☸ Ｓｗｉｎｄｌｅ ⚓ NEW THREAD

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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Reference

Scarlet's Reference Sheet :: Pretend her signature is neater... eck.

Vin's Reference Sheet :: Might make him a bit younger there... Life expectancy in the eighteenth century. Not terribly high. Also, longer face. Come on, past me, get with it.

Height Lineup :: Forgive my sloppiness x.x Sam would probably be between Warren and Vin. Also, no, Alistair's face doesn't really look like that... But I like it that way ok.

Family Tree :: Coming soon

Interlude

October 3, 1695

“Remember Scarlet, if you cheat, the pyrates will come for you!”

The boy, fourteen years of age, sat on the floor of his home, playing jacks with his younger sister, Scarlet. His short, blonde hair stuck out at most angles and his blue eyes glimmered with mischief.
The girl was only eleven, wearing a tattered dress that was once beautiful. Her hair was a curly red mess that fell lightly onto her shoulders. It’s hue was nearly an equal match to the blushing in her cheeks as she clenched her fists and faced her older brother.

“I am not cheating!”

Though he laughed, there was a protective shadow in his eyes. There was a third child, one and a half years of age, sitting beside Scarlet. The older boy was watching them while their mother and oldest brother were in the marketplace.

He looked down at the jacks on the floor and leaned back on his hands. “It’s your turn, Scarlet.”

She smirked and picked up the small rubber ball. There was immediately a deafening boom outside and the night sky beyond their window flashed red.

In an instant, the boy was on his feet. He scooped up the youngest child and hauled Scarlet to her feet by the arm. He shoved their brother into her arms and pushed her along. “Scarlet listen to me very carefully. Take Bennet and hide. I’m going to find mom and Edwin. Don’t move until I come back!”

Meanwhile, she rambled over him. “What was that? Warren? Was it the pyrates? Are they coming for me? You were just teasing about that, right? Warren? You were teasing, right?”

There was another explosion outside. Sudden urgency welled up in Warren and he pushed her harder, into the cellar, and closed the door.

After the slamming of the door, things were eerily quiet. There was nothing but the muffled sound of cannonfire in the distant outside world. Scarlet stood frozen, staring blankly at the door with Bennet in her arms. She was not sure how long she stood there before Bennet began to wriggle and she turned to make her way down the stairs.

There was a single, small window in the cellar. She put Bennet down beneath it and dragged a stool over. She stood on it and peeked out the window, her pale blue eyes widening at the sights beyond. Houses ablaze, her neighbors running down the streets, trails of fire and shrapnel strewn through the sky like tails of cannonball comets. Every star gone.


Tears welled in her eyes and she jumped off the stool and knocked it over with a cry of fear. She listened to it clatter to the ground, then sank against the wall. Once she reached the floor, she pulled her knees in close to her chest and buried her face into the blue cloth of her dress, shaking with sobs.

Suddenly there was an explosion that was much closer and louder than the rest had been before. This time, it was accompanied by the clatter of glass on the floor beside her. She felt it rain upon her back and hair and curled up tighter, her muffled whimpering hardly audible.

Now that the window was broken, every sound from the outside was clear and significantly more terrifying. She curled in on herself and cried louder, unsure how long she had stayed in that position.

With a jolt, she remembered that she was not alone. Her brother had been unusually quiet, she had nearly forgotten about him. She looked up from her knees, eyes blurred with tears. Because of this, she was not sure what she was seeing was real. “Bennet?”

His figure did not move at the sound of his name. She frantically wiped away at her eyes and shifted to her hands and knees and crawled over to him. “Bennet!” She froze, rigid when her hands touched a sticky puddle she was certain had not been there before. She picked up her shaking hand and nearly choked upon examining it. She continued towards him frantically, her dress scattering large shards of broken glass across the floor.

When she touched him, he was cold. She would swear her heart stopped and the pain was so much she simply could not cry. Slowly, she shifted to her knees and pulled him onto her lap. It took mere moments for her to break down and hold his body close to hers. Doubled over in grief, she wailed, calling to him over and over again, and over and over again, there was nothing but the crashing sound of a pillage through a broken window.

Chapter One

September 14, 1707

“STOWAWAY!”

The call had been made on a pink dusk at sea, the waves gentle and sparkling in the sunlight. In the mist, the silhouette of a ship could be seen, sailing under the black flag with sails the shade of pitch. The rustic exterior and battle scars riddling the vessel’s bloodstained wood were oddly out of place, yet could belong nowhere else. The ship Obsidian was unmistakable to any eye that explored the oceans, bringing fear to the hearts of the heartiest pyrates across the Atlantic. It was well known that the ship had obtained a new captain four years prior. Though the Obsidian had a reputation before, it was nothing compared to the stories told of the ruthless Captain Waters.

Ghostly blue eyes drifted over the gentle waves, narrowed against the cold wind. There was a sense of passion reflected in them, a love of the sea. Once they drifted to the deck and crew, however, they became intimidating and fierce; the eyes of one that had seen death, and of one not afraid to inflict it. Emotionless until a call rang out on deck. They darted sharply to the side and intense fury twisted the calmness that had been there moments before.

A stowaway? How could this be? Nothing got past the eye of the crew of the Obsidian, and it was impossible to imagine anyone stupid enough to sneak onto it anyway.

“Bring him to me!” The Captain’s voice roared over the winds howling through the sails, sharp and clear. Heavy leather boots stomped down the stairs to the deck, awaiting the arrival of this dog. The crew scrambled to obey, and in mere moments a hooded figure was shoved to the ground before the leather-clad feet.

