Pirate!EnglandXReader Count 4

Pirate!EnglandXReader Count 4
(Part 4)

Arthur cursed for the umpteenth time, trying to make his way through some thornbushes. After you had gone sprinting away, he had stayed under the tree for longer than he would have liked to admit. He started following you around fifteen minutes later.

To tell the truth, now he felt obligated to follow you. He had obviously ripped open a wound that had just healed, and it had shown in your face. Though he hadn't known about your father, he knew he had to apologize.

Why didn't he just forget about you and leave? Well, for one thing, you were his only ally (though that may have just changed as of late). He also owed you, as you had said. Arthur viewed it as a running score between you two:

Arthur:2

______:1/2?

That is, he had almost died twice, while you probably could have lived with that back wound even if he hadn't lifted a finger. Maybe you were just a source of bad luck for him.

...

When you had run away, you hadn't really cared what you were running into. Judging by your scraped up and red arms and legs, you had gone through thistles, pricker bushes, thorns, and unforgiving tree branches. Now you were hugging yourself on the frost-covered ground. You didn't ever want to leave.

So you sat and thought. Your path would be clearly mapped out; there would be a trail of carnage showing your route. Arthur wouldn't follow you, would he?

Arthur...you didn't know about him. He had made you scream, cry, and laugh (although mostly at his expense) in such a short time. Was that a good or bad thing? You guessed bad.

Why had you gone out to find him in the storm? After a few moments of alluding the question even in your own thoughts, you gave up and came to terms.

You were afraid of death. Your father had inflicted that phobia in you when he...Anyway, you had imagined staying in your house, and then finding Arthur's body in the morning. Even if you didn't find him in the morning, your fear would convince you that someday, you would find him, and you would know he had suffered when he died. You doubted your fear would ever go away.

You didn't want to think anymore. Arthur was making you think so much, about things you had tried to bury deep down inside. You rested your head on your throbbing legs and just breathed, letting your mind go blank.

After a while of your meditation of sorts, you heard crunching noises on the ground coming towards you.

You didn't move. You knew who it was.

"Hello, ______." You could feel Arthur leaning over you. You slowly lifted your head up and met his eyes.

"H'lo." Your voice sounded scratchy and raw. Pathetic.

Arthur sighed, not looking away. "I'm sorry."

You looked down at your soiled dress. "Me too." You got up. You stood across from each other, at a crossroad.

"Let's go." You led Arthur back. You both were sore; physically and mentally, having tender and touchy subjects being suddenly stabbed at. Though you had seen the relief in Arthur's eyes. When you got to the tree, you picked up the empty jug you had both drank from. It was probably around midday. today you were supposed to help Mother wash and mend all the clothes she had collected the day before. She would be livid, but you didn't really care.

You turned to Arthur. "What do we do? You can't be seen by my mother, and I have to help her all day. Where should you go?"

Arthur stood there in thought, his breath coming out in visible puffs of mist in the air. "I'll work with you two."

"What?"

"You can tell her I'm just an orphan you met. I won't have to hide anymore, and you get work done faster." You raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you were 'one of the best pirates in the world.'" You recalled when you had first met. Arthur's cheeks reddened and he looked to the side.

"Ah, well, I'm not one of the BEST," he muttered. Ah, so he wasn't as well known as he claimed. You were too tired to care about his lie. You just agreed to follow his plan and continued to your house.

When you both came through the door, your mother first reprimanded you, then noticed Arthur in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed. "Who is this?" Her voice dripped venom.

"This is Arthur. I met him yesterday and he stopped my back from bleeding."

"He didn't do a proper job," your mother interrupted, not taking her eyes off him.

"Yes, well...today I went to bring him some food and drink, and he came back with me. He wants to help with the laundry."

"Where are his parents?"

You opened your mouth to answer but Arthur beat you to it. "My parents are dead, ma'am."

"Any siblings?" Arthur's eyes flickered.

"Kicked me out, ma'am." There was a tense silence.

"You will help us clean all of these clothes," your mother swept an arm to show the clothes strewn everywhere, "and we will give you food and let you stay here."

Arthur's shoulders sagged just the tiniest bit; he had been afraid she would reject him.

All three of you sat down. Clothes were dipped into salt water with slivers of soap and scrubbed thoroughly. They were set to dry near the feeble fireplace.

Your mother more or less interrogated Arthur, asking him questions left and right. you found out he was the same age as you and he had lived far away before; as well as trivial things such as his inability to cook even the most simple things.

You had washed so many clothes your fingers were aching and hard to straighten, but now you were done. Your mother cooked up something that looked like whatever she had found at the market for cheap was hastily thrown together. You didn't care, though, and judging by how Arthur was shoveling it down, neither did he.

You didn't have to do anything tomorrow, your mother told you. You smiled gratefully and went to your room.

Arthur laid on James's bed to your right. "What are you going to do tomorrow?"

You propped yourself up on your elbow and stared at him.

"I'm going to teach you to swim."