#even better: crow watches from above and the old man is a sailor by himself

[wormtitty]

almost done with TLJ but... is this lonelyeyes...

#‘i hate him but i miss him and hope he goes bald’ #even better: crow watches from above and the old man is a sailor by himself #crow is elias #tlj #the longest journey #the magnus archives #tma #lonelyeyes #peter x elias #peter x jonah

[saphirered]

Can I request the Mighty Nein funding out the reader had been hiding a kinda injury

I hope it turned out the way you wanted it! Thanks for requesting 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb is no stranger to physical injury and has embraced his squishy wizard nature. You however have covered up many injuries in the past, letting them heal on their own as you always had before you had handy clerics around to fix you up. Old habits die hard and unlucky for you, when he’s not nose deep in a book Caleb will see right through your brave face act.

Upon finding out you’re injured Caleb would simply sit you down. He’ll take it upon himself to tend to your injury despite your best efforts to convince him you’re fine and it’s just a scratch. He knows better.

Silence. You’ve never managed to get a word out of the wizard when he’s caring for your ailment. He’s completely focussed but will listen to you talk so his silence is not rooted in concentration.

Caleb won’t mention your injury to anyone. It will be your little secret but you’ll be able to catch him staring at you, and when you meet his eye he’ll give you a little half smile; a nonverbal ask to see if you’re alright.

(Beau)

Training accidents happen but hardly ever exceed bruises. A sparring match gone wrong may have ended with you getting a bo-staff to the ribs with a little too much force but you play it cool. It’ll be fine. Just some bruises. You assure Beau you’ll sleep it off and it wasn’t that bad.

Beau’s not entirely convinced and definitely pries until you come clean. Persuasion isn’t Beau’s strong suit but she makes some solid arguments, and threats that leave you forced to reveal your secret.

Upon seeing the injury Beau will curse like a sailor, telling you you should have told her. Best not to mention the trouble breathing… Wether you want to or not she’ll go get the clerics to fix you up despite any and all protests.

Beau will keep grilling you for weeks, bringing your injury up as ammo in any argument she needs won and will keep a close eye out. She’ll refuse to spar with you but we all know Beau likes her training and with you being one of the very few actually able to keep up (sorry Fjord) she’ll give in and beg you to train with her again, this time more mindful of her actions.

(Fjord)

Fjord may play cool but he tends to be a worrywart and when he already has enough on his plate you be mindful not to stress him out by facing him with anything else. That includes you getting a pretty heavy hit from an enemy in combat.

Back on the ship you resign yourself to the lower deck and cargo hold duties as to stay clear of Fjord’s direct line of sight. You’d take the crows nest but an injured leg will do you no good climbing.

Bad weather and a leg injury at sea do not mix well and you, being slammed into the side of the ship unable to get back up sends Fjord in overdrive. He’ll help you below deck to a safe spot and prepare for basic care until one of the clerics can come fix you.

Fjord’s seen enough injuries; others’ and his own and knows well enough what you got didn’t come from your little tumble. He’ll be extra tentative but scold you for not saying anything and telling you you should tell him in the future.

Regardless of the clerics’ opinions he puts you on bedrest for the next few days until he feels like you’ve learned your lesson. Don’t count on being allowed to go up to the crow’s nest for a while though.

(Veth)

Having taken a tumble down the stairs while reading a book and conversing with Caleb (who you had to swear to secrecy) you deliberately stayed clear of Veth unless you had any sort of object to lean on to support yourself.

It’s more out of embarrassment you’re hiding this one even though your ankle hurts like a bitch. Every time you, Caleb and Veth are in the same room you’re sending the wizard death glares when he holds back a comment or laugh at your desperate attempts to keep this a secret.

Veth’s a mom and if there’s one thing moms are good at it’s figuring out when someone’s hurt. The moment your facade falls through, she’ll go into overdrive, pushing you to lay down on a couch or similar soft surface area, rushing to get you extra pillows and the likes.

Be prepared to have Veth hoover over you until you’re in the clear. She’ll do whatever she can to make you comfortable and brings you some trinkets to pass the time. Maybe don’t ask where she got them because they were definitely not in her previous possession.

(Jester)

It was gonna be an epic move! You’d jump down, weapon at the ready to stab down into the creature; death from above! Didn’t go as planned as you got swatted out of the air by the creature before you could strike down.

Luckily no one saw. After the battle you just claimed the plan fell through and you had to improvise. Meaning, you gritted through the pain of being rag-dolled into a cavern wall, got back up through the pain and back to battle.

If only Jester hadn’t asked you to help harvest the monster parts so you could sell them. You could barely carry your weapon, swinging it; different story. But Jester is persistent and you couldn’t just refuse the cute blue tiefling so you obliged gritting through the pain hoping no one would notice you taking a quick breather every so often.

Jester did notice and came to inspect your work, with a tap on your shoulder you feel a radiant warmth spread through you, making breathing and moving in general a lot easier. A thanks is in order and you’re sort of glad Jester keeps this on the down-low.

“Next time just tell me, okay?” Jester makes you pinky promise and you know that’s binding so you better keep your promise.

(Caduceus)

There’s a reason why you leave the cooking to Caduceus. You’ll happily cut some vegetables but try to stay away from anything else throughout the process of preparing food. When Caduceus asked you to watch the stove and add some spices to the food as he rushed to the pantry to get some more ingredients you were worried…

What should you do? Caduceus didn’t tell you how much to add of anything. Maybe you can just sniff the spices? Yeah, that sounds right. Opening the small jars and pouches one by one go through. You add a little of the fragrant ones and a bit more of the neutral spices.

One sniff of a red flaky powder sends you into a coughing fit, your airways burning like a blazing fire. Water doesn’t help. If anything it makes it worse. You get your breathing and cough under control but you do not trust your voice and scalding throat so when the firbolg returns you keep quiet.

No responses from you are a bit odd and what were you thinking you could keep anything from this man. Caduceus calls you out on your behaviour asking questions that need words and not nods, shakes, shrugs or the likes.

Upon you trying to talk he immediately knows what happened. Putting on a quick brew, in a short time you’re presented some tea to remedy your burning throat. It may not be your worst injury ever but it surely is an uncomfortable one. You gain a new appreciation for the dead people tea.

(Yasha)

You felt like you couldn’t do anything but try to hide the bleeding gash on your side, luckily covered by your clothing. Yasha had already gone through enough, last you needed her to deal with is the knowledge she injured you severely when under the control of someone else.

Back to normal you head into the next fight. For some reason you’re faltering and making mistakes you otherwise wouldn’t. Yasha notices and will be at your side in an instance to defend you but a single enemy blow sends you unconscious.

You can confidently say that opening your eyes to a raging barbarian pouring the contents of a healing potion down your throat is one of the most terrifying and admirable moment’s you’ve witnessed in your life.

Yasha asks when you got the cut since your bloodstained clothes don’t 100% add up. Tempted to come up with an excuse Yasha has you figured out. Prepare for endless apologies and a guardian angel watching over your shoulder threatening anyone with even remotely malicious intent into thinking twice about their actions.

(Mollymauk)

Molly will pretend he hasn’t noticed you’re hiding anything when he’s caught on you are being secretive. You’re entitled to your secrets.When he finds out you’re injured that’s no different. Unless it’s something that could be the death of you he’ll play along. You’re stubborn so you get to feel the consequences of your stubbornness.

He’d ask you to help him with this new routine he’s been working on or push you to spar with him. He’d make sure you have to pay extra mind as to not make it hurt as bad as your injury does when resting because that’s when the severity of your injury becomes clear to him.

Molly would deliberately make everyday tasks a little harder. You’re doing dishes? could you carry the heavy tub of water? Setting up camp? Keep pressure on this or hammer that into the ground. Will put your things out of your reach where you’d have to climb or jump to get them.

He’ll keep these shenanigans going until either you come clean about your injury or he really gets worried to the point he’ll have to step in for your own wellbeing. The former usually occurs leaving him smug and willing to carry you claiming to be your daring saviour.

Depending on the severity of the injury he’ll be a pretty decent caretaker spending time with you and assisting you whenever you need it. When it’s not as bad anymore he’ll be teasing you as much as he can. He won’t make you forget your stubbornness and pride gets in your way of admitting defeat and we all know he loves winning the game.

#critical role #critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #beau x reader #beauregard x reader #veth x reader #nott x reader #jester x reader #caduceus x reader #yasha x reader #mollymauk x reader

[vulturhythm]

heave her up and away we go

people across the globe have heard of the wolf of the sea. they’ve heard tales of a captain with hair as pale as the moon and eyes as yellow as the gold he seeks, of a brute of a man whose conquests are vicious and leave no survivors.

(no one ever points out that, if there were no survivors, there would be no tales.)

nearly all the coastal cities claim to have been visited by the wolf and his horrific vessel, the mohren. “he took our mayor’s daughter” or “we watched him slay all our finest soldiers...” all stories of bloodshed, of unspeakable acts the likes of which only a true pirate could achieve.

(no one ever points out that no one actually describes having seen the wolf in the wake of such assaults.)

the wolf has earned himself an awful name upon the seven seas, and it is said that he fears no other captain - not one who sails beneath the crown, nor one who hoists the skull and bones high. it is said, in fact, that even blackbeard cowers at his very name.

(no one ever points out that blackbeard has been many years dead and gone.)

and yet...

well.

for such a horrendous reputation, the wolf of the seas is, in fact, little more than a puppy in the shallows.

and who am i to tell you this?

none other than the wolf’s favorite companion, his most trusted friend, his private performer, his lover on the best of days.

i was born julian, but following my recruitment into the pack of the wolf, as it were, i have taken up a multitude of names - jaskier, dandelion, even songbird at times.

(more cruel names, such as bastard, wretch and ship’s rat, at other times. it all depends upon the side of bed upon which the wolf awakens.)

when geralt found me, i was playing for farthings - pence or shillings, on a good day - at a little pub in an even littler port city. some of you may know it, but it is likelier that the rest do not, so i won’t name it. it had been a rough day for tips, and yet still i sang. by the time a great, hulking man with hair as white as snow and eyes as bright as the sun walked inside, my voice was nearly gone, and so i pounced upon the chance to down a drink or ten with a mostly-willing partner.

(geralt is standing above me as i write this, and he says he was less than willing, but i question his memory at times.)

i don’t recall how long we talked that evening before the location of our discussion moved from the pub to the exterior wall, and then, eventually, to the loft of a stable, the owner of which i knew would be drinking until dawn. i caution against taking a man to bed amongst a pile of straw, for a multitude of reasons, but i have no regrets.

well, anyway.

dawn came, and i found myself loath to leave geralt entirely. he mentioned that he had a ship, the night before, and it was this that i repeated to him upon sunrise. “surely,” said i, “my prospects for money would be better in a new town with new ears,” and geralt sighed at me, acting so incredibly put-upon.

“to the next port,” he said, and that was that.

“but, jaskier,” you cry, “you set foot upon the mohren and did not immediately turn tail? such bravery!”

waste not your praise, fair reader, for, i must admit, i had yet to piece together the image of this powerful man with that of the infamous wolf of the sea. it was with foolish joy and a light heart that i strode up the gangway and onto the great black ship. first to strike me was the fact that the only visible crew consisted of a young girl, watching from the crow’s nest.

next was that this was most certainly not of the british crown, nor was it your average fishing vessel.

no, it was a large and sleek thing, meant for speed and endurance.

it was, in short, a pirate vessel, something which i confirmed for myself when i cast my eyes upward to see a black flag overhead.

a black flag that held not the jolly roger, but a massive white wolf skull, vicious teeth bared.

i assure you, dear reader, my heart was in my throat when i whirled to geralt, who had already begun to pull the wooden gangway back onboard.

“you’re the - “

“the wolf of the seas,” he said, and he sounded entirely unaffected, as though this was a daily conversation. “i have no plans to hurt you. like i said, to the next port, and no further.”

it was as i stood there, lute in hands and jaw upon the deck, that geralt stepped toward me, and i take pride in the fact that i didn’t flinch. “you have the song of a lifetime in the making, right here before you, but if you want to go back ashore, i won’t stop you. i’m merely offering transport.”

as i recall it, i was entirely robbed of the ability to speak for those first few seconds, so i was capable of little more than a nod. on the one hand, if i was killed, i could rest assured it would be painless, considering the strength and power geralt had made evident the night before. on the other hand, geralt was entirely correct - if i were to survive, i would have the makings of the finest song known to man.

i would live in luxury!

geralt took to the wheel shortly thereafter, and i followed along, standing near his side to observe.

the wolf of the seas, i can tell you all, is not a fan of idle conversation, so the bulk of our discussions for the next four days consisted of my eloquent monologues, halfhearted grunts, and, well, various other noises.

it was the evening of the second day before i managed to coax anything akin to an explanation from the incredibly silent man, and, once i had begun the process of extracting his story, i found it far more prudent to remain aboard than leave his company at the next port. geralt protested initially, but three years later, he has not yet rid himself of me entirely.

now, i wish to preface this - and all subsequent information - with the following:

all that i am about to relay has been pieced together over many a year of traveling with the wolf of the seas, and the writings in this journal are little more than a traveling musician’s attempts to chronicle the life of one of the kindest men to ever sail the world.

with that out of the way, let us begin.

-

the circumstances of geralt’s birth and early childhood remain a mystery, as any attempt to discuss these things results in a complete and undeniable refusal, so alas, i cannot tell you where the wolf was spawned. i can, however, tell you that his introduction to the sea came about as follows:

as a youth, he trained under a crew of shipwrights, one that built the finest of crafts for the crown - a crew that has, from what i’ve gathered, long since met their ends due to natural causes. geralt’s affinity with the craft paved a natural way for him to join the british royal navy as soon as he was of age.

(watching geralt, it is easy to imagine him upon a warship, and yet, i cannot fathom him in anything but a position of command. he is a leader, through and through.)

he saw few true battles, as my understanding goes, but it seems his frustration with the crown merely grew with each passing day, as he and his crew were sent to dispatch all pirate vessels. in moments of vulnerability, he has shared with me stories of horrific acts committed by the men said to be on the side of the law, of innocent folk harmed in the path of good, of men whose only crime was seeking a living upon the seas slaughtered like beasts for the altar.

to date, geralt hasn’t told me of the final straw.

i know better than to ask.

according to him, it isn’t that difficult to steal a ship from the navy when one is among the most trusted sailors.

i have my doubts.

geralt’s brand of piracy is a unique one, to be sure. i doubt the man is capable of a legitimate attack on another vessel, at least not on one that isn’t telegraphing clear intent to harm. a stark contrast to the brutal portrait painted by civilized society, geralt spends his days patrolling the seas with intent to help, not to harm.

in my time spent at his side, i have witnessed the horrible wolf of the seas escort smaller craft to port, dispatch empty slave vessels and let them sink in splinters, defend others flying beneath the jolly roger from the crown... perhaps most important, however, i have seen him offer men and women alike safe passage or a spot on the crew in exchange for their promise to spread the worst of rumors to those on land.

why?

well, according to geralt, the why should be obvious - no british officer is going to fear a pirate whose reputation is one of kindness.

—

the wolf of the seas travels with a motley crew, to be sure. in all honesty, his crew isn’t much of one to speak of, as the majority of those who travel with him regularly are kept on for... sentiment, as it were. in terms of combatants, he employs those whose luck has failed them elsewhere.

the young lady i’d spotted in the crow’s nest that first day goes by the name of ciri, and she was taken in when the crown left her town decimated in search of a presumed criminal. geralt thinks of her as a daughter, something i determined very quickly. she’s a bright child, although perhaps a tad too perceptive for her own good.

there’s a grown woman aboard, too - a lady with bright red hair and a sharp wit, known as triss. geralt’s interactions with her lead me to believe they were once rather fond of eachother. i bear her no ill will. she’s an interesting sort.

eskel and lambert - two rather formidable men, both of whom i tend to avoid, for little reason apart from their enjoyment of tormenting me. i’ve rescued my beloved instruments from their mischievous hands many times before.

there are others, too, of course, different people of different creeds, all taken aboard to be given a second chance, all useful in some way. i know none of them particularly well, but we live on friendly terms.

geralt makes a point of dropping in on certain towns regularly, to visit old friends - vesemir, yennefer... i never interact with them terribly much, but i have seen the fondness in geralt’s eyes when he returns from his much-needed retreats.

one thing for which i can vouch is that the wolf of the seas has never turned on one of his own. he treats each and every one of us well, and truly, we want for nothing. i, for what it’s worth, have a warm bed and a warmer body to enjoy each and every night, in exchange for little more than song.

i live what is far from a conventional life, to be sure, but i wouldn’t trade it for all the riches and status in the world.

well, the moon rises high, and geralt is calling me to bed. i must set my quill aside for the time being, but rest assured, my tales are far from complete.

until the morrow,

jaskier

—

you have no clue how nervous I am right now - I really, really hope you like this!

to the rest of you, don’t worry, merman!au is nearly done!

@xdandelionxbloomx

#geraskier #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #geralt x dandelion #wolf of the seas au #pirate au #my fics

[searchingwardrobes]

Early Leaf’s a Flower: 4/11

Now we reach the part of the story that has me nervous even though I am immensely proud of it. Emma and Killian will be separated for a bit here in the middle, but I just need ya'll to hang with me and trust me, okay? This is where the "fate" part of the summary begins to come into play.

