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whumpflash · 1 year

Text

Never: His Own Ship

cw: torture, psychological whump, violence

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She chose the knife.

One of the men holding James clamped a hand over his mouth on Peter's orders, so he couldn't sway her decision. And she chose the knife.

He let out a muffled cry as Peter picked up the blade and pressed it into Jeddy's hand.

"Are you an artist, Esme?"

"No sir." Her voice was flat. Emotionless.

"What about writing then, do you know your letters?"

"I do, sir."

Peter left her standing there, wrenched James' right arm away from his side.

"Hold him down."

James was forced onto his stomach, one of the men digging a knee into his back. He cried out at the sudden pressure on his ribs.

Peter stretched his arm out.

"There we are. Now Esme, I'd like you to write your name."

"My name, sir?"

"Yes." He smiled. "I want you to carve it into his arm."

James thrashed, though he knew it was pointless. Peter had the power here. He could do whatever he wanted, including shatter one of his few remaining solaces.

Jeddy seemed frozen in place. "Sir, I-I can't."

"I'm sure you'll find that you can," Peter said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Now go on."

"Sir–" she stopped short as Peter leaned in.

"It's going to be either your name or mine, Esme. And only one of those choices ends with you still onboard. Do you understand?"

Jeddy clenched her jaw. "I… I understand."

She knelt beside James, as she'd often done before. Only this time she wasn't feeding him, wasn't cleaning a fresh cut. This time, she was the one who wielded the knife.

He understood, told himself he understood, though his chest hitched and he squirmed under the weight of the men in a weak attempt to get away.

It would happen either way.

It would happen either way, and at least this way, only one person had to hurt. Only him.

But why did it have to be her?

The point pricked against the soft skin of his forearm and she pressed in, making the first line–

"Deeper," Peter said. "Or it won't scar right."

Jeddy nodded, silent as ever, and James tried to hold back from making any sound, more for her sake than his.

Compared to Peter's other ideas, this was tame, he told himself.

It wasn't his hand.

He'd be okay.

If nothing else, he could pretend it wasn't her doing the damage, pretend it was only Peter–

"James, open your eyes if you'd like to keep them."

And so he did, a gasp escaping him as she began a second line. A third, a fourth. A bloody 'E' cut into his wrist.

The shine of tears in her eyes was the only thing that betrayed her neutral expression.

He breathed through it as best he could, unable to look away as she carved each crimson letter.

E-S-M-E

He wanted to tell her it was okay. That she had no choice, and it was okay, but he couldn't open his mouth. Couldn't form the words.

Peter examined James' arm for a moment, jabbing a cut with his finger to draw a cry from him before releasing his wrist and letting the limb fall back to rest on the deck.

"I don't like it," he said.

"Cut it off," he said.

Cut it off. The skin, or the hand, or the arm? What did he mean? Would she obey?

The image came to his mind, Jeddy gently sawing through his wrist with that same stony expression, and it was all he could do to hold back another sob.

"Captain…" her voice was quiet, the single word sounding like a plea. Who was it for? For Peter to show mercy? For James to forgive her?

"Esme," Peter replied in the same tone. "Will you do it?"

She shook her head, and Peter clicked his tongue, picking up the bloodied knife and sliding it back into his belt.

"That's okay," he said, taking the whip in hand as well. Letting it uncoil.

"It's time for James' pick anyway."

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He'd felt the bite of the whip once, years before his days aboard the Merry, and though it had hurt, the welts had healed swiftly, not even having broken skin.

But that had been only five lashes, and not a cat-o'-nine.

James didn't struggle as they bound him to the mainmast, the rope digging into the fresh cuts on his forearm. Peter had known what he wanted from the start. No matter the choice James or Jeddy made, he'd been destined for both torments the moment he was dragged into the daylight.

He didn't try to look back. Didn't want to see whether it was Peter, or Jeddy, or some other crewmember who would be the one to swing the whip.

He heard it drag towards him, the lead bits scraping along the wooden deck.

"Do you want to hear the rules of this game, James?" Peter's voice came from a few feet behind. "Because if you win…" he trailed off. "If you win, I'll let you go."

James didn't believe him. Not one bit, but what else did he have but the faint hope that Peter might follow through?

"Well?" Peter said. "Aren't you going to ask what the rules are?"

"Wh…what are the rules?" James mumbled, resting his forehead against the mast. His arms were already beginning to lose feeling from being strung up.

"If you can stay awake through a certain number of strikes, you're free. Doesn't that sound fun? Free." Peter leaned in close, right by his ear. "So how many will it be, James? How many do you think you'll make it through?"

