The Seas Be Ours [Arthur + Francis]

"I tell you, lads, 1596 is a great year to be alive."

Captain Arthur Kirkland strode along the deck of the Archdemon, moving between the members of his crew. "A great year, indeed." He stopped, standing next to his first mate, a young man from a small England sea town. "I think it may be my favorite year so far."

"Captain?"

Arthur glanced over and clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't worry on it, lad. Give the orders to load the cannons." As he watched the approach to the French merchant ship, he couldn't help but grin widely, feeling the flow of wrath start to bubble in his crew. He knew that they found him odd, and some whispered to each other in the night that Captain Kirkland was otherworldly; the superstitious murmured old, forbidden words like 'fae', 'Unseelie', or 'elf'. The religious all echoed the same term though: 'Demon'.

Arthur chuckled a bit, wondering if one day he should show them how right they really were.

Francis felt satisfied. Bodin was dead and hopefully religious tolerance with him. Let there be conflict and crusades.

And with that thought Francis was brought back to the task on hand. The deck was filled with seamen, they all looked in their environment. Liked they belonged there, unlike Francis. He was a guest, their master's guest. And word somehow gets around, not like he cared, it was entertaining to see the men scramble around him, all with longing and reproachful looks.

Their master was of relative importance. He dealt with trading many essential goods with the Spaniards. Despite of being noble status and of great wealth the man remained captain to his ship. But Francis has found his way into the older looking man's life by masquerading himself as a student. And it was quite easy to feed the man with lies and corrupt thoughts in bed...

His blue eyes watched the sea around him, the colours similar to each other. But then his eyes were drawn to a spot in the distance. But the lookout knew what it was before Francis could figure it out.

"Pirates!"

The Frenchman blinked, his blue hat fell an inch covering one of his eye. The damn thing was too big. He lifted it and went back to the cabin.

He would need a sword now, wouldn't he?

Arthur watched his crew pull up next to the ship and bombard it, before tossing ladders over and securing their passage. He casually made his way across the deck, and to the ladders, climbing over and stepping foot on board. He drew his cutlass and pointed it to the nearest crew member.

"I am Captain Arthur Kirkland of the Archdemon. You'd best go tell your captain to bring me all of the goods on this ship. I want to personally inspect my gains." He looked back at his crew and gave a wide, bestial grin. "And this means all of your women and young boys!"

At the cheers, he chuckled and glanced back at the crewmember.

"Now."

The world started to shake violently as he found a sword. Looking up he was happy to see that a cannon missed him by several feet. Gripping the wall he tried to keep himself steadied as the ship was bombarded.

Francis looked up as the boat stopped moving, the arch demon could only guess what would happen next now. He has never been attacked by a gang of pirates. They should be making demands and boarding the ship by now right?

He walked over to the door that was half opened now after being shaken up so badly by the attack. He leaned against the wall and peeked through. From afar he could see a man standing on deck. The Arch demon couldn't quite tell what he was saying since his ears still echoed with shell shock. But he did catch the bit about women and children. Luckily there was none of those...At least not to Francis' knowledge.

Gripping the sword in his hand, he readied himself for whoever dared walk near him. Francis will be more than glad to send these sinners to Hell.

From his spot he carefully watched the pirate.

Arthur ignored the captain being brought to him, and instead chose to explore the surrendering ship. At the sound of swords clashing, a grim smile crossed his face, knowing that sinning blood on both sides was being spilled. There would be a great deal of souls keeping warm in Hell tonight.

He headed down into the ship, starting to pass by the rooms. He paused, feeling an odd presence; certainly otherworldly, and vaguely familiar. He took a few more steps closer, feeling it intensify.

Francis licked his lips as he watched from his sheltered spot as the two sides clashed. The pirate who first walked onto the deck seemed to be coming his way...His hat fell over his eyes again. Francis pressed himself completely against the wall holding the sword close to his chest. It was impressive that the hat somehow managed to stay on his head. But now the thing was in the way, he threw it off when suddenly he felt something.

He knew it but couldn't quite place it. His ears were full with the sound of guns firing and swords slashing.

Francis wanted in.

The hat discarded, he jumped to his feet and pointed his sword, the new Arch Demon glared viciously at the man at the other side of his sword.

