate was supposed to have any idea.

“What’s Herzog doing? They probably got bored and snuck off somewhere,” Jacob said, only half-believing his own suggestion. “Or she’s with Simon and I don’t want to know what they’re up to.”

[captaingraves]

👀 for catching your muse in/leaving/entering their room. (Molly!)

The hallway just outside of their quarters was brightly lit, making the adjustment to darkness even harder. Whiskey didn’t help, either. Jacob certainly wasn’t drunk but he’d been slinging back drinks for hours now. It was past midnight and he’d just added a couple cigars into his system, too. The day had been long and not enough of it was spent with Malle, and even if she was asleep, he needed the calm of being near her.

Jacob tried to navigate the unfamiliar room as quietly as humanly possible, but seeing as ‘stealth’ was not very high on his list of skills, he knocked right into a table with his knees only a few steps in. “Shit,” he swore under his breath. He refused to turn on a light and risk waking up Malle, even though his blundering around was definitely worse. He heard the bedroom door open and a soft light poured out of the doorway. “Malle? ... Did I wake you up?”

[margaretofwales]

“No,” Malle answered. Her silhouette blocked most of the light from the doorway as she stepped into it. When she last remembered, she was reading,  though the splayed-out book across her chest implied that she’d fallen asleep. A wrinkle in her nose, she stepped forward and switched on the sconce by the kitchen. A yawn, stifled in the light of the refrigerator as she opened it and began searching. “I was reading. Sort of.”

She glanced sidelong, smiled.

Finding the other half of her pre-bedtime sandwich, Malle began to peel back the paper off the honey wheat when she remembered, and slowly glanced up “Don’t--” her tone belied a previous debate, one about deli meats and cheeses. “--it was grilled.”

Returning to him, she took a bite and offered the sandwich to him. “Were you out causing trouble?”

[captaingraves]

Jacob settled on the edge of the sofa in the sitting room, watching intently as Malle searched the refrigerator. “Reading” at this time of night usually meant dozing off with the book still in her hands, but at least Jacob hadn’t woken Malle up from any official bedtime. “Yeah? Are you on to the next book now?”

He took the sandwich and bit into it rather than answering the question, his reply coming at first in a grin. “Trouble is a strong word. I might’ve dropped a few ashes in the garden. On accident.” Jacob took one more bite before offering what was left back to Malle. Even though he was ravenous, he had enough since not to deprive Malle of the rest of the snack. “It’s been an open bar all night, hasn’t it? Or else we’ve stolen some beer.”

Unable to sit still, Jacob returned to the kitchen to poke around the fridge. "What about here? Did I miss a big party? ... Is all of the cheese gone?”

[captaingraves]

maddox.

–

Fatherhood had never been a conversation Maddox expected to have with Jacob. Keyes was only an amateur and his current woes were considerably different. An annoying grandmother. Ensuring his child didn’t turn out to be a spoiled brat, like the rest of the Cardozas. Afonso wasn’t a help at all with it either. 

The comment of a Tierney heir to a throne did get a laugh. “The way some of the pirates back on the island were love-sick over the princesses– could’ve sworn it was the point. Pirate blood in every royal court of Europe. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was part of your brother’s bat shit non-plan.” 

He looked out over the water from the back of the boat. Maddox missed living on a ship. The constant work, the small heists in far flung ports. Having a beer with Jacob was tame by comparison. Most former pirates didn’t have the luxury of doing so. In that sense, they were lucky. 

Maddox wasn’t sure how long it would last. “Royals don’t have the best track record in resolving issues with pirates. Then again, we never tried to level a major port with C-4 or take out a naval ship.” Two long pulls were taken on the ice cold beer. “The Outlaws are a different breed, yeah? Maybe I’m being pessimistic but feels as though, the longer they’re out there, we’re all going to be dragged into that mess eventually.” 