James knew how this would go. Too low and Peter would laugh afterwards, say he didn't quite earn his freedom. Too high, and he wouldn't stand a chance. If Peter was feeling particularly cruel, he'd call any number too low, forcing him to raise the count until he bled out right here.

"Ten," he said through gritted teeth, hoping it was enough to satisfy Peter.

"Ten," the other man repeated, sounding surprised. "I would've wagered five! But I like your pluck. Ten it is."

James' heart sank. A part of him knew Peter would say that no matter what he chose, but it still felt like he'd duped himself. Ten.

But maybe Peter would be true to his word. Maybe ten lashes were all that stood between him and freedom. Maybe he'd finally be released from this hell.

And what then? Would Peter set him adrift in a rowboat? Let him run into the forests of the mystery island? How would he survive, broken as he was?

No matter how he looked at it, whatever path he was thrown down, every option seemed bleak. Hopeless.

"Let's begin."

James tensed, already shaking with anticipation of the pain that was to come.

The first strike hit right in the center of his back, pain spiking through his body, bright as lightning. He didn't even have time to cry out.

The next one hit to the side, lead tips colliding with his bruised ribs, and this time he did scream, a horrible, ragged sound.

Third. His head was already swimming, and he clenched his jaw. Seven more. Such a small number and yet it may as well be infinite.

"Hh–Aughh!" Four.

Five. His vision was splotched with white. Stay awake. Push through.

"Halfway," Peter sang out. "And just think, that could've been the last one if you weren't so ambitious."

The sixth came down, dragging out another hoarse scream.

Seven.

Eight.

His vision was fading in and out, his body shuddering with pain and fatigue. Hold on. Just hold on.

Nine. His back had been set ablaze, the fire reaching up to take him…

Ten. His body jerked under the final stroke, the only sound escaping him a choked whine.

Over. It was over it was over it was over. He was conscious only by the most base definition, seeing but not aware, hearing but not processing. Feeling the pain roll through him like the tide. Nearly unbearable, threatening to smother him, to drown him, but he fought it, no matter how much he wanted to sink beneath its waves and cease to know the world around him.

"Well done!" Peter's voice rang around him. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Hands reached up, cut the ropes, let his body hit the deck limply, his eyes staring emptily at the horizon.

"You've impressed me, James." Peter and his smile were over him, silhouetted in blue. "I think you deserve more than freedom. I think you may even deserve to be captain again."

Captain? James thought, the word spinning in his head. Peter wouldn't step down. He wouldn't allow things to be as they were, and even if he did, nothing would ever be the same. James couldn't just walk off the last month, couldn't bury everything he'd suffered, and he knew his crew would never forget how he'd groveled and begged after one whispered threat from Peter.

"What do you think? Captain of your own ship again."

Of his own ship.

James winced as Peter grabbed him by the hair, lifted his head just enough so he could see the crowd part for a pair of men carrying a large barrel. It took him a minute to comprehend, to realize what was going on. He took in the broomstick tied to the barrel in a mockery of a mast, the bit of canvas that stood for a sail...

"Beautiful, isn't she? About to take her maiden voyage." Peter released James, and his head dropped.

He'd been brought back up to die after all. It had been hopeless from the start.

"And what's a captain without a first mate?"

And Jeddy was brought forward, tearstains on her cheeks.

"S-sir, I don't—"

"You don't what?" Peter said, and his voice was measured. Cool. "You don't think I know everything that happens on my ship? You don't think I know the signs of scale use?"

No…

"You've disobeyed me once. Failed to prove your loyalty when I gave you the chance."

Jeddy's shoulders shook. "Please. Captain. Don't make me leave her."

"Leave her? You ought to count yourself lucky I didn't throw you in the brig when I found out."

"Peter…" James' voice came out more whimper than word, barely audible. "L-leave her be."

The other man shook his head, putting a hand on Jeddy's shoulder in such a way that it almost looked friendly. "Don't tell me how to run my ship, James. You can call the shots once you're aboard your own," he said with a wink, waving on the men with the barrel.

"Now heave-ho, boys. We have a ship to launch."

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#took a bit longer on this one in an attempt to get it right. definitely hope it lived up to the hype of the last chapter ;-;#whump #whumpflash #whump writing #captive #fantasy whump #tw torture #whipping tw #flogging #knife whump #psychological whump #emotional whump #begging #captain hook #never/never #poor james ;-;#i also wnded this one sooner than i originally planned cause it was getting pretty long compared to the rest #pirate whump

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