Chapter Text
Loki had a reputation. He was a dreaded pirate captain and his ship The Liesmith was feared throughout the seven seas. He was known to have no mercy and to kill any who opposed him. Loki was a villain.
So it made no sense for Loki to be below deck and find a wide-eyed, shivering stowaway on his ship.
The man was bedraggled and unkempt, his clothing was of fine quality but dirtied by the unused parts of the ship he’d needed to hide inside. His facial hair would be appealing and well maintained if given the chance for proper grooming, as with his hair. The man was still attractive, regardless, even in his current state.
Yet, his beauty was not the first thing on Loki’s mind.
The last time the ship had been at port was four days ago. Loki was both horrified and impressed that the man had stayed undetected for so long. Loki’s crew was loyal and trustworthy; they would never have let the man onboard. He had smuggled inside on his own.
Loki narrowed his eyes at the worried man.
“Who are you and why are you on my ship?” He demanded. He even let his hand lower to his sword for further intimidation. It did not escape the stowaway’s attention.
The man swallowed and seemed to forcibly drag his gaze from Loki’s sword to his eyes.
“Anthony Stark,” the man, Anthony, answered.
It took a moment for Loki to place the name. The Stark family were reputable merchants with wealth, education and good standing in the community. What was this man doing on a pirate ship?
“I needed to-” the man’s words were cut off by a shiver and he curled his arms around his sides. The hull of the ship was cold, especially in this part of the world at night. Anthony had no blankets and no ability to warm himself by the sun.
“I needed,” he continued, “to flee.”
Loki narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
Anthony pressed his lips together and refused to say. Loki gripped his sword and started to pull it from his sheath. “Answer me or I’ll-”
“I killed a man,” Anthony blurted out. The answer surprised Loki. “A betrayer.” Those cold, tired brown eyes suddenly flared with rage. “And I’d do it again.” He glanced away; sudden and sharp regret entering his tone. “But I had to leave, or others would also pay for what I did.”
Loyal, Loki thought. Willing to fight, and take a life. Desperate.
Slowly, Loki re-sheathed his sword. The sound made Anthony look back at him. He found Loki’s hands back at his sides; open and unthreatening.
“Tell me, Anthony, what did you plan to do while on my ship?”
Anthony watched him warily. “Try not to get discovered and leave at the next port.”
“News of crimes like yours travel fast, especially when you’re from a family even I know of.” Anthony gritted his teeth, frustration in his features, but his determination no less fierce. Loki’s lips twitched with a smirk. “But perhaps I can offer you a more palatable option.”
Anthony looked suspicious. “What option?”
“You will be unlikely to find work anywhere in the free world, but among my crew?” Loki’s smirk spread wider. “A little murder will make no man blink. You will not get a better offer than to sign my Articles.”
Shock painted Anthony’s face. “You want me to become part of your crew?”
“You are not a simpleton, Anthony. I either put you to work, throw you in the brig to be dealt with at the next port, or toss you overboard.” Loki raised his eyebrows. “I think the choice would be clear.”
Anthony still looked dubious, but he wasn’t foolish enough to argue with good fortune. He was cold, likely hungry and running low on acceptable options. Joining a pirate crew would hardly worsen his fate if he was caught; why not add a few more crimes to his name if it gave him a place to sleep and the chance to earn some gold?
“I will join your crew,” Anthony said quietly.
Satisfaction filled Loki, and he gestured for his new crew member to precede him up to the deck. The man went without a fight. Loki kept an eye on him as he directed the smaller man up the steps and into fresh sunlight.
Anthony stopped, sucking in a great lungful of air and tilting his face to the sun. Loki ran his gaze over his crew while the stowaway was distracted. He had a crew of thirty, and while he treated each man well and had long ensured their loyalty, Loki did have his favourites.
His quartermaster and first mate, Sleipnir stood at the helm, his hands on the wheel and his mane of black hair tied in a ponytail to keep it from his eyes. His dark skin was bared to the sun and he wore little more than pants and a vest.
Fenrir was a beast of a man, large and vicious with thick brown hair and crooked teeth that always looked as if he was snarling. He was kind at his core and prone to physical affection. Loki rarely had squabbles among his crew, but if Loki’s command couldn’t end the argument, the threat of Fenrir’s strength would.
Jor was taller than Loki, deceptively thin but strong. He was covered in tattoos that twisted down his arms. There were more mapping his collarbones and chest, even going up his neck and towards the crown of his shaved head. He rarely spoke and could always be found on deck catching whatever ray of sun was available.
The other member Loki had a fondness for was a strange, quiet man; a man of science and medicine on the run for crimes he wouldn’t admit. He had discovered the man on another ship where he was unhappily trapped. Banner had an unusual agreement with Loki. He didn’t participate in battle, but his services were rendered in healing the wounded.