“Before I deal with this swine-” The click of a hammer softly sounded as the Captain’s hand wrapped around a revolver grip. “Who was on guard last time we made port?”

“That would be Anderson, Cap’n,” said an unknowing voice just obeying orders. The revolver flew into the air and with one swift bang the one called Anderson was floored.

“Get back to work!” The booming voice ordered and the men scrambled to their stations, a few staying behind only to lob Anderson’s body overboard.

The Captain’s attention was now on the hooded figure slumped to the ground with a lowered head.

“Show yerself, ye coward,” the voice hissed. The barrel of a gun that killed a man moments before flicked the dark gray hood away from the face of the intruder. This revealed the face of a relatively handsome man. He had a crooked nose and dirty blonde scruff along a strong jawline. His face was long and devastatingly angular.

The stowaway looked up with a mischievous grin, his eyes glinting in the shadows behind his long and tangled sandy blonde hair.

“Well?” The Captain pressed impatiently, shoving the revolver against his forehead. “Defend yer honor, ye cargo-thieving blaggard! What ever sliver of it ye have left.”

A gruff laugh escaped the man, and the words that escaped him were colored with an Italian accent. “If I were indeed a coward like you believe me to be, it would be rightfully so, would it not? I am, after all, at the mercy of Captain Scarlet Waters.”

The Captain’s bloodred lips curled in a snarl and she forced his head back with the berrel of the revolver, comdemning him to look her in the eye. She leaned in close, her hot breath stirring his hair. He remained motionless. She pulled back the hammer on her gun, keeping her ghostly stare locked with his own brown gaze. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill ye now.”

The man leaned into the gun and fearlessly maintained eye contact. “You need me, Captain.”

A chilling laugh escaped the Captain, throwing her head back in amusement before looking back at her prisoner. “What could I possibly need ye for, ye scurvy bastard?”

Suddenly, the ship hit a wave and rocked dangerously. The Captain stumbled slightly and the stowaway saw his chance. He leaped to his feet and took advantage of the momentarily compromised balance of Captain Waters. He wrapped his bound hands around her neck, rope against soft skin. Her wide-brimmed hat topped with a pluming red feather fell to the deck floor in the process.

“Everything,” he murmured in her ear, her wild red curls caressing his face.

The ship’s crew glanced over in surprise and a few stepped forward to assist their captain, drawing their swords.

“Back off!” She spat at her men, her voice rasping from the pressure on her throat. “This ballast pig is nothing I can’t handle.” Hesitantly, the men backed away. “What do ye want?” She hissed at the man holding her against her will.

“This is not about what I want, Captain, oh no,” he said in a sickeningly sweet tone. “It is about what you want. You see…” He paused and leaned closer until his dark scruff scratched at her ear and he whispered, “I have the map to El Dorado.”

A small gasp escaped Captain Waters and her blue eyes widened in disbelief. “Why should I believe ye?” She asked accusingly.

In a flash, the man released his hold on her neck and she stumbled forward, gasping for air. By the time she turned to face him, he had a daring smirk on his face and he took slow steps back. “Because I let you live,” he answered, making a half-hearted gesture with his arms.

She stared at him with fiery hatred in her eyes for a moment before straightening up and aiming her revolver at him. “Give me the map.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, mi tesoro.” He answered in a smooth tone.

“Don’t forget who’s ship this is, dago,” she said threateningly. “Where is it?”

The man’s hands went up in a surrender. “Woah, Captain, no need for such language.”

“Where is it?” She barked again, her face flushing with anger.

A sly smile crept on the lips of the man as he used one of his raised hands to point at his head. “It’s safe in here.”

The revolver faltered a little before the Captain hesitantly put it back in her belt and took long, heavy strides towards the man, scooping up her hat on the way and fixating it back upon her head. She advanced until they were nose to nose. Or, at least, close enough to be. The man was significantly taller than the Captain, and she had to crane her neck back to see his face past the brim of her hat.

She narrowed her eyes and searched him for anything blind recklesness. “Who are ye?” She murmured accusingly.

“My name,” the man began, taking a step back and sweeping his cloak around front in a formal bow, “is Vinazio Giovanni Fieri Lorenzo Silvetore Vespasian Alessius Espacciano di Pescara.” He looked up through his veil of thick hair without breaking his bow and added, “Vin for short.” Then he stood up and approached the Captain once more. In a slightly lower voice he concluded with, “But you can call me your new treasure map.”

The Captain smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. Without breaking eye contact, she called for one of her men. “Baldassare!”

A tall, well-built man with a blind eye appeared behind the Captain. “Take this man to the passenger’s suite,” she instructed snidely, turning quickly to make her way back to the helm.

“Oh, a suite? That sounds grande. You’re too good to me Captain, really,” Vin called sarcastically as the man grabbed his arm and dragged him below deck.

The man called Baldassare gripped Vin’s arm tightly, pulling him down the stairs. “Hey hey hey! Watch the cloak!” Vin barked, struggling to brush off his shoulder amongst all the jerking about.

He was tossed to the ground in a dark corner furnished with nothing but a wooden bench and a small round window. It was dark and damp and he winced, feeling multiple splinters slide into his hands.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” the large man said mockingly with a yellow, gnarled smile. He then slammed a door of bars in Vin’s face, leaving the stowaway alone. His heavy footsteps faded dauntingly into the distance.

Vin heaved a sigh and hefted himself up and onto the bench. He examined his hands, having nothing better to do. One by one, eyes straining in the darkness, he picked out each splinter. He hardly had feeling from all the calluses which had formed over years of hard work.