This is also when Emma meets Neal and Killian meets Milah. I am writing these relationships more along the lines of being young and making immature decisions rather than villainizing Neal and Milah. In canon, Neal and Milah were both significantly older than Emma and Killian (which is an interesting parallel I have never thought much about before, come to think of it), but in this story, all four of them are the same age (17). There is no relation whatsoever between Neal and Milah in this story. Neal is also just Neal, not Bae. In other words, he has no connection to the fairy tale realms. He's just another runaway teenager.

I have to once again thank the mods of the @captainswanbigbang​ , and my betas @shippingtheswann​, @distant-rose​, and @optomisticgirl​ for believing in this fic, especially this section and for encouraging me when I doubted myself. I especially want to give a shout out to Ro who encouraged me to write Milah in the way I had envisioned instead of changing her character to please the fandom.

So, fingers crossed, here we go! Got your tissues ready?

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: Around 7k in this chapter (all chapters will be rather lengthy from here on out)

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 17

Emma wipes at her cheeks, frustrated with herself for crying. Those people don’t deserve her tears. She plops down on the bench in front of the bus stop in downtown Bangor, Maine, the one bag she always keeps packed at her feet. She’s fully aware of what running away at seventeen means.

There will be no more chances.

That makes her frustrated with herself, too. The fact that a tiny part of her still clings to hope, even now. Even after the words her foster father spoke just this evening.

“We have to think of our children, Emma, if you’re going to act this way.”

“Our” children - and that didn’t include her. They didn’t even wait to hear her side of the story. They never asked why she got into the fight in the first place and never once thought that maybe the pot in her book bag wasn’t even hers. It was clear how they saw her - a screwed up orphan who couldn’t be trusted.

She sees the bus coming towards her, and she snatches her bag. She’s not sure how far she can get on the cash she’s got, but any place is better than here. She never belonged in the suburbs anyway.

All she has in her pocket is a little cash that she lifted from her former foster mother’s purse. Portland - that’s how far the cash gets her, with a few bucks left over. She blows it all on a grilled cheese and onion rings in a greasy diner next to the bus stop. She gets as many refills of her soda as she can before the waitress starts to get suspicious.

A year in the suburbs has made Emma rusty, and she wastes way too much time wandering around the city. She hopes that she’s at least walking with a purpose. The most important rule on the streets is to never show vulnerability or weakness.

It begins to rain, and she needs a place to sleep. The corner of her mouth kicks up in the hint of a smile when she sees what’s a block ahead near the pier. It’s a carnival, closed for the season. Better yet, there’s a gap in the gate of the chain link just wide enough for a slender girl to slip through. Surely there’s a warm, dry place to spend the night somewhere on the grounds.

As Emma walks around the silent carnival, she has to admit that it’s a bit eerie. The swings move subtly in the breeze, their chains clanking. Rain pelts the colorful awnings and drips down the boarded up booths. The rain starts to come down harder, and Emma dashes across the grounds with her hoodie over her head. It’s getting dark fast.

“Hey! Hey, you!”

The voice is jolting in the abandoned setting, and Emma’s feet move faster. She clambers aboard a dark carousel just as the pouring rain turns into a full blown storm. The wind whistles around the still carousel, and lightning illuminates the immobile faces of horses, zebras, and unicorns.

Emma hears the shouts again, almost inaudible over the storm, and she drops down on all fours. She scrambles beneath the feet of the wooden menagerie to the very center of the carousel. She presses her back against the wood, heart pounding.

The beam of a flashlight cuts through the darkness, and Emma claps her hands to her mouth as if that can help cloak her from the light.

“Who’s there?”

Emma’s hands slip from her face as she realizes that it isn’t the voice of an adult. Still, she looks around frantically, hoping to see a service door somewhere. A security guard would call the cops, but another teenager might do something ten times worse to a girl alone out here. Emma can’t see a damn thing between the flashes of lightning, so she crawls along the edges of the center of the carousel, hands groping for an opening.

“Hey, stop!” the voice shouts again, and the light of the flashlight blinds Emma. Hands reach out, but she fights against them. “Stop it, I’m not gonna hurt you!”

The only reason she believes him is because he releases her. Her eyes blink open, but all she can see is a shadowy figure leaning over her. The flashlight is rolling away on the floor of the carousel. The lightning flashes again, just long enough to show her the face of a teenage boy. They’re plunged back into darkness, however, just as quickly.

“You a runaway too?”

“Too?”

“Hey listen,” he says, gently touching her arm, “I’m gonna go get my flashlight, okay? Don’t run off.”

Emma isn’t sure if it’s his youth or her fear of the storm that keeps her where she is. He comes back, shining the flashlight at her feet so he doesn’t blind her again. When he hunkers down in front of her, the light fully illuminates him, and she’s able to get a good look at him: extremely thick, slightly curly brown hair that falls into his dark brown eyes, a boyish smile, and a nose that’s a tad too large for his face. The hoodie he’s wearing is stained, ripped, and soaked from the rain.

“I’m Neal,” he tells her, “Neal Cassidy.”

She simply regards him suspiciously.

“This is the part where you tell me your name,” he adds with a grin.

Emma turns away from his gaze and crosses her arms stubbornly. He sighs.

“I get it, I really do, but you’re gonna have to trust me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she snaps.

“If you want to survive, you do,” he replies solemnly. “Now, do you wanna see where we sleep or not? Cause it’s a lot better than this carousel.”

“We?”

Killian: Age 17

“Man overboard!”

The crew of the Jolly Roger rush to get ropes as soon as the words leave Curly’s mouth from where he stands guard in the crow’s nest. It’s a mission they’ve been through many times, fishing lost boys out of the water.

“Starboard!” Curly yells, and they hurry to that side of the ship.

The Jolly Roger, despite being captained by a boy of seventeen, is still the finest ship to sail the seas in any realm, just as it was under its other name - The Jewel of the Realm. And despite its crew ranging in age from twelve to eighteen, her familiar outline shimmering on the horizon is already enough to strike fear in the hearts of the most experienced sailors. For one, the Jolly Roger with its pegasus sail has been known to drop upon a ship from the skies above. Then there are the tales of the demon pirate children and their one-handed captain, stories that have almost reached the status of legend. Enough so that Hook and his crew have to shed very little blood. Their intent is to avenge the death of Liam Jones, and to that end, crippling the navy of King George is enough.

Killian Jones is no longer the navy's disciplined sailor he was a year ago, but more importantly, he also is no longer a boy. Plenty of sailors underestimate him because of his age, but few seventeen year olds carry the experience or the tragedy of Captain Hook.

As for Pan, Killian hasn’t forgotten the day he slashed his brother with dreamshade. Though Captain Hook longs for a more violent revenge, the best he can do for the moment is rescue Pan’s boys from thinning, and occasionally, save a boy from Pan’s shadow. Not all boys come to Peter willingly, and many used to perish in the waves around the island until Hook started fishing them out of the water. Both practices have caused The Jolly Roger’s crew to swell over the past year.

On this particular day, his crew is fishing their latest recruit out of the water. Two in as many days? Pan doesn’t usually send his shadow out that frequently. Then again, he’d thinned a few recently. No matter how hard the pirates try to save them, not all Lost Boys realize the intent of their leader until it’s too late. Hook’s current cabin boy also fought off the shadow just yesterday. Killian grins as he thinks of Pan’s frustration. He lounges against a few barrels, crossing his legs at the ankles, and casually watches his crew work the ropes. He arches a brow as the wet figure flops to the deck.

“Looks like it’s a pirate’s life for you, boy,” he says. As the “boy” stands, Captain Hook finds himself speechless, something that hasn’t happened in well over a year.

The entire crew gasps, for standing before them, dripping wet, chest heaving, and fire in her eyes is not a lost boy but a lost girl. She wears a corseted dress that shows off an ample amount of her bosom, and Hook’s been in enough ports to know a lady of the night when he sees one. Yet she is, indeed, a girl. Not a woman. Anger flashes clearly in his suddenly darkening eyes. His crew misinterprets it as frustration towards the girl herself. They all eye her warily and step a few paces away from her.

Hook draws closer to her, removing his long leather duster as he does so. She lifts her chin defiantly, almost hiding the shiver that courses through her body. He swings the duster towards her, the words of a gentleman on his tongue, but she slaps his hand away. The crew murmurs nervously, but all Hook does is smirk at her.

“You are cold, lass, I was offering my coat.”

“I don’t need your charity,” she spits, “all I need is to find someone, and I’ll be on my way.”

Killian’s brow arches as he regards her. “I see. Unfortunately for you, that will be rather difficult to accomplish without the aid of me and my crew.”

She props her hands on her hips and scowls at him. “Doubtful.”

He draws closer and leans forward to whisper in her ear. “No. Fact.”

She narrows her stormy gray eyes at him, and he’s close enough to see the swirls of blue in them. Some of her dark curls have stuck to her wet face, and he wants to reach out and brush them away, but he refrains. She strikes him as the type of lass who would not welcome such a gesture.

A sudden, high pitched shout of delight breaks the tension, and the girl lets out a cry as she shoves past Killian. She falls to her knees in front of Hook’s new cabin boy, a lad of only six, and envelops him in her arms.

“Mason!” she says, her hard facade slipping away as she holds the boy tight and cries with joy. “I’ve been so worried ever since that shadow -”

“It’s okay!” the boy interrupts with childish exuberance. He rushes over to his Captain and tugs on his hook. “Captain Hook let me join his crew! I’m his cabin boy!”

Those eyes of hers become tumultuous again, and Killian regards her in contemplation. The boy is six, the lad told him so, but surely this girl can’t be his mother. He knows, however, that not all the girls in the brothels are of age, nor are they all there by choice. He guesses the young lady before him would have had to give birth at the age of only thirteen, at the most, if she truly is the boy’s mother.

“What have you been doing to him?” she snaps.

“Taking care of him,” Killian says calmly but with authority, “and a thank you would be in order that we fished him out of the sea.”

“And kept him hidden from Peter Pan,” Starkey, his first mate, adds.

Killian kneels before Mason. “How about you go below and get some hardtack from cook while I talk to your -”

“Sister. And her name is Milah.”

Killian lets out a small sigh of relief. “Yes, your sister.”

“Okay!” Mason chirps as he skips off. Killian watches him go fondly. They normally don’t take on boys as young as he is, but Mason had fought the shadow tooth and nail where most lads his age are eager to see The Neverland. He sees a jadedness in the boy’s eyes that is much too familiar.

Killian stands and turns to Mason’s sister. He bows. “Milah, I believe it is?”

“Yes,” she says coolly.

“If I may have a word with you, m’lady?”

She tosses her hair saucily over one shoulder, yet takes the arm he offers her anyway. He glares at his crew and shouts for them to get back to work. He and Milah stroll to the ship’s bow.

“May I ask,” he begins, knowing he must proceed with caution, “how you managed to follow your brother here?”

Milah sighs and lets go of his arm. “A week ago, Mason told me about the shadow coming to our window. He said it whispered to him about a place where orphan boys can be free. I’m ashamed to say that I brushed it off as a dream.”

“But it kept coming back.”

Milah nods. “It began to frighten Mason, too. He said that the shadow wanted to take him away from me. I told him to keep the window locked. I have to work nights, you see . . . “ Milah trails off, a blush rising to her cheeks as she looks away from him in shame.

“Hey,” Killian says softly, turning her chin gently towards him, “I was sold as a slave when I wasn’t much older than Mason. I know what it means to just survive.”

She holds his gaze for only a moment before turning away, her hard demeanor back in place. “Anyway, I came home one night to see the shadow for myself, but it already had Mason. I lunged for my brother, but it was too late, the shadow was flying away with him.”

“Then how did you get here?” He glances up at the pegasus sail fluttering above them. “It is no easy feat, lass.”

Milah smiles with a bit of pride behind her eyes. “I went to a sorceress in the village square. It took far too much of my coin, but she had the information I sought. She said if I stood before my open window and said I believe, the shadow would come for me.”

“And it did,” Killian says, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.

She nods. “Aye, but the sorceress warned me not to let the shadow take me all the way to the island. I wasn’t sure why, but figured I should listen, so -”

“So here we are.” Killian leans against the railing, admiring the way the sea air rustles her curls. She shivers again, and he once again offers his coat. This time, she accepts.

“Here we are,” she says, suddenly shy. He sees now a hint of her real age.

“How old are you?” he asks gently, hoping she won’t take the question as anything more than genuine curiosity.

She bites her bottom lip as she clutches his duster tighter. “Seventeen.”

His cheeks dimple with the force of his smile. “So am I .”

“Are you serious?” Her jaw drops. “The fearsome Captain Hook is just a boy?”

“A boy!”

She laughs teasingly, then cocks her head at him. “So, does the offer still stand?”

He tilts his head. “Offer?”

“You know, a pirate’s life for me.”

He reaches out and adjusts the heavy coat that rests on her slim shoulders. “Yes, Milah. I think you’ll make a damn good pirate.”

Emma: Age 17

Emma stares out across the dark carnival grounds, pushing the swing around idly with her foot. She hears chains clink behind her and sighs wearily.

“Hey,” Neal says, grasping the chains of her swing and spinning her to face him.

“Hey.”

He searches her face and gives her a boyish grin. “Don’t let them get to you, Ems.”

She says nothing. She searches his eyes, for what she isn’t sure. He tugs the swing forward and captures her lips in a kiss. She kisses him back for a moment, then pushes gently on his chest.

“I’m still mad at you,” she grumbles.

He shakes his head and chuckles, which causes Emma a tiny prick of irritation. He lifts the metal bar of the swing nearest her and sits, his long, awkward teenage legs sprawled out on either side of hers.

“They were just messing with us. They know we’re a thing, so -”

“It was my first time, Neal!” Emma snaps before he can finish.

“It’s not like I planned it or anything,�� he shoots back, still with that infuriating grin on his face, “one thing led to another -”

“I was there, Neal,” she tells him dryly.

“My point is, I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.”

Emma blushes as the memories of the night before come back to her. “You said they wouldn’t be able to hear us.”

“I didn’t know you were going to moan that loud.”

She kicks him, but can’t help smiling shyly at his teasing. He leans forward and yanks her swing close to his until their noses are brushing.

“I also didn’t know you were going to cry out my name like that.”

She bites her lip at the heated look in his eyes. Honestly, she had yelped his name more than crying it out. It had hurt at first, but she’s too embarrassed to tell him that.

“I . . . “ she swallows thickly as he presses a kiss right at the corner of her mouth, “Neal, I . . . “

“Yes?” he mumbles against her neck.

Emma stops the explorations of his lips with her hands to his cheeks so she can look him in the eye. “I think . . . that is, I . . . I love you, Neal.”

He smiles brightly then, pulling her close and kissing her with incredible passion. He doesn’t say anything back, doesn’t say he loves her too. She tells herself that’s okay, though. After all, they’re only seventeen.

*************************************

Lily is the leader. Emma isn’t sure exactly how that came to be, though she guesses it has something to do with Lily’s intimidating demeanor. There’s something darkly intense about her, an edge behind her dusky eyes that makes everyone in their crew afraid to question her authority.

There are seven of them, including Emma, forming a loose sort of family. Neal had been correct that first night - the supply warehouse they’re squatting in is a much better place to crash than the carousel. It’s a slightly macabre final resting place for anything broken or out of use, from rusted coaster cars to broken haunted house furniture. There’s even an old red sleigh and a troupe of ten-foot tall nutcrackers when the carnival had apparently been open for the holidays.

Neal was also telling the truth that they’re all runaways. Emma, however, is the only actual orphan. Truth be told, she secretly thinks the rest of them are all a little self absorbed in their reasons to leave home. Neal’s dad apparently had become angry and bitter after his mother’s death. Emma has to keep from rolling her eyes every time Neal tells her how the man “just didn’t understand him anymore.” Claudia and Jamie felt overlooked in a big family, Sam just longed for adventure, and August chafed against his father’s rules. Then there’s Lily, adopted as an infant by parents who she claims never loved her and - naturally - didn’t understand her. The whole “they don’t understand me” thing is a constant refrain, and one Emma is frankly a little tired of hearing.

When Neal had brought her to the group that first night, he’d gone straight to Lily who had regarded Emma, shivering and dripping water on the concrete floor, with casual disdain. Then her mouth had ticked up into a smile that Emma couldn’t quite read.

“Welcome to the family,” she’d told her, and only then had the rest of the group even approached her. They’d each carved out space amongst all the junk, using bits of this and pieces of that to make beds. There wasn’t really a “bed” for Emma, though, so Neal had offered to share his. When Jamie, who is only thirteen, snickered, Emma had blushed and said she’d figure something else out.

“Oh don’t be such a baby,” Lily had snapped with a roll of her eyes, “we already know he wants to fuck you. Emma’s staying with Neal, and that’s just how it is.”

She’d said the last as if it were a royal proclamation, and everyone had scattered to go to bed for the night. Neal’s face had been bright red, and he’d not only mumbled an apology, but had been a perfect gentleman that first night.

