The Princess and The Pirate

The sun beamed directly into Jacqueline’s eyes. It shook the sleep from her brain and she squinted hard, trying to squeeze in a last futile moment.

Regretfully, she opened her eyes with a flutter and felt her face pressed against something softer than the bottom of a cart.

Reality then struck her. She shot up with a surge of adrenalin. The clatter of a chain and a heavy weight around her neck was unfamiliar, slowing her defiant rise.

The Princess’s hands and feet were free but now she was tethered by a gnarled chain to the wall of her prison. A heavy, locked collar around her neck kept the entire thing together.

The gag was gone but the very edges of her lips were painfully chapped.

“What a crude thing,” Jacqueline said, sliding her shaking fingers along the length of the chain. The ungenerous number of links suggested she wouldn’t be doing much of anything.

She was sitting on a cot, on the floor, covered in a blanket and scraps of hay. Across from her was an actual bed under a window. The bed was dressed in fine linen, luxurious pillows, and was simply leagues better than what she had. Its comfort called to her.

Instead, her low position rocked left and right, suggesting she was on a ship. Also, the smell of salt and the rough language of the sailors outside the cabin door gave the position away.

Escaping was the next order of business as she grabbed the chain and tugged hard. Putting her feet against the wooden wall, Jacqueline pulled hoping to break anything that could give way. However, the unfriendly metal, rusted and jagged on some links, sliced the soft, warm flesh of her palm.

"God dam-," She cut herself off with only a huff. Then she went to work on the collar.

It was a large thing, almost taking up her whole throat. Assessing the mammoth padlock that smacked hard on her chest, there was no breaking it.

Nevertheless, the Princess tried. On her knees she manipulated and cursed the superior, tough lock, fighting it. If she was going to be a victim, she was at least going to attempt to be not helpless.

Minutes of pointless struggling later, Jacqueline simply sat on her lackluster accommodations, defeated.

What were they going to do? Just let her sit here and take up space? Every step of this seemed so planned, but now it was hurry up and wait? She pondered, trying to inch closer to the sunny crack in the wall. The chain didn’t allow her to reach it.

She had heard the horrid, tasteless behaviors of pirates and the ocean-going sort, that they were drunks, gamblers and lovers of loose whore women, that they were completely unreasonable in their urges and their “appetites” were insatiable. The miserable tales she had heard were horror stories.

The Princess’s mind slipped to a filthier place as she came to realize that she might just be the only half-dressed woman on this entirely male ship.

Jacqueline then wished for pants.

The handle to her cramped room twisted and opened. Warm sunlight filled the modest space and was then shut out with a slam.

She pulled the scrap of a blanket to herself, trying to cover up in the presence of a sordid, degenerate man’s presence.

Her captor from last night walked over to the soft bed, took off his hat, and turned to face her.

“I’m Captain Kyle Chatillon, of The Silver Ogre's Revenge.” He looked tired as he sat on the lush bed, putting his elbows on his knees, “You’re my prisoner, on my ship, amongst my crew, miles away from land or rescue. I’ve dispatched a message to your loved ones negotiating the trade for your safe return.” His whole speech sounded well-rehearsed.

Sitting there, Jacqueline tilted her lips to the side, pulling hay out of her hair. “So where am I chained up?” she said coolly, trying to be casual about the situation, not allowing him to sense her fear.

“In my quarters,” he yawned while pulling off his boots.

She curled back slightly, gripping the blanket. So much for hiding the fear... Why was he undressing?! She had not seen as much as a bare male toe in her short life. “For what purpose? Your whims? Spoils of war?” Jacqueline tried to keep her shriek to a minimum.

Kyle looked over to her, raising a brow, while rubbing his own weary feet. “My door is the only one with a lock on it.”

The Princess’s eyes shifted quickly to the door in question, and then, back to him.

“My crew are,” he struggled to find the word, “Relatively, good men. But a pale lass half dressed in sleepwear I do believe would be cruel to dangle in front of them and would be asking too much of their moral fiber.” He didn’t smile. He was serious.

She curled her head to the side and held the blanket higher. An awkward silence fell between the pair.

At seeing her frightened, clammed-up reaction, Kyle rolled his eyes, trying to smooth it over. “Princess, it’s nothing personal, I assure you. This is just business and as soon as your family makes the payment, you’ll be delivered safe, sound, and with a little bit more world experience.”

“And because this is business, this makes you a better man of moral stature than your men outside?” she said with a sharp reproach.

He stood up, somewhat offended. Did she not care about her unsullied condition or their vague attempt at making her comfortable? Royals were all the same: ungrateful. “I see you as a lost cat, something to be returned for a reward. After that, I’ll wash my hands of it, m’lady,” the Captain said with a mocking tone. “You are much more interesting to my personal needs as a financial windfall rather than as an itch that needs scratching.”

Her eyes narrowed at his blunt statement.

“So take comfort in the fact that you are my fine Ming vase rather than my cheap port girl. You’re satisfying my greed, rather than my lust.” It wasn’t really a good attempt to smooth things over, but Kyle hoped it might have given her peace of mind. Girls liked vases, didn’t they?

Despite his best efforts, Jacqueline didn’t appear to be placated. He was a greedy brute, plain and simple, as far as she saw it, but if all her parents had to do was pay this pirate, there wouldn’t be any problems.