A scuffling was heard in the corner, followed by a small squeak. The sun had just sunk below the horizon, making the cell quite cold. Through the cloud of his breath, a rat revealed itself to Vin, pausing in a beam of moonlight.

Vin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and sighed. “Well, little friend, looks like it’s just you and me.” He paused and offered himself a tired smile. “I promise to make it quick.”

The oblivious rat continued grooming it’s tail, seemingly without a care in the world. Vin leaned back and carefully raised a menacing foot. Then, just like that, his worn leather boot came down on the creature’s head, killing it instantly. “Sorry, but I’ve had enough threats on my life.”

He sighed after murmuring the justifying words. He then laid down on the damp wooden surface with one knee up and his hands folded on his chest. He loosely clutched the key that hung around his neck through his shirt and stared at the ceiling silently, but did not believe he would get any sleep that night.

Chapter Two

September 15, 1707

“Rise and shine, ye miserable hack!” Vin woke to the sound of a strange voice, every “s” replaced with a whistling sound. He groaned in protest, and suddenly felt something like a stone strike his face. His eyes widened in surprise and scrambling to defend himself, he rolled onto the floor. He stiffly got to his knees and rolled his shoulders back with a wince, feeling his spine crack in multiple places.

Glancing over, he noticed the thing that had struck him in the face. He picked up the stale roll of bread with one hand and brought the other to his face. The rattling sound of keys could be heard among the bustling of the groggy crew, followed by a cringe-worthy creak as the door to his cage was opened. He looked up in the darkness, the dawn light hardly enough to illuminate the cell that early in the morning.

The man that opened the gate was thin and scraggly, his face bony and coated with dirt. He held a lantern and offered a sly smile, revealing a missing tooth; most likely the source of the whistle. He spoke in a screeching tenor that Vin thought would better suit a rat. “I don't go'all day, sleepin’ beauty. As long as yer on this here ship you’ll be put to work ‘till yer fingers bleed like the rest of us!”

Vin looked up, still on his knees, and offered a smile back. “You’re just a joy in the morning, aren’t you?” He shifted and brought one knee to his chest, realizing he had kneeled in the rat he had killed mere hours before. He grunted and pulled up the faded olive green sleeve of his hand-me-down jacket to brush the gore away. He then looked back up at the man who now wore a snarl through his veil of hair, stringy and wind-blown. He grumbled in annoyance and attempted to blow it out of his face. “You don’t happen to have an extra piece of cloth hanging around, do you? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

The man narrowed his eyes and snatched a torn red handkerchief from his belt. Slowly and while maintaining eye contact with the stowaway, he spit into it then tossed it to Vin with a dark chuckle.

Vin picked it up from the ground and held it out before him, hesitating. “I did say nothing fancy,” he retorted to himself in a quiet mumble. He put on another smile and stood up, putting his free hand on the man’s shoulder as he walked by. “Thanks, amico. I will treasure it.” He began to walk away then took a step back to face the man again. “Also, I wouldn’t smile if I were you. Or open my mouth… Ever. It doesn’t flatter you, mate.” He smiled again and slapped the man’s back, walking away with long strides before he could receive the backlash for his impulsive tongue. On the way to the upper deck, he unfolded the red cloth in his hands and used it to tie back his hair that fell between his shoulder blades.

He was met with a gust of cold, salty wind and was relieved to have gotten his hair back before it was relentlessly whipped around in the fierce gales. Having it in his face since he boarded this God forsaken ship had been the closest thing driving him to his wit’s end. He suddenly realized with a shove from behind that he had been standing dumbly at the top of the stairs, stumbling forward from the blow.

“Leeward ship, comin' through the mist!” The call came from above and was nearly lost in the howling wind.

“Avast!” The Captain called from the helm, her voice ringing clear over her crew. “Bring her to half sail! Ready the cannons! Ready the shredders!” She looked up at the sails with a wicked grin and murmured to herself, “The wind will bring the unfortunate scoundrels right to us.”

Vin’s eyes, though narrowed against the sharp winds, were trained intently on the Captain. For the first time, he could take in the situation without defending his life. For the first time since boarding the ship, he felt the chilling pang of fear.

The Captain’s swirling red hair flew wildly around her form, the jewels, tassels, and charms tangled into the curls chiming as they struck each other. Even from the distance, he could clearly see the piercing blue of her narrowed eyes freezing him to the spot. At that moment he understood first hand the origin of one of her many nicknames, Medusa of the Seas. The glare of the magnificent jewels she wore on her fingers flashed in the dull dawn sunlight only just beginning to leak above the horizon. She was small, yes, but at the same time, she was massive. None other than a woman had created a reputation so horrible and feared; to speak her name was to speak of myth, as the treachery of it was inconceivable to most.

Yet there he was, standing on the deck of the ship only known to most by songs and rhymes, and her captain was looking directly at him.

A bundle of rope was tossed in his direction and he scrambled to catch it, gathering it in his arms and turning his attention to the direction it came from. “Tie down the rum!” The order came from a wayward voice.

Snapping out of his nervous jitter, Vin knitted his eyebrows together, regaining his confidence as he rushed to the nearest stack of barrels and began to secure them. He peeked over them for a glance at what they were after. The other ship was smaller, but not small, and coming in fast. From the long, spiked shape of the three sails, Vin believed it to be some kind of Asian ship, but from this distance and with bustling crew members repeatedly blocking his line of sight, he could not be sure.