But only the first night. And now here she is, in the first real relationship of her young life, and five other kids heard every word of it. It’s humiliating and degrading. Yet Emma knows better than to mess this thing up. Lily’s crew means protection, it means seven kids pulling cons and picking pockets and sharing the spoils. And it may not be the family she’s spent her whole life dreaming of, but it’s better than being alone.

Emma isn’t sure where Neal is at the moment. She’s attempting to get a moment to herself, hidden behind the broken down cotton candy machine that makes one “wall” of the “bedroom” she shares with Neal. Claudia had swiped a pad of paper and some pencils from a discount store yesterday and hadn’t minded sharing with Emma. It’s been years since she’s sketched, but inspiration struck. Her pencil flies across the paper, and when she’s finished, tears sting inexplicably at the corner of her eyes. It’s the wardrobe. She bites on her lower lip and swallows back a sudden lump in her throat. She remembers the sparkle in Killian’s eyes and a bit of sadness sweeps over her as she wonders where he is right now. She shakes her head and crumples the paper in her hand. Why the hell is she thinking about that wardrobe today?

“Emma?”

She jolts and turns to see Jamie standing there. “Neal wanted me to give you this,” he tells her as he hands her a piece of paper.

Emma rolls her eyes as she takes the paper from him. “You can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, Jamie.”

His grin only gets wider. “Did Claude tell you she swiped some ear plugs for me? She doesn’t want your sex noises corrupting me.”

She jumps up to smack the kid across his smug face, but he darts away laughing before she can reach him. Letting out a frustrated huff of breath, she opens the note he’s given her.

“Meet me at the spot where we first met. xoxo Neal”

Even though the xoxo postscript is a little middle school, she can’t help the smile that fills her face. She heads eagerly for the carousel and finds Neal waiting for her. He grabs her around the waist and kisses her in greeting, and when they part Emma has to catch her breath.

“Where have you been all day?” she asks him.

The grin he gives her fills his face and lights up his brown eyes. “Working on a surprise.”

She smiles back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “A surprise? For who?”

He shrugs teasingly. “I was thinking maybe Claudia would like it - ow!” He rubs at where she punched him in the arm, though her indignation seems to only make his smile broader. “Just kidding, Ems, you know it’s for you. Come on!”

Neal pulls her across the carnival grounds almost at a run, and Emma is breathless again when he stops in front of an office door. She quirks a brow at him.

“What’s in there?”

He shuffles his feet back and forth, nervous for the first time. “Um, just close your eyes.”

Emma eyes him suspiciously.

“Please?”

She shrugs and complies. She hears the door swing open, and Neal tugs her hands gently to lead her inside. The door shuts behind her, and she feels Neal pressed up against her back. He leans forward and whispers in her ear.

“Keep your eyes closed until I say.”

“Okay,” she agrees, letting her breath out in a huff.

“I’m really sorry about how our first time went. I should have planned it - made it special. So . . . maybe this will make it up to you?”

He tells her to open her eyes, and when she does, she sees a small, modest office with wood paneling, filing cabinets, and a musty smell. However, there’s also a couch along one wall that Neal has scattered with rose petals and on every flat surface in the room, tea candles flicker.

“Well?” he asks her, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

“I . . . I . . . “ Emma swallows around the sudden lump in her throat. “How did you even get in here?”

She worries that maybe she’s hurt his feelings, but Neal just shrugs. “I picked the lock. It was a simple one with no deadbolt, so . . . “

Emma wanders around the small room, taking in every candle, reaching out to touch some of the rose petals.

“They’re fake,” he tells her apologetically. “The convenience store didn’t have real ones. Oh, and I got you something else!”

Neal reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a key chain which he dangles in front of her. Emma reaches out to take it, smiling down at the round pendant.

“It’s a swan.” She throws her arms around him and gives him a brief kiss. “I love it!”

She wraps her arms tighter around him as he pulls her close. She buries her nose in his shoulder and revels in his embrace. Then, suddenly, a bright fluorescent light catches her eye. Just over Neal’s shoulder is another door, and through the square window in its center she sees something she remembers from her past.

“What’s that?” she whispers as she steps away from Neal and draws closer to the door.

“Oh, that’s the arcade,” Neal tells her, “this office must be for the manager.”

Emma turns the knob and is surprised to find it unlocked. She steps out into the dark arcade, drawing closer to the glass cube that pulses with a neon glow.

“I wonder why that one’s still plugged in,” Neal muses.

Emma presses her palm to the glass and draws closer. Voices from the past drift to the forefront of her memory. Now, decide which prize you want, and focus. Emma remembers the way the game had sparked, how Sarah hadn’t seemed fazed at all. The claw in this machine hangs immobile, and Emma gives a soft gasp as she sees the prize right below it - a stuffed white rabbit with a pink ribbon around its neck.

“Emma?” Neal asks hesitantly.

What if you did have magic, Emma?

I travel to you through an enchanted wardrobe, Emma. And you think magic sounds crazy?

“Emma?” Neal tries again.

“Do you believe in magic?” she whispers, her hand still pressed to the glass, her gaze still fixed on that stuffed rabbit.

Neal laughs. “I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but this life of ours ain’t no fairy tale.”

A tear slips from the corner of Emma’s eye and rolls down her cheek. “But there are things that can’t be explained. Aren’t there?”

Neal steps closer and grasps her loosely by the elbow. “Emma, what’s wrong? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

Emma shakes her head, swiping at the wet spot on her cheek. “Nothing.”

Neal turns her to face him, his eyes searching hers carefully. “Is this still about the sex thing?”

Emma can’t help it, she blurts out a laugh. “Don’t worry, Cassidy, you didn’t waste all those candles.”

His pupils widen as he grins eagerly. “Well, I’m relieved to hear that. Although I stole the candles so . . . “

Emma shakes her head and throws her arms around his neck. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“You know,” Neal says softly, rubbing her arms, “everyone’s on edge because the carnival’s off season is almost over.”

Emma sighs and presses her forehead to his. “I know. Lily wants to have a meeting tomorrow to talk about it.”

“What if we . . . took off on our own?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “You can’t be serious. Where would we even go?”

“Well, don’t tell Lily this,” he says, looking around nervously as if Lily might be hiding behind the pinball machines, “but I’ve had a few big scores that I’ve kept to myself.”

“Seriously? How much?”

“Enough to get us pretty far,” he tells her confidently, then he’s yanking her hand eagerly back inside the office. He stops in front of a map of the United States hanging next to a small desk. Grinning broadly, he sweeps his hand across the expanse of it. “Come on, Emma, dream big. Where do you want to go?”

She shakes her head. “You’re crazy.”

He wraps his arms around her waist. “Only about you.” Then he releases her, and turns her towards the map. “Go ahead, pick someplace, and it’s yours.”

“Mine? Or ours?”

“Ours.”

Emma smiles, her cheeks flushed, then she closes her eyes, extends her hand and walks blindly towards the map. When her finger collides with its surface, she opens her eyes.

“Tallahassee,” she reads aloud, then she spins to face Neal, “is there a beach?”

“It’s Florida.” He shrugs. “It’s all beach.”

Emma rests her hands on his shoulders and gives him a slow, tender kiss. “So we’re doing this?”

“Yeah. Tallahassee it is.”

****************************************

Emma really doesn’t like riding in the back of this van. Or more specifically, her stomach doesn’t like it. She moans and rests her head on Neal’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asks her.

“You two aren’t naked back there are you?” Jamie asks in a loud, obnoxious voice.

“Shut up, you little shit!” Emma yells back.

Correction, Emma doesn’t like being in this van at all. This ugly, avocado van from the early 80s that smells like a sickening combination of pot and urine. Neal had said they were going to head off on their own once the crew left the carnival, yet here they are. They’d had a fight about it, but Neal had insisted that they needed a bit more cash. Lily had a big con planned, and once they pulled it off, getting to Tallahassee would be child’s play.

Emma’s stomach roils, and she scrambles over the three rows of bench seats to the front passenger seat. She almost pukes all over Jamie, which would have been great karma, come to think of it. She plops down next to Lily, who’s driving, and quickly rolls the manual window down. She sighs in relief once the cool air hits her face.

“Car sick?” Lily asks.

“Yeah,” Emma sighs as she presses her temple against the side of the window.

“Well, you can stay up here with me.”

“Thanks. Where are we going, again?”

Lily grins as she glances at Emma, then back to the road. “All the ski resorts up here are closing up for the summer. The people who own cabins up here are loaded. We can squat in style until fall.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “But Neal said we’d be flush with cash.”

Lily gives her that icy look that says she finds Emma incredibly naive. “Of course we will. Before we head out, we’ll clean the place out. We’re talking major electronics - TVs, gaming systems, DVD players.”

“Okay,” Emma says warily.

“Just you wait,” Lily assures, “it’s gonna be incredible.”

****************************************

On her third night in the vacation home in the mountains, Emma wakes up to a flashlight blinding her eyes and questions being shouted at her. As the cops escort her down the stairs and out the front door, she sees that the others have cleaned the place out already. Nothing but wires stick out of the wall in the family room where the tv, vcr, and gaming system had been connected. She’s barefoot and in a pair of pajamas that she’d found in the master bedroom drawer, but none of the cops seem to care as they put her in the squad car. She’s not handcuffed, though, maybe because she was too disoriented to resist.

Emma sits there in the back seat, cursing her stupidity. She should have seen this coming the moment Lily smirked at her that first night. There were so many signs that the girl was a complete narcissist, and Emma had missed them all. How could she ever think Lily was her friend?

Emma reaches into the pocket of her pajama pants and clutches the small white stick she’d slipped inside before going to bed. Why she’d put it there, she doesn’t even know. She shouldn’t be surprised that Neal bailed on her after the way he reacted when she’d told him. He’d literally recoiled from her, his face pale.

Well, they’d taken care of her, hadn’t they? The expensive silver from the dining room slipped into her bag was an especially nice touch. A clean break from the girl who was nothing but a burden.

After all, what crew of teen runaways wants a pregnant seventeen year old?

Killian: Age 17

Killian’s eyes blink open drowsily, and he doesn’t feel particularly ready to get out of bed. He shoves his pillow under his chest, groans, and then reaches out to pull Milah close. All he feels is empty sheets. He rolls over to look around the cabin, and there she is, clad in her shift, her dark curls a riotous mess down her back. She’s standing in front of the wardrobe, running her fingers over the intricate carvings that cover the doors.

“How did you get this?” she asks.

Killian hops up out of bed, wrapping the sheets around his waist. “It’s um, always been here, even back when this was a naval ship.”

“What do you even keep in this thing?”

“No, don’t!” he shouts, slamming his good hand against the door before she can open it. He isn’t wearing his hook, so the sheets he was grasping tumble to the floor.

Milah looks him up and down appreciatively and smirks. “Though I like the view better without the sheet, why are you so jumpy about a piece of furniture?”

“I um . . . I just . . .” Killian snatches up the sheets and holds them in front of himself while he turns and presses his back to the wardrobe. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. This wardrobe - it’s magic.”

Milah’s eyes widen. “Magic? How?”

“It opens a portal to another realm.”

“Really?” she replies, skeptically. “Prove it.”

Killian blinks rapidly, his brain scrambling for a reply, but all that comes out is one word. “No.”

“No?” Her hands are on her hips, and her glare could curdle milk. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything!”

“Then why are you blushing?”

He feels his cheeks heat even more under her icy stare. What’s he hiding? Only that he checks the wardrobe every day? That despite the fact that he cares deeply for Milah, he still sometimes wonders where Emma is and if she’s okay? He feels so nervous under Milah’s intense stare that he stumbles sideways when she shoves him in the shoulder.

“Milah!” he shouts as she flings open the wardrobe. He lets out a relieved breath when all that’s inside is an empty rod for hanging clothes.

“Is this some kind of joke?” she demands when she whirls back to face him.

Killian collapses on the edge of the bed and reaches out a hand to her. “Come here, and I’ll tell you.”

She eyes him warily but sits anyway. He runs his hand nervously through his hair, unsure where to begin. He finally decides to just start at the beginning when he was ten. Once he starts talking, he can’t seem to stop, and he tells her everything: his crush on Emma, the white rabbit, even the kiss. When he finally finishes, he looks at Milah sheepishly.

“I’m sorry.”

Milah smiles softly and cups his face gently. “Why? Because you loved someone before you met me?”

Killian blinks rapidly. “Loved?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it was puppy love, maybe, but it was real. And pretty cute, actually.”

He tilts his head in surprise. “Really?”

She brushes a kiss to his cheek. “Really.” She looks back over at the wardrobe. “So you were nervous that I might end up face to face with her. With Emma?”

Killian rubs his face. “Aye, I suppose.”

Milah laughs. “I guess that could have been awkward, especially since you’re wearing nothing but a sheet right now.”

Milah’s eyes turn a darker shade of gray as she runs her hands over his chest and pushes him back down on his cot. He was nervous six months ago when their relationship first turned physical. Milah was obviously very experienced and was used to men, not boys. Yet she told him as he held her close in the afterglow that before him, all she had known were men who took from her, often violently. He was different.

Still, there was a part of Milah he felt that he could never quite reach.Her homelife had been difficult and became worse once her mother remarried. However, she had never told him exactly what life had been like with her stepfather. All she would say was that the man had planned to marry her off to a local farmer when she was fourteen, so she’d run away. The thing was, she’d taken Mason with her. Killian knew there had to be more to the story than that.

It felt as if Milah was holding back when they were making love, too. She was definitely teaching him things, and he certainly didn’t mind that. It was more that she seemed to get uncomfortable anytime Killian tried to initiate anything. She wanted to be in control, so he let her. As long as she felt safe, that was all that mattered.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he had much to offer her. A seventeen year old boy with a mutilated stump instead of a left hand leading a crew of kids. Milah took to being a pirate naturally, however, wielding a sword and fighting just as well as the rest of them. There was even a type of manic joy on her face when they overtook a crew, as if she were getting vengeance on every man who had ever touched her.

Emma had always been a mystery to him, but it was because her entire existence felt like a fantasy. Milah was a mystery to him in a different way. She confused him and fascinated him in equal measure. She was a deep well, jaded and wounded, that he wasn’t sure he could ever plumb even though he wanted to. Thoughts of Emma Swan, though they still plagued him at times, seemed to belong to an entirely different boy. A boy he wasn’t sure still existed.

Tagging:    @snowbellewells​​  @kmomof4​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @teamhook​ @bethacaciakay​ @let-it-raines​ @welllpthisishappening​ @wellhellotragic​ @winterbaby89​ @xhookswenchx​ @courtorderedcake​ @branlovestowrite​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @carpedzem​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @jennjenn615​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @spartanguard​ @shireness-says​ @scientificapricot​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @snidgetsafan​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @nikkiemms​@delirious-latenight-laughs​

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs neverland au #cs canon divergence #magic wardrobe #soul mates #angst #childhood sweethearts #slow burn

[amurih]

Bones in the Ocean

I’d thought of trying my hand at writing again. Based off of a previous post I wrote about a while back. God fucking speed me I guess.

The events from Rumblecusp had been a tiring one for both The Mighty Nein as well as the rest of the newly acquired ship crew of the Nein Heroz. But, with the freeing of the VO community, the weight of Jester’s duties for her “god” finished; peace had once again settled over the group once more. And with that peace came new jobs, new information, new adventures, and new possibilities. Becoming Vess DeRogna “bodyguards” wasn’t something not expected, but they had weirder jobs than this. They started to making plans for their way up north towards the frozen lands of Eiselcross. Wondering what lies beyond both the Graying Wildlands and across the Frigid Depths north west of Wildmount.

 After informing Veth of the conversation with DeRogna, the team quickly began  stocking up for the many weeks at sea  and across the land they would be going to. While shopping for some warmer clothing for up north, a message had appeared, straight like an arrow, into Fjords mind. Some words was shared, Sabian’s confirmed whereabouts were currently out at sea with said captain of sketchy renowned among the merchant ship trades. A bit more information that what he had already gathered, Fjord requested more of her services as to keep an eye on Sabian while he was traveling north for the time being. More coin was to be expected to ensured that her services were continue, Fjord gave notice that he would deliver payment when he returned from their current trip. 

It had been a couple of days out at sea, well past midnight and most of the crew were either already asleep or getting ready to. Beau would be up finishing writing in her journal of their experiences and trying to piece together some of the information they collected as to what the group would be expecting on the island. Caleb would still be up working on a schedule for Veth, so that she could travel to and from both her family and the group at the same time. Caduceus would be getting ready for bed with his cup of tea that he had just prepared previously. A blend of Chamomile, spearmint, and lemongrass. Jester had decided to turn in early for the night, she had spent most of the day sending messages, sketching of the various crew members working, and catching up on the latest gossip from Artagen. Veth was already asleep after asking Caleb if he needed help with anything he was doing. He didn’t, so as to not have to be reminded that she was in the middle of the sea, she had decided to follow Jester’s example and head to bed early. Yasha had been up in the crow’s nest a while ago wanting to feel the breeze of the wind and a better view of the stars above before turning in for the night. Their current employer would have still been in her personal cabin aboard the ship. They hadn’t seen her since they had boarded back in village of Palebank nor did they want to interact with her.

And then there was Fjord.