Arthur blinked, suddenly coming face to face with a blade. He took a step back and looked over the young man before him, giving a half-grin. "Hello there, lad. Come to have a taste of Captain Kirkland, have you?"

He slid out his cutlass, jostling a foot to make sure that his pistol still rested heavily on his belt. With a clash, he slapped at the other's sword flat with his cutlass. "If you surrender to me I won't kill you. How does that sound, my boy?"

There was a feeling around him, though, that Arthur couldn't put his finger on. His face was also familiar; was he the son of some famous nobleman?

Francis found himself in outrage. How dare this Kirkland speak to him like that? the movement was quick, and Francis found himself readjusting his grip on the sword. His blue eyes stared at the man intensely, delivering a blow with his sword. Smirking back at the captain.

"Non merci, maudit anglais. To both offers." His accent was apparent, but Francis wanted t let this pirate know that he was dealing with an educated man....demon, but the man wasn't supposed to know that. But there it was the feeling again. But what is it?

"Cursed, am I?" Arthur chuckled and parried a bit, mostly just toying with the other man now. "Well, better cursed than French, the En- My countrymen say." He was mildly impressed by how quickly the other had reacted to his first attack, and continued smirking.

"Well, you already know that I am Captain Kirkland. Isn't it only polite that I know who you are?" He laughed lowly, watching the other with narrowed green eyes. "After all, I'll need a name to call you when I have you slung over my shoulder."

He needed to find out what he was and fast. The ignorance was starting to give Arthur a headache.

"Bonnefoie." The name nearly made him cackle with irony, but the situation was far from humorous. This human was strong, a lot stronger than he remembered the species being. "-Francis, remember the name, sale pirate. For it's the name of the one who will send you back to Hell." He licked his lips, the English rusty on them. his eyes quickly scanned for an opening, but he couldn't spot any. It seemed like he would have to go with his own demon force.

Francis charged the man.

Arthur bared his teeth in a smile and accepted the charge, repelling it. ". . . That was stronger than most people." He pondered out loud, pressing his weight into his sword as he continued attacking. "Tell me, Francis. Are you otherworldly, then?"

He eyed the Frenchman, frowning a bit. ". . . Surely you're not an angel?" He shifted closer, trying to get to where he could touch Francis, idly curious.

Francis blue eyes were wide with astonishment. There should have been enough strength to send the human flying, it should have been over against this Kirkland bastard and Francis could move on to regain control of the ship that was carrying him. but his next words caused Francis to jump.

Otherwordly? Ca veut pas dire...? Doesn't that mean? He blinked. He tried to remember- tried desperately to remember but he was only drawing up a cold blue blank. A room filled with flowers, and sometimes he heard voices that spoke to him. He remembered speaking back to some of them but- he looked at him warily and uncertain. The Arch Demon hasn't actually been out of Hell all too often, it's only been a hundred and sixty five years since he fell. Which was like a couple of years for a demon. So wait, is this human in reality a demon?

There was that feeling again. Is that what it was supposed to mean? Francis held up his sword, his confusion apparent.

Arthur chuckled and pushed Francis' sword away, casually drawing his fingers along his hand. "You're not an angel, my fingertips didn't burn."

He considered the other, still not sheathing his cutlass. "You're from Hell then; must be a relatively new demon." He strode forward, still interested in fighting the other demon. "I should show you what happens when you show other demons your weaknesses." He struck out towards Francis, intent on incapacitating him, not wounding him.

Francis was taken out of his stupour when the (there's no denying now) other demon touched his hand. The movement was so well though of, that Francis swallowed. This wasn't an ordinary demon, well maybe he was, but Francis just had no idea /how/ to know. Other than straight up asking. But he was an Arch Demon though, he couldn't let himself be pushed around so easily, right?

Too bad most of his powers were useless in a situation like this. Was he always this weak? Francis clenched his teeth. He couldn't let himself fall into self doubt. His eyes glowed dangerously blue. Now that he knew what he was dealing with there was no more holding back. Francis ducked and roundhouse kicked his attacker's legs.

Arthur caught the kick and stumbled a bit, grinning dangerously. "So, figuring you out summons your fight, does it?" He laughed and lunged at Francis, his cutlass swinging a dangerous arc towards the other demon's torso.

