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ragingbookdragon · 1 year ago

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A Sailor With Nothing

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 1.4K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Hi, I started playing GF again and I'm back on my Vasco whoring shit. -Thorne

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Vasco wakes slowly, like the waves that crash against the hull of the ship when they’re docked at port; it does sound unusually quiet on the ship though and something tells him to get up and go see what his men are doing lazing about, but he can’t find it in himself to rise. Sun streams through the window in his cabin as he shifts in the bed, arching his lower back as he digs his face further into the pillow. The warmth bleeds along his back and he lets out a long sigh as he begins to lull deeper into sleep once more. That is until the scent of cinnamon and leather reaches his senses, and he cracks a single golden eye open, taking in the crimson walls and unfamiliar portraits on the walls.

He realizes all at once that he is in fact, not aboard his ship nor is he in his bed in his captain’s quarters, but in an unfamiliar yet very familiar bed. He lifts his head, blinking blearily around the room, then he turns to his side where he sees De Sardet quietly flicking through a few documents that Petrus wanted him to review from the night before.

“You snore like an old dog when you’re completely exhausted,” he says without moving his sharp eyes from the pages. “Did you know that?”

Vasco blinks again, flopping over onto his side to lazily stare at De Sardet. “How long have you been awake?”

“A few hours, give or take a couple minutes.”

“You should’ve woken me,” Vasco mutters, rolling onto his back, though he inconspicuously shifts closer to De Sardet’s side. “I’m sure the others are wondering why we haven’t set out yet.”

“And yet, none have come up here to tell me that they want to, so I think we’re in the clear.” De Sardet absentmindedly curls his arm around Vasco’s head, palm flat along his toned and tan chest, thumb brushing circles in his skin. “How are you feeling?”

“Not as sore as I assumed I would be.”

“I can’t help but wonder if perhaps that is a good thing because I was thorough on preparation or if it is a bad thing because I didn’t perform well. The latter would severely damage my pride.”

Vasco can’t help but snicker and he turns his head, lips brushing against De Sardet’s hand as he replies, “Preparation was good, and you were even better.”

“Well, now I feel like you’re just stroking my ego.”

“I am, but don’t let it go to your head,” he murmurs, turning back to face him. “It’s in fact, quite large.”

De Sardet still hasn’t looked at him, and Vasco hopes that the next words that come from the Legate’s mouth after this aren’t what his worst fears are. Because he’s slept with nobles before but he also knows that this might be the last time he ever does.

He clears his throat quietly, gazing out the window as he repeats aloud, “Those who fear the waters should stay within the shore’s sight. Those who fear the pain that love procures, should shun the flames when love endures. And both shall be safe from founder and blight.” His fingers dig into his ribs in hesitation. “That’s the next part of the poem. De Sardet…are you afraid of sinking?”

“Hmm…”

It’s a quick and clean grunt that severs every muscle in Vasco’s young and fiery heart. A flame so carefully tended suddenly snuffed out, deprived of life. And it hurts. It hurts worse than the first time he’d ever gotten his heart broken.

“I understand,” he murmurs, trying not to let his heart fall out of his throat, tears in his eyes as he slips from the warmth of the noble beside him, feet touching the cold floor that causes the second break in reality as it really comes to life that De Sardet didn’t want him like he did. How could he be so foolish as to offer a noble his heart? Him, a man with nothing to his name, nothing to offer De Sardet in terms of equality. A single sailor with nothing. “I swear I won’t let this affect our work. I’ll see to it that—”

“For if water could quench loves dying embers, your love that burns and pain and severs, I would douse this fire with the sea of all my tears.”

Vasco stops dead in his tracks, staring up at De Sardet in shock, fingers stilling from where he was tying his pant laces. Did he just—

“Such an impatient lover I have,” he notes, finally looking up over the documents; his eyes pierce the very depths of Vasco’s soul as he adds, almost chastising, “You are not the only one who has read that poem more times than he cares to admit in order to one day speak it to the one he loves.”

“You…you feel the same?”

De Sardet merely raises a hand, crooks a finger in a beckoning motion that books no room for any other answer than to obey; and Vasco obeys, crawling back onto the bed as he watches the Legate set the documents on the table followed by the glasses he’d been wearing, and Vasco has half a mind to make a joke about him being hard of sight and that’s why his accuracy is terrible.

