I grew up in southwest Alleghenia as a poor servant to the wealthy Bonett family. My family were native to a land far to the north, a place I have never seen in person. I did not know my parents well enough to learn how and why we ended up where we did, although I would hazard to guess the slave trade played no small part in that.
I was about the same age as Stede, the young son of the Bonett family. Although I was his personal servant we became like brothers. I had the luxury of sharing in his education, despite my station. As we grew older together, a secretive and at times confusing romantic affection blossomed between us - fortunately for me, where I reside now, these things aren't so taboo. However at that time, back in Alleghenia, we couldn't explore such thoughts openly.
In adulthood, Stede inherited the family fortune. Though the wealth he attained was vast, it fell into the hands of a reckless dreamer. He also had little to no interest in women, nor fathering a family, therefore he made for a terrible businessman.
Within a few years, he had lost the majority of his wealth to foolish passions, but he wasn’t wholly to blame. It wasn’t long before a wretched snake of a woman sank her fangs into his fiscal flesh by way of an arranged marriage and bled him dry.
What was his big dream - a dream so grand that I was swept into it? To be a pirate.
I had the stars in my eyes when I gazed out upon the open seas, just as he did. Through naivete and an urge for freedom, neither of us really knew what it meant to be involved in piracy - nevertheless we ended up having nothing but one another. In the end, all we had was our youthful ignorance and our dream.
We made that dream happen and, at least for a time, we were successful. We were pirates of renown, yet achieving our goal came with a terrible price. I did dreadful things I am not excited to recall, there is blood on my hands which even the tides can not wash away, and the memories of my deeds still haunt me.
Stede, though, was another story entirely. He was the captain, he never once killed a man nor harmed anybody personally. When the time came, he had the luxury and privilege of having an underling do the dirty work, although, to his credit, he was always hesitant to make such orders. It was that hesitation which earned him the moniker "The Gentleman Pirate" - regrettably, it also branded him a target for cruel and ambitious rivals.
One day, such a fiend, none other than the infamous captain Blackbeard, presented himself. He was an imposing man, to my reckoning the most feared, respected, and notorious pirate in the northern sea. From the moment his crew boarded our ship, we knew defeat was inevitable.
At some point during the chaos, I took a blow to the left side of my head. Darkness overtook me, the world faded, and I was lost to oblivion from the strike. When I finally regained consciousness, I immediately took note of two changes: firstly, I had lost all vision in my left eye - secondly, I was in chains on a slaver's vessel. Though I did my best to spot him from my bound position, Stede was nowhere to be seen. Outside of a few of my crewmates, only a sea of shackled strangers and gruff watchmen surrounded me.
I ultimately resigned myself to a fate that, while unwanted, had been deserved.
We made port in a city called Dulac on the coast of Laurentia; it was there that I was sold at auction. I, along with several others, were purchased by a man named Maurice Maxwell. He was a small, somewhat sickly looking man, frail despite his fineries, who walked with a cane and was accompanied by a mountain of a woman. As soon as I met the giantess’ eyes, I knew she was his keeper - that or an admirer of sorts.
As we were escorted to the outskirts of town, we met with some of the local guardsmen who, to my shock, undid our shackles. For the first time since the auction had concluded, the small man spoke.
"You are all free. While you may choose to stay with me or seek the mayor, you cannot speak of this. Should you tell anyone of your liberation, you would put us all in danger."
We all stood dumbfounded for a moment, but not for long. My fellow captives departed with the town guard, while I alone remained in place. Maurice and his stoic keeper stared at me curiously, studying me and my apparent indecision in silence, as I gazed at them in the same light. Several moments passed before he spoke again.
"So…" he began as the corner of his lips turned up. “I presume you’d like to be my guest?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but I found myself at a loss. Only then did the emotional weight of everything that had transpired begin to set in. Maurice turned to his colossal companion as I stood paralyzed, nonplussed.
"...Oh dear, Avis, I think perhaps he doesn't speak our language. I've never seen anyone quite like him."
His keeper, apparently named Avis, wrinkled her snout and gave a small, indiscernible grunt. Before I could respond, the giantess plucked me from the earth, cast me over her shoulder as though I were a child, and carried me along as she followed Maurice home. I should have - would have been upset by such a slight, but at that point I was too stunned to bother.