He returned all his focus back to his work and secured a knot, ensuring that the barrels would be going nowhere. He took a step back and glanced around at his surroundings. The cannons were being rolled out and loaded, men positioned at each. He rushed to the edge and looked over the rail, only to notice two more levels of cannons being rolled into their positions out the edge of the ship.

“What’s going on?” He asked to no one in particular, the quiver of fear in his voice lost in the din as he took steps back. A few half-hearted laughs came in response to his reaction. A single hand came down onto his shoulder, making him jump. He turned to face an older man, softer and less worn than the rest seemed to be.

“We’re pyrates boy, what do you think we’re doing?” When Vin failed to respond, the man looked down and shook his head, his blue eyes dancing with pity. “Don’t forget where you are, lad. Remembering could save your life,” he said, then patted Vin's shoulder and walked off.

Vin looked after the old man, at a loss for words.

The Captain clutched the telescope on her hip and extended it, holding it up to her eye. “Chinese Pyrates!” She called out. She lowered the telescope and collapsed it once more. “Take no prisoners! I don’t want to listen to their rambling nonsense.”

A flurry of “Aye, Cap'n”’s circulated around the ship.

“You, dago!” The Captain called from her position, pointing to Vin with a lazy finger.

He turned around and instantly made a bitter face, damning himself for responding to such a slur. She gestured with a single finger for him to approach her.

Hesitantly, Vin made his way up the stairs, gripping the rail tightly as the ship rocked. He reached the top of the flight of steps but stayed there for two reasons. He did not want to be much closer to her at that particular moment, but even more so, he did not want to let go of the rail.

“You’re going to need this.” She pulled a cutlass from her belt and tossed it to him. He flinched and extended his free hand, catching it, to his surprise, without even minor injury. He opened his eyes and smiled, pleased with himself, then straightened up and examined the blade.

He paused suddenly and his smile faded. “Why?” he asked cautiously.

She simply gave him a side glance and smirked wickedly. Dread filled his chest and he felt a bit dizzy. Right. Pyrates. He looked down at the blade again, now holding it rather loosely. He had never killed a man before. He would not. He held the sword out, hand shaking, as if to drop it in rejection. He waited for the clatter of metal on wood, but it did not come. Instead, his hand gripped the weapon tighter until his knuckles were white under his gray and brown fingerless gloves, woven and fraying.

His chest became tight as he tried to get his thoughts in order. He would ridicule and manipulate another for his own life, but could never take one. At least, he believed himself to be a better man than that. Now, however, in the immediate face of fear and pressure, he was not so sure. He did not want to die this day. His stomach became sick at the thought. He had not realized how long he had mulled over the situation until he was thrown forward by a violent jerk. He would have been thrown down the stairs had he not been holding on to the rail still.

The Obsidian had changed course to face the oncoming ship. It had then rammed into the side of the smaller vessel, it’s shredders digging deep into the enemy structure and destroying any chance of escape on their end.

“You’re thinking too much, boy!” A man, more dignified than the rest of the crew, had said. He had been at the Captain’s side the majority of the time, making sure her orders had been heard when he was not. Vin assumed this to be her first mate. Now, he was coming towards him and shoved the stowaway towards the stairs. “Fight for your place!” He commanded bitterly, as the crew of the challenging ship had begun to flood the deck.

Vin stumbled down a couple of steps before turning to look back at the Captain. “I have never been part of a real battle before!” He called. “Any advice before I die?”

“Yeah,” she called, then looked at him as she pulled her revolver out of her belt. “Don’t die!” She looked down at the deck again and fired two shots with sharp accuracy, sending two of the opposing men down where they stood. They began to flood up the stairs and she drew her sword with a challenging grin, the sound of cannonfire ringing through the air.

Suddenly, a hot pain cut across Vin’s back as a Chinese sword slashed clear through his clothes. He cried out in shock and pain and fell unto the stairs, his head taking a blow from the rail on his way down. He looked up groaning as his vision cleared, trying to desperately overcome the dizziness. There were three men coming at him. He scrambled for the dagger he kept in his boot and lashed out blindly, digging the blade deep into the closest man’s thigh.

The man cried out and stumbled back, falling to the ground in pain. Vin's smirk of pride wore off quickly, his eyes widening as another man lunged at him, dragging him down the stairs and holding him to the ground. He reconsidered the timing of the ponytail when the man used it to pull his head back. The second man held a short sword to Vin’s neck, a yellow grin spreading across his face.

His mind buzzing with fear, Vin called out the first thing he could think of. “SCARLET!”

The Captain twirled her jewel-encrusted cutlass in her hand, showing off a little then suddenly running it through the closest man before he had a chance to draw his own. Behind her, the first mate was fighting two men himself. Now, three more were coming up the stairs towards her. She blocked the top to keep them in the narrow space. One went to bring a thin, curved sword down on her head and she blocked it, quick as a flash. It was at that moment in which she heard her first name being called. A hot fury filled her and her face flushed with anger. She held up her cutlass with one hand and used her other to grasp her gun once more. She held it towards the offender, but focused the anger on killing the foreign man instead.

“CAPTAIN!” She corrected with a growl in her voice and pulled the trigger.

The man holding the sword to Vin’s throat dropped suddenly and Vin took the opportunity to jab behind him with his dagger until he hit something solid. The man behind him screeched in pain and let go of Vin, who then leaped to his feet and turned to see that he had landed a blow to the man’s side, leaving his dagger embedded there. Momentary dread filled him before the severity of the situation overcame his conscious. He heard the quick step of boots behind him and let out a yell, turning and swinging his sword with a skilled hand, keeping it steady as it clashed with another.

