#NorriHook

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@heartthrobxhook

*casually grabs his ass as he walks by*

After a gasp startle, clears his throat! Needless to say he hadn't expected that.

"Right. Ah, g-Good morning to you too, Captain "

@heartthrobxhook

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Unlike the Commodore, Hook had seen the island before and been in this land for many a year - it was nothing new and therefore, he was not distracted.

He waited for his opening and when the Commodore was caught off balance, the Captain took his chance and lunged.

His blade expertly wafted through the air, making an audible whipping noise as it went forward, catching the man's hand to disarm him and as the blade fell, the pirate caught it with his foot and kicked it away, pointing his own sword at the Commodore throat, a victorious smile on his face.

"Now then," he breathed heavily, still riding the high from the battle. "Call off your men and perhaps we may sit down and speak like CIVILISED gentlemen?"

The air whistled as Hook’s blade cut through it, striking true. Norrington felt the searing pain before he saw the blood, his grip weakening as the pirate’s sword sliced across his wrist. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the deck with a hollow ring. Norrington instinctively reached to stanch the flow of blood, but before he could react further, Hook’s boot caught the fallen blade and sent it skidding out of reach.

The Commodore staggered back, his breath catching as the cold steel of Hook’s sword pressed against his throat. He looked up into the pirate’s victorious grin, his mind racing even as the adrenaline surged through his veins. Despite the pain and the sting of defeat, there was a part of him—however small—that couldn’t help but admire the pirate’s skill.

The Commodore winced, his hand slick with blood as it stained the cuff of his once-pristine uniform. The fabric fluttered in the light breeze, the crimson staining the white. He was cornered, disarmed, and at the mercy of a man who clearly knew this strange land far better than he did.

Norrington’s eyes flicked to his men, still locked in a desperate struggle against Hook’s crew. They were fighting bravely, but the odds were against them. His pride screamed at him to resist, to fight until the end, but the rational part of him—the part that valued the lives of his men—knew that this battle was lost. Their lives meant more to him than his pride.

"s-Stand down!" Norrington called out, his voice slightly shaken, given the situation. "Lower your weapons!"

His men hesitated, clearly unwilling to surrender, but the sight of their Commodore at sword point, weaponless and wounded quelled their defiance. "Commodore!" One by one, they lowered their weapons, the sounds of battle dying down as the pirates closed in, collecting the surrendered arms.

"I…. will speak with you, Captain," The young Commodore utters, trying to keep his voice steady despite the pain and humiliation. " I only ask that you.. give my men quarter. "

Commodore Norrington's breath came in controlled bursts as he matched Captain Hook strike for strike. and despite the chaotic circumstances, he couldn't deny the thrill of the duel. Hook's footwork was nimble, his movements almost like a dance, and his blade was quick, yet Norrington kept pace, his own precision and discipline honed over years of service in His Majesty’s Navy.

But Hook’s words, spoken with that unnerving sing-song lilt, echoed in Norrington’s mind. “We shall see how you will be faring once you realize the proper of your situation!” The taunt grated on him, not for its content, but because, in the midst of this battle, Norrington began to wonder—what was their situation? "The.. devil are you talking about??"

His focus wavered for just a moment as Hook’s laughter filled the air. Around them, the storm that had initially brought them to this strange place was beginning to clear. The fog lifted, revealing an archipelago of islands surrounded by an endless, alien sea. The atmosphere felt different, charged with something unfamiliar—something magical.

One of Norrington’s men, still standing amidst the chaos, suddenly shouted over the noise of the battle. "Commodore! The land—it isn’t right, sir! We’re not where we’re supposed to be!"

Norrington’s eyes flicked to the sailor, his heart skipping a beat as the words sank in. His grip on his sword tightened, the realization dawning on him that they were not just lost at sea—they were somewhere entirely else.

The distraction was enough. In that split second, Hook’s sword came at him with renewed ferocity, the blade nearly striking true as Norrington barely managed to parry in time. The force of the blow sent a jolt through his arm, and for the first time, he felt truly off balance. Stumbling back with an "Ah!" Now was the pirate's chance.

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@pyramultimuse from Killian 'Captain Hook': "This is a waste of everyone's time. I'm going to tell you the same thing I told the last people who tried to hang me: I can't die." He tried to explain as the noose was placed around his neck. "Are you really going to let me hang here for hours choking or can we work something out?"

Commodore Norrington stared at the notorious pirate, Captain Hook, as the noose was being placed around his neck. He couldn't help but feel skeptical of the man's claims that he couldn't die. Though he does grant a momentary reprieve from the executioner, holding up a hand.

"Can't die?" Norrington raised an eyebrow, "That's as likely as I being pirate." sarcasm thick. His men gave few snickers and good natured laugh at his ribbing of their captive.

" Tell me, why should I believe you, Pirate? Sounds rather farfetched to me. No man is immortal" @pyramultimuse

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@sonofirishseas​ @firstlove-thesea​ @secondbcrnpiracy​

my esteemed rival,

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James listened to Killian's words, his expression growing solemn. The pirate's accusations struck a chord within him, reminding him of the complexities and compromises inherent in his role as a naval officer. While he believed in his duty to protect innocent lives, he couldn't deny the inherent flaws and injustices within the system he served.

"You're right," James admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of resignation and determination. "The path I've chosen may not always align with my ideals. But I strive to make a difference where I can, to uphold justice in a flawed world."

He sighed heavily, realizing that further conversation might not yield the results he desired. "I understand that you seek leverage and information in exchange. While I cannot promise immediate action, I will make inquiries and examine the naval ship logs as you suggest. If it can shed light on the truth and potentially help us find a resolution, I will pursue it."

He paused, looking at Killian intently. "We are both prisoners in our own ways, Hook. Perhaps there is a way for us to find common ground and work towards a mutual understanding. But that will require trust and a willingness to communicate. The choice is yours."

James turned to leave, . "Remember, though, that true power lies not in what you withhold, but in what you choose to share. We may yet find a way to resolve this situation without further bloodshed."

"You are not judge or jury, only executioner. Only thing you're achieving is hurting innocent lives, there are people who count on me. Who I protect. They will die thinking I abandoned them." The pirate said and pointed to James with his hook. "You don't care about innocent lives, you only care about about your king's people. Rulers are all the same, they convince you to serve them but once you are of no more use they toss you away. You're expendable, just like I was."