Loki had gained two more crew members in that battle. Korg and Miek were not those he would call a favourite, but they were unwaveringly loyal and rather dim-witted. Miek manned the crow’s nest with his gangly body and fondness for knives. Korg was often wandering around the ship eager to lend a hand to anyone who was in need.
He wondered if this stowaway would turn into a favourite or become one more man to fill out The Liesmith’s ranks.
The crew were all watching Anthony warily, some were moving to their blades, waiting for a word or a motion from their Captain. Loki put a firm hand on Anthony’s shoulder and pushed him to walk across the deck. He didn’t struggle, quickly becoming aware of the people staring at him.
Fenrir was the first to approach. He stopped in front of them, his muscles bulging as he looked down his nose at Anthony. He would look like a giant to the small man. Surprisingly, Anthony didn’t flinch at the sight; he stood firm and tall.
“Captain?” Fenrir questioned his voice a low rumble.
“A new crewmember coming to sign his Articles,” Loki stated, enjoying the flash of surprise in the other man’s eyes. “Bring food and Banner to my quarters.”
Fenrir nodded. “Yes, Captain.”
“Thank you, Fenrir.”
Loki pushed at Anthony’s shoulder again to get him to move. He led him to the stern of the ship and down to where his quarters rested. He pulled open the door and brought the brunet inside.
His cabin was spacious in comparison to the crew’s but would no doubt be small to a rich merchant like Anthony. Loki had grown up with luxury and didn’t care for the facade that hid behind the gleam of silk and tapestries. He liked finery; he would not be a pirate if he didn’t enjoy the gleam of gold or the shine of an emerald. He had an emerald stud in one ear and gold rings on three fingers. He had amber beads weaved into his hair and a small collection of jewels he never wished to sell. His precious items were in a locked chest at the foot of his bed, another chest held his spare clothes, and another additional weapons.
His desk was covered in or filled with maps, parchment and other items of navigation and writing. He had a smaller table and three chairs where he often had meetings with his first mate or drinks with his favourite crew members. His bedding was simple and against the wall beneath the windows. Candles littered the room, waiting to be lit and a number of books (his single vice) were piled on the floor.
His quarters were simple and practical.
Loki let go of Anthony’s shoulder and pointed him at the small table. “Sit.”
The man eyed him for a moment before following the command. Loki pulled off his thick black jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. He also removed his hat and hung it on the back. The hat was impressive but not as large as others were fond of; it was black with gold embroidery, a few dark feathers as well as a single rare peacock feather. He wore a sash underneath his hat to keep back his hair and was in his preferred deep green. Loki kept his sword and daggers on him, and it left him in his green tunic, dark pants and boots.
He pulled open a draw and pulled out the Articles. He didn’t yet give it to Anthony, instead he asked, “What are your skills? Can you shoot? Use a sword or cannon? Do you know how to sail?”
“I can shoot and use a sword,” Anthony answered. “I’ve been shown the ropes of a ship. Cannons are just a simple propellant based firing system. They’re not difficult.”
His response was simple, matter of fact. He wasn’t trying to lie or foster greater plunder; he knew each skill enough to feel confident using them.
Interesting, Loki thought, but before he could quiz the other man more, there was a knock on the door.
“Come,” he barked.
Banner poked his head inside with a plate of food and a bottle of alcohol. He had an uncertain smile and Loki gestured the shy man inside. “Banner, this is Stark. He’s been below deck for four days. He needs a meal and your approval.”
Anthony frowned and looked Banner up and down, sizing him up. “Approval?”
“I’m a physician,” Banner answered, coming over and placing the food on the table. He grimaced. “Of sorts.”
“A pirate ship with its own physician?” Anthony sounded incredulous, but he was already reaching for the food and eating it; his hunger unable to be kept at bay.
He barely noticed Banner checking him over and responded without hesitation when Banner requested he move, breath, stand and talk. He didn’t stop eating or drink the entire time. It took Banner perhaps ten minutes to stand back.
“He’s healthy. Cold and tired, but food and rest will cure it.”
“Good,” Loki stated. “He’ll earn that starting today.”
Loki brought over the Articles and a quill. Banner hurriedly picked up the empty serving tray and moved it aside, giving Loki room to place it down in front of Anthony. The man instantly started reading it, his eyes flying over the page with sharp intelligence.
Loki exchanged a look with Banner. They were both learned men on a ship with very few who could match their intellect. Banner often borrowed Loki’s books and spoke with him at length about the content. Anthony was shaping up to be another man aboard The Liesmith who could keep up with them.
When Anthony reached the bottom of the document, he seemed surprised. “This is fair.”
“Did you expect it wouldn’t be?” Loki questioned with amusement.
Pirate ships, after all, traded in fear. They couldn’t let the general populace know that they ran not unlike a navy, and were generally kinder to their crew than the Captain’s of those ships.