After arriving at the manor, being trundled past a myriad of colorful, inquisitive faces, and ultimately being sat on an ornate sofa within a small den, I was finally given a moment to think. My mind reeled, trying and failing to process everything that had happened in such a short period of time. Lifting my gaze within the small study, I swung my eyes to the mismatched duo. Maurice, the man who’d bought my freedom, and Avis murmured with one another, doubtlessly conspiring on what they were going to do with me, when the dam finally broke.
Overwhelmed in every sense of the word, all but literally falling apart at the seams, I buried my face in my hands and began to softly sob. The shock gave way to the crushing weight of regret, anger, sorrow, and anguish. Never in my life had I cried as much as I had that day. I felt as much like a lost child internally as Avis had just recently made me feel externally. Everything I had was gone, yet the tears weren’t for my belongings - they were for him. In a flash, I’d lost my brother, lover, and my most trusted friend. He was gone, dead so far as I could tell, and I knew I’d never see him again.
These two people, this Maurice and Avis, knew nothing of whom I was or the atrocious acts I’d committed - still, they had saved me. The man slowly, almost cautiously sat himself beside me and held me. His touch was warm, his voice soft, and the comfort he afforded was like a soothing balm. For all I knew, reflecting back on it, he still assumed I didn’t understand him, yet his kind words battled against the darkness consuming me.
Fate was kind in a twisted sort of way.
As time passed in their company, I had finally begun to bury my past. Hiding who and what I was has been a burden, though it is for good reason. Avis despises pirates with a violent passion, so I thought it was best to conceal that part of me, and I wasn’t about to jeopardize my view in Maurice’s eyes with the things I’d done. After a few years, I actually began to forget that grisly chapter of my life myself.
Things were good for a time, wounds started to heal, but that changed when Arbourete arrived.
I saw him hauled into the manor, bloodied and clinging to life. Maurice told me there’d been an attack on Dulac - specifically a pirate raid. I immediately felt weak and nauseated hearing the news. Waves of guilt crashed upon me, I could almost hear the ocean and ring of steel in my ears, and the stink of death filled my nostrils - so sudden and harsh were the memories that came rushing back.
My heart froze as I ran to the stricken lad’s side. Was it the guilt, pity, some form of attraction - frankly, I couldn’t say, yet I followed my urge regardless. Though I knew not why, I had to be by his side. In every way I could, I assisted Madeline, our resident doctor, in keeping him among the living. I stayed by him every day and night, after he was patched up, until he came to. At times I felt ridiculous, sitting beside and tending to someone I didn’t know, but there was something about him that captivated me.
Irrespective of the crimson streaked on his creamy coat and shaggy, emerald mane, he was a beauty. To maim such a captivating creature was sacrilege, yet he, like I, had survived his hardship. While I’ll reluctantly admit to admiring him at the time, his well-being eclipsed my own fleshly wants.
I’ll never forget the moment when he finally opened his eyes. In an instant, I leapt from my seat to comfort him as he bolted upright in his bed. No sound escaped him, his throat having been rent by a blade, yet his mouth hung open in a noiseless scream. I calmed him as quickly as I could, introducing myself and urging him not to speak due to his injuries - mercifully, after a tense moment, he relaxed ever so slightly and heeded my words.
He eventually did lay back down, though he somehow looked more vulnerable and frightened than ever.
Remaining silent, I extended my hand and asked him to hold it if he wanted me to stay or to reject it if he wished to be alone. WIthout the slightest bit of hesitation, his fingers closed around my palm. I swore to him I would not leave until he was better, unless he wanted otherwise, and I kept that promise.
From that moment onward, we’ve been inseparable - nevertheless, as with everybody else in the manor, he’s ignorant to my past misdeeds. More than anyone else, save for possibly Avis, he has every right to despise pirates, and I fear how he'd react knowing the man he’s grown to love and rely on was once a buccaneer.
Hearing a rumble from outside, I look down and smile at Arbourete as he sleeps in my arms. A storm earlier this evening put him in a fright and awoke him from his slumber. He's so nervous when it thunders, the poor thing, but it’s oddly endearing. My finger wanders over his cheek and the discolored, hairless line which rests there. Every time I see his scars, hear his wheezing, or listen to his weak, raspy voice, I feel a guilt so heavy I could collapse. He is my penance, my redemption, and my love.
... I fear Avis may be onto my secret, though; this gives me troubles sleeping. Little escapes her unyielding gaze - so much so that I can practically feel her lurking in the shadows of the night.