Killian went back to the far wall of his cell to sit back down on the floor. His demeanor reflected he wasn't interested in talking to James any more. "Just because you have morals doesn't mean those you tell will have the same." The pirate crossed his arms and stared over at his captor. "I'm not giving any more information for free. You want to know more you got to give something. Maybe go look at the naval ship logs of those I've 'attacked'? I've hardly sunk any so I'm sure they're somewhere. Might be surprised by what you read."

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James felt the heat still rushing through his body, the aftermath of the kiss leaving him breathless and dazed. He hadn’t expected to lose himself in the moment like that, but with Killian so close, the raw passion between them had been impossible to resist. The taste of rum still lingered on his tongue, and yet, despite the rush, the captain pulled away, forcing them back to the reality of the battle they had just won. "I - ah" he uttered sheepishly, fearing backlash. But got none.

James chuckled softly, the words not quite sinking in as he reached up to rub the back of his neck, still feeling the lingering warmth of the kiss. “I’m not sure I can promise to be sober, but I assure you I’ll.. certainly be ready for whatever comes next,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The lighthearted tone didn’t mask the way his heart was still racing, his body buzzing with the closeness, the connection they had just shared.

Killian gave his scruffy jaw a quick pat before stepping away, and James watched him go, noticing the captain's sharp focus as he moved to join the rest of his crew below deck. The teasing cheers of the crew reached his ears, and James was pulled from the haze of his thoughts. Several pirates came over to him, clapping him on the back, congratulating him for joining the fight and ribbing him about wooing the captain. James smiled at their banter, a little self-conscious but grateful for their acceptance. They didn’t seem to mind what had happened between him and Killian. If anything, they seemed to be encouraging it.

“Not bad for a stuffy former commodore..” one of the men laughed, and James couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

As the crew dispersed to get to work, James’ thoughts turned inward, considering what had just happened. He had always been good at maintaining a professional distance in his previous life, but this was different. Killian had shown him a side of life he hadn’t dared to embrace before. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and James had the sudden, unsettling feeling that he might be in danger of falling for the young captain.

But that would have to wait. There was work to be done. He had already fought like a pirate; now, it was time to act like one.

He followed the crew down below deck, helping with the selection of the cargo. Spices, silks, and other goods from the far east—it was a haul worth fighting for, and as the pirates loaded the loot onto the Jolly Roger, James couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at obsconding with certain maps, giving them insight to where other ships merchant and naval alike were stationed. This was the life now.

The work continued, and soon, everything was in order. The Jolly Roger was ready to sail again. As James made his way back up to the deck, he caught sight of Killian looking out over the crew, watching the cargo being prepared to be lowered into the ship’s hold.

James,will you join me in my cabin?

The request hit James like a bolt of lightning, his pulse quickening once again. He met Killian’s gaze, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them. He didn’t hesitate. There was no reason to.

“ I would love nothing more, Captain. Please, Lead the way,” James replied, his voice low and steady. He felt the heat return, a more deliberate, slow burn now, as he followed Killian toward the captain’s cabin, anticipation swirling in his gut.

When the door closed behind them, the world outside disappeared. Only Killian remained. And James couldn’t deny the truth any longer—he wanted this. Wanted him. He would explore it, wherever it led.

It was surprising how the other kissed back, his face grasped and kissed at feverously. Killian certainly wasn't expecting this but he was not disappointed in the slightest. The taste of rum on the other man's tongue made it all the better, like a treat he just couldn't get enough of. Parting for a moment the way James spoke sent a shiver of excitement down his spine then pulled in for another kiss.

Killian seemed to have unlocked something more than just the other's fighting spirit in this moment. Being pulled flush against James' body and into another kiss, a muffled moan leaving him in pure delight. But the cheers and teasing of the crew reminded him that they were in the middle of something else. The young captain had to break the kiss, his face completely flushed from the wave of passion James drenched him in and stole his breath away.

"There is still work to be done, James." He cleared his throat to gather his composure and sheath his sword. "We can continue celebrating later if you're still interested when you're sober." Killian said giving the other's scruffy jaw a pat before stepping away.

"Let's go inspect the cargo and start loading it onto Jolly." Killian ordered as he stepped over some corpses to follow his men below deck. Some of the pirates went over to James to congratulate him on joining them in the fight and woo'ing the captain with that kiss, patting him on the back and encouraging to make a move later. They did not seemed bothered at all by this as they just wanted to support what made their captain happy.

Killian had avoided anything serious on the seas when it came to relationships. His main concern was showing favoritism having a partner among the crew. But having James around had him questioning that logic. Why not have someone close he could have fun with than just finding one nighters in ports? He thought things like this over as he inspected the cargo of spices and silks from the far east as well as many other goods. Though their ship couldn't hold everything, choices had to be made and they would take what was most valuable as well as what rations and fresh water they could grab. They would make their way to the nearest port to sell what they could take and if they were quick enough they might be able to return and claim the rest before someone else does.

With the cargo selected Killian had his pick and made his way back aboard Jolly to watch their loot get loaded onto the deck and prepared to be lowered into the belly of the hull. With everything going smoothly he looked for the newest pirate. "James, Will you join me in my cabin?" Killian requested, trying not to show how interested he was in picking up where they left off.

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James sat on a crate near the railing, the bottle in his hand almost empty as he tried to drown the gnawing guilt. He’d told himself he wouldn’t fight, that he wasn’t one of them. But every cannon blast, every shout of Killian’s commands, and every cheer from the crew only made the knot in his stomach tighten.

He tipped the bottle back for another drink, the rum burned its way down his throat. It did nothing to quell the itch growing inside him, the one that screamed he should be out there. You are not really a pirate he reminded himself.

The ship rocked slightly, and the sound of steel clashing across the water reached him. His gaze drifted to the spyglass he’d discarded earlier, lying on the deck near his feet. Hesitating, James set the bottle down and picked up the spyglass, raising it to his eye.

What he saw made his breath catch. The crew had managed to board the merchant ship, but it was chaos. The East India sailors fought with relentless precision, their numbers clearly overwhelming Killian and his men. And there, at the center of it all, was Killian himself, a whirl of motion and fury as he fended off attacks from all sides.

But even Killian’s skill had its limits. James could see the strain in his movements, the exhaustion in his eyes as he barely dodged another swing.

James lowered the spyglass, his jaw tight. He could feel the pulse of his own heartbeat in his ears, pounding louder than the distant cacophony of battle.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, standing abruptly.

His hand went to the sword at his hip, the weight of it suddenly familiar and comforting. His hesitation melted away as he swung a leg over the railing. With one last glance back at the ship, James muttered, “I’m not letting him have all the fun."

