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Pirate!England x Reader
Vehemently
Part Three

The next thing you were aware of was your feet skimming the ground.
Everything was blurry, and you saw everything in brief flashes and streams of light. You were unsure of what exactly what was happening; however, you were aware you couldn’t tell what was happening, which threw you even further. Your head was pounding; you felt like you had been knocked into a wall a couple of times. You let out a low, maudlin groan when you remembered you had been.

“Hm? You weren’t supposed to awaken this quickly,” you heard England say, his voice reaching your ears as if you were underwater, “Perhaps it was too diluted.”

You wanted to make a cutting insult at his expense, but you were unable to say anything more articulate than quiet blathering. You did not think he deserved to see you in a weakened state—well, a more weakened one than you already were—so you shut up.

Was he carrying you? Carrying was such a gentle word. This was in no way gentle. Had the situation been a tad more placid, you may have been able to tell exactly where you were or if it were the same night as you left. It certainly didn’t feel like it—you felt like you had hibernated after a sharp blow to the head. You drifted back into a state of unconsciousness, your mind foggy and muddled.

You jolted awake, wheezing desperately as you were thrown onto the deck of a ship. The clarity you had seen had been only for a few seconds, as the lethargy caught you again. You shuddered.

“Barbados,” England’s murkily triumphant voice echoed inside your head, “is now under English rule.”

What?

You struggled to push yourself up enough to glower at him over your shoulder. England put on a condescending smirk as his heel dug into your back, forcing you to the ground again. You tasted the foul wood of the deck.

Naomi?

“Take her down.”

Two members of the crew with vexingly angular hands picked you up from under your arms and started to take you below deck.

Is she here?

“Wait.” England stopped them. “She’ll need to be able to sort through her thoughts tomorrow.” He passed a bottle to the man on your right.

When would he have gotten her?

The crewmen dragged you below deck, despite your trying to walk. You proved to be jumbled enough to trip over your own feet. Your mind was getting clearer, but your body was still incompetent. The ginger to your left sighed and shifted his hand to support you more.

You hated this. You hated this so much. You hated seeming to be an idiot. You hated seeming to not be able to take care of yourself, not being able to even function properly. You hated yourself for worrying over your own situation when Naomi was probably suffering even more.

The poor girl, you thought, She won’t be able to manage here with her phlegmatic nature. Oh, I hope she’s all right.

You stopped in a dismal room with four rusted cells and a thin layer of water coating the floor—the brig.

“The cell to the right. It’s got a lock.”

“Right, then. Although I don’t think she’ll be putting up a fight.”

Am I really that weak looking?

They slipped into a cell with you. One of them tried to just drop you, but the other held on to your waist. “Hold on,” he said, “The captain probably wants her intact.”

“He hasn’t been…doing very well if…if that’s his pur—purpose.” You stumbled over the words despite your best efforts to enunciate.

The redhead smiled. “It’s probably not his only intent,” he said as he eased you to the floor. You grimaced as you felt the water seep through your clothes. “Oy. Seamus,” he said, holding out his hand to the bloke behind him, who gave him the bottle England had handed him. “Run upstairs to see if there are any further orders concerning Barbados.” Seamus nodded.

Naomi.

“Here,” the ginger said, uncorking the bottle, “This’ll help.” He tipped a few drops onto his fingers and held it near your face. “It’s fine,” he said at your shrinking away, “It’ll clear your head a bit.”

You consented after a spark of hesitation. You never thought you would be so glad to smell vinegar. Your eyes twitched as you breathed it all in.

“I’m Allistor, by the way,” he said, “I mean, I’m Scotland, but I don’t like the titles.” Allistor jerked his head to the side. “You understand.”

“I’m—”

“I know. Don’t talk; you’ll be doing enough of that later.”

“What?”

Allistor just shook his head.

Naomi. Mention her. Please, you thought, tell me where she is.

Seamus bounded back downstairs, splashing water over the edges of his trousers with a scowl on his face. “No further orders for her, but the captain wants everyone on deck.”

Allistor pouted faintly, his lips pursed. “All right, then.” He left your cell and dug out a key to lock it.

He followed Seamus up the stairs but turned to look back at you. “Try to sleep, Barbados. You’re going to have a rough day tomorrow.” He gave a small salute before jogging up the rest of the staircase.

Barbados?

No… They couldn’t.

But the more you thought about it, the more logical it seemed. They had never mentioned another stolen territory. They had never mentioned your title. They had never given any indication that there was another besides you. Plus, with the undeniable fact of what Allistor had just called you…

You had been mistaken for Barbados.

You remembered that you had been sheltered your whole life, staying within the boundaries of the Court. The Court would grow on occasion, but no one ever left. No one in Court ever associated with people outside of it, unless Spain’s approval was given. You had been in Court all of your life, so how would anyone tell you from anyone else born into Court? No outsiders had ever seen you.

No one had ever seen Naomi, either, or a good portion of the Court, for that matter. Spain and his stupid regulations…

You didn’t know what England wanted with the Barbados, but you did know that Naomi could not become involved. She would not be able to handle this environment; she would be flustered right into a corner and fan her way to convulsions. Naomi would break instantly, and she may not ever be herself again. She might accidentally betray Spain, and, in doing that, she would betray herself. Naomi would not forgive herself.

You had to bear the burden for the two of you. You were unsure of whether you could manage it, but you knew that she could not. You had to protect her from becoming a part of the whole ordeal.

You would have to pretend you were Barbados.

It was crazy.

But it was crazy enough to work.

What you first considered a disadvantage was now an asset: no outsiders had ever seen you. No one had even heard of Saint Kitts. As long as you did not let something slip, no one would be the wiser.

You would do it. You would be Barbados, shelter Naomi from England, and stay true to Spain. You could do it, couldn’t you?

You had to try.