Royal Oak Chapter Four - Gundam Wing
Oct. 3rd, 2004 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yellowhordeDisclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write. The Jolly Rogers sing ‘Royal Oak.’
Pairing: 5xM
Category: Songfic, Angst
Rating: R
Warnings: Some reference to NCS and attempted suicide. If any of this may offend you, PLEASE DON’T READ.
Title: Royal Oak
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: (thoughts) //song lyrics//
//Now a fight began about six in the morn'
And on to the setting of the sun
And at the rise of the next dawn
Where we saw ten ships, we couldn't see but one//
//For three we sank, and three we burned
And three we caused to run away
And one we towed to Port Smith Harbor
For to let them know we won the day//
Treize stared in utter disbelief at the only three remaining ships that were retreating into the distant horizon, now bloody red with the dying rays of the sun. His own ships were deserting him! The searing wind roared about him, tearing at his clothes and hair, buffeting him without mercy. It carried with it bits of hot ash and the smoldering stench of scorched wood. The sickly stench of burned flesh viciously assaulted his nose.
He shook his fist at the departing vessels in helpless rage, his voice harsh and cracked. "Come back here, you cowards!"
Of course, the ships had not heard him, and even if they had, it was doubtful they would have heeded his words.
(How can this be?) His mind fumed. (We had outnumbered that English ship ten to one, but we have been all but defeated!)
It appeared that the British vessel had had some sort of new cannons with a far greater range than any other cannons he or his crew had ever witnessed. Before their own mighty ships had even managed to maneuver into firing range, horrendous destruction had rained down on them. The English gunner must either have had amazing aim, or the luck of the devil himself, for all cannons fired had found their marks. Treize grimaced as, in his mind's eye, he saw the appalling balls of destruction slamming into the hulls of his ships, ripping into their bodies, shredding the solid wood planking as easily as one shredded paper. Even now the dying screams of his men echoed through the chambers of his mind.
Unfortunately, the cannons had not been the only means of attack employed by the English, nor were they the most devastating. The wily captain Yuy had used some sort of oil that, when set alight and catapulted towards the Spanish vessels, had enveloped three of his ships in waves of flames moments after they had been struck. The oil had made the fire all but impossible to smother. Water, the only means the terrified crew had had to combat the inferno, only spread the devastation further until even the very ocean had been awash in flame.
Desperate for deliverance from the burning carnage, men had plunged into the depths of the sea. But the sea had offered no salvation. The terrible flames that burned easily over the surface of the water had engulfed those poor unfortunate souls. The oil tainting the water swirled in delicate patterns, a multitude of different hues, beautiful, yet lethal, like a swirling rainbow trapped in the sea's chilly embrace.
All in all, the day might still have been won save for the fact that the gunpowder for their Spanish cannons had been mysteriously tampered with. Barrels had been broken open, powder scattered like so much useless dust. Treize suspected some sort of conspiracy, but he had not had the opportunity to get to the bottom of the mess. When this battle was over and won, he vowed that someone would pay for this deceit, oh yes; there would be a reckoning.
Unable to return fire, the remaining three ships had decided it high time to beat a judicial retreat. Honestly, Treize could not really blame them. But he did all the same- he just couldn't help it. To retreat in the face of insurmountable odds struck him as being a little too cowardly. It was too much for the proud officer to bear. He would never retreat from an enemy. No! To fight to death in the name of one's king and country, there was no greater glory. No sacrifice more noble.
Never in all his life had Treize Khushrenada witnessed such a devastating attack. His mind whirled at the very thought of the unknown number of souls that had perished on this hellish day. How many sons, fathers, and brothers had been lost to the ravaging inferno? To the cold embrace of the unfeeling sea? Maybe it was better not to ask, not to know.
Treize closed his eyes and tried to block such horrific thoughts from his mind. But he could not. The carnage of this day would linger in his memory always. Even if he lived to be one hundred.
Khushrenada's horrified thoughts were interrupted by a metallic ‘thunk’. His eyes flew open and he whirled in the direction of the sound, just in time to see a grappling hook sunk deep into the wooden railing. Ah, so now the final assault would begin. He turned frantically and spotted his second in command a few feet down the deck from him. Treize's hurried towards him, his eyes wild, his usually impeccably styled hair in disarray.
"Zechs, go protect Meilan. I don't want any harm to come to her. Do you understand?"
His usually calm, cultured voice had been transformed into the hoarse yell of a demented madman. Zechs hurried to the captain's quarters without a moment's delay.