Without another thought, James sprinted to the side of the ship. The sounds of steel clashing and shouts of pain grew louder as he grabbed a rope. With a deep breath, he swung across the gap, landing heavily on the merchant ship’s deck.

The chaos hit him like a wall: bodies clashing, blades flashing, blood pooling at his feet. But James was only invigorated.

“Captain!” he shouted, He raised his sword and charged, cutting down the three sailors attacking Killian in quick succession. His strikes were precise, honed from years of naval training, and this gave him a strange, unexpected thrill.

“Apologies for earlier,” Addressing the Captain now, his voice sharp with sincerity. He cut down another sailor with a deft swing. “I couldn’t very well let my captain get himself killed, now could I?”

Killian's eyes narrowed as his orders were directly ignored, the blatant disrespect to the captain stung as embarrassing as a slap in the face. He could feel the eyes of his crew who had heard their conversation and witness this. Be it pirate or navy officer refusing orders was not a good look, allowing it even more so but Killian let it slide as he didn't want to upset the man like he had when shooting upon the Dauntless. With a huff he turned away to leave James to his drinking.

"Fine. Just don't get in the way." He snapped as he marched up to the quarter deck to take over the helm. Focusing on sailing and their target would get his mind off the irritation James had stirred up. The evasive maneuvers would do nothing as the Jolly Roger could move swiftly, Killian at the wheel turning the ship broadside when the cannons were ready and they fired upon the other vessel. Straightening out to close some distance before turning and firing another round, securing that their target wouldn't be getting away.

Anticipation for a fight grew in everyone as they caught up to the East India Trading company ship. It was a larger vessel then initially thought, but that wouldn't stop them. They had started this fight and they were going to finish it. "Prepare to board! All hands! Show them we know no fear!" Killian rallied his men as they pulled up along the side opposite to where James had been. Grappling hooks tossed and the pirates would pull the ships close to swing and cross over.

Killian left the helm to join the fight, swinging over and dropping onto the other deck he drew his sword and quickly parried an oncoming attack. These sailors were very skilled, trained for this exact situation, but it was quickly apparent that they outnumbered the pirates three to one. This did not deter the pirates at all, they were also skilled and loved the challenge as it made victory all the sweeter when they won. They were making progress but it would be a long fight.

The young captain was in the thick of it, surrounded on all sides fighting viciously as he continued to turn back and forth in an attempt not to leave himself open while fighting so many at once. He plunged his sword into the gut of one man then used him as a shield to block another attack, he pushed him off his blade to shove into another then spun around to catch a blade with his hook and kicked them away. Killian ducked out of the way and clashed swords with another, he was agile and quick but as the fight dragged on it was clearly starting to wear him down and exhaustion would start setting in.

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James stood at the railing, gripping the spyglass tightly as the pirate ship surged toward the East India Trading Company vessel. Killian’s words still rang in his ears, a challenge cloaked in curiosity and laced with a taunt: Will you be participating or standing by and watching?

He’d declined, of course “No thank you. I have no desire to spill blood, especially not in the name of piracy.” slightly slurred Norrington.

He didn't man the cannons either. Instead taking another long drink and ignoring the Captain's orders.

Now, as the pirate ship closed in on its prey, James felt a gnawing unease. His mind flashed to the men on that merchant ship—men who were just doing their duty, much as he once had aboard the Dauntless. He told himself he wasn’t like Killian’s crew, that he couldn’t condone this kind of violence for those who weren't pirates. And yet, as the pirates cheered and the cannon crews sprang into action, James felt another emotion stirring beneath his reluctance: guilt.

He wasn’t helping the men on the merchant ship, nor was he aiding the crew he now sailed with. Instead, he was standing idle, letting others shoulder the burden of battle while he wallowed in indecision.

The ship rocked as the long guns fired, the thunderous roar jarring James from his thoughts. He lifted the spyglass, scanning the scene ahead. The East India ship was taking evasive maneuvers, but it was no match for Killian’s nimble vessel. The first shots had already disabled its foremast, leaving it vulnerable.

James lowered the spyglass, his knuckles white where they gripped the rail. He tried to push down the rising tide of emotions—conflicted loyalties, helplessness, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

“Coward,” he muttered under his breath, his own voice stinging more than Killian’s words ever could. Now alone, the adrenaline coursing through the crew had been infectious, yet he’d resisted. And that guilt began to gnaw at him.

He thought of the crew—how they had welcomed him, even after his initial hostility. How they had laughed with him, shared their stories, and taught him their songs. They had shown him kindness in their own strange way, and now they were risking their lives while he remained behind.

James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn it all…”

He wanted to turn away, to retreat below deck and block it all out. But the longer he watched, the more his guilt grew. These men had taken him in, given him a place among them. And still he was… doing nothing.

With the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other James hesitated, his feet rooted to the deck. He was no pirate. He couldn’t be a pirate.

But he also couldn’t ignore the pull of responsibility—if not to the fight, then at least to the men he’d begun to consider comrades. To Killian that the East India company had so cruelly wronged .. and if he truly thought about it… to himself.. used like a loyal dog begging for scraps of praise. Besides that.. when he was drunk like this.. he was itching to fight. He was missing all the fun.

Killian had felt the pain in James' voice when they fired upon the Dauntless and watched him disappear below deck. Some guilt bubbled up in his chest as if that had been the Jolly Roger he would've felt the same pain. The captain did not follow, no words could comfort the man and he was sure his presence was not wanted. He would give James his space and some time to recover.

After some days Killian needed his new navigator to step up. Working together with him and the crew tensions eased back down, even getting James to laugh and sing along with their shanties. Killian admired how the other was finding himself and the change that took place, James was coming out of his shell and being the man he was meant to be. He couldn't help but think to himself James looked better this way. Though his type had always been the tall rugged men.

Late in the morning the lookout called attention to sails. Killian was excited for this as he came down beside James and used his spyglass to look out at the vessel. "Not just any merchant ship, an East India Trading company ship." There was darkness in his tone as the royal navy might've betrayed him it was the East India Trading company that killed his former crew. He handed the spyglass over to James and turned to his crew.

"We leave no quarter to these dogs! I want every man gutted on that ship, show no mercy as they would show none to us!" Killian called out with a growl to his tone. The usual cheerful demeanor set aside with a bloodbath on the horizon. "Hard to starboard! Ready the long guns! Aim for the masts, we don't want to damage the cargo! Full sail!" He began shouting orders and the crew hurried to follow. The ship making the turn towards the merchant ship, the captain easily shifting his weight on his feet to keep steady. He looked to the men raising their flag and fully opening the sails to give them more speed towards their target.