Fjord had decided to volunteer of taking watch that night. He had also asked the current boat’s captain if he would take over steering the ship. After a brief reasoning *coughIntimidationcough* the captain had relinquished their hold over the steering wheel. With a quivering nod decided to retreat to the galley of the ship for something to eat and drink.This let Fjord alone with his thoughts. Giving a lot of thinking room by ones self to both the good. And the bad...

The bad such as that undead city out in the astral plane. How not even The Wildmother hadn’t known about this presence or any knowledge about it. Bad such as whether Uka’toa’s next attack would happen while out at sea or would he have sent some of his followers follow him on land. What about the Cerberus Assembly and what they are doing with that newly discovered dodecahedron. What they were going to find once they reached that fallen city in Eiselcross. That Sabian is still out there...

Sabian. The man who whose actions that night still question his mind. Why did do that? After all those years on the Tides Breath, Fjord thought that they were doing better? To which those thought turned to his old crew aboard said ship. They didn’t deserve what happened to them, they didn’t deserve to . Time felt like it came to a crawl while thinking of them, so he turned to one of the things that would pass the time on long voyages and work time. 

Sing.

Oh, I bid farewell to the port and the land And I paddle away from Brave Exandra's white sands To search for my long ago forgotten friends To search for the place I hear all sailors end.

As the souls of the dead fill the space of my mind I’ll search without sleeping til' peace I can find I fear not the weather, I fear not the sea I remember the fallen... do they think of me? When their bones in the ocean, forever will be.

It had been a long while since he would sing. Not as well as The Ruby of the Sea’s quality, but just as good as any other being who could hold a tune.There wasn’t a bard or someone who could play this late at night. Just the sounds of the wind, the movement of the waves crashing against the groaning and creaking of the boat below. Fjord was sure that none of the rest of the group would hear him this late at night to tease his ability to sing, so he proceeded to the next verse.

Plot a course to the night, to a place I once knew To a place where my hope died along with my crew; So I swallow my grief and face life's final test T’ find promise of peace and the solace of rest.

As the souls of the dead fill the space of my ears Their laughter like children, their beckoning cheers. My heart longs to join them, sing songs of the sea I remember the fallen... do they think of me? When their bones in the ocean, forever will be.  

It must be a trick of the moonlight, but for a split second there were more than just him on the top deck. One. Then became two. Soon there were Thirty-two more. They weave and swayed around each other as if performing tasks one would normally do on board a ship. Familiar garbs and faces of those long passed. It was impossible, he was miles and miles away from the place where the Tide’s Breath sank. Yet these were faces of men whom he worked with for many years. Said faces turned towards Fjord as they stopped what they were doing. And as if many calling back to Fjord as if coming from beyond the wind and waves. A chorus of men join Fjord’s song. They are smiling, not a bit of ill will towards their fellow crew mate who had survived the ship those many months ago. 

When at last, before my ghostly shipmates I stand I shed a small tear for my home upon land; Though their eyes speak of depths filled with struggle and strife Their smiles below say I don't owe them my life

It was as if there was a spell being cast a spell over the ship. Fjord had thought that if he were to stop singing then they would disappear once more. They weren’t doing anything other than stand and look towards Fjord as he helm the ship. Smiling, they continue the chorus back with Fjord. 

As the souls of the dead fill the space of my eyes And my boat listed over and tried to capsize I'm this far from drowning, this far from the sea I remember the living... do they think of me? When my bones in the ocean, forever will be

Oh how many nights he had wish that the boat hadn’t been destroyed. That Sabian hadn’t lit the fuse next to the explosives that caused the deaths of his previous crew mates. How Vanderen wasn’t still missing on one of the many island of the lucideon ocean. How he became just a warm body for Uka’toa’s goals. He would have been working the trade routes till his death either by drowning at sea naturally, pirate ships, or just old age. Day after day boring and mundane life. No, excitement other than bar fights and disputes over pay.The same shore line up and down the Menagerie coast. Stagnant. 

Now that I'm staring down at the darkest abyss I'm not sure what I want, but I don't think it's this; As my comrades call to stand fast and forge on... I make sail for the dawn until the darkness has gone.

Fjord would say that a tiny part of him was grateful that Sabian did what he did.If that explosion to the ship didn’t happen then he wouldn’t have seen what was beyond the beaches of the Menagerie coast. Wouldn’t have learned of others joys and hardships.He wouldn’t have met The Mighty Nein.

As the souls of the dead live fore'er in my mind As I live all the years that they left me behind; I’ll stay on the shore but still gaze at the sea I remember the fallen and they think of me For our souls in the ocean, together we’ll be.

These people--his family. Who made him a better person. Made him want to be a better person. They were all to thank, and would be remembered for all time much like his old crew. As the last of the verse came to be, one by one his old crew mates dissipate back to where they once came from. Their voices, one by one, carried out across the deck of the ship, across the sea, and to the beyond. Back to their resting ground.Just Fjord by himself, steering the ship towards their northern destination.

As if it didn’t even happen,there came another voice beyond the winds. Beyond the sea. A motherly voice follows along the end to Fjord’s song.

I remember the fallen and they think of me... For our souls in the ocean, together we'll be. 

#I tried writing again #fjord #critical role #the mighty nein #tm9 #My writing skill fuckin suck man :) #good ideas; bad writing #the wildmother #I only changed one word from the original song so that it fits the bill of the story #Note to me: insert you tried sticker here

[teamhook]

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Second Contribution

Thanks again to @kmomof4 for organizing the thing…

Thanks to @hookedonapirate for her Beta services.

Thanks to @kymbersmith-90 @revanmeetra87 @searchingwardrobes for their support and help cause I tend to freak out. :p

                                             |AO3|  |FFN|

Chapter 3:

The road so far…

Liam grows up fast to take care of his little brother. Years pass in servitude of a cruel captain. Killian gives in to his first vice. Liam makes an unsavory deal to save his brother. The brothers join the Royal Navy and the elder Jones embarks on a fool’s quest.

…

Liam Jones was at the helm of the Titan feeling the spray of the sea water as the ship sailed through the bluest waters he’d ever seen. The only way the experience would’ve been better would be if Killian, his little brother, were at his side as his lieutenant.

His dream had become a reality; he was finally captaining a royal ship on a quest for the King. His hope now was to soon be reunited with his brother.

Liam looked at the clear skies ahead; they should be approaching the White Waters Triangle. According to the records, all the known shipwrecks had happened close to their current location.

Liam was brought out of his thoughts as a sudden pulse of energy hit the ship.

He hears a panicked voice coming from the crow’s nest, “Captain, captain!” A tidal wave was coming and it was big, almost reaching the sky. “Sir, it came out of nowhere,” the young sailor exclaimed as he hurried down into his position. Even an experienced crew stood no chance of survival, but they had to try.

Should they attempt to ride it out or turn around and outrun it? Liam didn’t have time to ponder the question and tried to turn the ship, but it was too late. The wave was already upon them. The ship started to croak and the wooden hull splintered, unable to resist the pressure of the blue water. It happened so fast, the water rushed in and the depth of sea was engulfing the ship along with its occupants.

The only indications of the existence of the majestic ship that once stood there were the wooden beams that were once bonded into the craft and now floated, torn apart on the clear water. Other than that, there was no proof of a destructive tidal wave taking another ship to Davy Jones’ locker. The waters were calm once more.

…

Days turned into a week and weeks turned into months, but there was still no word from Liam. The feeling of abandonment resurfaced. He hated that feeling; it was the same exact way he felt upon his father’s desertion.

The ship that carried the younger Jones had made port in a small town close to the Enchanted Forest just outside the Maritime Kingdom.

Killian Jones had opted to distract himself from that old feeling. He had been reading over some Greek books on the mythology of the elusive island the King was eager to reach. The bunk was filled with all the books on navigation he could get. He needed to keep his mind occupied while they waited for news from Liam.

There was a small knock on the door of his quarters, and hee eagerly rushed over to it.

“Captain wants to see you in his quarters.”

“Thank you, Johnson.” Killian followed the deckhand to the Captain’s quarters. He didn’t believe he would be hearing good news. He was quite perceptive after all.

Yet, he still hoped he was wrong.

They arrived and promptly found out. They were met with a gruff voice that told them to enter.

“Captain Peterson, you called for me?” Killian shifted as he reached to scratch behind his ear.

“Jones I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news.” There was not one ounce of sincerity.

Killian had once overheard the man say it was not fair that two measly orphans got such quick promotions, and on top of that a ship every sailor in the Royal Navy longed for.

“Sir, was there word from my brother?”

“I’m afraid the lack of it is enough to consider the mission as unsuccessful.”

“Sir, I would like to be part of the search party.”

“Jones, there is never anything to retrieve aside from some pieces of wood.”

“My brother is out there! We cannot just let him perish!”

“Your brother is most likely in Davy’s Locker.” He shrugged. “You are dismissed.”

Killian stormed out and went to his bunk, pacing back and forth. He was alone and tired of losing people he loved. His mum died, his father didn’t love him enough to stay and now his only family was left for dead because of some Royal’s quest.

He was livid. They weren’t even going to search for the crew. They were expendable. He knew they were inexperienced sailors; Liam was the one with the most experience on the ship.

Killian walked aimlessly without direction and ended up in the ship’s galley with one of the few crew members he was friendly with. Out of frustration, he slammed his closed fist onto the table.

“Mr. Lewis.” Killian sniffled and tried to walk past the man.

“Killian, I heard about your brother. I’m sorry.”

“Are you, Mr. Lewis, because no one on this ship seems to care?”

“The crew cares. Weren’t they in the Academy with you and your brother?”

“Aye, and my brother’s crew too.” All gone too soon, thanks to an impossible journey.

A few days had passed when they received notice from the King to return. There was an announcement to be made.

Killian and the crew set sail back to King Fergus’ kingdom for the big proclamation.

Seven days later, they arrived. Killian fulfilled his duty, but he couldn’t get over the anger that still brewed within him.

He had kept mostly to himself.

The moment they docked, they noticed the commotion. The docks were at capacity with people. All came from the surrounding towns within the kingdom. The local Inns were full, therefore forcing most of the crews to sleep on their respective ships.

One ship stood out above all the fine ships at the port; it had no crew but was highly guarded.

Early the next day, the whole town gathered at the docks. King Fergus stood at the gangplank of the beautiful ship. Next, to him, a younger man stood with an obvious resemblance to the King.

He soon announced to the whole town that his nephew Roderick, son of his beloved sister Rowena, would be the Captain of The Jewel of the Realm.

Some of the people in the crowd quickly made comments about the fact that the nephew had no experience. He didn’t even serve in the royal navy, but somehow found himself the captain of the prized ship of the kingdom.

Killian overheard the comments, and with the loss of his brother so recent, his anger rose.

Looking on from afar, a cloaked figure stood and watched with excitement as his plans unfolded.  

The town soon returned to their daily and Killian promptly made his way to his bunk.

There was an urgent knocking at his door, followed by his name. “Killian Jones, are you in there?” It was the deckhand. “Captain is requesting your presence at his quarters.”

Killian opened the door, annoyed that he couldn’t even take a moment to try to mourn his brother’s death. “Lead the way, mate.”

In the captain’s quarters, he was met with the king and his captain.

“Killian Jones, your captain has boasted of your great performance on this ship, leading me to decide to honor the deal I had made with your brother. You will be lieutenant aboard the Jewel of the Realm.”

Killian looked at the two men. He knew this was what Liam wanted for him but he couldn’t help but feel bitter. Kilian had some thoughts to ponder over. Why must they pledge their lives to a King who sees them as worthless? They carry out their duty, only to die while the Royals get wealthier and stay safe in their castles. “It would be an honor, your highness,” he vowed to the king.

“Grab your belongings and you can board the Jewel. My nephew is aware you will be joining the crew. You will be sailing to fulfill some diplomatic duties.” The king nodded and left the room without offering his condolences.  

Killian did as he was told and went to grab his things to go board the new ship and report to his new captain.

The next day the Jewel of the Realm set sail.

After a couple of weeks at sea, Killian had developed camaraderie with the crew. They were all simple men who wanted a better chance than their former life had dealt them. It didn’t take long to convince them to take the ship.  

On a calm day, as the ship sailed the beautiful clear waters, the Captain was giving orders without knowledge of what was to come. The scuffle was fast and before he could react, Captain Roderick found himself at the end of his lieutenant’s cutlass.

Killian wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, but soon they were dueling for the ship. Sadly, Killian was faster and somehow more experienced. Within seconds the other man was disarmed.

Killian stood tall in front of the crew as he spoke to them. “We have sworn an oath to serve the King and the realm. Never again shall we take orders from a corrupt immoral monarchy…”

The crew answered enthusiastically, “Yes! Here, here!”

Throughout his speech, Killian shouted, “Serving this King, fighting his wars? No more! That is the way of dishonor! And anyone who disagrees can flee now or walk the bloody plank! Those who stay will be free men, and I will your Captain.”

They answered unanimously with “Aye!”

Captain Killian Jones continued, “We’ll sail under the crimson flag and we’ll give our enemies no quarter. We’ll take what we please!”

“Yes!”

“And we’ll live by our own rules, for that is the best form of all!”

“Yeah!”

“They’ve taken so much from us - my brother - and now I’m going to take everything they’ve got!”

“Yes!”

“Starting with this ship! Bring the paint from below! It’s time we rename this vessel. We no longer sail as the Jewel of the Realm. We now sail as the Jolly Roger.”

“Yes! - Yeah!”

“So when they come for us, I want them to know exactly what we are - pirates! For at least among thieves, there is honor!”

“Long live Captain Jones! Captain Jones! Captain Jones! Captain Jones!”

#Captain Swan #cssns #cssns 18 #CS Crew #CS Mafia #cs ff

[jaeminlore]

Ribbons // Ji Hansol

-

the prompt: you hoped for a new life in france, but with no money, you stowed away in the closest freighter you could find. only, it wasn’t a freighter, it was a pirate ship.

words: 6514

category: pirate!au, fluff

author note: ayy thanks to marissa for the idea of pirate!hansol bc this came out of it :) as always i miss ji hansol and wish him all the love. also i need to stop writing novels and just write cute romance like wow destinee half of this is just worldbuilding.

-

Thinking back, jumping into the first barrel you could find was likely not the best decision. How were you to know that there would be water filling up half of it? How were you to know that the water would be freezing cold and simultaneously smell like rotten fish?

When you planned to run away, you had no idea it would turn out like this. Your plan was to hide in a simple freighter, amongst the boxes of exports being sent to Europe. You planned to start a new life, far away from the constant danger surrounding your small village. The port side town was fueled by fear of pirates. No one was safe, and everyone was willing to give up everything if a pirate asked them to. It was horrible.

You didn’t want to live in fear. You were just as bad as everyone else in that town: cowering in fear if a pirate spoke to you. You worked at your family’s inn, and if a pirate asked for a free room, you gave it to him. If the pirates said jump, the villagers asked how high. There was no thought of ever defying them. There was no though of fighting back.

You weren’t sure you had the courage to fight back. Pirates were mean and brutal men who loved taking people for slaves and ransom. If you tried to fight back, and lost, it was likely you would never see freedom again. So, after many anxious nights of wondering if you should just do it, you finally did. You ran away.

It was just your luck that you accidentally stowed away in a pirate ship. The ship began to move at dawn, and that’s when you realized something was wrong. Men were shouting above you in a mixture of languages and tones. They were speaking like sailors, with tongues of fire and crude insults. As you looked around the small hold you had holed up in, it dawned on you that a freighter should have more crates in it. Where you were, there were only a few barrels. The rest of the room was set up like a pantry, with shelves of fruit, herbs, and dried meat. Not many freighters would have those in their hold. A pirate’s ship, however, would.

As the ship was already moving, you had no option but to hide and hope they docked somewhere soon, where you could sneak out and find help. That plan seemingly the only option in your head, you shoved your carpetbag (filled with simple things like a notebook and some underwear) under a shelf, behind many flasks and bottles. Then, assuming the barrel was empty, you opened the top and climbed inside.

You had not anticipated the cold water at the bottom, nor the horrid smell. If you bothered to check the barrels, you would’ve found a better barrel to hide in.

“Hansol said that we have oranges but I can’t find them.”

“Seriously, Jaemin? Did you even look hard enough?”

At the sound of voices, you ducked into the barrel with a soft splash, and replaced the lid as accurately as you could without proper lighting or any real knowledge of how to properly lid a barrel. Through a slit in the barrel, you watched as two boys surprisingly close to your age walked in.

It wasn’t long before they disappeared again, having found the oranges they had been searching for. You refused to move, afraid that you might splash too loudly, or worse, knock over the whole barrel and be attacked by swords. So, curled up in the most uncomfortable fetal position, you closed your eyes and struggled to fall asleep.

They would stop somewhere in the morning, right?

-

The boat rocked back and forth through the night, and Hansol had a hard time keeping his crew’s heads on straight. The storm had come out of nowhere, and of course there was a leak on deck.

Hansol tied his hair back with a bandana and grabbed a hammer. “Check the rest of the deck for more leaks!” he yelled, unable to be heard above the roar of the rain.

His crew obeyed without a word of protest, as they always did. He was lucky to have a loyal crew that didn’t cry mutiny every time something went wrong. Truthfully, they were his best friends and only family. He couldn’t say he’d know what to do without them.