The last handful of Spanish soldiers had gathered raggedly around their commander. A few were survivors from the other six vessels that had been destroyed. All were armed with either swords or daggers. A few had pistols, as well. The haggard men were grim and determined. If this was their day to die, then, by God, they were going to take as many spineless British dogs with them as they could.
*****
Having arrived at his captain's chambers, Zechs unlocked the cabin's door and cautiously entered, pausing for a few moments to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Faintly, he could make out a small figure sitting on the bed. With smooth efficient movements, Zechs set about lighting the kerosene lantern that rested upon the small wooden dining table. He shut and locked the door behind him and taking up the lantern, quickly strode over to Meilan who watched his approach with some apprehension.
Meilan's eyes were wide with barley-contained fright and uncertainty. She clutched her robe about her slender body. The sounds of battle had been bombarding her enclosed world since early morning, yet she did not know who was winning or what truly was going on outside the confines of the cabin. She had been locked in, imprisoned in the dim cabin all day without food or water. But this had not bothered her too much. No, what she feared was being trapped inside, forgotten and left alone to die if the Black Rose were to sink or be set afire like so many of the other galleons.
The wretched screams of dying men and the horribly loud roaring of the cannons had unnerved her terribly. The smoldering stench of burning wood and bodies drifted in through the open portal. From her vantage point, all she could see was the gutted remains of ships that still smoldered, spewing thick waves of noxious smoke into the air. When she had heard the door being unbolted, she had been unable to decide, for the briefest of moments, whether she should attack or hide. She had ultimately done neither.
Zechs set down the lantern and seated himself besides the frightened woman. He took her delicate hands into his large callused ones. He spoke low and with some urgency.
"My lady, the battle has finally come to us. It is time for you to gather up what possessions you have and make ready to depart this place at once. I will take you to your husband."
Meilan desperately wanted to believe the handsome man beside her, but her mind whirled madly, trying to desperately to discover whatever trap waited to ensnare her. Zechs Merquise had been nothing but kind to her, true, but why would he help her escape? Why would he go against the obvious wishes of his captain?
Her doubt must have shown in her eyes, on her face, for the tall blond man sitting besides her squeezed her hands in a reassuring manner and offered her a brilliant smile
"I am not who you, the captain, or the crew of this vessel believe me to be. My real name is Milliardo Peacecraft. I have been working undercover for many years. My confidential orders come directly from his majesty, the King of England.”
He couldn’t help but smile again at the surprised suspicion that blossomed in Meilan’s dark eyes.
“My mission is to destroy the Spanish Armada and thus bring the Spanish dominance of the seas to an end. I swear to you that I speak the truth. I am also to bring the criminal, Commander Treize Khushrenada, captain of the infamous Black Rose, to justice for crimes committed against the British Empire."
He paused for a moment and the screams of dying men punctuated the silence between them.
"Many of my men were aboard the other ships. With a prearranged signal given last night, they took action and sabotaged the gunpowder stores on each vessel. Without gunpowder, the Spanish fleet was unable to bring their formidable guns to bear."
A look of pain flashed over the man's face. How many of his men were still alive? Had any of them been discovered? It was still too early to tell. He offered a brief prayer to a merciful God for their safe deliverance. Many of the men chosen for this mission had been good friends of his. He did not wish any harm to befall them. He shook his head to clear such thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time or the place to be worrying about such matters.
Milliardo Peacecraft stood and, still holding Meilan's hands in his own, pulled her gently to her feet. She seemed to be slightly dazed.
"Come, my lady. Your husband will no doubt be eagerly awaiting your return."
Meilan's mind was whirling from this sudden turn of events. The information she had just learned swirled in her mind. She glanced at Zechs, no Milliardo and a faint smile brightened her face, the first in a long while. She was now free to leave this hateful ship. She would be reunited with her beloved Wufei! For the first time in months she allowed hope to fill her heart. She felt light as the air. She wanted to skip, to laugh, to dance around the room. She was going home!
She nodded once, that smile strengthening and playing over her lips.
"I am ready to depart at once. There is nothing I wish to take away from this horrible place."
She strode purposefully towards the door, her back straight, head held high. With her hand resting lightly on the brass handle, she turned and smiled again at her rescuer.
"Well, are you coming or not?"
Milliardo grinned at the young woman and followed after her. Once he reached the door, his smile faded. He withdrew his sword from the scabbard at his waist. The smooth metal gleamed mellowly in the light of the lantern.
"We must still be careful, my lady." he cautioned. "A battle still rages aboard this vessel. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to you now that you a free to return to your husband."