His attention turned back to James. "Will you be participating or standing by and watching?" Killian asked curiously. He had told James he didn't have to, but wondered if he could convince the man to join in on the action. "You really going to miss out on the thrill of battle? I should also mention those who don't participate don't get a cut of the loot. So if you want to enjoy the spoils you're either joining in the fight when we board them or you can go down below and help man the cannons."

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James had never been much of a drinker, but after the first few glasses shared with Killian, he found himself succumbing to the warm camaraderie of the evening. The pirate captain’s charm was disarming in ways James couldn’t resist, and before long, his usually sharp composure had dulled. By the time the next glass was poured, James’s sentences were slurred, his laughter easy, and his posture decidedly relaxed.

When sleep overtook him at last, he barely registered Killian’s arms slipping beneath him to carry him. A soft, unguarded murmur escaped James’s lips as he nuzzled into the captain’s shoulder, his voice hazy and faint: "Mm such a fine man…" It was unclear if the words were meant for Killian or some dreamlike echo, but they were cooed.

The following days aboard the ship were strangely pleasant. James had braced himself for rough treatment—mockery, or worse, disdain—but the crew’s friendliness left him quietly bewildered. They seemed genuinely happy to have him aboard, offering small gestures of kindness, whether sharing a drink or including him in their songs.

It was… unfamiliar. James had always been surrounded by duty, formality, and expectations. The camaraderie here, though coarse, was warm in a way he hadn’t known before. He didn’t let on, of course, maintaining his air of polite detachment, but the realization stayed with him.

Still, it wasn’t enough to quell the ache in his chest when Port Royal came into view.

As they approached Port Royal, James’s sense of unease grew. The sight of the familiar coastline made his chest tighten, and he stood at the quarterdeck, tense, as Killian gave his orders. When the Interceptor was cut loose, James felt a flicker of relief—until Killian gave the command to fire.

The mortar cannon’s roar was deafening, and James’s breath caught as he watched the fiery explosion rip into the Dauntless. His Dauntless. The ship that had been his pride, his home.

"No!!"

He couldn’t bear it. The sight of its sails collapsing in flames felt like a dagger to his chest. The laughter from Killian and his crew twisted the knife further. Without a word, James turned on his heel and descended below deck, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

He found a quiet corner in the dimly lit hold and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he pressed his hands to his temples. The muffled sounds of chaos above—screams, cannon fire, the laughter of pirates—felt unbearable.

How had it come to this? His ship, his home… reduced to ash under his watch. And he, Commodore James Norrington, could do nothing but flee below deck, shame and helplessness intertwining into a knot in his chest.

--

The days following the attack on Port Royal were strained. James kept his distance from Killian, offering little more than curt nods and terse answers when spoken to. The warmth of their earlier camaraderie seemed to evaporate, replaced by a quiet storm of resentment and guilt that lingered in James’s chest.

The crew, for their part, remained kind, but even their spirited songs and good-natured ribbing couldn’t coax James from his thoughts. He spent most of his time below deck or on the forecastle, keeping to himself.

That was until their course brought them into unfamiliar waters, and his skills were needed.

“You’re needed, Commodore,” one of the crew said with a playful lilt, standing behind James at the railing.

James turned, the title stinging like salt in a wound. “Former Commodore,” he corrected, his tone clipped. But he followed, unwilling to let his lingering frustration blind him to the importance of safe navigation.

The work steadied him, as it always had. Soon, with the wind in his hair and the sun setting behind them, James found his mood softening against his better judgment. Killian’s charm was insidious, creeping into their exchanges, and before long, James was reluctantly laughing at some roguish quip.

The crew didn’t help matters, offering drinks and hearty encouragement to loosen up. Over the next two weeks, James began to ease back into their rhythm. He still held onto his pride and an edge of formality, but the walls he’d built were cracking. Even singing along when the rum was plentiful enough.

By the time two weeks had passed, James was nearly unrecognizable from the pristine commodore who had first stepped aboard. His once-clean-shaven face now sported the start of a scruffy beard, his hair growing untamed. He was no stranger to drink now, though he maintained enough restraint to avoid full debauchery—most of the time. For he was looser around Killian and couldn't help the way his eyes looked at him when he was under it's influence. Wanting more than just brandy and company.. but refused to admit that to himself when sober.

He was leaning against the railing with a half-empty tankard when the lookout called down from the crow’s nest:

“Sails off the starboard bow! Merchant vessel!”

Killian had taken notice in how easily it was to unravel the other's composure with their close proximity. He knew exactly what he had been doing, charm was something he was very good at. A skill he used often to get his way or to get out of difficult situation, but using it on James was even more fun. Exciting in a way he hadn't expected in awhile, but for the other's sake he kept things casual that evening and they drank and chatted until the former commodore couldn't hold his liquor any longer and passed out. Killian brought him over to the bed to sleep comfortably and he got some sleep as well.

The following two days was peaceful sailing, the pirate crew were all friendly to James knowing Killian's plan was to keep him rather than return him to the Interceptor. When they weren't raiding they were a rather cheery bunch, often singing shanties while they worked. During the day the young captain would help with some work or was at the helm himself, enjoying to sail most of all. As they neared the bay of Port Royal he ordered them to raise the brit's colors, leaving them to think they were a friendly ship that had saved the interceptor from pirates.

"What do you see Mr. Smee?" Killian asked his first mate looking through the spyglass.

"The Dauntless is anchored at the docks, the other ships look like merchants and fisherman, Captain." The first mate replied.

There was a pause as he thought for a moment. "Load the mortar. Discreetly. I'll bring her about and once we cut the Interceptor free, fire upon the Dauntless. I don't want her giving chase." He told Smee who nodded and headed down from the quarterdeck to grab some men to prepare the mortar.

"All hands! Bring her to half sail!" Killian called out as they sailed into the bay, going around wide then turning to tow the Interceptor close to shore so the men wouldn't have to row far. Once in position he raised his hook. "Cut the lines!" The crew chopped the tow lines free and once they did he lowered his hook. "FIRE!"

The mortar cannon shot fired out, screams and panic sounded on the docks as people scrambled to get to safety. The fiery cannonball lobbed right into the deck of the Dauntless, ripping through it's sails and rigging along the way. The burning whale oil it was coated in splattered across the deck, and started to quickly spread. Killian tossed his head back in laughter as he turned the ships wheel to head back out to sea. Both fortunately and unfortunately no one had been on the Dauntless so there was no casualties, but that also meant a slower response to putting the fires out. The Port was quite helpless now and if Killian had been a cruel pirate he could've easily fired upon the citizens and pillaged the town. No, instead he'd rather taunt them and replaced the brit's flag with their own pirate flag to let them know just who decimated their ships.