“Honestly, I’m not sure what I expect anymore,” Anthony answered.
He also picked up the quill and brought it to a spare bit of parchment, he signed his name with a flourish, and from one moment to the next, he was no longer Anthony the stowaway, but Stark, a new member of Loki’s crew.
Loki took back the quill and parchment and moved it to the desk. He turned back to Banner and Stark.
“Take him to Fenrir to get him equipped.” Loki watched Stark carefully. “We’ll give him a week to prove how useful he really is.”
Stark’s eyes were a mixture of emotions moving too quickly for Loki to catch, but he did see the fire of challenge get lit within them. Loki allowed himself to smirk as he watched Banner lead the other man outside.
Loki would have to keep an eye on this one, he already had a feeling Anthony Stark would turn out to be an interesting new addition to his ship.
The next time Loki saw Stark, it was a day later.
And what a change that day had made. His attire was mostly his own, but a jacket and sash had been added; spoils from pillaging a ship. The clothing was an ostentatious red that no one on the ship had wanted. Perhaps it had been a joke of Fenrir’s initially, to attempt to make him look foolish; yet, Stark wore the colours well and with confidence. Stark had trimmed his facial hair and washed his face and hair. The small changes and removal of the grime on his skin, made him look striking and handsome.
But, perhaps, one of the most astounding things was that he was chatting with Fenrir and making the larger man laugh. Fenrir so rarely took to new crew members, usually because they were petrified of his menacing expressions and girth; Stark, had no such problems.
Loki continued to watch him with curiosity as the days passed.
Fenrir introduced him to the crew members and Stark met them with a smile, a handshake or a smirk. His every response was altered and catered to the crowd he was placed before. Loki had rarely seen anyone so quickly and efficiently navigate the ship.
It was fascinating.
Stark was making note of the crew’s hierarchy and both respecting it and taking advantage of it. He was worming his way into Fenrir’s good graces and protection. He was already coaxing Banner to smile and laugh with him. He even spoke with Jor who was having trouble with the rigging. He helped improve it and earned Jor’s instant approval and respect.
He was hard-working, easy going and quick with a salacious joke. The crew liked him; the crew respected him, especially when his casual remarks about his own skill found Stark involved in a friendly duel with Miek. Loki had watched from the sidelines, curious to see how his new crew member fared. Stark was not a trained swordsman, but seemed to have a style all his own. He wasn’t afraid to fight dirty, and when he won his first duel, another jumped in to fight. He was taken down on the fourth battle, but he was cheered loudly and handed a swig of alcohol for his good conduct and endurance.
Stark, it seemed, had fit right in on board the Liesmith.
It had been almost a week since Stark had joined the crew, almost reaching Loki’s self-imposed trial, and Loki was once again watching the new crew member, this time from the helm.
“He is good crew,” Sleipnir remarked in his flat, even tone.
“A good find,” Loki agreed.
The quartermaster hummed. “Fenrir is fond of him.”
“Yes,” Loki grinned. “I did not expect that.”
“Make him loyal.” Loki glanced at the other man who was watching him intently. “Make him stay.”
“He has signed the Articles,” Loki pointed out.
Sleipnir huffed. “The next port is soon. Make him loyal.”
His first mate left with those parting words and Loki frowned after him. It was true that pirates often changed ships or didn’t return, but Stark had nowhere to go. Loki was the only one who knew the true reason. He had listened carefully but Stark had not given the reason for ending up on the Liesmith.
Sleipnir clearly thought Stark was worth keeping, and encouraged Loki to act accordingly. But would Stark throw away a position on the ship when he had nowhere else to turn?
His frowning deepening, Loki flicked his gaze back to Stark. He found the man staring straight at him; their eyes connected and Loki felt a jolt at the intensity of the other man’s stare. Loki was a master of reading his crew, but he had no idea what was going on inside the other man’s head.
It didn’t make Loki angry or suspicious, rather it made Stark thrilling and interesting, and Loki only wanted to know more.
Despite his curiosity, Loki didn’t seek out or speak to Stark that day. Sleipnir eyed him unhappily, but Loki saw no reason to pester Stark. The man was unlikely to break his contract, and Loki couldn’t afford to show favouritism to such a new crew member.
Resentment could be fostered easily on a ship their size. He had no plans to damage his or Stark’s reputation. Stark needed to prove himself on his own and Loki needed to remain impartial to all but his most trusted crew members and Banner.
If Stark showed himself to be a loyal, brilliant crew member over time, then Loki could show his own favouritism with no one batting an eye. It would be seen as a deserved and accepted privilege, but only if it was earned.
It frustrated Loki as unlike Jor, Sleipnir and Fenrir whom he had known for years—fighting with and befriending them long before becoming Captain—Stark was not someone he could seek out and converse with.