Maddox’s off-handed comment about Riann’s bat-shit plans on the island was a bit sobering for Jacob. He looked out to the horizon with a crease in his brow. That speculative plan wasn’t... completely insane, but Jacob didn’t think Riann intentionally wanted a Tierney heir to a throne. An island tryst wasn’t a basis for rightful heirs to the throne, so it didn’t make sense--then again, at the end, Riann didn’t make much sense at all. Still. Jacob dreaded the idea that Riann would have approved of Jacob’s marriage and child with Malle.

It didn’t matter. For all the talk, Riann had no plan--he never did. And he was dead, so.

“You are pessimistic, Keyes,” Jacob replied, half-jokingly, but a serious furrow creased his brow. He shook his head and finished off the beer, immediately reaching for another, and peering over at Maddox’s drink to see if he needed one, too. “If we’re to get dragged in, whose side would we be on? I’ve no love for Outlaws.” A grin cracked the stern expression on his face and the sound of the bottle opener preempted his next words. “This is the first time I’ve ever cared about people on the royal side. I can’t imagine any royal navies would recruit the likes of us.”

He needed a few more drinks in his system before he could even begin to entertain some sort of royal naval service. Jacob checked his almost forgotten fishing line before dropping it back down into the water, his focus way beyond whether or not he’d catch anything. “Unless we were to take matters into our own hands.”

Before the Lisbon attack, the people in his past that Jacob could have exacted vengeance on were all dead. He wasn’t one to crusade for a vendetta, that was Riann’s thing. Still. “They owe me a ship. And a friend.”

[captaingraves]

👀 for catching your muse in/leaving/entering their room. (Molly!)

The hallway just outside of their quarters was brightly lit, making the adjustment to darkness even harder. Whiskey didn’t help, either. Jacob certainly wasn’t drunk but he’d been slinging back drinks for hours now. It was past midnight and he’d just added a couple cigars into his system, too. The day had been long and not enough of it was spent with Malle, and even if she was asleep, he needed the calm of being near her.

Jacob tried to navigate the unfamiliar room as quietly as humanly possible, but seeing as ‘stealth’ was not very high on his list of skills, he knocked right into a table with his knees only a few steps in. “Shit,” he swore under his breath. He refused to turn on a light and risk waking up Malle, even though his blundering around was definitely worse. He heard the bedroom door open and a soft light poured out of the doorway. “Malle? ... Did I wake you up?”

[captaingraves]

⏰ Checking their watch. Again. (Molly!)

The last text Malle sent was that she was on her way. Jacob felt like he could finally relax, a little, but a couple of false alarms that Malle had escaped the political nightmare going on back in Wales. One more delay and Jacob was pretty sure he’d have to get on a plane and handle whoever was giving Malle trouble himself, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

He wasn’t sure how long it would take Malle to arrive–a few hours, at least. He checked the time of her last text, then his watch, and hoped Mary could send him an update. While he was constructing a text to his secretary, someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned, fully expecting it to be Brian (again). But he was pleasantly surprised. “Malle.” Jacob pulled his wife into a gentle embrace and didn’t let go. “You made it.”

[margaretofwales]

captaingraves​:

margaretofwales​:

“Hi, oh–” Her sorry was lost as his arms fit around her, and she stepped in from the side at the very last second. It was nearly impossible to hold her just then; for however small she’d been in the first half of her pregnancy, the second half had more than made up for it. Beneath her silk dress, her ankles were swollen. 

Still, Malle smiled, lifting onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. His aftershave smelled sharp, like pine. Probably from his travel kit. She hung there for a second, happy for the liminal space created by the curve of his cheek, the slope of his neck. The lights of the ballroom seemed to dip, and she felt as though she could breathe again. “I’ll fill you in, after.” She murmured. It was time.

Stepping back, she looked up at him, running her fingers over his collar. It didn’t need adjusting, but she play-acted at it all the same.

“Have you been busy? How is it here? Did you get to explore a bit?”

Jacob let out an imperceptible sigh of relief once Malle settled at his side. The touch of her fingers along the collar of his shirt brought a grin to his face. Standing alone (and sometimes with Mary) at this royal event felt wrong without Malle to be there with him. Honors or not. Luckily there was zero expectation for Jacob to approach anyone, and most of the royals he spoke with came to him first. Mary helped him remember names afterward. So did Brian, because he was good at remembering names and faces, and always had been.