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James's sharp retort died on his tongue the moment Hook's cold hook tilted his chin upward, forcing their gazes to lock. The proximity was staggering—closer than James could recall anyone standing.

His breath hitched, and for the first time in years, words escaped him entirely. His mind raced, desperately clawing for composure, for something clever or cutting to say, but all he managed was an incoherent, "I—uhm—w-well…"

The fluttering in his chest felt foreign, unwelcome yet undeniable, and far more potent than anything he'd felt even when confessing to Elizabeth. His green eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as though to speak again, but no sound came out. Instead, his gaze darted to Killian's smirking face, those sharp blue eyes watching him intently, a glint of victory in them. Then those lips.

"I…" he tried again, voice softer this time, betraying his bewilderment. His cheeks were warm, the flush creeping up his face, and he cursed inwardly for such a blatant display of weakness. What was it about this man that unraveled him so completely?

The scent of brandy lingered on Killian's breath, mingling with the sea salt in the air, making James’s head spin even further. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to straighten despite the hook still under his chin. "I don't--…" he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, "I… you… that's hardly… proper." The words tumbled out unevenly.

It wasn’t the response he wanted—no, he’d intended something commanding, something to regain the upper hand—but the quiver in his voice betrayed him. And worst of all, he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

Saved by smee in a manner. As soon as the knock came, James felt like he could finally breathe again. He barely noticed how tightly his chest had been constricted, his uniform suddenly stifling. While Smee spoke, James exhaled a shaky breath and tugged at his cravat, loosening it to ease the suffocating heat that seemed to have settled over him. His gaze drifted toward the floor, his thoughts scattered, though he listened intently to the exchange between Hook and his loyal first mate.

Indefinitely. The word stuck in James’s mind like a splinter. His pulse quickened at the realization of just how precarious his position was now—not a prisoner in chains, but still thoroughly ensnared.

When Smee finally departed, leaving the two of them alone once more, James hesitated, his composure barely pieced back together. He cleared his throat softly, a reflexive gesture as Killian’s attention turned back to him.

"Fun?" James repeated stiffly, his voice carrying the faintest note of incredulity. He adjusted the loosened collar of his coat and shifted in his seat as though even the idea of such a thing was an ill fit. "So sorry, I’m ...afraid I’m not acquainted with the concept. I’m a Norrington, after all."

The young captain snickered when James spoke of stopping him "Would you have? After I've just bested you? Not even if you were sailing the Dauntless. You'd need a man-o-war to stop me." He said and lifted his hook to tilt up James' chin to look into those green. "But that doesn't matter anymore, the english has lost their commodore, you're mine now."

Killian was so close they were nearly nose to nose. Would he have gone in for a kiss, James wouldn't find out as a knock on the door interrupted them and the pirate pulled away. Going over to answer it was his first mate standing at the door.

"We've loaded up the cargo and have the Interceptor tied up and ready to go." Mr. Smee informed the captain and tilted his head to glance over at their guest curiously for a moment before continuing. "We've also set aside some of the Mr Norrington's belongings."

"Well done, Smee. Very thoughtful, make some room for him in the crew's quarters and put his things there. My dear friend will be staying with us indefinitely. If there's nothing else to report set sail for Port Royal." Killian said and received an aye captain in response and left the pair alone. He closed the door came back over to sit down. "I think you'll like it here James, we aren't a bunch of uptight snobs and I'm no prude captain. We're a lively bunch, you'll loosen up and have some fun. You definitely need to unwind."

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

James leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips as he regarded Killian. “I’ll admit, you’ve managed to paint a rather unsettling picture of this place. Sounds more like a cursed utopia than a true sanctuary.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the chart again. “A place where even immortality isn’t enough to grant peace. So, in the end, you were trapped by far more than the island itself. "

He shook his head, more out of disbelief than judgment. “Still, to be fair, I’m sure I’d trade cursed pirates for the company of mad children. "

James felt the brief contact of their shoulders, and though he made an effort to remain composed, there was an odd, inexplicable sensation that crept up his spine. He shifted slightly, trying to focus on the words Killian was speaking, but the closeness lingered in his thoughts longer than he cared to admit.

He cleared his throat, pushing aside whatever strange flutter had arisen in his chest, and looked Killian directly in the eye. "Sounds like Pan’s a twisted version of something far worse than just a child with the ability to fly." James’s tone was calm, though his mind was still distracted by the strange moment, his gaze flickering to the brandy bottle as he tried to regain his composure. " No wonder you speak of him with such disdain."

James couldn't help but scoff at the thought, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smirk. "If you'd gone down that path, I'd have found a way to stop you. I don't care how many ships you've sunk or forts you've destroyed. The English navy has a way of dealing with pests like you. A thorn, sure, but one that can be pruned away with the right tactics."

He leaned back, studying Killian's confident demeanor with a more calculating eye. "The king might be humiliated now, but he has an endless supply of men and ships to throw at any problem. You'd be just another target in the grand scheme of things."

"It's quite a beautiful island, lush jungle with plentiful fruits and wild boar among other animals to hunt. Then there were the fairies and mermaids, a magical place that would be paradise. But Peter Pan and his Lost Boys, children he's kidnapped and brought to the island turned them into crazed savages. Unpredictable and sadistic, I'd gladly would've taken undead pirates over them! We might not have to worry about dying of old age but we are certainly not immortal."

Killian got up from his desk and stepped around to the front to lean up against it beside James, close enough to bump shoulder's with. "Yes, Neverland is something of a child's bedtime story. But it comes from old pagan folklore of a creature that steals children away and turns them into monsters to be it's minion followers." He slowly sipped the last of his brandy and set the glass down, licking the droplets from his lips. "Pan might appear as just a flying human boy, but I've seen what he's capable of. He's a demon when the skin of a child."

He shrugged at the other's weariness. It was a silly tale, and not as bad a cursed place as some of the other things out on the seas. "Despite that, I've been a pretty nasty thorn in the royal navy's side. I've sunk or severely damaged over a dozen ships, looted twice as many merchant and trade vessels. Even eliminated a three forts all on my one lone ship. I've basically wiped out the equivalent of an army and fleet with my expertise strategy and tactics. How humiliated the king must be that one man with one ship can destroy his control over these waters." Killian felt very smug about his own long list of accomplishments. "Imagine if I became a privateer for France? These would no longer be English colonies."