Banner had not even been so engaging at first; quiet and wary, their association had formed over soft discussions about food supplies for greater health and rations needed for a physician. They had a mutual respect for one another, and a shared intelligence that was more admiration than friendship.
Stark was... different, and Loki didn’t like being unable to pinpoint how or why. It found him restless and so he was walking the ship at night. He often found solace in a star-filled sky bathing the anchored ship in shadow. The cool night air was refreshing on his skin after the heat of the day. He also rarely found any others on his walk.
He always took a full tour of the ship, making sure everything was in order and his crew were at peace. He would then rest easy on the deck, knowing he could return to his cabin without concern.
He’d just finished his check of the ship and was stepping onto the deck when he paused; the very man lingering in his thoughts was leaning against the side of the ship, looking over the moonlit waves. Stark wore his jacket to ward against the chill and the bright red look almost like blood beneath the moon.
Loki debated what to do, but with no one around but Miek in the crow’s nest and Korg at the stern—keeping a weather eye for approaching ships—it left Loki free to approach Stark without suspicion. He took the advantage without hesitation.
His steps echoed along the deck and Stark turned to look at him, his relaxed features sharpening as he watched Loki’s approach. Loki had left his hat in his cabin, keeping on his jacket for warmth and a single sword and blade for protection. He was the most casual he could ever be outside his cabin.
He took a place beside Stark, taking care not to appear too friendly or intimate. He didn’t lean against the ship, preferring to stand with his hands behind his back, looking out at the sea.
“You are taking to the pirate life well, Stark.”
Stark smiled wryly. “Not much to take to yet. It’s the politics of the merchant’s guild with the attitudes of a tavern.” He turned back to the sea. “The view’s nice though.”
Loki resisted letting his eyes travel over the man and not the ocean. Stark was handsome and Loki wasn’t oblivious to that. Loki had taken many lovers over his lifetime, but he had always been drawn to handsome men more than beautiful women. Stark was a delectable sight - but Loki couldn’t afford to notice that about him, so he shoved his interest down.
They descended into silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it still wasn’t what Loki wanted. He was trying to alight on a way to start a conversation when Stark beat him to it.
“Look,” he started, his voice guarded and instantly drawing Loki’s attention. Stark was staring at the wood beneath his hands and tension weighed heavy on his shoulders. “You said I had a week to prove my usefulness. I know you’re talking to me for a reason so just... get on with it.” He lifted his head, holding Loki’s gaze with determination and only the faintest hint of uncertainty. “Did I pass?”
Oh, Loki thought, surprised it was still on the man’s mind and that he worried as to the outcome. The man had already won over the crew and the quartermaster himself was ordering Loki to make sure Stark stayed. It seemed ludicrous to think the man didn’t know he was already an accepted member of the crew.
He supposed it boded well for him staying on The Liesmith.
But, any delight he felt, any approval, couldn’t show.
Loki gave an absent shrug and answered, “The crew have passed on their approval of you.” He let a smirk touch his lips, unable to resist. “They have also not killed you and thrown you overboard for the sharks. I do believe they are in fact, growing to like you.”
Stark gave a huff of laugh, yet something faintly discomforted still caught at his mouth. “And people said my ability to tell bad jokes and saucy stories wouldn’t get me anywhere in life.”
Loki couldn’t stop his chuckle, and it made Stark’s smile become a little more genuine.
“Thank you,” he said, surprising Loki.
The words were said with sincerity and gratitude and he held Loki’s gaze the entire time. It made the humour fade from Loki’s face to be replaced by confusion. It also made him feel uncomfortably warm.
“For what?” Loki asked.
“Offering me the chance to stay,” Stark answered. He also brought up a hand, rubbing it through his hair. “I know you did it for yourself, that I’m a commodity you can use, but just... thank you.”
Loki swallowed. He wanted to dismiss it and present the gruff, cold exterior that he was known for, but he couldn’t. Stark’s brown eyes were warm and honest; a bright jewel too beautiful for Loki’s covetous heart to resist.
“You are welcome.”
Stark smiled at him without artifice, it was a friendly, affectionate gesture - and Loki had to look away. He couldn’t stay staring at a man so painfully handsome who was in touching distance. Loki couldn’t take and so he had to walk away.
“Don’t waste all of your night on deck, Stark. A pirate’s life rarely allows for restful days.”
He turned and started to walk away, but he did hear the other man’s startled response, “Ah - alright. Goodnight.”
Loki grunted but doubted the other man noticed. Loki walked with sure and slow steps (he was not fleeing) but he paused before his cabin and looked over his shoulder, unable to resist one more glimpse. He was glad that he did. The sight he found was Stark smiling at the sky, his head tipped back and his eyes closed as he breathed in the evening air, looking as if the world had fallen from his shoulders.
He was utterly beautiful.
Damn.