Waking in chains (Portugal centric~)

[England]

Slowly but surely the aches and pains of his body woke Arthur, although being as dark as it was...wherever he was... he couldn't be too sure if his eyes were open or not. He tried to figure out where he was - and why he was chained to a wall, arms going numb, his body feeling distinctly as if it had been recently beaten. Trying to relax, he waited patiently for the threads of memory to connect together again.

Aha! He'd been in Africa, on the orders of Her Majesty, spying on an increase of ship movement. Unfortunately, he'd been caught - thus how he'd ended up where he was.

Now... how to get out? His tired mind tried to come up with something, but unless he managed to dislocate both his shoulders and perform some amazing acrobatics... he was stuck.

And from outside his cell, he could hear footsteps...

[Portugal]

Opening the door Afonso poked his head in, like he had done many times since he had helped carry the unconscious captain down the the cell. He let the light from the hall spill into the room, eyes widening when he saw a glimpse of green eyes.

"Ah! You're finally awake!" He smiled a little, scratching his cheek nervously. "I was starting to think you had died..."

Smiling still he walked fully into the room, holding a tray in one hand. "I um, figured you would be hungry or something. You've been out cold for nearly two days."

(orz; Oh this is fail. I am sorry!!)

[England]

Hissing in sudden pain as even the faintest light burned his eyes, he turned away, slamming his abused eyes shut. He could hear a soft voice talking to him, even could make out the words as his body hit him with more pain and nausea from his quick movements. Two days, huh? The way he felt agreed with that sentiment.

"A...ah. thank you." he croaked out, wincing internally at how weak and hurt his voice sounded after days of not being used. Slowly he started to turn back around, cracking his eyes open. "W-where am I?" he licked dry lips with an equally dry tongue as his eyes started to focus on the dark blob that was... his captor?

[Portugal]

"You are in a cell," he answered, knowing fully well that wasn't what the man had meant. Setting the tray down on the ground carefully he blew bangs out of his eyes. He knew very well that the Captain of the Grim was chained, therefore unable to properly move his arms. So really, unless he unchained him...

Well, it wasn't exactly like he had the strength at the moment. At least from the way his voice sounded. Weighing the options in his head, the Portuguese man nodded a little. Moving back towards the door and flipping on the light switch for the cell on, before shutting the door. Regardless to whether he was weak or not, this was still a Captain, Afonso knew he couldn't be underestimated. "I'm going to unchain your arms so you can eat, okay? Don't try and escape, you'll only end up hurting yourself more."

[England]

His eyes had barely adjusted to the minimal light coming through the doorway when the bright florescent made seeing an impossibility. With a long string of hoarse curses, he cringed back dizzily, sending his world off center and his face back into the blessedly cool floor. The mere notion of food was both nauseating and appealing at the same time as he gasped for air and tried to ignore the burning of his injuries.

[Portugal]

"Ah, desculpe! Desculpe!" He smiled, a bit sheepish. He should have given a small warning. But what done was done. Making sure the door was shut securely, he fished the key to the others restraints. Kneeling in front of the other Afonso cringed at the wave of deja vu that washed over him, accompanied by a sudden throb of his head. And at that had to mentally curse. It had been a while since this had happened... And the notion actually made Afonso pause.

But only for a moment, he shook his head, attempting to relieve himself of the deja vu, before unlocking the chains. He took a step or two back, observing the man curiously.


(desculpe = Sorry)

[England]

Having his arms unchained sent his blood rushing in painful tingles up and down, through his fingers, past his shoulders and into the rest of his body. He sucked in his breath and held it - focused so hard that he no longer noticed the other man in the room aside from someone was there, focused so hard so the black spots in his eyes were forced to recede because he'd be damned if he passed out again.

When finally - finally!- the tingling pain receded to numbness and his head began to feel as if it would explode due to lack of oxygen did he take slow breaths to try and regain control. As he regained control of his arms, his mind crept back over to the other man in the cell with him - and his eyes got a good look of the foreign man for the first time. He was of either spanish or portuguese descent and - even as he would never admit to it - incredibly gorgeous.

