“Hey! Wait up!”
The blonde haired boy turned to look back at who had just called out to him. He was walking out of a really dingy and run down cabin. Behind him he saw a little girl about his age, just under ten years old. She had (h/l) (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. The boy smiled at the girl.
“Hurry up slowpoke!” He said his voice thick with a British accent.
“It’s not my fault you're so fast, Arty!” The girl countered.
“Come on, (name)!”
The girl caught up to the boy, almost tripping, but before she fell the boy caught her. The girl smiled up at him, looking into his striking green eyes.
“Where are you going?” The girl asked.
“The usual spot.” He said. “Care to join me?” he gave the girl a toothy grin.
“Yes! Let’s go!” she said, grabbing the boy by the hand and pulled him along with her.
The pair sat on the ledge of the cliff together, their legs swinging in the air. Then ten year old boy looked at the girl next to him, the sun setting in the distance.
“You know, I'm going to be a pirate when I get older.” He said.
“Why do you want to be a pirate?” the girl asked.
“Are you really asking me that?” when the girl nodded, the boy continued. “I’ll get to do what I want when I want, get what I want when I want it. I won’t have to worry about anyone telling me what to do. And best of all, I won’t be living in that run down orphanage that barely has enough room for all of us living there.”
The girl smiled at the boy, somewhat sadly. His dream meant that he would leave her, but she smiled for him anyway and said, “That’s a wonderful dream. I hope it comes true for you.”
“Hey, don’t look so sad, (name).”He said, he was always able to tell what she was feeling. “I’ll take you with me. I won’t leave you in a place like this.”
The girl looked at him with hope in her eyes. “Really?”
The boy nodded. “Yeah, really. You’re going to be my wife one day, (name). So I would never leave you in a place like this, I swear.”
The girl smiled, feeling the happiest she ever felt in her life. “Ok, Arty!”
Eight years have passed since that day and the two of you were both adopted. He went to a common family, with another welsh son and a Scottish son, the last name of which you didn’t remember. When He got adopted before you, He was dragged out of the orphanage kicking and screaming, swearing that he would find you again. Then you were adopted. You went to a royal family who needed an heir.
After eight years, you had all but forgotten about the mop headed blonde boy with emerald green eyes behind thick eyebrows who swore that he would find you one day and marry you. You didn’t know if his dream of becoming a pirate came true or not, though you barely remember, if not forgotten, that having been said.
You heard a knock on the door.
“(Name)?” You heard your adoptive mother. You were happy that your new father and mother allowed you to keep your name. When they first asked, you felt that if you changed your name, that He wouldn’t come and be able to find you again.
“Yes, mother?” You said.
“Sweetheart, Vash Zwingli is in the court yard. I have a feeling he will be proposing to you today.” She told you. “Don’t keep him waiting.”
But I want to keep him waiting, you thought to yourself, I don’t want to marry him, he’s so boring. “Yes mother, I know. I'm just having trouble with this corset.” You said aloud.
Your mother walked in and helped you finish getting ready. Then she sent you off to the court yard to the Swiss native with long blonde hair and clear green eyes. You found him sitting under a weeping willow tree that had just recently bloomed.
“Hello, Vash.” You said.
“Hello, (name).” he said with that Swiss accent of his. “I'm glad you came to join me here today.”
“It was my pleasure.” You said politely.
“(Name), I have something I would like to ask you.” Vash told you.
“What is that?” you asked.
He got down on one knee, you just looked down at him, stone faced.
“Will you be my wife?”
“Vash…” You said. For some reason you felt as if you should say no for another reason than that you didn’t love him. “I accept.” You said, ignoring the feeling.
Vash stood up and smiled. “Thank you.” He said and sealed the deal with a kiss.
When the two of you walked in side by side, your mother rejoiced and set the date for the wedding to take place in a month, on your nineteenth birthday. She thought that your birthday, should you get married on it, would be the happiest day of your life then.
“Are you sure you heard this correctly, Alfred?” asked a British voice.
The voice belonged to a man who had messing blonde hair, emerald green eyes and thick eyebrows. He stood on the deck of his ship dressed in a long red coat with black trimming and a pirate hat with an outrageously large feather. He turned on his first made. Alfred F. Jones, an American, but also the best swordsman second only to himself.
“Yes, Captain Kirkland. I was right there in the room when the date was set, concealed of course. A hero like me is not so stupid!” Alfred said in that energetic way of his.
Captain Kirkland eyed the blue eyed, sandy haired first mate. “Then we must go save her from breaking her promise to me.”
“Arthur, are you sure this is the same girl you told me about so long ago?” Alfred asked, suddenly becoming serious.
Captain Kirkland grinned and nodded. “Of course se is. I can feel it. “He said and turned to his crew, calling out to all of them. “Make sail! Weigh anchor, men! Set a course for… England!”