Ten stood behind the ship’s wheel, holding the entire ship steady against the torrents. He watched each member of the crew from there, his dark eyes trained as if for war. In storms like these, the winds and rain could sweep you right into the sea of you weren’t steady, so it was vital that the crew looked out for each other.

Yukhei stood tall in the crow’s nest, a sextant by his feet and a looking glass in his hands. He was in charge of making sure Ten was on the right track. He was also in charge of warning the crew of any dangers such as other storms, mermaids, or other pirates.

Kun was the cook, and one of the most trusted members of the crew. Every day he kept the stock and the rations, making sure that no food went missing, and that everyone had enough to eat. He knew how to time trips, so that they would never starve before reaching their next destination. He also practiced navigation, and helped make sure Ten knew where to steer the boat.

Jungwoo manned the canons and the guns whenever a fight arose, but mostly he kept the ship clean and repaired whenever it needed it. Unfortunately, the ship was getting old, and the wood and tin wasn’t all that they were when Hansol first stole his precious ship.

Jaemin was the youngest, but he had been on the crew almost as long as Hansol and Ten. He practiced medicine, and always took care of the other members if they got sick. For the most part, however, he was loud and playful, always skipping out on his responsibilities to play. He had a lot to learn, but Hansol could remember a time when he too had been to excited to simply pull in an anchor or man the sails. Jaemin would learn in time.

Hansol himself was the captain, though he didn’t find himself necessarily fond of the term when it first appeared out of Ten’s mouth. He didn’t want to be the one in control. He didn’t want his future crew to be afraid. After admitting his hesitation to his crew, they assured him that Hansol wasn’t like other pirates. They reminded him that while they looked for lost treasure and stole from time to time, they never took another man’s life if they could spare it. It was Kun who convinced Hansol to take the position as Captain. Soon, Hansol realized that “captain” was simply a synonym for “leader”, and he had nothing to worry about.

“Clear skies ahead! Ten, turn east!” Yukhei suddenly yelled, his deep voice somewhat startling to the focused Hansol.

“I can’t turn it!” Ten yelled back, his voice cracking against the salty air. “I need help!”

Warm rain trailing down his face, Hansol ran over to Ten and grabbed the wheel as well. Perhaps with the power of two men, it could be turned. After much groaning and toil, they succeeded in turning the ship’s course for the calmer waters, where they could perhaps anchor for the night and get some rest.

It took hours before the ship finally escaped the storm. The whole time, the entire crew had struggled to hold on against the winds. They took turns in threes, going below deck to sit at the oars and try to propel the ship further. When it was all said and done, the six boys were tired and worn. Soaked to the bone, everyone took off their clothes as quickly as they could and replaced them with warm nightshirts and wool blankets stolen from the last inn they had visited.

Everyone was tired, but no one wanted to sleep. It was like that after battle. No matter the enemy, whether man or storm, there was always that fear inside the heart of the victor. The fear that the battle might not be over, and that the second act was just shy of beginning. So, under the stars, they began to talk, as people do when they are afraid or nervous.

“Doesn’t it feel strange on the ship?” Jaemin asked, picking at a loose seam in his sleeve. He was leaning against Ten’s side for comfort. “Like, do you think we have a ghost?”

Yukhei’s eyes widened. “I did feel a presence below deck. Perhaps one of the items we took last week was cursed.”

Hansol chuckled. The younger ones always wanted to bring up curses and legends of old, but the more experienced side of the crew knew that curses just weren’t as common as the stories always said. “I highly doubt that. We spent all last week at your mother’s trade shop, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Yukhei bit his lip, “but you know, my mom definitely could’ve cursed us.”

“Why would your mom curse her own son?” Ten asked.

Yukhei shrugged. “I don’t know. She might’ve been mad that I didn’t do my laundry, or perhaps she just wanted our trip to be unforgettable.

Hansol snorted. "I’m sure this trip will be just as forgettable as the last. It’s amazing how much of our touch we seemed to have lost when it comes to treasure hunting.”

Kun smirked, “Well you’re the captain, aren’t you? Start leading us properly and we’ll find treasure.”

Hansol shoved the younger boy playfully. At that moment, Jaemin’s stomach growled.

Jungwoo sighed. “You know, I’m pretty hungry too. We haven’t eaten since lunch, and we missed dinner because of the storm.”

Hansol looked at Kun, “What’s on the menu?”

“Well, I believe there is still some haddock left in one of those barrels. Which reminds me, we need to go fishing as soon as we can.”

“Alright. So everyone save Ten and Yukhei will be on fishing duty,” Hansol decided.

“Great,” Ten said. “Then Yukhei and I will go get the fish. Can we grab some oranges too?”

“Go ahead,” Hansol answered nonchalantly. “We brought too much anyway.”

The two disappeared below deck, and the remaining four sat in silence, each now aware of how hungry fighting the storm had made them. Hansol lay on his back, his gaze tracing the stars as they began to appear. He found the North Star easily, as all sailors had been taught. He pointed it out to Jaemin, and was about to speak when a loud shout interrupted him.

It came from below, and Hansol shot up as soon as he recognized it as Yukhei’s voice. “Stay here,” he commanded the others, afraid that someone dangerous might’ve stowed away and tried to hurt his crew members. The more he thought about it, the more it terrified him. “In fact, go hide in the captain’s quarters until I say it’s okay to come out. Jungwoo, take out your gun. Don’t be afraid to shoot if someone tries to hurt you.”

“Got it, Cap.” Jungwoo said, allowing himself to be steered away along with Jaemin. Kun had a grip on both of them, and he definitely wasn’t going to let them out of his sight.

Hansol cocked the gunning his hand, and with his finger on the trigger, he ran downstairs to find Yukhei and Ten seemingly unharmed. “What happened?”

“There’s a girl in the barrel!” Ten answered in exasperation.

Hansol peered into the barrel, unsure of what he was going to see. He definitely didn’t expect to see you, cold and shivering, staring back at him with fear evident in your eyes. “Please…” you spoke, and your voice was cracked from lack of use. “Please don’t kill me.”

Hansol felt his heart break slightly. “We don’t want to kill you,” he said in the softest voice he could muster. “Here… let me help you out.”

Perhaps his change in tone had worked, for you lifted your arms weakly and allowed him to pull you out of the barrel. “I can’t feel my leg,” you whispered.

“That’s alright,” Hansol answered, pulling you out and setting you on your feet. You leaned into his side. “The feeling will return soon enough. Right now, we need to get you warmed up. How long have you been in that barrel?”

“Since the ship set out,” you answered meekly. “I… I thought it was a freighter.”

“That’s been almost two days…” Hansol frowned. “Wait. My ship looks like a freighter? I thought it looked menacing.”

“It was dark,” you said. “I couldn’t tell which ship was which.”

This thought settled Hansol, and he faced Ten and Yukhei, who were still there, recovering from shock. “Go inform everyone that we have company. Tell Kun to heat up some water. Tell Jaemin to get his extra nightshirt, and then we can have dinner.”

Your eyebrows rose, and you scurried away from Hansol, running into one of the shelves behind you. A few oranges fell off of the shelf and you hissed in pain as the splintered wood rammed into your back. Still, you wouldn’t get any closer to Hansol. “You’re going to boil and eat me for dinner? Isn’t that too cruel? Can’t I just walk the plank or something?”

Hansol paused for a moment, unsure of where you had drawn that conclusion. Finally, he let out an amused chuckle. “Heavens no, darling. The water is for a bath, and the dinner is just for the crew. We’re hungry for fish, not people.”

You nodded, but you wouldn’t come closer to Hansol.

He held his hand out for you to accept, and offered you a friendly smile. “Come on, darling, I can’t take care of you if you refuse to come near me.”

“I’m not sure I want to be taken care of,” you said. “Can’t you just drop me off whenever you dock somewhere?”

“I’m not sure it works like that,” Hansol said, “we won’t be docking for a long time. You’re welcome to stay with us until then, though.”

-

You stayed in your spot, rubbing your cold arms in the hopes of circulating some warmth into them. As much as you hated to admit it, the man’s torso had been like a warm furnace, and your body was already missing the heat. “I don’t trust pirates,” you spoke surely, holding your posture.

“Me neither,” he answered. Then, perhaps for your sake, the man unstrapped his sabier, along with his gun, and handed both of the weapons to you. “But you can trust me and my crew. I’m Hansol.”

You slowly walked forward, deciding you could trust him. If any pirate was willing to give up his weapons, then he must be serious. That’s what you thought anyway. “I’m Y/n. I was trying to get to France. I wanna start a new life far away from my hometown. Away from pirates and thieves,” you said the last part rather tentatively, in the hopes of not offending him.

Hansol didn’t seem surprised by your statement, and he only crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips in thought. “France, huh? I think that’s on our way. If you want, you can stay with us until we pass France. Then we’ll let you off. We have enough rations for you, I think.”

The thought of staying on a pirate ship any longer made you squeamish, but honestly what choice did you have? It wasn’t like you could just leave. You were in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. “Okay. I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.”

Hansol shrugged, “Don’t worry about that. If anything, it might be nice to have a helping hand after the storm ruined a few of our sails. How did you do during the storm?”

You grimaced. “The barrel rocked a lot and all the shouting overhead scared me, but I managed to fall asleep. That other boy’s scream is what woke me up.” The two of you began to walk out of the pantry, you limping because of your poorly-circulated foot.

Hansol walked toward you awkwardly, and wrapped his arm around your waist again. “Is this okay? If I help you get up the steps?”

You nodded, accepting his warmth openly for someone who disliked pirates. For some reason, you couldn’t imagine Hansol being a pirate. You couldn’t imagine him ever hurting anyone.

When the two of you reached the top deck, the rest of the crew was already up and about, bustling around as quickly as they could. One of them, a boy close to your height, came running up with a nightshirt in his arms. “Hansol! Here’s my spare outfit. Kun said the bath is ready whenever you need it. I think he’s going to try and put dinner together.”

“Thanks, Jaemin,” Hansol answered, accepting the nightshirt.

Hansol led you into what you could only assume was the captain’s quarters, for it was furnished rather lavishly. The bed was huge, and half of it was covered with maps, pencils, compasses, and other navigation tools. “This is our map room. The bed is supposed to be for the captain but we only use it if someone is sick. The blankets are clean though!” he interjected himself, “We cleaned them when we stopped. You’re welcome to use the bed until we get to France.”

You eyed the piece of furniture. “Thanks.”

“Over here is the bath,” Hansol continued his tour, pulling you behind a dressing screen. There, what looked to be half of a barrel filled with water and… orange peels. “Kun says they make the water smell good. He also says that the acid will help clean us. I buy soap anyway because I don’t know how much I believe him. You can clean up and get dressed back here. When you’re done, we’ll be on the deck with dinner, if you would like to join us.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Hansol smiled. Then, as if he had just remembered something, “Oh! And if you get seasickness, come get one of us. We’ll make you a remedy.”

You agreed, satisfying the captain enough for him to leave. When he did, you undressed and washed up, letting the freshly boiled water heat up your shivering bones.

When you were done, you dressed and crawled into the uncovered side of the bed. You buried yourself under the blankets until you could barely breathe. Ignoring your grumbling stomach, you fell asleep, desperately hoping that these pirates were good; desperately hoping that this wasn’t some trick; desperately hoping that you might come out alive and unharmed.

-

Hansol hadn’t really expected you to join his crew for dinner, but that didn’t stop him from hoping. Unfortunately, he had to accept reality when you didn’t come out of the room.

“What do we do with her?” Ten asked before taking a bite of the fish Kun had prepared.

Hansol pulled on his earlobe nervously. “Well… she wants to go to France, so I thought we could take her on our way to Finland.”

“Isn’t that out of the way?” Jaemin brought up, “Do we have enough rations to make it that far?”

Everyone looked at Kun, who calculated the numbers in his head before answering, “I mean as long as we stock up in France we’ll have enough food to get to Finland.”

Hansol nodded, “We have to take her with us anyway, so we might as well drop her off where she wants to go.”

“What do we do with her, though?” Ten repeated, his words emphasized as he struggled to get his point across. “I mean, do we give her a job? Or do we just leave her in the captain’s quarters and pretend she isn’t there?”

“I don’t know,” Hansol said.

Jaemin yawned from beside him. “Can’t we just ask her in the morning? She’s probably scared right now.”

“Right,” Hansol said, “So be considerate. Also, Jungwoo, no firing the canons as a surprise morning call like you sometimes do.”

“Seriously? You’re no fun,” Jungwoo rolled his eyes playfully.

Hansol smiled and ruffled his hair, “Alright. Off to bed. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. Mend the sails, fish, figure out our course to France…”

The crew groaned. Yukhei leaned against Ten dramatically, “Oh why must we work? What kind of a pirate’s life is this?”

Hansol shoved them both gently, “Stop complaining or I’ll make you two walk the plank.”

Yukhei snorted. “You wouldn’t make a fly walk that plank, let alone your favorite crew members.”

“Just get to bed.”

-

Just as they lulled you to sleep, the rocking of the waves woke you up. You turned on your back, eyes pointed towards the wooden ceiling. You weren’t quite sure what to do. Were you supposed to go out to the deck? Were you supposed to stay here until someone came and got you?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the door to your quarters opening slightly. A head poked through. “Oh. I didn’t know you were awake. I’m Kun,” the man said, his eyes kind. “I wasn’t going to bother you but we’re having a hard time finding our coordinates after the storm. It doesn’t help that the sky is covered in clouds. I’ll grab some maps and get out of your way.”

“I can help you,” you offered shyly. “My father was a cartographer, so I learned a lot about navigation from him.”

Kun broke into a soft smile. “Great! The other boys aren’t up yet, except Yukhei, so I’d be nice to have some help.”

“What does Yukhei do?”

“He keeps a lookout for us. We like to try and avoid other pirates as best as we can, so if we see another ship we’ll go out of our way to stay away from a fight.”

“So you guys don’t battle?” You got out from under the covers and helped Kun spread out the map. Then the two of you began to light up the lanterns so you could see.

Kun grabbed a pencil from behind his ear, “Yeah, well, we’re really only here for the adventure and the treasure. We don’t plunder every town we stop at and we certainly don’t attack other ships.”

“I didn’t know there were pirates like that,” you commented.

“We aren’t the only ones.” Kun said. “We are friends with another crew, a bigger one. They’re over near Africa right now so we haven’t seen them in awhile. But Taeyong, the captain, is a lot like Hansol. They both put their crew before treasure.”

“That’s nice,” you said, feeling a little elated to know that there were some nice pirates out here. “I’m glad I stowed away on Hansol’s ship and not someone else’s.”

Kun smiled. “Luck is on your side, it seems.”

The two of you got to work then, working to find your longitude and latitude, as well as how long it might take to get to France. Kun was a silent worker, you noticed. Something else you noticed was when he pointed to the top of the map, and his sleeves fell below his wrists. The two ribbons tied onto his wrist, one yellow and one pink, made you curious. “Have you got two girls back home, then?”

Kun’s gaze snapped to his wrist and he blushed. “Not quite. That’s my girl and our daughter’s ribbons. They live back at the village.”

“You have a daughter? You seem young.”

Kun shrugged, “Well, when you’re drunk you sort of forget your age, don’t you?”

You eyed the ribbons again. “Do you love them?”

“I’d die for them,” Kun said. “The only reason I’m not with them now is because I’m hoping to get a piece of that treasure in Finland. I want to take it back and make sure me and my family have a good life, away from judgmental eyes.”

“I hope you guys find the treasure,” you said earnestly. “I can’t think of a crew who deserves it more.”

Kun was about to answer when the door burst open, and in walked the crew member you had seen last night. Jaemin, was it?

“Hi,” he said brightly. “Do you by any chance know how to sew?”

“Me?” you asked. “Of course I do.”

Jaemin looked relieved. “Great. Can you help me? I’m supposed to be mending the sails with Hansol but I don’t want him to know that I haven’t practiced sewing like he told me to.”

You chuckled. “I’ll help you. As long as Kun is okay with me leaving him.”

“I think I’m good now,” Kun mumbled. “I’ll bring our assessments to Ten and talk to him about it.”

As you followed Jaemin out of the room, Kun called after you, “Wait, what’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n,” you answered him with a smile before being pulled onto the deck by Jaemin.

The air was windy, filled with salt, and far different than any weather you had ever felt in your village. Somehow, though, it was comforting. It cleared the senses, and tossed your hair this way and that. You felt refreshed, which was definitely something you could get used to.

Before Jaemin led you to the sails, he brought you below deck and handed you a pair of pants. “Hansol would kill me if you caught a cold. Put these on and I’ll get you a vest.”

You obeyed and pulled the pants onto your legs. By the time you tucked the nightshirt into your waistband, Jaemin returned with a vest made of hide, similar to the one he was wearing. “Here, this’ll keep you warm.”

You put it on as the two of you walked back up to the deck. One of the sails had been taken off of the mast, as it was torn down the middle. Jaemin approached it with a grimace. “I’m supposed to sew this up but I have no idea how to do it.”

He gave you the needle and thread, and the two of you sat down and got to work. You showed him the proper way of mending the sail, thankful that your village was a fisherman’s village and many of the children had been taught these things at a young age. “It’s just a simple criss-cross pattern,” you explained to the younger boy.

After a few tries, Jaemin finally got the hang out it, and you let him take over the job he was to do.