He pulls Vasco down atop him, wrapping his arms around the Naut’s bare back, one arm secured tightly around his middle, the other hand firmly at the back of his neck, thumb brushing the base of his skull.

“I thought you didn’t feel the same as I.”

“Now we know to wait before we jump to conclusions, Captain Vasco,” he retorts, tugging at a caramel strand; he sighs wistfully, hugging the sailor impossibly close as he buries his nose in Vasco’s hair, breathing in the scent of gunpowder and sea salt. “I would follow you to the ends of the earth if it meant I would be with you forever, Vasco,” he murmurs, hand shifting from the back of his neck to cup his chin, tilting the sailor’s face to look at him; he gently caresses the cheek of his lover and confesses, “I love you.”

Vasco’s entire body feels as light as the sail catching a breeze and he smiles at De Sardet. “We shall set sail on the bitter seas together, my Tempest.”

The man’s expression softens in a way that Vasco has never seen before and suddenly knows that it is only for him; he lays his head back down on De Sardet’s chest, eyes slipping shut as he breathes in deeply, all negative feelings leaving his body.

And as much as he doesn’t want to say it, he does. “And we should begin to get ready. We can’t waste daylight. We’ve too much to do.”

De Sardet lets out a long and whiney sounding groan, wallowing against the bedsheets as Vasco laughs. “I do not want to move. I want to stay here all day.”

I want to stay here all day with you. Is the unspoken that has goosebumps rising all over Vasco’s body and he rises slightly, shimmying up De Sardet’s body until he can bury his face in the noble’s neck. “We can spend one more hour here.”

“I am the Legate of the Congregation of Merchants. If I so choose to stay in bed all day with my lover then I shall.”

It makes Vasco giddy to hear him be called De Sardet’s lover. “One hour.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Someone has to keep you accountable.”

“Then in turn, someone must also keep me satisfied,” De Sardet purrs, and it takes all of one intake of breath before Vasco is staring dazedly up at the Legate who is wearing a rather hungry look. “Well, well, well, look what we have here. I seem to have found my source of satisfaction.”

Vasco squirms under De Sardet’s heavy grip, suddenly very aware of how close their hips are, practically slotted together. “De Sardet…” he starts. “We don’t have enough time for this.”

“Oh, we have enough,” he replies, dipping down to take the sailor’s lips in a searing kiss that has Vasco panting when they part, body set aflame with desire; De Sardet nudges their noses. “I love you,” he murmurs, fingers tracing at the black-inked tattoos along Vasco’s chest and abdomen.

The Naut swallows thickly, unable to fight the fluttering in his chest as he breathes softly, “I love you, my Tempest.”

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year ago

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Still Life To Live

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Wee-bit of Angst

Author's Note: Legit this is the first female De Sardet I've written besides the one with Kurt -Thorne

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She wakes with a sadness still ever-present in her chest as she stares out the window, at a bird-less, sunless sky. The sheets smell like Constantin’s soap, and she can’t help but feel tears come to her eyes. She hasn’t been able to leave his room since they returned from his burial. She misses her cousin, no, her brother. Constantin was all she had in the world other than her mother. The two young cousins growing up, thick as thieves, only for it to end in such a poetic yet so tragic way. She missed him so. Missed laughing with him. Missed being around him. And she missed the moments where she wasn’t plagued with knowing his blood was on her hands, even if in the end it wasn’t his fault but the madness.

“If you know, why do you continue to blame yourself?”

She blinks a few times, coming to realize that her dear cousin is kneeling beside her; her lips wobble as she reaches out, taking his hand. “I miss you.”

“Oh, I miss you, dear cousin,” he murmurs. “But you cannot spend the rest of your life here.” His smile is so soft. “I may not be here in flesh, but I am always with you in spirit.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I will not accept something you needn’t apologize for. Cousin, you saved me. You set me free.” His hand gently leaves hers, resting on her head. “If you want to honor my memory, don’t sit here and wallow while the ones you love worry for you. If that is not enough, then you must remember who you are and what you are called to do here. You have responsibility and it isn’t going away simply because I am gone.” He pats her head. “Promise me, you will get up and go. That this pain will not hold you down. I may be gone, but you have gained the world in terms of family. That old man, Kurt, the girls.” His eyes hold a shimmer of humor as he jabs, “And that Naut.”

