provocateur_king

True to his word, Bond found Tanner who was much the same despite being a bright eyed young lad. Bond gave the order and then watched as the crew managed to finally drop anchor.

He hoped Q was right and this would wear off. The entire crew couldn't hoist it again.

He took off his hat as he entered the chamber to find Q, smiling when he saw what the young man had done.

"We're steady," he said.

Bond was at the prow when there was a tremendous explosion from the gun deck. The crew burst into action, everyone racing to see who might need help and what damage their home had taken.

It wasn't until Hex came to him, hat tugged off and held against his chest, that Bond understood the real damage.

Q had been hurt.

Bond waited until Hex came again, the quartermaster cleared by House, that Bond found his way to the man.

He was shaken, and it showed. Bond, who could bluff anyone any time, couldn't hide that the real chance he could have lost Q and it had nearly stopped his own breath.

"Q," he said, looking him over.

Bond had his own ship now. No longer the second on the Provocateur, his only aspiration was toget back to her once Bond turned over the mantle of pirate king to him.

That was a few years on the horizon, though. For now his command was the Vesper and he had to build a crew. He had enough to sail, but he needed a few more good men.

And one good boy.

Bond was aware of the years as they passed. He knew Q was well in John's hands, but he was old enough to take to the sea. And Bond was in need of a cabin boy. The natural course of action, then, was to make the trip to the Lonely Island where he anchored his ship and came aboard in the dinghy.

He left his men with the boat to collect what they could for use on the ship as Bond made his way to the tower to collect Q.

Bond had been strategizing with allies on land and ravens arrived daily. With each new bird, Bond his away in his study, poring over charts and consulting the stars. He was so consumed, he'd neglected Harry and Q.

His belly finally tore him from his focus and he left his sanctum to find food. Cook gave him a sandwich and told him to get out. Bond wandered the palace with his sandwich, looking but not hard for the others. When he found no one, he retired to his room.

Where the secret door was open.

Bond put down his sandwich and crept down the stairs. He was well braced to find Q showing Harry the secret dungeon. He wasn't prepared to find...nothing.

He stood in the middle of the room in confusion until he noticed a torch out of place. Curious, Bond reached to straighten it and the wall opened.

"Curious," he said quietly.

He'd thought he knew every room in the palace.

After Q's attack, John has stolen him away to Lonely Island to recover. He'd made a blood vow to Bond to end the pirate if he followed. With nothing to do but worry, Harry and Bond had set off for the King's Realm so Harry could try to speak to King Arthur the Spare. On land, an assassin pierced Bond with a blade poisoned with Death Cap. It was some time before they could return as Bond recovered in Great Harbor.

But then the raven came. A letter from Q reporting healing and safety. And an invitation from John, such as it was. Come get him.

Bond was full well from House's genius cure and he and Harry set course for Lonely Island. Fortune was on their side and the wind carried the swiftly to the desolate shore.

"I don't know how anyone could stand to live here," Bond grumbled as they started up the path.

"Be cautious, Harry. The Hellblazer isn't fond of company so the path can be treacherous. The closer we get, the more cautious we need to be.

He was proven right when, at the top of the path, a huge black ram with four horns, two straight up and two curling down and forward, blocked the path.

Around his neck was a charming little brass name tag and a bell.

OMEN

***

John had heard the bell. The ram was proving to be the best thing he'd bought in a while. The nanny was already bred, and the chickens were well guarded. The bell rattled away, toward the path. John knew that could only mean one thing.

John carried his pipe as he followed the goat.

They'd been out to sea for three days and the weather wasn't cooperating. The wind barely blew and Bond only had so much pixie dust left. They were resigned to sitting and waiting for the sea to breathe life in the sails.

Bond was standing on the deck, looking at the horizon.

"Can't you do something?" he asked, Q, not entirely serious. "Just a breeze."

They were well out to sea when the sun went down. The night watch was on deck and Bond couldn't sleep. He'd come to the bow to feel the wind at his back and watch the stars as they lit up the brittle cold sky.

He had Klaus's army, he had Q's magic, he had less gold, but more information.

It wouldn't be long before he could make his move and take his throne.

Bond had left Q to tend to Harry and had adjourned to his own chambers. In there, alone, Bond found himself lost in thought. Thought of days long ago, images of a boy he'd known. A boy he'd loved.

The gardener's son had been friends with Arthur. Bond had never wanted to impress someone more. He'd wanted Harry to be his friend, all those years ago. But Harry had adored Arthur, and no mater how rakish and charming, how brave or daring, no matter how regal he tried to be, it was clear Harry and Arthur were the pair in the trio.

Long ago memories flooded back as he stared at the fire, his bare feet on the cushion and a mug of rum that had been full. Once.

He'd drunk most of it as he stared at the fire and thought about the man so hell bent on running him through.

On the morning of the third day, Bond had ordered his men to prepare the cannons. Q had promised and Bond expected delivery.

When the wizard didn't come for breakfast, Bond was irritated. He paced and fumed, but he waited.

Until he could wait no longer. They were going to miss the tide.

"Q!: he shouted, pounding soundly on the wizard's chamber door before throwing it open.

"You promised three days!" he shouted to the man still abed.

The ship was in his sights. He'd heard it was loaded with cargo, ripe for the taking. The Provocateur closed in, full sails bringing her in close.

And then there was a tremendous explosion. The entire side of the hull blew out and she began to take on water. The captain shouted orders and pirates scrambled.

Bond had a hard and fast rule. Always take on survivors. If he had any say, the sea would claim no more than she had to. It was a lesson he'd learned from the captain who'd saved him as a boy.

By the time his ship reached the wreckage, there was only some flotsam and jetsam. The men poked at the corpses to check for life. And then one called Ho and they dropped a boat to go rescue a lone boy clinging to a door. On their way back, a sailor pulled a tied leather book from the wreckage. Bond would give him extra rum for the manifest.

Their doctor saw to the half drowned boy while Bond sipped tea and read through the waterlogged book.

Loaded with cargo indeed.

Children.

Dozens of children, bound for the mines across the water.

With a heavy heart, Bond went to where the boy hung in a hammock, blankets wrapped around him to warm him from the icy embrace of the sea. He stood over him, thinking not of the cargo of slaves, but of the day he'd awoken to the concern of the man who'd saved him from death.