“Hey… Y/n?”

You turned around, startled to see Hansol standing behind the two of you. “Yes?”

Hansol sighed. “I need to talk with you for a moment.”

You looked at Jaemin, but he didn’t seem interested in your conversation, as he was diligently mending the sail. Hesitantly, you got up and followed Hansol towards the other end of the deck, away from listening ears. Bracing yourself for a chiding, as perhaps your weren’t supposed to help Jaemin, you clenched your fists and squared your shoulders.

Hansol didn’t seem to notice as he bit his lip nervously, averting eye contact with you. “I want to, uh, thank you for helping the others. Kun already told me that you helped him with navigation. Then you helped Jaemin… Thank you for doing that, even though you should be resting.”

“I feel fine though,” you answered him. You wished he wasn’t so shy and curt. You wished he would look at you. Perhaps it was because he was the captain, or because he was the one who took care of you last night, but you wanted him to notice you. “Do you like my outfit? Jaemin gave it to me.” You twirled in place, as if you were wearing a flow dress.

Hansol gazed at your clothes before letting a small smile slip onto his face. “You look like one of us.”

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” you opened up to the captain, feeling your heartbeat speed up whenever he smiled.

“Yes. Very cool,” Hansol answered, unable to hide his amusement. “Anyway, you’re free to roam around as you please. Just stay away from the canons. Those are dangerous.”

You heeded his words as he walked away from you. Then, deciding what you wanted to do, you ran after him. Once you were matching his strides, you looked up at Hansol. “Can I follow you around all day? I want to see what a captain does.”

Hansol eyed you for a moment before letting out a breath, “If you want.”

-

It was like that for the next few days, even weeks. You found yourself getting closer to the crew, but more so Hansol. The shy captain was enthralling to you, and you wished to know more about him.

So that’s what you did. Every day, you followed him around, asking him questions in an effort to get him to open up to you. Eventually, although slowly, he did open up to you. He told you about his family back home. He spoke highly of his sister, who mended clothes for a living but wished to design them instead. “I can help her start a business with the treasure we collect,” he had said.

He told you about all the places he and his crew had visited. He told you about the icebergs near Greenland, and the mountains of New Zealand. He told you about nearly dying on several occasions. He told you about getting so drunk on rum that they accidentally docked in Indonesia for a weekend. He told you that they decided to stop bringing rum aboard after that.

Every night, after the crew went to bed, Hansol would stay up. The closer you got to him, the longer you would stay up just to see what he was doing. Usually, he was just checking things and making sure everything was ready for nighttime. Whether the anchor was dropped, the fishbones were thrown overboard, and the lanterns were put out were some things he liked to check.

Most nights, you discovered, he simply liked to lean against the side of the boat and watch the water beat against the walls of the ship.

One month into the trip, you asked Hansol if you could join him. You too had things on your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do when you arrived at France. In fact, at this point, you weren’t sure you wanted to leave the small misfit crew of pirates you had come to love. Especially Hansol, who you cared a great deal about, and wished to spend more time with.

Hansol agreed to you joining him. Your shoulder brushed against his as you leaned over the side. The flyaway hairs on your head tickled your cheeks as you observed the water. “Hansol… what do I do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I get to France. What am I to do there? How do I make a living for myself in a place where I don’t know anyone.”

Hansol shrugged. “You’ll have to talk to people. Make friends with strangers… you could even sing on the street for a few coins.”

You slouched against the captain, hugging his arm and you sighed dramatically. “What about you guys? I don’t want to lose my friends.”

Hansol stilled. “I nearly forgot that we wouldn’t see you every day like usual. You can write us can’t you?”

“How do I write to someone living in the middle of the ocean? Pigeons? Message in a bottle?”

“You could try the pigeons,” Hansol said in a soft voice. “We could get them in France.”

“Can a pigeon fly over open water?” you asked. “Maybe we should get a messenger albatross instead.”

Hansol chuckled. You felt him press his lips against your temple. “We’ll figure something out,” he said. “I don’t want to forget you.”

-

“Here you go,” Kun tossed you an orange.

You and the entire crew had taken a break in the middle of the day to have a snack. France was close by, and Kun estimated that everyone would be there within three days. As exciting as this could’ve been, none of you felt like celebrating. Instead, you all took to talking about ways to stay in touch, as no one really wanted to separate from you.

“What if it’s a few years before we see you again? How will we remember you?” Ten asked. Yukhei nodded from beside him.

Jaemin brightened. “Give us each a ribbon! That’s what girls do when they want a boy to remember them, right?”

“Not just any boy, Jaemin,” Jungwoo corrected him. “She has to give it to someone special. Like a lover or something.”

“Or something,” Yukhei snorted. “Can’t we be the ‘or something’?”

You giggled. “I don’t think it works like that, boys. Maybe I could get a mermaid to deliver my mail to you guys!”

Hansol cringed from beside you. He had been quietly peeling his orange the whole time. “Mermaids are evil, Y/n.”

“Oh. Nevermind.”

After everyone finished their snacks, they went below deck to take an afternoon nap, as a Hansol had given them the rest of the day off.

A slice of an orange in his mouth, Hansol got up and went to drop the anchor. “I’ll probably take a nap, too, Y/n. Will you be fine alone out here?”

“I might sleep as well,” you said.

After dropping the anchor, Hansol bid you goodbye and began to walk off.

“Wait, Hansol.”

He turned around, his face as blank as it always was, so that you never really knew what he was thinking. “Yes?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, wondering what on earth made you think of doing this. However, Hansol was your closest friend on the ship. Out of everyone, he would be the one you missed the most. Even thinking about it, your heart dropped a bit.

You reached for your braid and untied the ribbon that held it in place. It was faded purple, worn by the sea air and the amount of times you had tied and untied it. Still, it was the only ribbon you had. “Here,” you held it out for him to take.

Hansol stared at the ribbon for a moment, and you could almost see all of the thoughts racing in his head. He suddenly quirked a small smile. “Am I your lover now?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as he held out his wrist. As you tied the ribbon around it, you answered. “I just want you to know that you mean a lot to me. I’ll miss you the most when I leave.”

“Don’t tell Jaemin that,” Hansol said.

“I’ll miss the crew as well,” you justified. “In a different way than I’ll miss you.”

Hansol grinned. It was the first time you had ever seen him smile so carelessly, so that all his teeth were on full display. “I’m going to miss you too, Y/n. Shouldn’t I give you something in return? To remember me by?”

“Like what?” you asked, although you already knew the answer.

Hansol came closer, his hands reaching up to cup your face. The ribbon on his wrist tickled your neck. His nose bumped against yours clumsily, and you angled your head so that he had better access to your lips. He waited, perhaps unsure, right in front of them. It was agony for you: his hot breath fanning your lips but he himself never moving. Finally, you lost patience and leaned up, meeting him in the middle. He reacted immediately. His lips were plump and slightly chapped from the ocean air. You pressed your body closer to his, hoping for more contact. His hand trailed down your body slowly, as if he were memorizing every curve.

“Hansol, do you know where the — my eyes!” Jaemin suddenly shouted from behind you.

Hansol suddenly jumped away from you, his cheeks bright red as he refused to look at you.

You, out of breath, smoothed down your shirt awkwardly and cleared your throat. “What do you need Jaemin?”

Jaemin walked closer to the two of you. “Well eye cleaner for one, but I was actually going to ask for an extra blanket.” His eyes trailed down Hansol’s arms, “You gave him your ribbon? Ten! Kun! You’ll never guess what Y/n did!”

Suddenly the entire crew were running on deck, each disheveled and sleepy.

“What’s wrong?” Kun asked, his hand blindly searching for a gun even though he wasn’t wearing his holster.

“Y/n and Hansol love each other,” Jaemin clarified. “She gave him her ribbon.”

The crew groaned. Hansol hid behind you and hesitantly reached for your hand. You gave his a comforting squeeze.

“Jaemin, everyone knows that they like each other. Literally everyone,” Yukhei said. “They don’t hide their loving gazes very well. Now let’s go back to bed.”

Everyone agreed and shuffled back below deck, ignoring Jaemin’s apologies. “I still don’t have a blanket,” he complained, following the others.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you said once they were out of sight. “Right?”

Hansol bit his lip anxiously. “Can’t I just stay with you this afternoon? They’ll tease me if I go down there.”

You tugged on his hand, “Come on, Sol. Honestly for a captain you sure are afraid of your crew.”

“They’re mean to me, Y/n!”

“I’m sure they are,” you chuckled, balancing on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips.

-

You woke up a few mornings later to see Hansol already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, so that you could only see his bare back. “Hansol? What’s wrong?”

You got out of bed and walked in front of him, tilting his face towards yours. “Why are you crying?”

Hansol sniffed and reached for your waist. He pulled you against him in a tight hug. “We’ve arrived in France. I don’t want to lose you, Y/n.”

You ran your hands through his hair comfortingly and kissed his forehead. “You won’t lose me, Hansol. We’re just going our separate ways for awhile. You’ve got to go get the treasure for your sister, and for Kun’s family. Then, if you still miss me, come back to France and find me. I’ll wait for you to come. And if you do come back for me, I’ll gladly return to this ship and live with you for the rest of my days, okay?”

Hansol nodded against your skin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said. “I’m going to miss you a lot. And whenever you miss me, you can look down at the ribbon and know that you’re the one who has my heart, okay?”

Hansol left a feather-like kiss on your neck. “I’ll return quickly, then. Goodbye Y/n.”

“Goodbye, Hansol.”

~the end~

#nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au #ji hansol #ji hansol scenario #ji hansol imagine #ji hansol scenarios #ji hansol imagines #ji hansol fluff #ji hansol au #ji hansol angst #nct imagine #nct imagines #smrookies scenarios #ji hansol pirate au #destwrites

[greetthedawn]

Stood at the cold face, stood with our backs to the sun

I can remember being nothing but fearless and young

We’ve become echoes, but echoes that fade away

We fall into the dark as we dive under the waves

           Edward rolled onto his side and grasped blindly at the floor for the bottle of rum he kept at his bedside. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face and bare chest. Sickness gripped his stomach like that of a man who was uneasy at sea. He squinted at the fireplace, trying to focus on just one log at a time. They seemed to triplicate when he did.

           The dreams still plagued him on occasion. April 1721. It had been dark night in the already shadowed life that Kenway lead. The memories he relived in his sleep got the better of him at times. It had been easier, in a way, when he’d shared a cabin with Mary. There he could get up in the middle of the night to check her pulse, touch her warm cheek, assure himself that she was still breathing. Remind himself she wasn’t the pallid figure bundled in cloth that haunted him when he closed his eyes. In the past few weeks since they started their stay at Inagua, he’d woken up more than once on the bench outside her door, usually encircled by empty bottles. He didn’t believe she knew. She’d have said something mocking if she did.

           The sound of booted footsteps drifted through the door. The captain rolled to his other side to see Mary stalk through the central room with a look of purpose on her face and a piece of paper clutched in her hand.

           Edward sat up a little too fast in anticipation. “Rhona?” he grunted. He pressed his palm to his forehead as he tried to get his eyes to focus on hers.

           “Aye.” She crouched at the bedside and reached across the empty pillow to hand him the paper. “She’ll be expecting us within the week.”

“We’ll leave tomorrow, then. The crew has been ready for days now.” He scanned the letter. Rhona warned of tightened security around Havana. It seemed Torres was expecting them as well. The old Spaniard was right to be worried. “Let the men know.” Edward kicked his feet over the side and Mary tossed him a shirt, which he tugged on as he followed her out the door.

Devils on your shoulder, strangers in your head

As if you can’t remember, as if you can forget

It’s only been a moment, it’s only been a lifetime

But tonight you’re a stranger or some silhouette

           “Kenway!” Mary shouted from her perch in the crow’s nest. “You seeing this too, mate?”

           Edward, understanding her meaning, fixed his Sense on the city. Everything he saw radiated a hostile energy that made the hair on his arms stand at attention. It was as though the streets themselves were primed to hunt him down. Little spikes in the light of life glowed red at points along the port. They’d been warned of increased patrols but this was far more than they’d expected. “Aye, Jim! And I don’t like it.” He handed the wheel to young Bell and met Mary at the base of the ratlines.

           “How do you want to handle this?” he asked when she dropped to the deck beside him with a sturdy thud.

           “The streets are thick with Templar rats, but the rooftops won’t be as heavily guarded. I doubt many of their men can handle that terrain.” She crossed her arms and scanned Havana through squinted eyes, plotting. “That’s where you and I can outpace them, so that’s how we’ll move through the city. I’ll send a bird to the bureau. Keep the skull close. We’ll set out at noon.”

           Edward nodded in agreement. “I’m ready to be done with this mess.”

           Mary gave him a tired, slightly annoyed look. “I’ve been fighting this war a lot longer than you have, man, and it wasn’t a mess ‘til you turned up.” She patted him rather roughly on the shoulder before heading below deck where the carrier pigeons were kept.

           Edward tried to come up with a retort, but as usual, she was too right to be argued with. This was his mess. He was lucky she wasn’t making him mop it up by himself, though in truth that was probably because she wanted to ensure it got done right.

When the sun was at its apex, Mary and Edward dove over the side of the Jackdaw and swam into the harbor. They skirted along the water’s edge, leaping between boats and docks until they found a quiet sport to cut across the road and climb onto the rooftops. From there they made their way into the heart of the city with Mary leading the way to their agreed-upon meeting place.

Rhona had beaten them there and was lounging on a stack of crates, reading a letter. “Ah, Mary! Captain Kenway!” She greeted when the pair clambered onto the rooftop terrace, rising from her perch. “I assume this is the friendliest face you’ve seen since dropping anchor,” she quipped and pointed to her smile.

Mary smirked with a twinkle of pride in her fawn eyes. “Is Havana under curfew on our account?”

“Mmm, aye,” Rhona confirmed, turning to overlook the streets. “Torres seems to think someone’s coming after him.”

“He’s not wrong,” Edward mused, lifting the crystal skull from his coat. He stared into its hollow eyes, admiring the contraption for a moment and thanking God they’d been able to keep it safely in their possession since thieving it from Roberts. It was going to make the day’s undertaking almost too easy.

Rhona’s face twisted at the sight of the skull. “A manky looking thing,” she remarked. “Is that what I think it is?”

Mary nodded. “Aye. Watch.” She pulled the cubic vial containing Torres’ blood from her coat. They each carried one half of the two pieces to the machine separately, for security. She slipped the cube into the notch in the skull’s forehead and in a tone of reverence explained, “Through the blood of the blood of the governor, we can see through his eyes.”

The skull began to glow with an otherworldly sheen and an image of a building Edward didn’t recognize materialized in the air between the three of them.

Rhona’s mouth fell agape at the sight. Pointing in awe she stammered, “That’s… that’s by the church!”

Mary took the skull from Edward and the image disappeared. “Keep this safe,” she instructed, pressing it into Rhona’s hands. “Just in case.”

Rhona nodded. “I’ll be at the bureau.”

The women hugged farewell. Edward stuck out his hand in the same sentiment but Rhona ignored it, pulling him into a friendly embrace while he stood there like an awkward tree. She and Mary smirked at his discomfort. “Good luck!” she shouted as she vaulted the bannister and slipped down the side of the building into the streets below.

Edward shook off his embarrassment and took a stride toward the edge of the roof, surveying the city. Mary moved to his side, their shoulders just brushing. Her closeness soothed his restlessness.

“You’re eager for this one, aren’t you?” she asked

He nodded. “Torres… My first visit to this city amounted to days of pandering to that man’s ego, only for him to rob me of what I – well, Walpole – was owed, and ended in my humiliation by his guard dog, El Tiburón. Needless to say, our relationship has not improved from there. Aye, I’m eager to end it.” He paused for a moment, watching the civilians milling about a few dozen feet below, going about their daily routines, running errands. It was such a simple existence. Uncomplicated. And there he stood above them, deciding the course of history. The difference of worlds across a few dozen feet was dizzying. “Do you ever envy them?” he asked.

Mary cocked her head, confused at his change in direction. “No. Do you?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

She leaned back against the bannister to look him in the eye and shrugged with a glance back down at the street. “We’re cut from a different cloth, you and I. That’s no life for us.”

He smiled warmly at her and a sense of certainty settled over him. She was right, they were made for a different world that the rest. He’d thought the place for him was Nassau, his Pirate Republic, but even that hadn’t been quite right. He’d been made for her world, the Assassin Order. A world that men like Torres actively sought to burn to the ground, one that he would defend to his last. “Let’s get our man before we lose his location.”

“Good, my blades are starting to itch.” She swung her legs over the side of the building and leaped, swinging from a pole onto the next rooftop.

Edward followed her north, giving her the lead since he’d been too lazy to study the map of the city she’d given him last night. The church was relatively close by, it turned out. Mary jumped another gap and climbed a level higher. When he joined her, she was standing over a guard who appeared to be knocked out, not dead. She held a finger to her lips and pointed. The church yard was just over a wall on the other side of the narrow street. She took a running leap and sailed over it into a hay cart in the corner, popping out a moment later to signal him before darting into the bushes. He followed suit, getting scratched in the face by some hay, much to his annoyance.

“Do you see anything?” he asked when he slipped into her hiding place, rubbing his stinging cuts.