TO BE CONTINUED…
CHAPTER FIVE
Pairing: 5xM
Category: Songfic, Angst
Rating: R
Warnings: Some reference to NCS and attempted suicide. If any of this may offend you, PLEASE DON’T READ.
Title: Royal Oak
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: (thoughts) //song lyrics//
//Now a fight began about six in the morn'
And on to the setting of the sun
And at the rise of the next dawn
Where we saw ten ships, we couldn't see but one//
//For three we sank, and three we burned
And three we caused to run away
And one we towed to Port Smith Harbor
For to let them know we won the day//
Treize stared in utter disbelief at the only three remaining ships that were retreating into the distant horizon, now bloody red with the dying rays of the sun. His own ships were deserting him! The searing wind roared about him, tearing at his clothes and hair, buffeting him without mercy. It carried with it bits of hot ash and the smoldering stench of scorched wood. The sickly stench of burned flesh viciously assaulted his nose.
He shook his fist at the departing vessels in helpless rage, his voice harsh and cracked. "Come back here, you cowards!"
Of course, the ships had not heard him, and even if they had, it was doubtful they would have heeded his words.
(How can this be?) His mind fumed. (We had outnumbered that English ship ten to one, but we have been all but defeated!)
It appeared that the British vessel had had some sort of new cannons with a far greater range than any other cannons he or his crew had ever witnessed. Before their own mighty ships had even managed to maneuver into firing range, horrendous destruction had rained down on them. The English gunner must either have had amazing aim, or the luck of the devil himself, for all cannons fired had found their marks. Treize grimaced as, in his mind's eye, he saw the appalling balls of destruction slamming into the hulls of his ships, ripping into their bodies, shredding the solid wood planking as easily as one shredded paper. Even now the dying screams of his men echoed through the chambers of his mind.
Unfortunately, the cannons had not been the only means of attack employed by the English, nor were they the most devastating. The wily captain Yuy had used some sort of oil that, when set alight and catapulted towards the Spanish vessels, had enveloped three of his ships in waves of flames moments after they had been struck. The oil had made the fire all but impossible to smother. Water, the only means the terrified crew had had to combat the inferno, only spread the devastation further until even the very ocean had been awash in flame.
Desperate for deliverance from the burning carnage, men had plunged into the depths of the sea. But the sea had offered no salvation. The terrible flames that burned easily over the surface of the water had engulfed those poor unfortunate souls. The oil tainting the water swirled in delicate patterns, a multitude of different hues, beautiful, yet lethal, like a swirling rainbow trapped in the sea's chilly embrace.
All in all, the day might still have been won save for the fact that the gunpowder for their Spanish cannons had been mysteriously tampered with. Barrels had been broken open, powder scattered like so much useless dust. Treize suspected some sort of conspiracy, but he had not had the opportunity to get to the bottom of the mess. When this battle was over and won, he vowed that someone would pay for this deceit, oh yes; there would be a reckoning.
Unable to return fire, the remaining three ships had decided it high time to beat a judicial retreat. Honestly, Treize could not really blame them. But he did all the same- he just couldn't help it. To retreat in the face of insurmountable odds struck him as being a little too cowardly. It was too much for the proud officer to bear. He would never retreat from an enemy. No! To fight to death in the name of one's king and country, there was no greater glory. No sacrifice more noble.
Never in all his life had Treize Khushrenada witnessed such a devastating attack. His mind whirled at the very thought of the unknown number of souls that had perished on this hellish day. How many sons, fathers, and brothers had been lost to the ravaging inferno? To the cold embrace of the unfeeling sea? Maybe it was better not to ask, not to know.
Treize closed his eyes and tried to block such horrific thoughts from his mind. But he could not. The carnage of this day would linger in his memory always. Even if he lived to be one hundred.
Khushrenada's horrified thoughts were interrupted by a metallic ‘thunk’. His eyes flew open and he whirled in the direction of the sound, just in time to see a grappling hook sunk deep into the wooden railing. Ah, so now the final assault would begin. He turned frantically and spotted his second in command a few feet down the deck from him. Treize's hurried towards him, his eyes wild, his usually impeccably styled hair in disarray.
"Zechs, go protect Meilan. I don't want any harm to come to her. Do you understand?"
His usually calm, cultured voice had been transformed into the hoarse yell of a demented madman. Zechs hurried to the captain's quarters without a moment's delay.
