memoir of a forgotten pirate

III

The Pirate King's crew was rowdy but surprisingly organized for what it was. There seemed to be some kind of begrudging respect for me, as the Pirate King had introduced me as his protege— and they all told me the same thing: that the Pirate King himself was interested in training me, and that hardly anyone had gotten that privilege– not even his own son. And his son–

Where do I even begin?

I remember seeing him a few handfuls of times.

Arthur was a weak little boy, with vibrant green eyes and an almost melodious voice. He was incredibly thin and sickly, barely able to lift up a regular sword. He preferred to read books as opposed to fighting, much to his father's chagrin. I remember, though, in the dark of night, when he thought no one was watching him, he would shoot arrows on the ship's deck– and he was the best shot I'd ever seen.

That was, of course, when he had enough strength to even pull the string on the bow in the first place. But the Pirate King hardly seemed to notice his own son– in fact, half of the crew of the Siren hardly seemed to notice him either. In fact, most of his attention was on me.

I practiced against the Pirate King himself. I remember our first dueling session, even now.

He was dressed simply– a tunic shirt and sensible cargo pants, completely unarmed and vulnerable. He had gotten a pirate named Luciano to lend me one of his daggers– I remember weighing it in my hands, feeling the weight. A real weapon– something dangerous. It terrified me to my core to even hold it.

"What do I have to do?" I asked nervously.

"It's simple," the Pirate King said jovially. "Just strike me with your knife."

"Strike you? L-like, hurt you?" I stammered. "I-I can't do that! That could– that could kill you–"

"Oh, you won't be able to," the Pirate King said dismissively. "I just want you to try."

It didn't do much to assuage my nerves. I was still worried– still terrified of the thing in my hands. Of what it could do. I stood still there, holding the knife tightly in my grip. I couldn't even move.

The boat rocked under my feet, and I nearly stumbled. I cried out, nearly losing my grip on the knife.

Luciano scoffed.

"Cap'n," Luciano drawled. "This is a waste of time. Just throw the fucking girl overboard already." Fear ran through me. Throw me overboard? Into the water? Surely the Pirate King wasn't above doing that to someone who had outlived their usefulness– and surely I had, ten times over– I'd stopped being interesting. 

"Come now, little one," the Pirate King said, ignoring Luciano's words. "You'll get nowhere by standing still. Do you hope to stab me to death with your mind?"

Eventually, I summoned all the courage that I could, ran at him and swung my knife clumsily upwards towards his face–

In a burst of movement that was far too fast for me to follow, he twisted my wrist and rendered me immobile. I struggled against his grip on my wrist, finding his hands unyielding. The knife clattered to the ground, stabbing uselessly into the floorboards.

"A good try," the Pirate King said. "But I could see that coming from a mile away. You'll not be able to kill me like this."

"I can't kill you," I whispered.

"Oh, of course not," the Pirate King said cheerfully again. "Do you know how I've managed to live for so long, little one?"

I shook my head, the words caught in my throat.

"I've made myself unkillable. Indispensable," the Pirate King continued. "That's why. Most pirates don't live to my age."

"Well, of course, boss," Luciano snapped. "You're old by pirate standards, but by land-dwellers' standards, you're fuckin' young as shit."

"Of course, Luci," the Pirate King said. "But she doesn't know that, does she?" He dropped my wrists. "Try again. Until you're able to strike me with the knife, we're not finished."

Each and every time, he moved faster than me, seemed to predict my movements, and knocked me to the ground each and every time. Sometimes, I wouldn't even be able to raise my knife– I'd just take a single step before he would slam me into the ground. And each time I cried, he simply told me to get up.

Luciano had long left by then, scoffing at me as he did.

"Disappointing," the Pirate King said finally. "Perhaps I overestimated your worth to me."

I was slumped on the ground, my hand weakly palming at the knife. It took such effort just to even lift the damn thing–

"Get up," the Pirate King commanded as he walked over, leaning down towards me. As his hand reached to grasp my shirt, he continued to speak. "You worthless–"

I slashed the knife.

I remember the horrifying feeling of the knife cutting flesh. It wasn't even that deep–

The Pirate King dropped me, his eyes widening as he realized what I'd done. I had slashed the skin on his hand, however shallowly. He looked at me– and I felt a rush of fear pulse through me. His gaze was inscrutable.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I'm so–"

He laughed. It was such a manic sound– a bright laugh that rang to the heavens. I just remember the feeling of my heart pounding in my ears and a feeling like I was floating away from my own body. Was it real? Had I just struck the Pirate King with my knife? What was he going to do to me? Was he going to kill me?

"Fuck, poppet," the Pirate King said finally. "I knew I wasn't wrong about you."

He leaned back down. The blood from his hand stained my clothes. I can still smell the faintest hint of copper from his open wound even now.

"Well done. Well done."