He was also his captor, he had to remind himself. Moving his fingers first and then the rest of his arms, he managed to slowly lever himself up so he could lean against his cell wall and no longer be face down on the cold floor - and cautiously watched the other man, waiting for him to move.

[Portugal]

Afonso watched the other, head cocked to one side, dark brown bangs falling into his eyes. He waited, curiously, to catch a glimpse at the other mans face. After all, when they had caught him Afonso had been a bit more occupied with not getting shot then seeing the others face.

However, when he did, the head ache doubled. With a sharp intake of air, Afonso leaned against the cell door, hands raising to hold his head. It was just like when he had first met Antonio and Lovino. A wordless scene playing in his mind. And this prisoner was the star of it. There was no mistaking it, after all both had the same rather large eyebrows (it was a very distinctive trait).

As quickly as the scene began, it came to an abrupt halt. He leaned against the door, trying to keep his breathing even, trying to play off holding his head as fixing his hair. He didn't want another person to think he was insane. Especially someone who was an enemy (a rather cute one he had to admit).

[England]

As much as his captor tried to hide it, Arthur could see his shocked face, tanned skin paling, and eyes widening. He wondered exactly what was going on in his head - most of the times he'd been caught so far, the other men had gloating, crue faces quickly followed by scared and begging ones as he beat them down and escaped.

But at the moment, escape wasn't feasible. He couldn't feel his legs very well, his arms were shaky from the pain of untying them from their awkward position and he was weak from hunger and dehydration. Shifting to sit cross-legged, he tried his best to seem... well as unthreatening as he actually felt. Even that slight movement made his vision tilt - how bad had he been roughed over?

[Portugal]

Upon steadying himself, his breath returning to a much more regular pattern, he returned his gaze to the man. He really was cute, even those over grown eyebrows had an endearing quality to them. Not that he would admit that to the prisoner... But he did smile, watching the man shift. Right now there was really no threat. He looked like he could barely eat straight.

Kneeling down he pushed the tray a bit closer to him. "Go ahead and eat. It might make you feel a bit better, Sobrancelhas."

He said that last word in a teasing manner, his smile matching the tone. Though doubted that the man would know what he said. Afonso fell quiet with that, idly fixing the ribbon in his hair.

[England]

Keeping half an eye on the man - who seemed to be recovering from whatever shock had hit him - as he shakily reached for the tray of food, he absently wondered what that foreign word meant. With slow, deliberate movements - so he wouldn't accidentally drop food all over himself - he ate each mouthful of food and drank all the water slowly.

When he was finished, he felt like his strength was dribbling back into his body and he shifted into a more comfortable position - one leg curled to his chest, the other, which he was pretty sure had a twisted ankle, he laid flat on the cool ground. Finally, he frowned up at the silent man, who hadn't made a single threatening gesture the entire time (well.. other than turning on the lights without warning and nearly blinding him...) and seemed more interested in his hair tie than Arthur.

"Would you mind explaining what is going on right now to me? I feel rather in the dark." after all... he may be able to weasel his way out of this situation without having to kill them all.

[Portugal]

He had just remained quiet, letting the man eat in a relative peace. Lost in thought, Afonso couldn't help but allow his mind to flutter back to what had happened. That scene that had played, a memory part of him supplied, was still fresh. But he couldn't understand how that worked. After all, from the looks of it, it had been taking place during another century. And Afonso was pretty sure that Arthur was around his age, not centuries years old. Correction, the Portuguese man was pretty sure no one could be centuries old...

When he spoke up, it jarred Afonso from his thoughts. For a moment he just blinked, before registering the words. And then finally ceased fiddling with his ribbon.

"Well, we caught you snooping around our ship. And well, you ran. And the captain gave the orders to chase after you. Then there was a fight, but you were out numbered and we caught you. You were thrown in here where you were passed out for about two days. And now we're talking," he surmised, before flushing realizing he hadn't actually answered the question. "Oh uh, well... I suppose you'll just stay here until the captain decides what to do."

Afonso opted to leave two things out. One being that despite the fact Arthur had been out numbered, he still managed to take down two other crew members. And the second was well... The odds of him ever leaving, at least alive, were not high.

