The Pirate/Royal Navy Taakitz AU That I’ll Never Continue But Is Still Fun To Think About
The high moon filters weakly through the clouds, reflecting off the choppy waters of the southern sea. Debris floats all around, remains of a battle not an hour completed.
The Raven Queen sits idling in the water, sails drawn and anchor lowered. Soldiers scamper across the deck of the ship, checking for damage and tending to the wounded. One single body lays covered by some spare canvas, waiting to be buried.
Kravitz surveys the flat, grey waters from the helm of his ship with unblinking focus. The winds have picked up considerably and while they’re not going anywhere without lowering the sails, they’re also expecting a squall within hours. If the caps on those waves grow any larger, he’ll have to call the majority of his crew below.
Not ideal conditions for a recovery mission, if he’s being honest.
“Captain?”
Kravitz turns, hand going reflexively to the revolver at his hip even as he recognizes the familiar, high voice above him. “Yes, Angus? What is it?”
The small boy waves from his perch in the rigging. He indicates a spot in the water with his spyglass before tossing the instrument below.
Catching the cylinder of brass in one hand, Kravitz handily extends it and trains the device on the spot Angus pointed to. As the lens focuses, so does his vision. There, bobbing in the water, is a figure. Small, blond, and slumped over a bit of driftwood.
Kravitz doesn’t hesitate. Taking only a moment to shuck off his coat, he climbs up on the rail and dives toward the sea. The cold water shocks his system, but he pushes through to propel himself forward and back to the surface. He comes up on the makeshift raft quickly enough and catches his breath with one hand on the edge.
The figure doesn’t stir at all, and for a second Kravitz fears he’s jumped overboard to fish out a corpse. But he lays his hand on a narrow shoulder and feels movement, and warmth, and he knows they’re still alive. He hears Angus yelling for someone to drop a rope ladder into the water. Smart boy, as always.
The waves start to get a little rougher, inhibiting Kravitz’s progress, but he manages to haul the unconscious body to the side of his ship. He wraps one arm around the drifter’s waist and finds a hold on the ladder with the other, hanging from the end as his crew pulls the ladder up. Icy saltwater drips from his clothes and the ends of his hair, and Kravitz winces at the sharpness of the cold the ocean wind brings.
Waiting hands pull them over the side, and Kravitz goes rolling onto the deck with his arm still fixed tightly to his catch. The impact of hard wood finally seems to jostle them enough to wake them, and they instinctively shove at Kravitz’s chest. Kravitz lets them go easily in favor of finding his footing.
“Whoo boy,” they rasp out in a voice choked by salt and fatigue. “You’re a clammy one, aren’t ya?” They push themselves to their knees and grunt with pain, trying to push their soaked hair from their eyes and get their bearings. In the end they seem to settle on studying the wood under their hands, too weak to hold up their head. “Shit, what-?”
Several of Kravitz’s able bodied men move to help them up, but Kravitz holds up a hand. Sadly, information comes first. “We’ll get you a change of clothes. Something warm,” Kravitz promises. “For now, I’d count yourself lucky to be alive. What port did the Starblaster take you from?”
“The what now?” Their voice is becoming clearer now as they continue to speak, a lilting but decidedly male tone rife with confusion. “I understand the words you’re sayin’ but the order is doin’ a number on my noodle, my man.”
Angus trots up then, Kravitz’s abandoned coat in hand. He breezes right by the captain and crouches next to the newcomer to drape the warm black fabric over his back. Kravitz feels equal parts pride in Angus’s hospitality and concern for the shivering man- his long, pale fingers can barely grasp the hem of the garment.
“The ship you were imprisoned on,” Kravitz repeats slowly. “The Reds would have captured you at port, probably along the Sword Coast. If you give us your information, I’m sure Her Majesty will have a vessel dispatched to return you to your family as soon as possible.”
The man shakes his head. “I don’t know about any ship. I…” He bites his lip, still staring blankly at the deck. “I don’t remember a port,” he says finally. “I don’t remember being captured.”
The soldiers mutter to themselves, a thread of dissent that oh, Kravitz needs to snip right this moment. It’s silly superstition, nothing more. “Surely you remember something,” he says, urgently but not unkindly. “What’s your name?”
The man finally looks up and meets Kravitz’s eyes, and Kravitz finds it hard to look away. Even drenched and cold with his hair hanging limp, the man is heart achingly beautiful. He frowns. “I’m Taako. You look like you’re made of salt?”
Then, without warning or preamble, he faints.