Her laugh is watery, tears slipping down her cheeks and he’s quick to wipe them away.

“Dear cousin, there is more life to live. Promise me.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded her head. “I promise.” As he pulls away, she grabs his hand and stares into his eyes. “I love you, brother.”

Constantin, in all his spirit, simply smiles and leans over, kissing her head. “I love you, dear sister.”

She blinks once and he’s gone, the place where he was kneeling empty, all that remains of him is merely a feeling in her chest, but something in the air has changed and she rises from the bed for the first time in almost three weeks.

Her entire body aches from not moving and her stomach grumbles like there is no tomorrow. She can tell there is loss around her body, a gauntness where muscle and fat should be, but the mind and such strong emotion could always play with the body, suppressing hunger. She pulls a dress on, tightens the fabric of the corset to fit her frame as she ties various lines of linen and silk to appear somewhat appropriate.

A quick facial wash in the basin of water is all that can suffice for now, as she follows Constantin’s orders of moving on. She has so much to do, so many people to check in with, to greet, lives to maintain, rules to enforce, treaties to sign now that she is essentially acting governor before a new one is assigned.

She inhales deeply, readying herself for the surprised faces of the people as she opens the doors and steps out. Surprisingly, there are no servants, and she takes it as a small mercy, escaping the upper floor to the stairs where she walks down quietly, thinking of how she will explain her absence.

It is only when she hits the ground and walks out into the throne room that she sees her first companion speaking with another emissary; they look up at the doors and the old man smiles at her.

“Child,” he simply greets, and she smiles back at him, a little weak but one, nonetheless.

“Petrus.” She walks over as the emissary bows and leaves them.

“It is good to see you out of your room.”

She nods. “Forgive me, for—”

“There is no need to apologize for how your grief affects you.” He looks at her. “Your cousin was the only friend you had growing up. To lose that so fast…grief is merely an understatement to what you felt.” He reaches up, brushing a stray tear. “We have simply bided our time before you came out.”

“Where are the others?” she asks, looking around curiously.

“Kurt is at the barracks training, Aphra is more than likely returning from Hikmet with new supplies, and Síora went to visit her clan.”

“And what of Vasco?” she inquires, feeling something awfully funny in her chest.

Petrus frowns. “Ah, yes, Vasco…”

“What? Is he alright?”

“Oh, he’s fine, but he is leaving port right now.”

Her eyes widen, heart breaking and panicking at the same time. “He’s leaving port right now? Like this moment now?”

“Indeed.”

“B-but he—but we!” she runs to the window, stares out to see the top of the Seahorse and she feels her chest erupting. She never meant to push him away in her grief and cause him to leave. “Oh no…”

“Child…”

“I have to stop him!” she shouts, already hiking her dress up to sprint for the doors.

“Wait!”

Petrus’ calls fall on deaf ears as she runs down the steps to the grand doors, yelling for the guards to open them and they do, just in time for her to burst down the front steps for all of New Sérène to see. It takes her all of three minutes to run like hell is at her heels to get to the docks and she passes Admiral Cabral who only looks up because a sailor gets her attention.

“Lady De Sardet?!” she calls in shock, rising from her desk to run after her. “What on earth are you doing so frenzied!”

She doesn’t answer but runs to the edge of the dock where sailors are busy moving cargo that didn’t get packed into the Seahorse; it hasn’t even made it twenty feet from the port, so she isn’t too late, but she is late.

“Vasco!” she yells, cupping her hands to her mouth for better reach. “Vasco! Wait!”

She hears something from the ship before he appears at the stern, his confusion giving way to shock but a gladness is in it. “De Sardet! What are you doing here!”

Her hands come to her chest, massaging the ache growing as tears fill her eyes. “Please, don’t leave without me,” she begs. “If you’re leaving, let me come with you. I’ll sail with you, please, don’t—”

“De Sardet! Look out!”

Her turning is too slow, and she is barreled into by a sailor carrying far too many boxes at once. And for all her balance training, she loses it all as she is knocked backwards, foot caught in her dress as she screeches, trying to catch something or someone before she falls down into the frigid water.

The world ripples above her and she tries to fight for the surface but the weight of her dress and undergarments are too heavy and she sinks despite her struggle. Water invades her lungs, and she feels like stone as darkness and cold seep into her body, even as hands reach for her.