[England]

Arthur snorted softly, flexing his arm and keeping track in his head that each flex helped take the numbness away. He wasn't very strong right now - but he didn't want to wait until 'the captain' showed up. Because if he did, either Arthur would die, or the Captain would die... or this man might die. He didn't care so much about some nameless captain, but from what he had seen so far from the still nameless other, he would probably be a little sad and a tad guilty for being the one to kill him.

In his boots, his feet began to move and shift - slowly rotating to test how much strength he would have in his injured foot if he had to suddenly run. From the feel of it, he wouldn't last very long outright running, but sneaking... or rather hobbling... would be a possibility. With that in mind, he forced himself to his feet, using the wall as his leverage as the world spun once more. Gritting his teeth, he locked his knees to keep from falling.

He wanted out.

[Portugal]

"You shouldn't be standing," he had rose the moment he saw the other stand, taking a step forward and resting it against his shoulder when he saw him saw. A jolt went through him though, another flash, Afonso retracting his hand almost like he'd been burned. He pushed it aside, forcing his mind to remain focused on the task at hand. "I told you, don't try escaping..."

He would end up being killed. The other was already injured. He would die if he tried to escape, Afonso knew that. Either at the hands of his fellow crewman, or by pushing himself past his limit. And for some reason... He couldn't bare to see anything else happen to this man. "Please..."

[England]

(since both Port and I were on, we decided to do a joint post rather than post one at a time!)


When Arthur managed to get the world to go back into focus and his breathing at least marginally evened out, he turned his glare to the other man. "I have... to go... before your captain shows up. I don't want to have to try to hurt you..." while he spoke, he forced himself up away from the wall. "and I'll have too... because of my j-" and his eyes rolled back into his head as the sudden vertical movement spiked pain through his system and he fell forward, unconscious.

Afonso caught him when he fell forward. "I told you not to push yourself..." With an almost amused smile, and a small sigh he sat down slowly, laying the other man down. He wondered why his cheeks felt so hot, but opted not to question it. Instead he just glanced at the other quietly, reaching out to brush some blond hair out of the others face. So familiar, but how... "Just who are you..."

He was only out for a minute or two before his brows furrowed and he forced his achy eyes open. Finding himself on the ground, looking directly up at the other man, he felt a flush creep involuntarily across his face. Okay - so moving that fast was a bad idea. Slowly, not taking his eyes off the other man, he tried to get back up with a groan.

He blushed slightly, leaning back to let the other sit up. That same smile he had been wearing for practically the entire time he had been in the cell. "I did warn you Sobrancelhas. You shouldn't push yourself. Besides... You'll die if you try to escape."

The bitter laugh that burst from his chest ached. "But by that same logic..." he coughed, "I will die if I stay. Unless you're going to save me." he got his feet under him and began the trip back up to his feet, demanding himself to stay awake this time.

"Mmm, and that is something I cannot do. I would be betraying my crew." Though the idea of this man dying did not sit well we him. He stood up, taking a step or two back and just watching, leaning against the cell door. "And by that same train of thought, I can't let you leave."

Arthur managed to bite back a groan at his words - the anxiety he felt when it came to having to harm this man was much more than he had ever felt for anyone else in that position. What made him so special... aside from his good looks and loyal personality. "Heh..." he coughed more, bringing one hand up to his face to cover his mouth as he coughed - and winced when it came away with small flecks of blood. Oh shit... "I would offer to let you join my crew, but I think... that would be an insult to your integrity..." That very same blood flecked hand flickered to his torn and muddy cravat and pulled a garotte out that had been hidden in the folds - his one and final weapon that most aggresors never found until it was wound around their necks.

"It would indeed," even if there was times he didn't agree with some orders, he was loyal to his captain. Though as he spent more time on the ship, he couldn't help but look at Antonio more as a little brother than his captain. Not that he would tell him, as it was probably a strange thought. He glanced at the other, arms crossed over his chest. Suddenly he felt torn, not that he was sure why. He was oyal to his crew, loyal to his captain but at the same time... Just something about this man, he almost felt as though he should be aiding him, not holding him prisoner. But he couldn't just let him go... Could he?