“Aye.” She nodded to the back corner of the church. “Just there.”

A group of men stood by a pile of crates conversing. All were in uniform save for one hulking form in full armor. “El Tiburón,” Edward hissed.

“I figured it. But Torres isn’t with them.”

“Well, you can always trust a dog to return to his master.”

Mary nodded in understanding before placing a cautioning hand on his arm. “They’re coming back this way. Get to the rooftops.”

She turned and jumped back across the street before the patrol could spy her, and Edward waited until they had passed to do the same. They followed with as much distance as they could while still maintaining a line of sight until they came upon a courtyard and heard a commotion. Below them, a pair of sailors were facing off against some guards. Edward engaged his blade and tensed to leap to their defense but Mary pulled him back. “They can’t make us!” she hissed.

He opened his mouth to argue, but she was right. Their objective was too important to risk over this scuffle. They watched, helpless, as El Tiburón cut down each sailor with a single blow. Torres’ enforcer shouted at the guards, waving his axe at them, before marching forward again like nothing had happened.

Mary patted Edward with eager realization. “They’re headed for the fort. Must be where Torres is holed up, the rat. C’mon.” They dove into a hay cart and sprinted across the courtyard before scaling the building opposite them and making their way toward the edge of the city.

After knocking out a series of guards along the rooftops they were soon faced with the towering stone walls of the Castillo. Below them, their mark crossed the drawbridge into the fortress. Some unintelligible orders were shouted and the front gates were shut with two sentries posted.

Mary surveyed the area. Guards dotted the parapets. “How d’you reckon we get in?”

Edward shook his head. “I’ve penetrated this fussock before. We’ll have a fight, but it’s not difficult. This way.”

It started to rain as he darted across the rooftops toward the trees. He blinked against the droplets hitting his face as he threw himself into the branches of the first one. He slipped between the split trunks and leaped for a wooden pole jutting from the side of the wall. After pulling himself up and checking to see that Mary had followed, he turned and jumped for a metal ring in the wall high above his head. The last step was the hardest, he remembered, since he’d almost fallen the first time he’d done this many years ago. Summoning his strength, he pushed off with his feet and his one hand on the ring to grab a second ring from where he could hang from the edge of the parapet. Catching his breath for a moment, he waited for a guard to pass in front of him before springing onto the wall and shoving his wrist blade deep into the man’s neck. Mary dropped beside him as he was pulling the body into a corner and ran off to the right, ducking behind some crates before dispatching another unsuspecting soldier passing by.

The jumped on a ledge together like two birds over their prey and waited for Torres to pass beneath. Then they flew, their blades as their wings.

They crashed down into the small group of men, taking out all four at once. Victory lit Edward’s veins like lines of gunpowder as he strutted over to the Spanish governor. “You’re done, Torres,” he declared, flipping the dying man onto his back.

A wig fell from the man’s head. It wasn’t Torres. They’d been tricked.

Before he could even react, his Other Sense lit up the back of his skull with pinpricks and he ducked instinctively as an axe swung just where his neck had been a moment earlier.

“Christ!” Mary shouted, springing backward and drawing her sword just as fast. Edward rolled to her side and drew his own blades, tensed for battle. El Tiburόn’s hulking form faced them down. Four soldiers flanked him.

“This again, eh?” Edward shouted tauntingly. He turned to Mary. They’d fought this fight a dozen times. She was faster, and better with a knife. She could get in close on a large enemy and target their weak points. Edward was better with the double-wield and could better handle multiple opponents. One look was all they needed to coordinate their attack.

They moved forward with Edward two steps ahead, drawing out the grunts. One struck out first, but Edward caught the sword with both of his and kicked the man in the gut, knocking him to the ground. Before he could dispatch him, two more swung at Edward together, catching him on the defensive and pushing him back. The last jumped at Mary, but she used his momentum against him and sent him flying past with a maneuver of her sword. Edward parried with the two standing men, keeping them distracted while Mary faced off with El Tiburόn. She ducked his first heaving blow, stabbing at his side with Venganza, but she couldn’t find a chink in his thick armor, and only narrowly avoided having her ribs broken as he retaliated with a jab from the butt of his axe. His next blow hammered down on the flat of her sword, and again and again as he pushed her backward. He paused, winding up for a massive strike, and she took her chance to lash out at his knees. He saw that coming, though, and swept her legs out from under her before delivering a brutal kick to her abdomen.

Her cry of shock and pain jostled Edward and he lost his focus. The soldier he was dueling took the opening to cut him across the collarbone, just narrowly missing his throat. The pirate stumbled back and the guards gave him space. El Tiburόn stepped forward, his axe wound to strike. Edward’s heart jumped into his throat and he rolled.

The whistle of the axe slicing the air was silence by a sharp bang.

El Tiburόn shouted in pain.

When Edward righted himself, he saw Mary crouched with a pistol in her hand.

“He’s too fine and axeman to take on directly, but he’s no more immune to bullets than you or I,” she seethed.

He knew she was right. Swordplay was just play here. They’d have to rely on their marksmanship. That was easier said than done, however. There were four grunts to interfere, and El Tiburόn was drawing his own pistol.

A guard swung out at Edward and he dodged, seizing the man by the collar of his coat and pulling him close just as his opponent pulled the trigger. Tossing the screaming soldier aside, the young captain drew his own pistols and fired one after the other, emptying all four in his holsters. El Tiburόn groaned and faltered, but righted himself.

Panicked and left with empty guns, Edward drew back, fumbling for his ammo pouch. Mary stepped in, firing one more shot at their angry, armored foe, halting the start of his charge, before fending off the remaining guards. El Tiburόn fired another gun as she ducked behind another grunt, incapacitating another human shield.

By then Edward had reloaded his pistols, but the remaining two guards were on him. He parried, but couldn’t get an effective swing in edgewise until Mary joined him, drawing away one so he could dispatch the other. As soon as he had, he fired off a second round at their boss.

El Tiburόn’s helmet tumbled to the ground with a dull thud.

The pirates made excited eye contact. He was vulnerable. They needed to land just one final shot.

Mary dug Venganza deep into the ribs of her opponent and shoved him to the ground before she whipped out her pistol and the fatal blow rang through the air.

The Shark fell.

Edward moved to the dying Templar’s side while Mary retrieved her prized knife from her victim’s body. “If you could speak, mate, it would gladden me to hear your side.”

El Tiburόn just groaned and his neck went slack. He’d passed on.

Edward sighed with regret, thinking back to his first encounter with the Templars. He’d been so foolish, so naïve. He’d been in over his head without thinking it possible. “You humbled me once, and I took that hard lesson, and I bettered myself. Die knowing that, for all of our conflict, you helped make a soldier out of a scoundrel.” He felt Mary’s reassuring touch on his shoulder, and he knew his words made her proud. They were the truth.

She knelt next to the body and closed his eyes. “Leave this life for a lasting peace, down among the dead.”

The doors to the Castillo flew open at that moment and soldiers came pouring in.

“That’d be our cue.” Edward grabbed Mary by the hand and tossed a smoke bomb at their feet. “This way!” he coughed, pulling her up the stairs and across the rampart. “Jump!” he ordered and they flew over the side of the parapet. He thanked every good force in his life that he hadn’t be cursed with a fear of heights as they sliced through the water far below.

Just hold me, just hold me

           Sneaking back across the city wasn’t easy, and they were both in a foul mood over the outcome of their mission, but they reached the bureau without incident. When they got there, they found Rhona looking worried and confused. “We got word Torres left the city. Who were you chasing?”

           “That vial was labled Torres, but held the blood of his second. Where’s he gone?” Edward strode over to the table where the skull was sitting and picked it up. Mary glared at it, clearly irritated by its deception.

           “Left port this morning, heading west along the coast.”

           Edward felt the grim expression across his face harden. “The Observatory.” He shared a glance with Mary. They’d been so close. If they’d just left Inagua a day earlier…

           “The Jackdaw will follow,” Mary announced. Her tone was angry, but certain.

           Edward nodded in agreement and turned back to Rhona. “Send word to Ah Tabai.” He gestured to Mary and she followed him out of the bureau. “We’ve cornered our man.”

           Neither of them said a word until they reached their ship, but their frustrations were palpable even to those without the Sense. For the two of them, it was like the other was radiating their unspoken tension like heat off a flame. They built off each other, intensifying, until like two torches tosses on a pyre they ignited, unrestrained.

           No sooner had Edward locked their cabin door than Mary plowed her fist into the post by her cot. The wood splintered, cutting her knuckles, but she didn’t notice. “We had him! We were hours behind, Edward, hours. We could’ve ended this, today.”

           “The bloody prick,” Edward seethed, clenching his fist around the neck of a bottle as he tossed back a much-needed drink. He fantasized it was Torres’ neck he gripped instead. “He preaches peace and order, that the ends justify the means. Yet the rules apply to all but him. Fucking hypocrite.” He emptied the bottle and threw it at the wall, shattering it, and dropped his robes to the ground, irritated by the weight. All must be watched, but the Grand Master’s movements could stay secret? He had a feeling it had little to do with safety, though that must be what Torres told his desciples.

           “His breaths are numbered.” Mary yanked her coat off and threw it on a chair before pulling her hair loose around her shoulders. “And this is the blade that’ll count zero.” She pulled Venganza from its holster and stabbed the desk with it. The ruby in the pommel glittered red in a way that matched the aura of aggression flowing off his quartermaster.

           They perched on opposite ends of the desk and he passed her a new bottle. They stared down the knife for a moment, both thinking about all it represented. Everything that had been taken from them. The fight for their lives, for their freedom. Their connection, their partnership. Its very name, Revenge.

           “The Templars have been a great sickness on these seas. They’ve all but descimated the Assassins, aye, and partly by my hand I’ll admit. But we’re so close, Mary. We’ve come so far with so little, and we know we’ve got them running scared.”

           Mary scoffed. “They should have known we’d only become stronger the further they pushed us into the shadows. We work in the dark to serve the light.” Her finger brushed over the tips of a candle’s flame before pinching it out.

           “Torres meant nothing to me more than pompous, lucrative mark when we first met,” Edward started. “And I may have single-handedly torn my life down around mine own ears in the past but he was more than eager to help along the way. Even without the scourge of the Templars, I’d want him dead. He came after me for what I knew. He threatened Caroline. He threatened you. He made it personal.”

           “Your hunger for power is dangerous, but his could topple the world order, and not for the better.” Mary stood and stepped closer to pull the ruby-gilded dagger from the wood. She stood mere inches from him with a knife in one hand and a drink in the other. Her hair hung free around her face and her fawn brown eyes glowed with a dangerous light. “You want to talk personal? He took my child. He terrorized my people. He killed my friend and he nearly killed me. But I will kill him.”

           Edward could never say what came over him. He simply couldn’t bear it any longer. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, crushing his lips to hers. The fire in their veins lit up the room in an instant and he saw a different kind of red.

           Mary dropped the things in her hands on the desk beside him and brought her fingers to his hair, pulling it loose like hers. Her raven locks hung around them like a curtain as he lifted her, carrying her to his bed with her legs wound around his waist. He dropped her onto the mattress and she pulled him down with her. She rolled him onto his back and loomed over him, learning to move together as her hands slipped under his shirt, feeling their way across his abdomen. Edward moved his fingers to her hips and gave them a light squeeze, and her gasp broke their lips apart for the first time since he’d kissed her. He hated the distance and quickly pulled her back.

           BOOM.

           The commotion from upstairs made them leap apart like they’d been shocked.

           “Captain!” the cook’s furious voice came through the wood of the door. “Yer new hires fucked up my shipment of leeks!”

           Edward and Mary just stared at each other, jarred by reality.

           “Ehrm…” Edward cleared his throat a moment later. “You go. I’m, eh, gonna need a minute.”

           Mary blinked a moment before understanding. “Aye. Got it.” She stood and straightened her clothes, tying her hair back before leaving without another word.

Let’s go out in flames so everyone knows who we are

Cause these city walls never knew that we’d make it this far

We’ve become echoes, but echoes that faded away

So let’s dance like two shadows, burning out our glory days

Song: Silhouette - Aquilo

#fanfiction #Come With Me Now #CWMN Full Chapters #assassin's creed #black flag #ac4 black flag #Edward Kenway #Mary Read #James Kidd #Kiddway

[mnetruinedmylife]

Untitled

A very old SNSD 1600 pirate AU that I never really got around to posting. Guess this really is a home for all the scraps. Pardon my butchered Victorian English.

________________________________________________)

The Mediterranean Sea was the centre of prosperity for the surrounding countries. Vessels upon vessels travelled the trade routes, carrying assorted goods and valuables, from tobacco, to fish, to tea leaves and coffee beans. Of course, for this, the area became the playground for all manner of unsavoury characters, be them thieves, smugglers, or worse pirates.

It just so happens that one pirate in particular, has their filthy paws sunk deep into three of the main trading channels. Cargo ship after cargo ship went missing the moment they sailed far enough for aid not to arrive quickly. The monthly reports were sitting on the desk, detailing the loss of hundreds of pounds in the finest cloth and wine.

Enough was enough, and that was not even counting the newest exploits of the said pirate. Apparently the youngest daughter of the Duke has been kidnapped on the way to her betrothed’s estate. Understandably, the Duke himself stormed into the naval office and demanded a small fleet be immediately sent out to rescue her.

Admiral Seunghyun Choi merely had his head in his hands. He could hardly boot the Duke out of the building. To make matters worse, the Lady had been kidnapped while on her way to his brother’s estate. No doubt, the Duke would somehow find a way to place all the blame on him.

The door to his office creaked open and Seunghyun immediately straightened up and greeted his guest, “Give thou good morning Stephan.”

The captain bowed politely before responding in kind, “Give you good morning Admiral Choi. Excuse my bluntness sir, but why hath you had me summon’d?”

It was quite early in the morning, and the young sailor would think that the Admiral would have better things to do than speak with a lowly Captain. Almost as if on cue, the Duke’s furious ranting could be heard through the walls of the office.

“Thy Duke calls all able-bodied sailors to prepare every sea faring vessel! Doth thou dare’est disobey!?”

 Seunghyun gave Stephan a pointed look and rubbed his forehead tiredly, “Tis barely struck eight an’ my mind be most weary. The Duke has been here since before the sun has risen above the horizon.”

Stephan gave him a sympathetic look, “I have arrived for naught but a quarter hour, yet mine ears begg’d me to run aroint. You sir, are most patient.”

“Best hold thy tongue Captain Hwang, for what I want should have thee cursing mine estate and home,” Seunghyun warned in amusement.

“Please sir, do tell. It be dangerous for curiosity to simmer,” now Stephan was extremely intrigued. What on Earth could the Admiral possibly want that would make him so sure a loyal Captain would curse his family?

“Thou art mine only able-bodied sailor worthy of mention. All thy mundane duties shall be suspended for this assignment of utmost importance. Rescuing the Lady takes precedence above all else,” Seunghyun declared, already trying to figure out who to put in the captain’s usual activities. It would be a shame to send Stephan off of course, but he wasn’t lying when he said that the young sailor was the best that he had available, and they were going to need the best to rescue the Duke’s daughter.

“Me? Admiral sir, you choose me to head such an important voyage?” Stephan asked incredulously.

“Aye, the lookouts spy foreign ships circlin’ the harbour not two moons ago. No doubt the most treacherous Spaniards be the culprit. Dost thou understand now? Thou art the only sailor capable. Make haste to yonder port an’ ready thy ship, Commodore Hwang,” Seunghyun pushed a new badge across the table.

The sailor’s eyebrows rose significantly, not believing that he had just been promoted. Not just promoted, but given a mission to rescue an important figure.

“Still here Commodore? Why? Thee must make haste, tis a clock bound voyage,” Seunghyun made dismissing motions at the shocked sailor’s direction.

That snapped Stephan back to attention, “Aye sir, and many good thanks. Fare you well Admiral Choi.”

“And god give thee a good day Commodore Hwang. Thou shalt need every blessing given.”

_____________)

Tis a clear bright afternoon, an’ the seas be calm and comforting. A galleon ship sailed in no direction apparent, floating carelessly with the wind. No manner of port, vessel, land or critter in sight, but the silence was torn asunder by a band of yowling semi-drunkards.

“Fifteen men on a dead man's chest Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for the rest Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike The bosun brained with a marlinspike And cookey's throat was marked belike It had been gripped by fingers ten; And there they lay, all good dead men Like break o'day in a boozing ken Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!”

The source of the racket came from non-other than the upper deck of the ship, wherein a motley crew of two dozen gathered, toasting to another victory gone by.

Pirates.

Branded traitors, villains, miscreants, and thieves, those whose meeting with the noose is almost a given when making port. But for now they sang their merry tune, inebriated beyond care. For who amongst the liberated could resist such a wild life of rum, pleasure, an’ open waters?

Captain Jessica Jung, barely twenty one summers old, and with a stature befitting of a large child—yet nevertheless, branded the most feared scourge of the North Sea—stood on the bowsprit of her vessel as the cool wind brushed against her face.

 “Look, all I be sayin’ is that Sooyoung should not be given access to the kitchen,” Onew said, “Supplies be already low!”

“Hear hear!” Yoona raised her bottle in agreement.