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

"Oh believe me, I've no desire to tell any pirate anything let alone my identity. "

Then James listened to Killian's tale with the composure of a man accustomed to hearing fantastical stories, though as the mention of a flying boy and an enchanted island reached his ears, his brow quirked slightly. By the time the chart of "Neverland" was pushed toward him, the corners of his mouth had twitched into a smirk, and he leaned back, taking a deliberate sip of his brandy before responding.

"Oh, please," James said with a quiet snort, his tone laced with dry humor. "A flying child and a magical island? Sounds like a mere trifle compared to cursed skeletal pirates that cannot die." He set the glass down with a soft clink, his expression amused but not entirely dismissive. "At least with the undead, you know where you stand—or rather, where they refuse to fall."

His smirk lingered as he gestured vaguely toward the chart with one hand. "Though I suppose an island that traps its victims indefinitely, a boy who defies gravity— would be a frustrating challenge , but it's rather like something out of a child’s bedtime story wouldn't you say?"

James shifted his gaze back to Killian, his amusement dimming slightly as he added in a more measured tone, "Still, I can see why they'd name you captain, given all that. Ten years working to free them? I suppose even in the most fantastical of circumstances, there’s no denying your resolve."

He regarded Killian over the rim of his glass, his tone shifting back to its characteristic wryness. "Though I can’t imagine any self-respecting Royal Navy officer accepting such a tale without laughing you straight out of port."

Killian did observe how the other man sipped and appreciated the taste of the brandy where he had not. It was a deliciously rich drink with a sweetness that brandy was known for. Not all that special to him though. "We drink for two very different reasons." He informed the other as he set his glass down.

The story of how James rose to Commodore was quite the detailed one. Hearing of his accomplishments against pirates throughout the years left Killian with a neutral expression as he listened. They were impressive yes, but events that he had heard of and were massive blows to pirates. It seems they were both familiar with one another's reputation without knowing who had been behind it.

"Seems I've done these waters a favor putting an end to the scourge of piracy. Best you not to go sharing that in any ports we stop at, I'm sure there's plenty out there who'd want to slit your throat." Killian warned knowing that other pirates wouldn't hesitate to kill the man before him.

"The colonies..." He scoffs "Reminds me of the great roman empire, conquering lands and growing so large that it all collapses. What England wants is to control the world, the Order that we had been taught is not to create peace it's about controlling people. They don't want the masses to have free will." Killian reached for the bottle and refilled both their glasses with the dark reddish brown liquid. "Even with your promotion you were still just as trapped as the slaves in shackles."

Killian pauses to lift his glass, giving it a small swirl and taking the time to appreciate the taste with a slow sip. It was tastier than he had ititially thought as he had drank his first two quickly. "All pirates are different and have their own ways of going about things. But the one thing we all agree on is freedom. No one is ruled here, I am captain not because I wanted the position but because they chose me to lead them." He took another sip and stared at the brandy as he thought back to when he lost everything he held dear to his heart.

"I don't know how I survived that storm, but I ended on an island where these pirates took me in and nursed me back to health. This was an that you could not leave, you could sail in any direction away from it and as soon as it disappeared behind you it would reappear in front of you. They had been trapped for ages trying to find a means of escape and I helped them for what felt like ten years to find a way to leave. A heist to steal a magic bean from a flying boy to take us away from Neverland, the island where you never grow old." He uses his hook to move around the charts and pushes the one of Neverland towards James to look at. "Without me they'd still be trapped there. I saved them and they made me captain. They are my family that took me in and I take care of them in return. All this treasure you see, it's everyone's equally. I buy them the best supplies and stock my ship with good food, whatever they want or need I provide. We just plunder more than we can spend."

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

James observed Killian’s casual confidence. The sight of Killian downing his brandy in a single go drew a soft sigh of mock disappointment from James, who shook his head lightly.

“That,” James said, lifting his glass with practiced poise, “is not how one drinks brandy, Killian. A proper gentleman—pirate or not—must savor it. Observe.”

James brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip and letting the black cherry brandy linger on his tongue before swallowing with a quiet sigh of appreciation. He arched a brow at Killian, a faint smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “It’s a drink meant to be appreciated, not inhaled like cheap rum.”

Then came the touched smile again. "Trust," James repeated, his tone almost wistful. "I suppose we both have a bit of a complicated relationship with that word, don't we? But… I do know the kind of man you are, despite the reputation, despite the ship and the crew. "

Taking another a slow sip of his brandy, savoring both the drink and the moment. "You’ve proven yourself today especially, and I can hardly ignore that. As for backstabbing, well, if there’s one thing I can say for myself, it’s that I don’t go around betraying those who show me kindness… or who don't deserve it." At least not yet…

James leaned back, cradling the brandy glass in his hand, a flicker of pride crossing his face at Killian's question. "The promotion to Commodore," he began, James leaned back, cradling the brandy glass in his hand, pride crossing his face at Killian's question. "The promotion to Commodore," he thought aloud, "was not an overnight affair. It was the culmination of years spent commanding His Majesty's ships, capturing pirate crews, and bringing order to waters you lot seemed determined to make lawless."

He swirled the brandy in his glass, as though lost in the memory for a moment. "One contributing victory was the capture of the rum runners on what you pirates have deemed Rum Runner Island. They were a particularly evasive group—masters of slipping past blockades and hiding their operations in the labyrinth of caves along the island's shores. But we anticipated their movements, and with the help of local informants, laid a trap. A few well-placed fires in their cavern stores forced them out, right into our waiting arms. Their surrender secured one of the Caribbean's most notorious smuggling rings."

James allowed a faint smile to tug at the corner of his lips, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and reflection. "The Crown was pleased, of course. Less smuggled rum meant more revenue in taxes for their coffers. But to me, it was about ensuring fewer weapons and contraband flowed into the hands of those who would destabilize the colonies."

He set the glass down, folding his arms across his chest as he continued. "My reputation grew further after a harrowing victory near the Windward Passage. We were outnumbered—three pirate vessels to our single frigate—but superior tactics and discipline won the day. It wasn’t without cost, though. Good men were lost in the fight, and yet their sacrifice solidified the Navy’s grip on those seas."

Another sip "That victory earned me both the respect of my peers and the ire of your kind. 'Scourge of Piracy,' they called me—because every captured flag, every destroyed vessel, meant fewer pirates preying on merchant ships and coastal towns."