As his wrath surged and rolled, Arthur found himself considering Francis. He'd never found another demon that hadn't immediately recognized him before. He'd been an Archdemon for an eternity, and wonder idly if the other was new to Hell. He pondered if the other was maybe the newest Archdemon and then dismissed it. If he was, Arthur would have sensed it.

Right?

Francis saw his mistake as soon as Kirkland swung his blade at him, he couldn't get up fast enough. He threw himself back, hitting the wall, as he felt the blade skim the surface of his chest, drawing blood. Francis hissed at the pain, but he couldn't let it stop him. He forced himself to his feet, and looked at the blood on his hand.

This pain, it was real. He locked eyes with the demon in front of him, licking his lips he smirked.

"Touche." Francis knew this person was strong, at least much stronger than him in a setting like this. He looked beyond the demon, the merchants were losing and surrendering right and left. "It seems like I'll lose this battle."

Arthur chuckled and strode over, leaning down and looking Francis over. "I'm still not quite sure what you are." He eyed the demon appreciatively and nodded. "But you'll be coming with me, aye?" He bent down a bit further and grabbed at the Frenchman's sword. "Come now, lad, you won't need that where you're going."

Francis watched the man in front of him warily now. He held his breath as the pirate moved closer to him, allowing the captain to take the sword. Blue eyes watched every move critically, keeping his guard up.

"Et où-" He clenched his teeth. "where are we going, may I ask?"

With a grin, Arthur chucked the sword aside and sheathed his cutlass. "The Archdemon, of course." He answered, grabbing Francis around the waist and hefting him over his shoulder. "Now, don't squirm too much, or else I'll drop you in the ocean, which won't be very fun."

He kept a firm hold around the other demon's waist, stepping back out onto deck with his latest prisoner.

Francis blinked in surprise as he was suddenly hoisted up onto the other's shoulder. Francis didn't even register what the other had said. He was filled with outrage. This man, pirate, demon, thing is completely infuriating!

Francis struggled and cursed in French. "Casse-toi, connard! Lache-moi! Je peux marcher-I can walk on my own!" He insisted in English, and then pushed against the captain's head with his hands.


("Fuck you, idiot. Let go of me I can walk-")

"Now, now, don't struggle or I'll tie your hands and ankles together and won't tear them until we hit the next official port, savvy?" Arthur held him easily and grinned at his crew. "We have a new member of our small family, lads!"

As they cheered a small frown crossed his face. "He'll be staying in my quarters, and if I find out that any of you have done him wrong . . . Well, let's just say that the British Navy catching us will be the least of your problems." He let his eyes glow an unearthly green for a moment before striding past them.

'savvy'? ...Savvy?! C'est quoi sa 'savvy'?! Savez? Is that what he meant? Stupid English bastards can't do anything right! But at least in his mental criticism of English using French words as slang he calmed down. Disliking the idea of being tied even more then being hoisted like some common broad.

He looked around the new ship, already found himself not caring about what happens to the French merchants. What mattered now was that he was caught, and he had no idea what would happen next.

Arthur headed straight to his cabin, opening the door and plopping Francis onto the bed that rested in the middle of it. "There we are." He commented cheerfully, turning back around and locking the door to his quarters. "For now, this is your living area. Bed's there, clothing's in the closet, and there's a chamberpot under the bed." He took a seat at his desk, pulling off his hat and setting it aside. "Feel free to explore, nothing's private on a pirate ship."

Francis found himself on a comfortable bed and in a nice enough room. He blinked as he sat up on the bed, careful to not ruin it with his own blood. Looking around he eventually settled his cool blue gaze on the pirate captain.

But honestly he was much too angry at the man to even want to speak with him. So Francis took up on the offer of exploration. First he shrugged off his blue jacket. Leaving it on the bed. Bringing one hand up to his chest, he checked the cut; the bleeding had stopped and the wound was shallow. But he felt exposed in the new environment, so he pulled his ripped shirt closer together ignoring the blood stain -just happy to be covering his self up.

He walked around idly, with his arms over his chest.

As Arthur finished penning a letter he glanced up, noting that the other demon was holding his shirt closed tightly. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, setting his feet up on the desk. ". . . So, are you a woman now?"

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head. "Relax. It's not like I'd rape a fellow demon. And I can't really kill you, now can I?"