“Ye shan’t be talkin’ Yoona, yer stomach be just as vast!” Minho shot back and the rest of the crew laughed uproariously.

“Then we come to agreement—the kitchen wilt be forbidden fer Sooyoung and Yoona!” Key exclaimed, banging his bottle against the cabin wall as a sort of toast.

“Nay!" Yoona disagreed, banging her bottle on the cabin wall in protest, "Sides, I be the Striker-- forbid me from the kitchen, and the lot of yers shan't have a fresh morsel to fill yer belly!"

Jonghyun laugh, "Aye, tis true! We did not think that through. But Sooyoung can still be banned! The Quartermaster has no business in the kitchen!"

“Such preposterous claims! Ye are most cruel. For we few whom revere simple morsels as divine,” Sooyoung continued, waxing poetic about food of all things, “We few, we scurrilous few. We band of the abandoned. We who are free to claim pox upon the chef and all his maleficent—

“—Sooyoung! Ye best stop butcherin’ such classic literatures by smearin’ the verses with food! Else I shall nail yer tongue to the deck!” Yuri threatened good naturedly.

Minho smirked and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Methinks the first mate be bluffing, for what shall she do without Sooyoung’s tongue?”

The first mate in question blushed and whacked Minho over the head while Sooyoung just giggled.

“Alas, the quartermaster be a position of respect an' power, second to none but the Captain. But aboard this vessel..." Sooyoung sighed dramatically, "I am bullied by the measly first mate."

Before Yuri could reply, Jonghyun interrupted with a frown, "Where be our heading?"

“Where the sail's master directs it,” Minho said.

“An’ the sail's master directs it where the captain says so,” Key chimed in.

“Speakin’ of the captain’s say so, she hath not made port since we picked up the new cook,” Onew frowned, indicating to Changmin. They were running low on supplies, and had a rather hefty load of loot from the last few raids, but still, Jessica refused to land and trade.

“Trust the captain,” Sooyoung said, clapping Onew on the back, “Has she ever led us astray?”

“Well there was that time in the Caribbean—

Sooyoung slapped her hand over Onew’s mouth. That particular incident involving a chamber maid, the governor’s granddaughter, and a pile of emeralds, was best left unspoken of, especially when the captain was within hearing distance.

It was then that Jonghyun finally noticed what was missing, “Where be the sail's master?”

Every crew member’s eyes shot towards the wheel. Sure enough, it was empty.

Yuri’s eyes narrowed and she stomped up the stairs, and ‘lo and behold! She found the helmsman dozing off on the ground, back resting on the wheel.

“Hyoyeon!” Yuri exclaimed, “The winds be taking us off course! Hyoyeon!”

“Huh? Wha-?” the sailor muttered groggily.

“I warned ye not to over indulge on the rum! We be heading off course,” Yuri continued to shake the half-awake sailor.

Jessica watched her crew laugh and bicker playfully with one another. There was no place she would rather be. Scorned by the general public and by the authorities as she were, but surrounded by loyal and trustworthy friends, and for Jessica, that was worth dying for.

“Ship ahoy!” Tao called from the crow’s-nest.

Jessica brightened, not a sweeter word had been uttered all day, “A war-ship?”

“Aye! Looks to be a vessel of His Majesty’s Royal Navy!” the young lookout announced.

“Doth it be alone?” Jessica asked, it might not have been a helpless merchant ship, but she had been itching for a fight all day.

“Indeed! No other vessel in all direction!”

Jessica whipped out her spyglass and spotted her prey floating in the waves not too far ahead.

“Mister Lee!” the captain grinned predatorily, “Hoist the colours!”

“Aye captain!” Onew saluted, pulling on the ropes.

_____________)

Aboard the magnificent naval warship, The Endeavour, the newly stationed commodore watched as his crew prepared the vessel for departure. It was a beautifully designed ship, made almost entirely of the sycamore wood from London forests and painted in yellow and blue with great billowing white sails.

As the gulls flew ahead, he felt a deep sense of anticipation. Finally, fate had presented an ample opportunity to meet those bastardly Spaniards that had taken so much! No, metaphoric iron walls slammed down as Stephan mentally steeled away from such selfish thoughts. Rescuing the Duke’s daughter came before all other pursuits, no matter how righteous they may be.

At the helm a young sailor looking barely eighteen summers old, stood steering the ship with a countenance of utmost enthusiasm.

Stephan walked up the wooden stairs, hands trailing along the new, smooth hand rails. The Endeavour was a gift from his father for his twenty first birthday. Leonardo Hwang was an Admiral in his days, and a well-respected one at that, and Stephan Hwang intended to live up to that legacy.

“Good morrow Commodore Hwang,” the helmsman greeted.

“How now Master…?” Stephan paused, looking questioningly at the sailor, he did not recognise him.

“Lee sir,” the sailor replied quickly, “Taemin Lee at your service.”

“How now Master Lee?”

“Good now sir. Where be our direction Commodore?” Lee asked.

Now Stephan knew that the Spaniards have a port on a small island not too far from the direction that they had last spotted Spanish vessels, but he also knew that the ships spotted in the past few days were last seen heading in the opposite direction. The Lady comes first!

“The Lady be headed to the estate of the Duke of Norfolk Siwon Choi, an’ was intercepted by unknown vessels. Set course for Canvey Island Master Lee, there be renown pirate ports in those waters.  An’ doth make haste, there be no tellin’ what foul tortures the poor Lady must be endurin’,” Stephan said, finding the young sailor’s attitude to be quite endearing.  

There was always a bright cheerfulness when new sailors come aboard. Not to speak badly of the more experienced sailors of course, but with the experience, came the dark grimness that haunted those who fought at sea. Wide-eyed sailors with bright dispositions were a breath of fresh air. Stephan hoped that it would be a while before Taemin gets those hopeful dreams get crushed by the harsh realities of their occupation.

“Master Lee, for how many years hath thee toiled for His Majesty’s Royal Navy?”

“One summer sir,” Lee answered promptly.

“Fresh from the academy then,” Stephan nodded, his thoughts confirmed, “This be your first voyage away from home waters?”

“Aye sir, an’ what an adventure it shall be,” he grinned with relish.

The commodore gazed up at the sky, “Adventure huh? I pray thee be wrong.”

There was not a single cloud, the sky mirroring the ocean almost perfectly. Bear it good omens. Unless of course, it was a false sign and there were treacherous waters ahead, but Stephan felt uncharacteristically positive. Perhaps it was the promotion…He must really keep his mood in check.

“Has sir encountered a pirate?” Lee asked, curious.

Stephan nodded grimly, “Aye, in all my years never have I crossed paths with any such being more foul, uncouth and scurrilous than a pirate. Thee best pray to find one on thine own terms. To be ambushed by such savage beasts—tis not a right fate deserving for any good man.”

Before Lee could reply, a distressed call from one of the lookouts on the crow’s-nest silenced him, “Ship ahoy!”

“Dost she bear friendly colours?” Stephan asked, a grim expression settling on his face. He hadn’t expected to encounter anyone so soon.

“Nay. A flag of…tis a blue flag beholding a white skeleton…”

“Is the skeleton wielding a black trident?” Stephan asked.

“Aye sir.”

“Doth the ship hoist red sails?”

“Tis true sir!”

All the colour drained from Stephan’s face, and he cursed his luck. Of all the ships to encounter, it had to be that one. “It be The Neptune’s Revenge!”

A gulp of fear washed through the crew. Even amongst the men of the Navy, the exploits and horrifying tales of the dreaded pirate ship sent terror down their spines.

“Well Master Lee, seems like thy request for adventure hath been heard,” Stephan said grimly.

The mettle of the British Navy had all but vanished with one look of the flag, as they fuelled each other’s fear with rumours surrounding the dreaded Captain of the Neptune’s Revenge.

“I hear she sets fire to yer shoes an’ makes ye dance till ye cark it,” cried one sailor as he fumbled with his bayonet.

“I have heard she strings you up by your innards an’ lets the birds make a meal of yer!” another shivered, sending more doubts to the rest of the crew.

“Whispers run round of the captain bartering her soul with the devil himself! They claim she feels no pain. Neither blade nor gun can take her down, nor doth she bleed like one bound to mortal’s realm!”

“I’ll ne’er see mother again! Tis the Locker for us all!”

“Enough!” Stephan snapped, temper pushed to the limit, “Are thee all dogs or men? Cowering in the face of a pirate!” he spat out the word with disgust, “Are we not King’s Men? When those over-glorified thieves board the vessel, what shalt thee do? Will thee cower? Cry? Surrender? Be stabbed in the back like the sickening cur that thee are? Nay! These be pirates! Thee be dead if thee fight, dead or worse if thee do not! Which will it be?” he paused, letting the message sink.

The pirate ship was quickly coming closer, and Stephan cursed the weather. It figures that even the blasted winds weren’t on his side, “So again, are we not King’s Men!?”

“Aye!” the crew yelled as one, spirits renewed, and fire in every sailor’s eyes.

“Now load up thy muskets and man the canons! There be no time to waste!”

______________________________________________________)

The waves were calm, and the winds barely rattled the sails, making it quite easy for the Neptune’s Revenge to cut through the water and make a straight line for the approaching navy vessel.

“Yuri take the helm!” Jessica shouted, climbing up onto the rigging.

Her first mate didn’t look pleased at missing out on the action, but understood that Hyoyeon wasn’t in any shape or form to be steering straight, let alone be prepared to make a quick getaway should things go awry, so she took the wooden wheel in her hand and directed them towards the enemy ship.

Drink durin’ daylight, never again, Yuri vowed, scowling as the rest of the crew members drew their blades and flintlock pistols in preparation for boarding, “Approaching via starboard!” she announced, spinning the wheel so that right side of their ship faced the other vessel’s rear.

“Man the starboard canons! Fire freely on my mark!” Jessica silently counted down the seconds that it would take for the other ship to come into range. 5…4…3…2…1, “FIRE!”

A deafening roar echoed across the blue sea as the ship recoiled from the three powerful canon blasts. Jessica watched with grim satisfaction as a mast on the enemy’s ship collapsed. She made a mental note to give Minho, Jonghyun and Key a larger portion of the loot seeing as how they never did miss a target.

As the cannonballs smashed through the rear hull of the naval vessel, Jessica was never more glad that her ship could cut through the waters and turn relatively easy. “Halt all fire! Yul, bring us to portside! Quartermaster prepare to board! Portside gunners an’ deckhands with ye!”

Jessica drew her flintlock pistol and watched passively as the crew on the other ship began to fire back using long arquebus firearms. It wasn’t particularly useful from such a far range, and Jessica frowned, wondering why they haven’t fired the canons now that her ship was directly parallel to theirs.

“Belay that! Sooyoung do not board!” She called.

Sooyoung halted in mid stride, about to let loose her grappling hook. She bore an expression of confusion, it was the perfect time to board the enemy ship, “Captain?”

“They have yet to fire canons, something is rotten here,” Jessica narrowed her eyes, and pulled out her spyglass. The Naval crew were running amok (that much was expected), trying to repair the damage done to the rear hull, several of the crew members were firing pistols and flintlock guns (rather furtively) at her ship…Jessica looked around for the Captain but could not spot him, “What in the devil are they scheming?”

One of the lookouts screamed something urgently, but the firing pistols masked too much of the noise for Jessica to make it out.

“Fie upon all that is holy!” Yuri suddenly cursed, jerking the ship to the left so suddenly that Jessica nearly toppled over.

The captain barely managed to grab hold of the ropes to keep herself from a rather painful fall to the deck, “Yuri! What be the meaning of this!?” Jessica demanded, clutching onto the foresail rope.

“Kai spotted Siphons, the cockering dim-witted maggots are preparing Greek Fire!”

All the brash bluster disappeared from Jessica’s demeanour almost instantly. The legendary Greek Fire, Fire that burned on water. But then logic caught up to her, “Impossible! The English have not unlocked the secrets of Greek Fire! Twas lost! It be a fools bluff!”

However Yuri wasn’t keen on finding out for sure, “Better safe than burnin’ an’ drown’d!”

Jessica jumped down from the foresail ropes and landed with a thud next to Yuri. She grabbed the wheel and spun in around, bringing the ship back towards the Naval vessel.

“E’en by stroke of fate, they possess the fiendish flames, they wilt not fire upon their own vessel!” Jessica growled, “Prepare for boarding!”

“This be madness Jessica!” Yuri insisted, she turned to the quartermaster who was still waiting by the side, waiting for further orders, “Sooyoung! Tell her this be madness!”

“Nay!” Sooyoung smirked savagely, “Tis a good day to slay a few Blues! Gunners by my side!”

The portside gunners proceeded to lower the boarding ramp, before charging to the enemy vessel, Sooyoung and Jessica not far behind them.

“Oh for shits sake! Loggerheaded, dismal-dreaming idiots!” Yuri cursed, hand on the wheel, “If we die, I shall haunt ye fer all eternity Jessica!”

_____________________________________________________)

Meanwhile on the Endeavour, the crew members were in the midst of panic when canon fire rained down and large planks of wood splintered from the ship, lodging themselves into unsuspecting navy officers. The main mast had already fallen, and dozens of sailors were busy trying to cut it loose altogether, before the weight dragged them to the depths of Davy Jones’ Locker.  

“Pirates boarding portside!” one of the sailors yelled in panic, as he spotted grappling hooks imbedding themselves into the wooden hand rails.

“Shoot them!” Another one roared over the commotion.

BANG!

Another canon ball smashed into the once pristine deck.

“The ship shall be torn in two at this rate!” a panicked sailor looked around for any form of leadership frantically, “Where be the commodore!?”

Meanwhile below deck, Commodore Hwang watched as the men hurriedly pieced together the secret weapon that Admiral Choi had given him. The damp, musty air and the wet floor made Stephan all the more impatient.

“Is it prepared?” Stephan snapped, tapping his foot on the sea-soaked wood.

The siphons were an extra load to carry, and they had to get rid of some of the canons. If it didn’t work, then they were as good as doomed. The pirates already had a major head start in blowing holes into their ship, if the above commotion was anything to go by.

“Aye Commodore, ready to fire on command,” the boatswain replied with excited anticipation.

“Then what are ye waiting for? Fire!” Stephan ordered, scowling at the fumbling sailor. He made a mental note to find a new boatswain as soon as possible. One of the gunners ought to be more competent than this guy. That was the unfortunate thing about the Navy; most people got their ranks from who they knew, rather than what they knew.

Green flames erupted from the metal pipe and rained over the enemy ship, the water not impeding its path in the slightest. A smirk made its way onto Stephan’s face, “Magnificent. Keep firing, I shall overseer the battle from above deck.”

Stephan drew his sword and charged up the stairs. The sight that greeted him was not what he expected. Men lay sprawled across the deck, slain by the vicious beasts, their blood spilt over the once pristine wood. The surviving crew cowering or running aroint in no manner of organisation or purpose. The ones responsible for the chaos dared to stand behind the wheel of his ship. Immediately, Stephan looked around for the young helmsman, but could not find heads or tails of him.

“Well now, I thought I recognised yer ship,” a soft voice greeted pleasantly from behind him.

The commodore whipped around, eyes narrowing at the sight, “You!”

“Tis been a while, has it not Stephanie?” Jessica drawled, putting emphasis on the last syllable of ‘his’ name. The captain’s falchion and flintlock were in each hand, but they were not poised for battle, but hung limp at her side, demeanour simply oozing complacency.

The commodore was not amused, “Get off my ship, traitor!”

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Jessica sounded not at all apologetic, “See, a certain someone has deemed it fit to set my vessel ablaze with cursed Greek fire,” she jabbed her thumb behind her in the direction of her burning ship, which was also rapidly emptying of its crew members, who were quickly clambering over to the Endeavour, “So I shall have to make do with this one.”

“This be my ship, an’ I will sooner hand it to Davy Jones than let it fall in the hands of a pirate!” Stephanie snarled, bringing her sword down, intent on slicing off the smirk on Jessica’s face.

Jessica barely moved a muscle. In fact, she moved all of three—to raise her arm, and pull the trigger. The noise was not even palpable over the chaos across the deck, but it seemed as if the entire ship stopped whatever they were doing and watched as the commodore dropped to the ground.

“I always did warn ye not ter bring swords to a gun fight,” Jessica said, expression almost forlorn. Countenance changing faster than the eye could blink, Jessica turned to address the rest of the ship, “Yer Captain is down! The ship is ours!”

Her crew cheered, but there was a hollow feeling in their cries, and Jessica could not blame them. After all, they had just lost their ship and all of their meagre possessions with it. She was going to have to do some major damage control after this, else risk a mutiny. She trusted her first mate more than anything, but she was not deaf to the crew’s mutterings, and many of them had been ill content in the past week.

Her men shoved the rest of the surviving Endeavour’s crew onto one of the longboats, and threw their injured captain with them. Jessica shook her head, “I would have hoped you would have learned better by now, old friend.”

“Captain, this ship needs major repairs. We need to dock, and quickly, else we risk laying rest at the bottom of the sea,” Sooyoung said urgently.

“Aye, cutting down the mast ‘twas folly in hindsight. Set course fer Canvey Island, we shall make port there,” Jessica agreed.

______________________________________________________________

#SNSD fic #pirate AU #jessica #tiffany #sooyoung #yuri #yoona