He strung the wire between his hands, fully prepared to strangle the man blocking his way - but his feet wouldn't step forward, his hands began to shake and that uneasy feeling roiled in his stomache, making him want to vomit. He knew he could kill the other man - even weakened as he was, he could do it... but... but he didn't want to... The hard look in his eyes slipped away and his hands fell to his side as he let himself lean back against the wall of his cell. "Dammit." he muttered to himself angry at himself for stopping and for feeling as if he needed to stop. He had to get out of there... but if he couldn't harm the foreign man, what could he do?

"Why were you spying on us?" His eyes shifted, looking at the mans hands. He still had a weapon, Afonoso was sure of that, but it didn't seem like he was going to use it. He pushed off from his spot on the door, crossing across the small cell, taking hold of the others wrist, carefully taking the wire from him. That same jolt went through him, his head throbbing with the strange sense of deja vu.

Arthur's eyes widened and the blush that had nearly faded from his face came back full force as he let the wire be taken from him - taking away his options of fight or taking away his options of fight or flight. He didn't want to answer the question - he was technically still under orders from Her Majesty to not speak of any of this... but if he didn't tell her... how would she know? "...it's part of my job. And nothing more." he looked away, feeling as if he had just betrayed his family by giving up so easily to a pretty face. A new wave of ill-feelings rolled into him - he knew nothing of this other man... what if he was only here to get him to talk? ...Except that that idea felt so wrong to him... had he been hit so hard in the head that his thoughts were becoming confused?

"But aren't you a pirate like myself? Well, a sea pirate, but a pirate nonetheless." He frowned, keeping a firm hold on the others wrists. There was a good chance he had other weapons, though Afonso highly doubted it. He peeked at the other, dark bangs falling into his eyes. An anxiousness was pooling in his gut, and the Portuguese man was not sure how to feel about the matter. He couldn't let this man free, but... But he couldn't let him die. His head was splitting, Afonso trying his hardest not to wince. He was so torn, his thoughts jumbling together. His loyalty to his crew suddenly being tested by a sudden need to be faithful to a man he had just met. Which made absolutely no sense to him.

Blood filtered between his lips and down his chin. He could feel his heart pounding in dischord with his head as some integral part of him demanded that he answer, at odds with the part of him that didn't want to betray his home. "I... am not a pirate... but a privateer." and that was all he could say on the matter - he couldn't reveal the rest of what he did for the Queen or he would be killed for certain. The extra warmth from the other mans hands seeped into his wrists, giving him some meager strength and he had to fight the urge to just hold on to those warm hands for dear life.

"Aren't they the same thing?" He tilted his head to one side, that amused smile tugging at his lips. But he saw he would receive no more answers on the matter, so allowed the subject to drop. He gazed at the other quietly, tightening his grip ever so slightly on the others wrists. His eyebrows knitting together in frustration, another painful throb. He almost feared another mute scene would begin to play. "H-How do I know you..." He hadn't meant to speak the words out loud, but they had slipped out before he could stop them.

Just the sight of that smile threw his worries and anxiety out the door - tossed his reservations to the side, stole his breath and made his heart beat in a skip he'd never felt before. He nearly blurted out everything the other would want to know when he was asked the same question that had been bothering him since he had met him. Arthur could feel his eyes widen in shock. "I... I don't know... but I... I feel as though I've met you before as well..." but where?!?

Well, it was good to see he wasn't the only one with the sense of maddening deja vu. Quietly he released the others wrists, though his hands hovered over the others for a moment. Part of him just wanted to hold them, lace their fingers together. And his cheeks flushed brightly at that thought. He didn't understand this sudden warmth that was spreading through him, nor did he understand why it was so familiar, why he welcomed it so readily. None of these emotions made sense. "Afonso... Uh, th-that's my name..."

He came to miss the warmth of those hands the moment that he was released and the temptation to just find out if the rest of the man was as warm as those work-hardened fingers was very very tempting... but his pride - and his injuries that were still making themselves known quite loudly- kept him still. And then, he had a name for the face - and it suited the man so well. "...Arthur..." he sputtered out, trying to quell the urge to fidget nervously.