With a deep inhale, Jacob tilted his head to one side in consideration, glancing out over the crowd. “Busy, yeah. People actually want to talk to me now, which is strange. Maybe you intimidate them?” Jacob raised a brow at Malle, as if between the two of them, her presence was more imposing. “I met Simon. Herzog and his mother said hello. King Afonso…” Jacob furrowed his brow. “I ran into him, and Lecia. Maddox is around. Brian tried to get me to go with him to some library, but I didn’t want to wander off before you got here.”

His hand rested on the small of her back and remained fixed there in support. Normally his fingers would curl around her side, but it had been several weeks since he’d been able to do that–and anyway, any extra pressure around Malle’s middle wouldn’t be appreciated. “You didn’t miss much. I’m told we’ll be seated for dinner soon. Mary said I can’t have any more to drink until then, which is rubbish, because I talk more when I have a drink. Don’t you think?”

“Mm,” she said, clearly thinking something. Her head tilted back to peer at him, a spark deep in her eyes. The ballroom lighting was good for him, the whiskey on his breath clear as day. The truth was –

“If you are happy, so am I.”

Motioning one hand – the one not resting on his shoulder – to an attendant, she turned her head only long enough to speak to them. “Blanton’s, on the rocks. And a club soda, please.”

Leaning her weight against him, Malle took in the ballroom: the minuet playing quietly in the corner, the swish of ballgowns and fine silk. Her dress had pockets and could have been made of lycra, for all she cared just then. She shrugged it off and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Now, why did Brian want you in a darkened library with him?”

end?

[keyes-tothecrown]

⏰ Checking their watch. Again. (Dealer’s choice!)

Again and again and again. Galas were not Jacob’s thing obviously. Maddox didn’t care for them either but checking his watch every three seconds would not get them out of it any quicker. 

“Do you have medication to take at a certain time?” he joked. “You’ve checked your watch nine times in the past five minutes.” Or close to it. “Nervous or just antsy for this thing to be over with?”

@captaingraves

[captaingraves]

keyes-tothecrown​:

captaingraves​:

“Very funny, Keyes.” Old jokes were so commonly directed at Jacob by not just Maddox, but Noah and half of his old crew, he might as well accept it. He sure as hell wasn’t getting any younger dreading his acceptance speech.

“You must be bored, too, if you’ve been watching me stand here for five minutes,” Jacob countered with a scoff. He took a sip from his glass of whiskey. “I’m nervous as shit. I don’t do this.” Jacob motioned around at the gilded towering walls and royals decked out in formalwear. “And I don’t do public speaking. I’d rather get food poisoning.” Which was why he kept eating only the most fancy and unrecognizable and perhaps raw appetizers he could find.

Jacob tugged at his collar to release some heat from his nerves. “What about you? Is your speech all ready to go?”

“What can I say? The entertainment here is crap. Don’t have nothing much to look at.”  A shoulder shrugged. “Food poisoning takes hours. If that’s the goal, should’ve planned a little better.” 

Maddox didn’t enjoy public speaking. One on one was his style, not addressing a room of people. So he wouldn’t be doing the latter. Nor did he submit his speech to Papai as requested. Or accept any of the man’s suggestions. 

“My speech will be short. Very short. There are no words to it.” What are they going to do, take his stupid award away? Doubtful. “Which should be welcome. Realistically I wouldn’t mind giving most here an earful. But what do you have planned, Jacob?” 

Jacob outright laughed when Maddox announced he would not be giving a speech. Leave it to Keyes to be so blasé about receiving an award from a bunch of royals. 

“I have a speech. It’s short. Not quite as short as yours, but I’ll be glad to get it over with.” Jacob was pissed at himself he didn’t resolve to do the same--at least he wouldn’t be in trouble with Malle, even if his speech and delivery were shit. Because it was going to be shit. It will be funny to see Herzog go red in the face, watching the king get flustered was always a treat.

“Maybe when things wind down we can get some air. I brought some cigars and you’re the only one I know that’ll appreciate them.”