Chapter 1

Lucas couldn't help the pleased little smirk that crept over his face as his captive gaped back at him in shock. He was a pretty little thing, so long as you ignored the fact that his mouth was hanging open and that he was bug eyed with his surprise. Lucas didn't need to look around to know that the crew gathered were thinking similar thoughts, the air was loaded with the weight of their many eyes, all directed to the slender form before them, though if the young captive had even noticed, it was impossible to tell. It had been almost a month since they'd had more than a night or two on dry land, and your own hand could only last you for so long. Lucas didn't doubt that Alerion, with his smooth, dusky skin and supple lips would serve to be a near unbearable temptation to all but the straightest of his men. Reigning his thoughts back to the matter at hand, Lucas turned to his Quartermaster, Gunter, and spoke quietly.

"What should we do with him?"

The Scott, lips pursed in thought, eyed Alerion for a moment longer before replying.

"Perhaps he'd been more at ease in you Quarters, rather than in the hold with the rest of the crew." He suggested, deep, thickly accented voice pitched low. Lucas furrowed his brows and nodded in agreement. The insinuation had been clear in Gunter's voice and Lucas knew that keeping the boy out of the way of the crew, as much as was possible, would discourage any of them from trying their luck with him. But am I any better?

"Yes, I agree." Lucas grunted, frustrated by the situation. He was tempted to send Alerion to the hold, and have him spend the remainder of their trip tucked away, out of sight, out of mind. If only he could have been an ugly, burly bastard. "Besides, you know me Gunter, my self control is legendary." He finished sarcastically, winking at his old friend.

Gunter snorted out an amused laugh but didn't reply, simply turned and mounted the steps to the poop deck, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he went. Smiling wryly at the Quartermasters antics, Lucas turned back to his captive. Alerion had managed to regain some of his composure and he once again stood straight backed and silent as he waited for the return of Lucas' attention.

"What do you want from me?" He repeated, his cool countenance betrayed by the tremor in his voice and his slight wince of pain.

"We want you to tell us about your father, lets start with his name?" The boys eyebrows furrowed, confusion clear on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest impatiently.

"My father?" He questioned, tone perplexed. "What does that-" Alerion broke off as realisation dawned in his face. Lucas smiled, satisfied with the boys reaction as a fear crept into Alerion's wide eyes before the boy set his lips set in a determined line and anger swept over his face.

"Tell me his name." Lucas demanded, voice low. He fixed his gaze solely to Alerion, blue eyes intense. Alerion meet the stare without so much as a flinch, giving as good a glare as he got.

After a few moments of silence Lucas relented and turned to the ship-hand who had brought the boy from the hold.

"Take him to my quarters and lock to door, I'll deal with him in a moment."

The Captains Quarters turned out to be one large semicircular room, sectioned into halves by tall room dividers, the panels made of white linen. Beams of bright light streamed in through circular windows set in regular intervals around the space The doors from the deck had opened to a large, round wooden table, bolted to the floor and surrounded by three cushioned arm chairs, all secured in the same manner. An enormous map was spread across the tables centre, with mugs, decanters, plates, cutlery and books strewn across it's expanse. The wall to the left of the table was covered from floor to ceiling in shelves, the dark wood all but groaning with the weight of hundreds of books and scrolls in varying conditions and sizes.

Vague outlines could be seen through dividers that sectioned off the rest of the room. They weren't long enough to entirely block off the right side of the room and a gap between the two served as a doorway. Alerion slipped forward curiously, entering what clearly served as the Captains bed chamber. A large bed, draped in quilts and pillows dominated the space, and a collection of large trunks were positioned around it, pushed into the corners and along the walls. In the other corner was a tall rack, covered in all sorts of weapons, bits and pieces of clothing, belts, straps and the odd item of armour, all hung and dropped haphazardly, a small mountain of fabric littering the ground around it. Once again, books were scattered all across the space, a tall stack standing beside a deep, plush looking arm chair that faced the bed.

The sound of the door caught Alerions attention and he turned to watch as a shadowed figure moved across the dividers. Stepping back into the main area of the room Alerion regarded Lucas with his arms crossed over his chest. The larger man sent him a teasing wink and Alerion flushed, eyes darting away to land on the book shelves behind him.

Clearly this isn't an uneducated man. Diplomacy. Diplomacy and reasoning are the key here. Alerion let his anger and frustration out with a slow breath, unwinding and relaxing his shoulders.

"Captain Shepard." He said by way of greeting, moving to stand behind one of the arm chairs by the table. He leaned against it, avoiding looking at the Captain by studying the map on the table before he began to speak.

"Clearly we've gotten ourselves into a bit of a misunderstanding. You seem to think that I'm able to influence my fathers actions in some way, but unfortunately for you, I can't. However, I am willing to put the whole thing behind me, so long as you take me back to the mainland. This can be our little secret."

Alerion finished with a lopsided, nervous smile, one which Lucas greeted with dead-panned silence.

"Really I think I'm being quite generous, seeing as you kidnapped me and all." He added.

The man's straight faced silence lasted a few moments before he finally spoke.

"Who is your father?"

Alerion quirked a brow at the odd question.

"What? You clearly know-"

"I want you to tell me."

"H-he's Bartholomew White, an admiral in the Royal British Navy..." Alerion murmured, pushing off the table and crossing his arms across his chest.

A feral smile spread across the Captains face and he took a step closer, stance threatening and hinting at potential violence.

"You know he's been given written permission by King George himself to hunt and kill pirates as he sees fit then."

Alerion blinked in surprise. He hadn't known that. If he was honest, he knew very little about the Admiral.

"That's none of my busin-"

Lucas growled in anger, cutting him off once again. He strode forward and seized him by the arm, pulling him close to snarl in his face. Alerion baulked and tried to pull away, but the larger man's grip was too strong.

"Your father is responsible for the murder of hundreds and innocent men women and children, simply for what he calls, an association to piracy." He snarled, eyes wild with his anger, ignoring his captives struggles. "And you're going to help us end his crazed rampage, whether you like it or not."