Scarlet’s arm was about to give out from holding off the other sword. Quickly, she kicked the man in the stomach, sending him tumbling down the stairs and taking the rest of his comrades with him. She swiftly jumped the rail and landed with a thud on the deck beside Vin as the three regained themselves and came after her once more.

She lashed at the first man’s throat, catching the artery and causing him to collapse. The second man went for a side blow, which she blocked. She wrenched his sword down and struck him in the face with her fist full of rings, cutting his cheek. She then kicked him under his chin and to the ground. She used the momentum to spin and slice the third man, nearly decapitating the sailor as he fell to the ground. She paused for a moment, breathing heavily, her face splattered with the blood of other men.

Meanwhile, Vin was nose-to-nose with yet another man, their crossed blades between them. Vin’s teeth were bared in effort and he headbutted the smaller man with a crack. As he was dazed, he cut the man’s arm and ran his sword clear through his leg.

The cry of pain and anger had caught the attention of three more men, now running towards him. He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. He glanced over and took the Captain by the wrist, twirling her around and snatching her revolver from her belt.

She stumbled a little, confused by what just happened and met Vin’s charming smirk for a split second. She was about to shout at him the violent things that crossed her mind when her voice was drowned out by two gunshots, then the hollow clicking of a trigger as the bullets were emptied.

Vin dropped the gun and blocked the blow coming towards him, holding the third man off. The Captain then stepped forward and ran her sword through the man’s ribs, her body mere inches from her victim’s before she slowly pulled it back out and the dying man slumped to the deck.

Vin's eyes followed the limp body down and then shot back up to Scarlet, his chest heaving with heavy breaths too demanding to speak.

Scarlet's cold, unreadable eyes met his in return, her red lips parted as she caught her breath. "Thorton!" She called, without looking away.

The man Vin had recognized as the first mate rushed to the Captain's side. It was only then that she turned her attention to him and Vin felt free to look elsewhere once more.

Bodies littered the deck and men were rushing back to their own ships; the Chinese with cuts and tattered clothes; the Obsidian's crew with coins and jewels.

Scarlet murmured something in Thorton's ear and he nodded in understanding. He took a few steps away until one of the cannon men caught his eye. They exchanged small nods and moments later all three levels of cannons fired in turn at the Chinese ship. Bringing the shredders back into the Obsidian allowed the Chinese vessel to sink in a matter of minutes.

Vin watched the ship sink, claimed by the depths with a distant look. He stood, frozen, for a long while before the gurgling and screaming was too much for him to handle. With quick steps, he turned suddenly to walk away, though he paused and cringed for a moment, having forgotten his injuries. He bent over and gritted his teeth in pain before taking a deep breath and continuing below deck determinedly.

Scarlet had moved on from body to body, swiftly frisking the corpses with an experienced hand in search of valuables as her crew picked off the ones only almost dead and threw them overboard. She was shoving coins in her pocket and untying a pouch of bullets when Vin rushed by her. She looked up and watched him disappear down the stairs. She straightened up and tied the bullets to her belt. She looked towards the man she had shot down to save Vin earlier, and the body he had killed beside it.

She walked over with steady strides and kneeled down before it. She plucked the dagger from the side of the man whose face was now white and still. She straightened up after a moment and looked towards the deck door.

Vin had run to the only place he knew- the cell he had spent the previous night in. He slumped down on the bench and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. Quickly, he lifted his head again and looked down at his shaking, bloodstained fingers. The heat of battle had worn off and what he had just done replayed in his head. He blocked it out before he allowed himself to count how many men he had killed, and at that moment, Vinazio Espacciano wept.

He sobbed quietly until the sound of boots echoed down the stairs. He did not look up, but he did silence himself. His head hung between tense shoulders, his eyes lifeless and focused on the dead rat at his feet.

His eyes were still trained there when a dark, worn leather boot kicked the rat out of the cell in disgust. The bloodstained spot was replaced with a dagger clattering to the ground.

Slowly, Vin bent down and lifted it into his hands, then looked up to find the ghostly eyes of the Captain staring him down. He was taken aback by her presence.

“Here,” she said suddenly, flicking a silver Chinese doubloon in his direction, which he caught with a quick hand. He looked at her then, puzzled. “A souvenir from yer first real battle. Every man shuld have one,” She paused for a moment, then cleared her throat and spoke a bit louder and a bit quicker. “Welcome to the crew, treasure map,” she cackled with a sneer.

This brought a small shadow of a smile to Vin’s face and he looked back up from the coin with tired brown eyes. “Grazie, Captain.”

“We’ll be makin' port tonight,” she stated, regaining more of the stone-cold hiss of her voice. “Take the day, but don’t get used to it. I’ll be expecin' a heading early tomorrow.” With that, she turned and headed back above deck with the determination to set off the next day towards something that would ensure her mark on history: El Dorado.

Chapter Three

September 16, 1707

The chill of spring showers was carried with the cool breeze of morning.

Port had been made the night before but Vin had stayed in his quarters for most of it. Nobody had bothered him. He stayed awake all night, unable to submit to the sweet forgetfulness of slumber. Restless and in need of something to do in the dark, lonely hours of the night, he visited the deck only once. The crew seemed not to sleep, visiting the port’s taverns and loading supplies onto the deck.

He walked off the ship and onto solid ground, acutely aware of the searing pain in his back. He only went to a small shop and bought a needle and thread. The woman who worked there wore an expression of suspicion the entire time, which he was sure was caused by his state, more ragged than even the average pyrate.

He thanked her fittingly and made his way back to the ship, the whole ordeal hardly longer than ten minutes.