A faint, wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And then there was Port Royal. The crown took notice of my efforts when I was stationed there. Ensuring the colony’s safety and dealing with… persistent nuisances cemented my standing. Commodore was a natural step forward for me, if I aimed to follow in…. his… footsteps.”

One last sip, and he .. pushes the glass toward Killian. " I ah, don't suppose It would be too bold of me to ask for a refill? "

The young pirate exuded confidence of a sailor twice his age. The way he leaned back and kicked his feet up to prop his boots on the corner of the large mahogany charting desk. Sipping at his brandy delicately from the glass when he'd normally just drink straight out of the bottle. He felt like he owned the sea, or atleast a part of it. The fierce captain Hook had earned it with the reputation he had quickly built in just under five years. Neigh untouchable with the range his guns had.

"I have a perfect memory, of course I remember. Some things I wish I could forget..." His words trailed off to a murmur behind his glass as he took another sip. There was much in his youth he wish he could forget; his time living on the streets as a boy, then the abuse he went through as a teen in his training days. Many hardships he had tried to drown with alcohol over the years he wish he could forget.

The comment made him smirk and he lifted his hook. "I still can't tie a knot! But I'm better than ever with a sword, you were a good teacher and I perfected it." Killian grinned and felt a bit bolstered by the compliment. He felt he had come a long way. Before he was quite the shy, unsure boy that didn't believe in himself and just followed in his brother's shadow. Now he was beaming with confidence and had the strength to back it up. A captain with established leadership, he had indeed come a long way.

"Of course I trust you James. I've might've changed alot, but I'm still a good man at heart. You know this with my actions today. Pirate or not I know you'd never backstab a good man." Killian said honestly that he showed no worry of the former commodore doing something to hurt him or his crew. Though it went without saying that if he had sensed something untrustworthy, James would be dead before he could put any plan in motion. It would be quite stupid to pull a stunt on the man that was saving him from the noose.

Ocean blue orbs watched with interest as James got comfortable by removing both his hat and white powdered wig. Hair somewhat long and brown, much better to look at than the wig. Killian had long since cut off his own ponytail as keeping it short was far more manageable, though at the moment it was looking a bit shaggy with the front fringe hanging partially over his face.

He downed the rest of the brandy in his glass and grabbed the bottle to refill it, another chuckle leaving him. "Immensely so. I believe you'll provide boundless entertainment for me." Killian said with a devilishly handsome smirk as he raised his refilled glass for this toast to him. This time downing it in one go. Killian was used to drinking and this was not as strong as the usual stuff, this was the fancy nice tasting alcohol he kept for company.

"We have alot of catching up to do! I want to hear about your promotion of commodore and I'm sure you want to hear about how I became captain of a pirate ship."

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

James watched as Killian moved with an almost effortless swagger, pulling out a bottle of brandy and corking it with his hook like it was the most natural thing in the world. His usual instinct might have been to scoff, to roll his eyes at the flamboyance, but the memory of Killian remembering his favorite drink softened him. It was such a simple detail, yet it spoke volumes.

Taking the offered glass, he swirled the dark liquid briefly before lifting it to his nose, inhaling the rich, fruity aroma. He glanced up at Killian, who was already lounging in his makeshift throne like he owned not just the ship, but the entire sea itself. James couldn’t help but shake his head, a reluctant chuckle escaping him.

"You remembered that?" he asked softly, his voice losing its usual edge. He blinked down at the glass, the rich amber liquid catching the dim light. A faint blush crept over his cheeks as he raised the glass again, taking a deliberate sip to occupy himself and mask his reaction.

Why it touched him so, he couldn’t fully understand. Perhaps it was the way Killian had said it so easily, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to remember such a detail about someone he’d parted ways with years ago. Or maybe it was that Killian’s acknowledgment of something so personal felt… kind, in a way James wasn’t used to.

James found himself watching Killian again, his sharp eyes softening as he took in the pirate’s effortless charm. The way he moved about the cabin, his confidence, his grin that was somehow both infuriating and disarming at the same time.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to break the lingering silence . “You’ve certainly come a long way from the boy who couldn’t tie a proper knot without getting it tangled.” He raised the glass in a small toast before taking a sip. The brandy was smooth, with a subtle sweetness that lingered on his tongue. He hated to admit it, but it was rather good.

Then nearly choked on it when he was offered the position. “ You’d trust me with your precious Jolly Roger?” His tone was dry but teasing, the edges of his words softened by the warmth of the brandy. “ I.. suppose that would be preferable. Than deckhand.. I mean. Thank you.“ He pauses a beat and… removes his hat and wig. Being comfortable meant shedding those constrictive hot layers. Letting longish but still well groomed hair loose. He wasn’t a Commodore right now-- or.. anymore. "But I don't believe I well ever grow accustomed to piracy. Or condone it"

James’s lips quirked into a dry smile as he swirled the brandy in his glass, the amber liquid catching the light. “Fate does have a peculiar sense of humor,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of irony and resignation. “I suppose I’ve no one to blame but myself for ending up in this... position.”

He glanced at Killian, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he added, “Though I imagine you’re finding this turn of events endlessly amusing.”

James leaned back slightly, letting the weight of the situation settle in the room. He raised his glass in a small, half-hearted toast. “To fate, then. And to the pirate who’s found himself, inexplicably, in charge of a commodore.”

"Back to judging are we?" Killian asked with a roll of his eyes. Even though they were alone once again old habits died hard, they had their moment of understanding but that wasn't going to change the mindset of a man who had hated pirates all his life. The young man understood it would take some time and some things James might never come to terms with.

He stepped away from James and kicked some of his treasure out of the way as he crossed the room to his liquor cabinet to look through it. "Brandy still your favorite? Lets see... Ooh~ I think you'll like this black cherry brandy." Killian grabbed a bottle and tucked it under his arm to hold and snagged two crystal glasses to bring over to the desk. He set them down then grabbed the bottle he used his hook to tug out the cork.

"I'm sure this'll all be a shock for you and needing some time to adjust..." Killian began as he filled the glasses for them. "You don't have to participate in any of our raiding. Just be a deckhand, or maybe my navigator! I usually do that myself but it would be nice to have some help with that." He said with some cheer as he moved around his desk to sit down in his throne. The bottle set down the pirate captain reached out to take his glass and bring it to his lips.