***

“She still hasn’t come out?” he asks softly, glancing up towards the third floor.

Petrus sighs. “Of course not. She lost the last remaining family she ever had.”

Vasco bristles, as if he isn’t aware of such a thing. “I know she did.”

“Then why assume she has come out of her grief.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I merely meant that…” he falls silent, scuffing his foot; something about being around Petrus made him feel like a child again. “I just miss her.”

The old man smiles sadly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I know you do. Even though we all do, you do much more.” He squeezes before letting go. “Believe me, if she comes out, I will be the first to send her your way.”

Vasco nods, inhaling deeply as he puts the tricorn back on his head. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Safe travels to San Matheus, Captain.”

***

His heart stops in his chest the second that De Sardet hits the water and comes up once before the dress pulls her back down and Vasco is cussing a storm as he strips from his belts and coat down to his tunic, pants, and socks before diving overboard for her.

The water is freezing, shocking him to his core but the sun shines enough to lead him to the woman sinking down; he grasps her waist, pulling hard as he kicks his legs with fervor until they break the surface, and he sucks in air as a rope lands near him. He wraps it around his arm and tugs, waiting for the sailors to yank them aboard and when they do, his feet hit the ground, letting go of the rope as he lays De Sardet down on the deck.

She’s unmoving, cold, and unconscious, and Vasco yanks a sailor’s knife from his belt, cutting up the front laces of her corset, ripping it open, and she snaps awake, rolling onto her side with harsh coughs as water makes its way up her esophagus. He rubs at her back, taking the blanket from Jonas who’d gone into his cabin to get it from his bed, and lays it over her shoulders as she rests on her side, breathing heavily.

“De Sardet,” he calls softly. “Are you okay?” She nods, swallowing salt as she nods and shuts her eyes, feeling a shiver run down her body from the chill of the air on her thoroughly drenched body. Vasco gets the hint and picks her up with ease, barking, “Get us back to dock!” the sailors are in a frenzy as he makes his way to his cabin and shuts the door behind him, sitting her down on his trunk at the end of his bed.

He moves methodically, stripping her out of her wet dress and undergarments to her bareness before she can even stop him; he wraps her tight in the blanket before he goes over to his chest of drawers and changes from his own wet clothes before he returns with a long tunic and a pair of cotton pants. This time, he looks up towards the ceiling as she dresses herself, or at least tries to before she mutters, “I need help.”

Vasco looks down, sees her shaking hands, and gently helps her into the shirt and laces the pants so she’s dressed. He then takes her to the bed and situates her before he crawls in beside her, wrapping his arms and legs around her, warming her as best he can.

She breathes deeply and turns in his grip, nose brushing the column of his throat as she tries to practically get in his skin. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and he hugs her tight.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. That jackass sailor ran into you.”

“That’s not what I’m sorry for,” she answers, and pulls back despite the warning in his throat, looking into his eyes. “I shut you out and you’re leaving. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Vasco, I never meant to push you away.” Tears fill her eyes and she’s almost blubbering at this point. “Please don’t leave me. I need you, Vasco. If I have to give this all up to come, I will, but please don’t leave this island without me.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” he calms, gently caressing her face. “Tempest, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you’re—”

“I’m just going on a supply run to San Matheus.” He frowns. “Didn’t Petrus tel—” his scowl is much worse. “That old bastard.” Vasco lets out a sigh and takes her face in his hands. “I was simply going to San Matheus to deliver supplies and come back.” His golden eyes bore into hers. “My Tempest, I would never leave you. And even if I were to, I would never go without saying goodbye.”

Her expression is downright pitiful as she asks, “Promise?”

Vasco huffs fondly and he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “My Tempest, I swear on my honor as a Naut and my love for you.” He kisses her softly. “Rest, my Tempest. I’m here.” Her fingers clench in his tunic as she buries her face back into his chest, breathing in gunpowder, sea salt, and leather, letting sleep wash over her in his comfort.

#vasco x de sardet imagine #vasco x de sardet imagines #vasco x de sardet #vasco x reader imagines #vasco x reader imagine #vasco x reader #vasco imagines #vasco imagine #vasco #de sardet #de sardet greedfall #petrus #petrus greedfall #greedfall fanfic #greedfall fanfiction #greedfall

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