When he returned to his quarters, he carefully shed his cloak and jacket, leaving him in a thin, white tunic with a neckline that fell nearly below his ribs. He sat and examined the damage done by the Chinese man’s sword by light of a lantern he'd snatched from the upper deck. He worked on patching them up for hours until the gray dawn peered through the window.

Heavy and uneven footsteps made their way below deck, though they were lost among the bustle of the crew returning to the ship. Occupied by his sewing project, Vin only looked up when the figure was close enough to startle him with the creek of the cell door.

He recognized the man from the day before; the one that had shown him pity among the hollers of ridicule. The old, stout man with white hair and a white beard and aged blue eyes. Now he had an armful of gauze, a dusty bottle, and a small wooden box. “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, lad,” he said in a worn Irish accent that Vin had been too overwhelmed to notice the day before.

He hobbled over to the bench and dropped his armful beside Vin’s curious eyes with a grunt. He then held out a hand. “The name’s Finnegan, by the way. Cahan Finnegan,” he introduced, and Vin took his hand in greeting.

Vin nodded and began to formally introduce himself with a slight bow of his head. “Vinazio Giovanni Fie-” He was stopped when Finnegan dropped his hand and held up his own.

“I heard your introduction y’sterday boy, I won’t live long enough to sit through it again,” he stated, then pushed the medical supplies towards Vin so he had room to sit on the edge of the bench. “Take the shirt off, let’s get this over with.”

Vin looked at the man quizzically, slightly self-conscious.

Finnegan looked at him and rolled his eyes. “The cut, lad, let me see the cut!”

Vin, suddenly understanding, nodded and pulled his white tunic over his head, noticing the back was caked with dried blood as he held it in his hands. The action revealed a swinging object around his neck that caught Finnegan’s eye. He shook his head and brushed it off, but stored it in the back of his mind just in case. Vin felt a cold drizzle along his back and cringed, gritting his teeth and clenching the edges of the bench against the stinging.

Finnegan had pulled the cork out of the bottle filled with rum with his teeth then poured the sterile alcohol on the wound to prevent infection.

“So you’re from Pescara?” Finnegan asked, recorking the rum then attempting to thread a line of gut into a curved needle, both of which he retrieved from the small box.

"Sì," Vin replied, smiling at the thought of his home town.

"Bellissima città." Beautiful city, Finnegan commented.

Vin perked up, pleasantly surprised to hear someone else speak in his native tongue. He cracked a wide smile and even let out a small laugh. “Indeed it is.” The agreement was followed by a gasp of surprise and he curled over in pain.

“Hold still,” Finnegan snapped, having pierced the skin around the wound with the needle while Vin had been distracted. “Roll up that shirt of yours if you need something to bite on,” he advised, and Vin quickly did so. “One thing we never have on board is anything to ease pain.” He took a swig of rum then reached around to hand it to Vin. "Except for this, of course."

Hesitating, Vin quickly pulled the rolled up tunic out of his mouth for a moment as he downed half the remaining rum.

"Hang on, boy," Finnegan said with a twinge of pity in his voice and a sigh. "This might pinch a bit."



☸



Immediately after Finnegan was done, the two men made their way to the top deck. They did not want to risk being dragged up there by the Captain’s orders.

“Better head to the helm, lad,” Finnegan said, slapping a hand onto Vin’s shoulder. “I’m sure the Captain’s been waiting.” He gave Vin a nod then walked away to return to his duties.

Vin began to head up towards the helm, his fists clenched and his teeth gritted against the pain searing along his back. The rum had hardly done a thing to soothe it. He had all his clothes back on, all but his tunic mended. He’d have to wait for the next time they made port to get a new one.

“Aye, treasure map!” The Captain called upon noticing him. A cold smile spread across her face and Thorton stood neatly behind her. She seemed in a rather good mood this day, which he had no doubt was due to heading off to find El Dorado.

He made his way up the stairs, taking his own sweet time and looking at the stairs. They were notched and damaged from the day before by the very blades that had tried to take his life.

“Which way, rat?” Scarlet said, holding tightly to the wheel and looking out over the sea with a smile.

“South-west,” Vin said, leaning on the rail in front of her with a smile of his own, though his eyes were tired. “To the Americas.”

“West it is,” she said, spinning the wheel.

Vin staggered as the ship took a sharp turn. “Not so fast, Captain!” He said suddenly.

She froze and glared at him expectantly.

“We can’t just go straight there. No,” he scoffed. “One does not simply walk into El Dorado.”

Scarlet let go of the wheel in fury, letting it go any way it felt like. “Then what do you suggest?!” She demanded.

“There are keys,” Vin said, impulsively reaching up to his chest but transforming the motion into smoothing his shirt rather than clutching the key.

“Keys?” Scarlet fumed. “What kind of keys?”

“Normal keys,” Vin said innocently then stopped leaning on the rail and circled the Captain slowly, followed by her eyes. “They are hidden.”

“Where?” Scarlet growled.

“Oslo,” Vin began. “Merseyside-”

Scarlet’s face fell suddenly and she fought for a moment to regain her composure. She cleared her throat and looked up. “And?” she pressed.

Vin hesitated before continuing. “Port Royal, Rum Cay..." He paused once more. "Eh, the next place does not have a name. All I know is it it at the end of a great winding river in the Americas.”

Scarlet nodded slowly, groaning dreadfully at the mention of Port Royal. “So there are five keys.”

“Yes,” Vin lied.

Scarlet paused for a moment, mulling it over. “Alright.” She took the wheel in her hands once more. “We have a heading!”

“Where to, Captain?” An undistinguished voice from the deck called up.