"I never would've thought I'd ever be in charge of you. Kinda funny how the fate works sometimes." Killian said with a chuckle. He was purposefully trying to keep the mood light because in reality he knew his former mentor's world had just been crushed. The life he had in the royal navy effectively over and all he knew was turned upside down. "Enjoy your drink, get comfortable. You can stay in here tonight and tomorrow get you a spot set up in the crews quarters."

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Groves blinked at the pirate’s audacious wink, his confusion plain as his brow furrowed. He exchanged a bewildered glance with Gillette, muttering under his breath, "What on earth was that supposed to mean?" Groves was no stranger to odd behaviors from pirates, but the casual confidence of Hook unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Meanwhile, James tested the ropes discreetly as he was guided aboard the Jolly Roger, his fingers brushing against the coarse bindings. A flicker of something unexpected stirred within him—the roughness of the rope, the firm way it constrained him, the undeniable sense of being at someone else’s mercy. It was… stimulating. He suppressed the thought immediately, willing himself to focus on the situation at hand.

As his boots hit the polished cherry wood deck, his gaze roamed over the ship’s intricate carvings and grand craftsmanship. He was forced to admit, if only internally, that it was stunning. Out loud, however, his tone was more biting. “I’m surprised she hasn’t sunk under the weight of all this stolen gold. I suppose it’s fitting for pirates to have such a flamboyant vessel. Subtlety clearly isn’t your strong suit,” he said, his sarcasm sharpened by a need to mask his awe.

James managed to pull free of his bonds when Killian removed them and rubbed at his wrists, glancing around the room once more. “A mess? That’s putting it mildly,” he muttered, though his voice lacked the usual venom.

The (former) Commodore’s gaze drifted toward the cabin door, then to the window, his expression clearly concerned. He could almost feel his crew’s judgment from afar, even without seeing them. Were they standing stoically on the deck of the Interceptor, murmuring their discontent? Perhaps Gillette and Groves were trying to maintain order, but the doubt would be there. The disappointment. He’d surrendered them to pirates, no matter his reasoning. What were they thinking of him now?

He needed a good distraction and maybe a drink , despite the fact he only drank brandy on social occasions.

The sword offered had been tucked in his belt beside his holstered one. James effort to compose himself was amusing. Was that a blush he caught? He wouldn't have guessed James had a fancy for men, or maybe it was the situation that was exciting. He might have to test those waters later. For now though he had some work to do.

Killian pretended not to pay attention to the men murmuring but when Groves said that he'd get James back the pirate shot him a wink. A subtle hint that James would be safe in his care. Continued on to the deck of the pirate ship, Jolly was something beautiful. Made of mostly cherry wood and had stunning carvings, it was more like a ship out of a fairy tale then one belonging to pirates.

"I'll give you a tour once we start sailing." He said as he brought James into his cabin that was a treasure hoard. There was gold from a hundred ships laying about, chests overflowing and jewelry hung about as decorations. Closest to them when they enter was his charting desk littered with many maps of the world and some unknown, the chair behind it looking like a throne with blush red velvet seats. There was display cabinets of trinkets from around the world and expensive alcohol, a shelf of books and a wardrobe stuffed with fine clothing. At the far back of the room was a large four post bed covered in an array of blankets, silk sheets and many pillows. Beside that in the corner a folding wall where there was a tub and some sort metal tank with part of a coal burning stove.

It was an incredible amount to take in, so while James looked on dumbfounded Killian removed the ropes. "Sorry about the mess, wasn't expecting company. I'm a bit of a pack rat when it comes to treasure. When you grew up with not a shilling to your name you tend to want to hold onto any wealth you get your hands on."

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

“If we’re doing this,” he muttered, “then you’ll need this.” He drew his sword slowly, the blade gleaming in the cabin’s light, and handed it over to Killian. James gritted his teeth as Killian wrapped the rope around him, his sense of dignity bristling against the indignity of it all. His cheeks, however, betrayed him, flushing a faint pink. He wanted to believe it was out of humiliation of defeat.. perhaps some of it was. But.. as Killian's grin lingered in his peripheral vision.. he clears his throat and glances back down at the ropes bound around him.

When Killian made his quip about putting him to good use, James huffed sharply, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, I bet you will,” he replied dryly, trying not to let the fluster show as he fought to maintain his composure. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture, forcing himself to lift his head high and set his jaw in that familiar steely determination. Despite the heat and weight of the ropes burning him. Whatever humiliation he felt, his men would see their commodore as strong, unbroken—if only for their sake.

As they stepped back out onto the deck, Killian’s declaration rang out, and James felt the eyes of his crew on him, burning with a mix of anger, betrayal, and confusion. Still, he held himself tall, even as the rope bit into his wrists.

Gillette , his most loyal officer, spoke over even Hook, being rather forward, his expression torn. “He surrendered… for US,” Gillette said, his voice steady but low, clearly meant for the crew. Groves was the next to speak “To ensure our safety. That’s not the action of a coward. That’s the action of a man willing to sacrifice everything for his duty.”

The murmurs began to shift among the crew, anger softening into grudging respect, though the tension was far from gone. James caught his two most loyal officer's gaze and gave them the faintest nod, a silent acknowledgment of their attempts to hold the crew together. Whatever happened next, James told himself, his choice had been the right one—his only choice to keep some dignity.

"Do you not see what that means? The Commodore has always carried the weight of our survival on his shoulders. Today is no different.” Groves paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. He then turned to James, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “We’ll see you returned safely, sir. Whatever it takes.”

Killian arched a brow at the hesitance in James. "Duty to what? A king you've never met? A crew that wants to see you hung? Your duty is to yourself, mate." The younger man pointed out as he waited for James to come to terms with how fate was leading him. There wasn't much to choose from and the safest bet was with Killian.

When called insufferable he snickered, this was feeling like the old days. James being all uptight and Killian being a little trickster in good fun. To his delight the other agreed. "Splendid! I will put you to good use Commodore." The pirate said and he moved about the cabin and grabbed some rope toss around the taller man to wrap him up like a prisoner. Just for show when they went back out, and it wasn't like he could tie a not all that well with just one hand but he did the best he could.

"Put that serious face back on as we head over to Jolly. I'm a no good dirty pirate taking you hostage." Killian said with a smirk and brought James back out of the cabin.

"We've come to terms, men! The Commodore has surrendered himself to me to ensure your safely brought back to Port Royal. Take your cut of the loot guys then lash the Interceptor to the ship, I have my cut of the treasure right here." He nodded to James and the pirates laugh before they began plundering the ship with some still keeping watch of the captives. Killian tugged James along by the rope and they made their way onto the Jolly Roger.