Angus is still close enough to catch him when he slumps to the side. He shivers but holds himself steady enough to keep them both mostly upright. “He needs urgent medical attention, Captain. Hypothermia, deliria- the dehydration alone is-“
Kravitz snaps his fingers at the soldier closest to him and the woman snaps to attention. “Killian, get him belowdecks. Angus knows what to do from there.”
“Sir!” She snaps off a smart salute and crouches down. With Angus’s help, she wraps the unconscious man in Kravitz’s coat and throws him over her shoulder. It’s not exactly gentle, but then again it hasn’t exactly been a gentle sort of day. When they’re out of sight, Kravitz addresses the rest of the crewmen pretending not to eavesdrop.
“I know what you’re all thinking,” he says. “I know there are rumors about the Reds, about what they can do to a man’s mind. You know it’s nonsense.”
They shuffle their feet, chagrined. “He doesn’t even remember being on a ship,” someone says in a trembling voice. “They have to have-“
“There are simple, natural explanations for everything,” Kravitz corrects. “You heard Angus- the man is delirious and tired. I’m sure once he’s well again he’ll recover his senses and we can send him on his way.” He turns on his heels and stalks toward his cabin. “Now back to work. I want us ready to weigh anchor at dawn, and the oncoming storm won’t give us much time to prepare. We’re going to catch the Starblaster one way or another.”
“Aye, Captain!”
Kravitz walks down the narrow wooden staircase and listens as the sharp sounds of boots running overhead fade into the soft creaks of the ship. His crew are still nervous, he can tell, but he’s sure everything will be fine. They’re the finest men and women in all Faerun; a few head games won’t incapacitate them so easily.
He makes his way down to the sick bay, where the newcomer has already been given a cot and a dry change of clothes. Angus gently dries the man’s long hair with a towel and watches intently for any sign of consciousness. All Kravitz can see is a worried looking frown.
“Are you taking over, Captain?” Killian asks from her place in the corner. Kravitz didn’t see her before, but he notes her defensive stance and the hand on her bow.
Kravitz raises an eyebrow at her caution and takes another glance around the room. The only other occupants are some of their own soldiers, casualties too injured to walk. They’re all blissfully knocked out by the herbs their medical officer surely administered, but Lucas himself is notably missing from the room.
“He’s helping topside,” Killian answers his unspoken question. She jerks her chin at the boy carefully tending to your guest. “I know Angus can take care of this but… I didn’t want to leave him alone.”
At that, Kravitz lets go of a breath he’s been holding since the afternoon’s battle. The adrenaline rush of the fight, the rage at their quarry escaping, and the worry about his crew all rushes out of him at once and suddenly Kravitz is just tired. Tired and unspeakably glad to have such good people at his side so he can let himself feel this.
“A good call, certainly. Please consider yourself relieved of guard duty and go… Go check on Carey.”
Killian gives him a wan smile. “You don’t have to coddle me, Cap. But thank you, I think I will.” She holsters her weapon and exits, clearly eager to touch base with her wife.
Kravitz sits on the next empty cot and watches Angus work. The boy has barely looked up the entire time, completely focused on his task.
“Will he live?”
“Oh, definitely.” Angus tosses the towel away and starts crossing the room in trips, fetching any spare bit of fabric he can find from blankets to dishrags to pile on the frozen man. “He’s not seriously injured, just freezing cold. There’s some seawater in his lungs, and he won’t enjoy getting that out, but other than that he’s just got a bump on his head.”
Kravitz sees it now, a bandaged lump just behind the man’s left ear. It explains Angus’s excessive gentleness with his hair, at least. “Do you think that hit is why he’s so confused?”
“Lucas told me that a hard hit to the head can affect memory,” Angus confirms. “We won’t be sure until he wakes up.” He throws one last blanket on top of the cot and Kravitz swallows a tired chuckle. The man is cocooned and the frown on his face is less severe now that he’s warm. The shivering has stopped completely and the color slowly returns to his cheeks.
Angus must see the same improvements, as he looks quickly up to Kravitz with a defensive look on his face. “I’ll take care of him,” he promises. “Lucas needs to focus on the injured, let me watch out for this one.”
Kravitz laughs. He reaches out and ruffles the boy’s hair in spite of his indignant grumbling. “He’s not a new pet, you know. But yes, I’ll entrust his care to you for now. Let him rest, but if he wakes the first priority is to get some food and water in him. And Angus?”
“Yes?”
“Get my coat back from him once he’s stable. I’m going to be needing my compass.”