“North,” shes said, then turned the wheel so the ship turned sharply. Vin stumbled and caught a rail before falling to the floor, wincing when he felt the tug of the stitches in his back. “To Oslo. Full sail ahead!”

“Aye, Captain,” voices rang out in unison.

A long moment of silence followed before Scarlet glanced at Vin. “And why are ye standing there like a scared piglet, sailor?” She demanded.

Vin had a troubled expression on his face and looked up at her with knitted brows. “Why do you trust me, Captain? I could have an armada waiting on the shores of Norvegia waiting to take out you and your crew.”

The Captain spared him not glance nor hesitation. “Because,” she said with an icy chill in her voice, “ye should know by now that if ye dare utter a lie to me, I’ll make sure you go down with me crew; a deserving fate for one who dares call himself part of it.”

That was enough to stir Vin’s already uneasy stomach, but he shoved it down. As long as he was telling the truth- and she believed him- he would be safe. Suddenly the weight around his neck felt like a tonne.

The ship was on a swift course now. The soft chime of the beads in Scarlet’s hair could be heard as the wind picked up. Vin brought himself to make his way down the stairs and help the crew, standing straight and walking with strong strides despite the pain in his back. He gritted his teeth against it and as a man walked by he grabbed a bottle of rum from his hand and downed the rest. He slammed it down on a crate and paused as he realized for the first time that a song had started up amongst the men. He listened closely to the shanty.

Yo-Ho!

Heave-ho!

Hear me brothers, ho!

I call to ye from the red deck

From the ship named of the blackest of black

I call to ye

To join the crew

Haul me hearties, ho!

My Captain, oh Captain

How restless is she

Hair and lips, red with blood

Of men she’s killed at sea

Her ghost of a stare

Will raise your hair

Haul me hearties, ho!

I leave ye now, oh brothers of mine

At me Captain’s command

For you see, we all be at the mercy

Of her unforgiving hand

Yo-Ho!

Heave-ho!

Hear me brothers, ho!

He was jerked from his concentration as the end of a rope was tossed his way, the coil thumping against his chest. He grabbed it and followed it with his eyes to the mast. Realizing what he had to do, he took it briskly to the edge of the ship and tied it to one of the large hooks with a skillful knot.

As he tied it, his eyes wandered to Scarlet. He was curious to see her reaction to the crew’s song, as it was undoubtedly about her. She wore a shadow of a grin on her face and had he been close enough, he would have heard her humming along as well.

Continue

[.:A r i c a R e e:.]

Ahh! I love it!

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

Thank you! Scarlet has been a character of mine for years but I never did much with her. Vin was inspired by my friend's character but I changed him quite a lot. And it seems he is unintentionally becoming my maincharacter... Oh well! Im about halfway through chapter two :3 Ive drawn so much art of these guys omg

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

New chapter added!

[*ajayred*]

it sounds great, can't wait for more

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

Chapter Four

September 27, 1707

The journey to Oslo was cold and dull. The farther north they ventured, the more snow and ice and morning frost touched down upon them. There were two, however, who were safe from the sharp wind from inside the Captain’s quarters.

Every decoration in Scarlet’s cabin seemed to be some kind of treasure. A large, intricate chandelier dangled at the center of the room. There were shelves and displays along every room. Delicate bones, priceless jewels, goblets filled with golden doubloons from seemingly every country. One wall was lined all the way across with long windows, letting in the gray light of the north. Candles were lit however, atop a dark mahogany table that itself sat upon a scatter of Persian rugs.

Scarlet and Vin sat on either side of the table, leaning over it so they could speak without being terribly loud.

“That’s yer plan then?” Scarlet said, leaning back and crossing her arms, a quizzical red eyebrow raised. "To claim we be someone else, act important, and pray?"

Vin straightened up as well and gave her a smirk. “Yes.”

“And ye think it’ll work?” She asked doubtfully.

“Of course it will work,” He said with a wave of his hand.

They both looked over when the door swung open, letting in a sharp breeze. The bulky head of Baldassare peeked inside, pale with cold. “We be approaching the Oslo port, Cap’n,” he announced.

“Excellent,” Scarlet said, pushing herself up as Baldassare closed the door once more.

She began to make her way out when she was stopped by Vin. “Wait,” he said, rushing towards her and grabbing her arm.

She jerked him off and spun around to glare at him. “What?” she demanded.

“You cannot expect to walk in there looking like that,” he said, studying her from head to toe.

She took a step back, offended. “Why not?” she snapped.

“Because you look like a pyrate,” he said bluntly.

“Well what do ye expect me to do about it, then?” she asked, irritated.

Vin stopped to think for a moment. “Well, do you have a large coat?” He inquired.

She opened her mouth to answer then closed it again and groaned in frustration. She made her way with heavy footsteps over to a wardrobe in the far corner. Vin’s eyes followed her, expressionless and patient. She opened the doors and rummaged through a throng of exotic clothing.

Vin’s face became confused and amused as he spoke. “Wait wait wait, hold on…” he began. “You have all those and still wear that all the time?” he asked, gesturing at her captain’s coat.

Her shoulders tensed with the effort, but she did not reply. Eventually she managed to pull out a large fur-lined coat and carried it over to the table. “Will this do?” She asked in a snarky tone.

He smiled and gave a nod. “Yes. That should do just fine.” He pointed to the belts across her chest and around her waist. “And you will have to get rid of those weapons.”

She looked up at him like he was crazy.

His face became serious. “Do you really think they will let you in with them without questioning your motives?” he asked.