The last handful of Spanish soldiers had gathered raggedly around their commander. A few were survivors from the other six vessels that had been destroyed. All were armed with either swords or daggers. A few had pistols, as well. The haggard men were grim and determined. If this was their day to die, then, by God, they were going to take as many spineless British dogs with them as they could.
*****
Having arrived at his captain's chambers, Zechs unlocked the cabin's door and cautiously entered, pausing for a few moments to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Faintly, he could make out a small figure sitting on the bed. With smooth efficient movements, Zechs set about lighting the kerosene lantern that rested upon the small wooden dining table. He shut and locked the door behind him and taking up the lantern, quickly strode over to Meilan who watched his approach with some apprehension.
Meilan's eyes were wide with barley-contained fright and uncertainty. She clutched her robe about her slender body. The sounds of battle had been bombarding her enclosed world since early morning, yet she did not know who was winning or what truly was going on outside the confines of the cabin. She had been locked in, imprisoned in the dim cabin all day without food or water. But this had not bothered her too much. No, what she feared was being trapped inside, forgotten and left alone to die if the Black Rose were to sink or be set afire like so many of the other galleons.
The wretched screams of dying men and the horribly loud roaring of the cannons had unnerved her terribly. The smoldering stench of burning wood and bodies drifted in through the open portal. From her vantage point, all she could see was the gutted remains of ships that still smoldered, spewing thick waves of noxious smoke into the air. When she had heard the door being unbolted, she had been unable to decide, for the briefest of moments, whether she should attack or hide. She had ultimately done neither.
Zechs set down the lantern and seated himself besides the frightened woman. He took her delicate hands into his large callused ones. He spoke low and with some urgency.
"My lady, the battle has finally come to us. It is time for you to gather up what possessions you have and make ready to depart this place at once. I will take you to your husband."
Meilan desperately wanted to believe the handsome man beside her, but her mind whirled madly, trying to desperately to discover whatever trap waited to ensnare her. Zechs Merquise had been nothing but kind to her, true, but why would he help her escape? Why would he go against the obvious wishes of his captain?
Her doubt must have shown in her eyes, on her face, for the tall blond man sitting besides her squeezed her hands in a reassuring manner and offered her a brilliant smile
"I am not who you, the captain, or the crew of this vessel believe me to be. My real name is Milliardo Peacecraft. I have been working undercover for many years. My confidential orders come directly from his majesty, the King of England.”
He couldn’t help but smile again at the surprised suspicion that blossomed in Meilan’s dark eyes.
“My mission is to destroy the Spanish Armada and thus bring the Spanish dominance of the seas to an end. I swear to you that I speak the truth. I am also to bring the criminal, Commander Treize Khushrenada, captain of the infamous Black Rose, to justice for crimes committed against the British Empire."
He paused for a moment and the screams of dying men punctuated the silence between them.
"Many of my men were aboard the other ships. With a prearranged signal given last night, they took action and sabotaged the gunpowder stores on each vessel. Without gunpowder, the Spanish fleet was unable to bring their formidable guns to bear."
A look of pain flashed over the man's face. How many of his men were still alive? Had any of them been discovered? It was still too early to tell. He offered a brief prayer to a merciful God for their safe deliverance. Many of the men chosen for this mission had been good friends of his. He did not wish any harm to befall them. He shook his head to clear such thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time or the place to be worrying about such matters.
Milliardo Peacecraft stood and, still holding Meilan's hands in his own, pulled her gently to her feet. She seemed to be slightly dazed.
"Come, my lady. Your husband will no doubt be eagerly awaiting your return."
Meilan's mind was whirling from this sudden turn of events. The information she had just learned swirled in her mind. She glanced at Zechs, no Milliardo and a faint smile brightened her face, the first in a long while. She was now free to leave this hateful ship. She would be reunited with her beloved Wufei! For the first time in months she allowed hope to fill her heart. She felt light as the air. She wanted to skip, to laugh, to dance around the room. She was going home!
She nodded once, that smile strengthening and playing over her lips.
"I am ready to depart at once. There is nothing I wish to take away from this horrible place."
She strode purposefully towards the door, her back straight, head held high. With her hand resting lightly on the brass handle, she turned and smiled again at her rescuer.
"Well, are you coming or not?"
Milliardo grinned at the young woman and followed after her. Once he reached the door, his smile faded. He withdrew his sword from the scabbard at his waist. The smooth metal gleamed mellowly in the light of the lantern.
"We must still be careful, my lady." he cautioned. "A battle still rages aboard this vessel. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to you now that you a free to return to your husband."
TO BE CONTINUED…
CHAPTER FIVE