"I would say nice to meet you but... These aren't the best circumstances to meet in..." He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. For a moment he stood quiet, just gazing at Arthur. Arthur, he couldn't help but be reminded of the stories he had read as a small child. Of an English King by that same title, and his knights. Yes, that seemed to be a very suiting name for the man across from him. He shifted on his feet, dropping his hands to his side. "Did you see anything? When you were spying I mean? Stuff you could use against my crew and I?" If Arthur hadn't seen anything... At least anything important...

Arthur chewed on his lip, despite it having been bitten through. "...technically... I was sent to see if there was increased activity in this area... and not why..." he kicked his morals and pride down as they rebelled against what he was saying. "If I don't mention a why... would you let me go?"

"While I'd like to know why... I know you wouldn't tell me. You are loyal to someone, aren't you?" He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, glancing at the other. "You were just seeing if pirates were in this area? That is all?"

Dear sweet lord, what was wrong with him? A rising jealousy of Afonso's hair had risen - his hair for goodness sakes! Jerking his attention back to the portuguese man instead of his fingers, he nodded as his answer. And instantly regretted it as the sudden movement of his head sent him dizzily off balance and staggering forward.

He caught the other quickly, steadying him. And in that instant, he made his decision. And goddamit, Lovino would probably shoot him if he ever found out... Carefully he sat the other down, standing up and going to the door. "Stay here, okay? I'll be right back." He was crazy. Really he was. But he couldn't let Arthur get hurt anymore...

Arthur closed his eyes while Afonso was gone, trying to get a hold of himself. He was almost ashamed - here he was, going on like a love struck teenager... he wasn't a kid anymore, he should be past this sort of thing. He'd blame it on adrenaline if he had any... hell, he'd blame it on the french for being french if he could... what was it about the portuguese man with the brilliant smile that reduced his common sense to mush in the very short time he'd known him?

He ducked through the halls of the ship, checking to see where the others were. Most of the crew had left on a treasure hunt. That was good, it would make things much easier this way at least. Nodding to himself he made a quick stop in his room, picking up his bag and pistol that he had left behind. His stomach knotted nervously. He would be betraying his crew by doing this. He shouldn't be doing this, Arthur was an enemy of La Madre Maria. But he just... He just... He didn't understand, he couldn't. It was almost like his body was acting on its own accord as he headed back to the prison cell.

When he heard the soft patter of footsteps outside his cell, for a moment he thought that Alfonso would be too late - that his captain had arrived and without his garotte, he would die here and now. But the portuguese man slipped through the door and all of Arthur's misgivings and insecurities flew away - and he found he no longer cared about the how's or the why's. Struggling to his feet, he decided to give a damn later - if there was a later- with a large bottle of rum and locked away in his cabin. "Afonso..." he said softly, almost embarrassed by the relief in his voice.

"One day, I'm going to ask for a favor for this," he winked playfully, walking to the other mans side and hoisting one of his arms over his shoulder. Despite the others protests. "Here, lean on me. Most of the crews out treasure hunting. So there aren't many people aboard. Do you have a ship nearby? Or anything like that?" He smiled at him, trying to hide the anxiousness eating away from him. How could he be doing this? Betraying his crew, betraying a captain that he saw as a little brother... If any of them were to find out... His eyes met with the others briefly, and all those anxious thoughts faded away. Arthur was worth any trouble he would get into, Afonso decided. "Come on."

He damned the fact that he blushed easily as he ended up pressed against Afonso's side - feeling the breath and beat of his heart and the warmth of his skin was distracting at such an important time. "A..ah! Yes - my ship isn't docked too far away... I only hope they haven't had to leave yet." he was pretty sure that James, Lily and Odin wouldn't let his ship be moved without him - but after two days of him being missing, who knew what would happen? Subconsciously he leaned a little closer than necessary, taking in the spicy smell of whatever Afonso used to bathe with and the faint smell of sweat and gun powder. "It's... about a mile down the coast... theres a small cove that we've hidden in..."

"Can you walk that far?" Afonso peeked outside the door, before beginning to make the slow treak towards the exit. He didn't want to have Arthur push himself again. Especially since there was that distinct possibility he would pass out again. He nodded at the location, mentally drawing up maps of the area. He had a vague idea of where to go, though first and foremost, they had to get off and away from the ship. Peeking back down at Arthur, he couldn't fight down a small blush. Really, what was it about this man that was making him act this way? That made his heart beat flutter? He never felt like this before but it was... It was nice.

Judging from how much pain he was already in compared to how far he had to walk... no, he probably wouldn't make it. But damn it all to hell, he wasn't going to die like this! "...I'll make it." he steeled himself - pain was one thing, but since it wasn't hopeless, he was determined to see it out... and he refused to appear weak in front of Afonso - or at least weaker, because the portuguese man knew how badly he'd been damaged. It was just a matter of concentrating on his steps. Left foot forward. Right foot forward. He could make it...

He just nodded in response, making his way slowly down the corridors. If they were spotted they would have to run. Meaning he would probably have to carry Arthur. Though he did have a suspcion he would eventually have to carry the man, he looked like he could barely stand already. His injuries would need proper medical treatment, that was for sure.

Arthur was so glad they hadn't run into any other pirates even after they left the ship. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Half a mile - ignore the black spots dancing across vision... or the shortness of breath and the urge to cough... Left foot... right foot...

"Do you want to stop?" He didn't wait for an actual answer though, sitting Arthur down before the other could react. He was pushing himself, Afonso was sure of it. Quietly he sorted through his bag, fishing out a small canteen and holding it out to the other. "Here."

Even as he reached for the canteen, Arthur doubled over, unable to stop coughing. He could feel blood coating his throat and clogging his air and those little spots in front of his eyes became bigger - but he refused to pass out, even as he felt his eyes rolling back, he forced them to focus. He was going to make it out of here - he wasn't going to make Afonso's valiant gesture be wasted.

"Arthur!?" He dropped the canteen the second the other doubled over, taking hold of his shoulders. He saw the blood, a small wave of panic rushing through him. Was he going to die? But he couldn't, he couldn't die! Afonso watched, seeing the others eyes almost roll back, his mind racing as he tried to think of what to do. But he doubted there was really anything he could do.

Eventually the coughing abated and Arthur scrabbled for the canteen to rise the blood out of his throat so he could breath properly again. He felt horrible - everything burned now instead of ached and while he could see, it was unfocused. Catching his breath, he leaned until he was resting on Afonso's shoulder and letting that spicy scent soothe him enough so he could try and forget the pain. "Sorry... don't worry... I just need... a break... and we're almost... there." He wanted his bed nearly as much as he wished he could stay right where he was, against the warmth of the portuguese man.

He looked at the other, worry growing. Arthur looked paler then before, and he debated whether or not he should just pick the man up and carry him to his ship. But for some reason he couldn't bare to move him. So he nodded, carefully raising his arm to wrap around the other. Just so he wouldn't fall, or anything. Yes, that was the excuse he would use. "Rest for a little while."

Nodding tiredly, Arthur closed his eyes, taking sips from the canteen and hoping that even that slight bit of something would give him enough energy to get him back home. Eventually, he caught himself dozing off, comfortable and warm where Afonso was touching him. With regret, he forced himself away, shifting so he could stand. "...we best go. Your crew could be making it back at any time... and I wouldn't want you to get caught with me."

"Antonio knows I wander off sometimes to explore," it wasn't like he hadn't gone missing before. Though, if he were to be spotted with Arthur, well that wouldn't be good. He stood, glancing at Arthur and debating internally. He was probably going to be hit for this, but he didn't want a repeat of what just happened. He had never been so panicked before. So, careful of the others injuries, he picked Arthur up bridal style, giving him a small smile . "You shouldn't be walking. I think you pushed your luck enough for one day."

Arthur was rather surprised when his world turned on it's side and didn't involve him passing out. The strong arms under his legs and around his back told him all he needed to know - he opened his mouth to argue, but even just that small smile sent his entire face bright red and his heart beating abnormally fast. At a loss for words, he smacked the other lightly in the chest with his closest arm. "J-just this once..." he muttered, trying to not stare.

He laughed at this, his smile growing wider than earlier, brighter. "Of course, of course. Your ships this way, right?" He nodded his head in the direction they had been heading. His eyes meeting with Arthur's briefly before he looked away, feeling his heart rate pick up slightly, his stomach flipping slightly, like butter flies were dancing in them.