She glared at him through narrow, darkly lined eyes and grumbled to herself as she undid the thick leather strap across her chest and laid it on the table. She looked down to pull out her cutlass from one of the belts around her waist and took the pistol out of the other, laying them both down by the strap. She then shrugged her captain’s coat off and draped it over a chair.

For the first time, the lack of coat revealed what else she wore underneath. She had a dark leather vest that buttoned together in the front, making it tight like a corset. White ruffles escaped across her chest, made of a sheer fabric that extended down her arms in the form of poofy sleeves, tied at her elbows and wrists with red ribbon. When she was not hidden behind her coat, she had a slender body with a distinct curve to it.

Vin’s eyes widened as she worked on unbuckling her belts. “Successone,” he murmured quietly to himself.

“What was that?” Scarlet snapped suspiciously, looking up at him.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, pretending to admire a pearl necklace beside him hanging from a candle holder.

She paused before going back to undoing her belts and placing them with everything else before pulling on the heavy fur coat. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” Scarlet said flatly, heading for the door.

“Wait!” Vin called.

“What?!” She roared, spinning back around.

“You need to do something with your hair,” he pointed out. She opened her mouth, very obviously about to yell before Vin cut her off. “At least get rid of the hat. And the bandana. Maybe pull some of those beads out.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she stomped back over to the table and threw her hat down and pulled her black bandana off from around her head and through her hair.

After a few minutes, she had settled for putting small braids through her hair. She refused, however, to take out any of the beads, ranting about how long it took to get them in and where they were from and how valuable they were and how she couldn’t chance losing them.

Eventually she made her way heavily towards the door, grumbling under her breath.

Vin untied his tattered gray cloak and tossed it onto a nearby chair before following her, leaving him in his faded green jacket with dark leather cuffs and matching elbow patches. It was old, but classy nevertheless, having belonged to his father.

He rushed after Scarlet and slowed just behind her, following her on deck. As they emerged, the ship was being anchored to port. Heads turned, Scarlet’s fur coat attracting the attention of her men. Their faces were blank and confused as if they did not understand how their captain could be wearing anything but what she always did. She kept a straight face, however, and continued to the platform. “No one leaves while I’m gone,” she instructed firmly before her and Vin made their way onto the land.

Scarlet stopped at the end of the dock and looked around. There were many small houses along the shoreline and primitive cobble streets with horses pulling carriages up and down. “Where are we going?” Scarlet asked, as dignified as she could manage, uncomfortable with the idea of following someone else as opposed to being followed.

“This way,” Vin said with certainty, looking up at the biggest building in the city.

Scarlet glanced around and shuffled after him, completely out of her element. After a while of silent walking, they made it to the gates of the building. There were two burly guards standing in front of the entrance. Their eyes were trained suspiciously at the two as they approached. When they were close enough, they crossed their axes together to block the gate.

“Stoppe. Gå ikke lenger,” one spoke in a gruff voice.

Scarlet glanced at Vin expectantly and he took a step forward on his own, clearing his throat. “Do you speak English?” he asked with a casual smile, a convincing Spanish accent coating his voice.

The guards looked at each other and the one that spoke looked back to Vin. “Yes,” he answered cautiously.

Vin smiled again and clasped his hands together. “Wonderful. What of Duke Haraldsson? Does he as well?”

The guards tensed. “What difference is it to you?” one demanded.

Vin remained calm and gestured to Scarlet. “My wife is English and does not speak another language. I would not wish for her to feel left out during my discussions with the wise Duke. That would be rude, would it not?”

Scarlet bit her tongue and clasped her hands tightly before her, trying to keep in character despite the unforeseen lies Vin was telling.

The guards glanced at Scarlet, but were unphased. “What is your business here?”

Vin acted a little offended, his facing falling into a light frown. “I’m an old friend of the Duke’s. I was in town and thought I would stop by for a visit. Isn’t that right dear?” He turned to Scarlet for confirmation.

Quickly she composed herself and smiled at him softly. “Of course, my love.” she looked at the guards. “We were just returning from business further north.”

Vin’s smile brightened, impressed with her acting skills. Her voice turned more bell-like and soft and her accent was heavily British and proper. He never would have guessed the rough woman had it in her. However, when he turned back to the guards, they still seemed quizzical. “If you do not believe me, why don’t one of you run off and inform the Duke that Luis de Azcona has come by to see him.”

The two guards looked at each other as if silently debating. They glanced at Vin once more, and the bigger of the two gestured to the palace with his head and the other one hesitated before opening the gate and making his way into the palace. The one that stayed behind loomed over them, watching the two carefully.

Scarlet and Vin waited patiently for the other guard to return. Vin kept composed and flashed the guard an occasional smile. Scarlet, meanwhile, did her best not to make a face, as she felt the words she had spoken were like ashes in her mouth.

Eventually, a voice could be heard in the distant building. It caught the guard’s attention and he glanced back to see the other guard making a hasty exit and returning to his post. Wide-eyed, he looked at them with a nod. “My apologies, sir-” he glanced at Scarlet with another nod, “m’lady,” and back to Vin. “I will escort you inside.” Much to his co-worker's surprise, he watched his comrade take the two inside.

Vin smiled and clapped his hands together. “Estupendo!” he exclaimed, then held out his arm for Scarlet to take. She did so hesitantly and the two followed the flustered guard inside.

The grand foyer was brilliant. The floors were of white marble and the pillars a vibrant soft gold. Vin was so far into character, it went right over his head, but Scarlet’s eyes grew wide and traveled up to the intricately engraved ceiling.

She was jerked from her ogling as an echoing voice boomed through the corridors. A stout man stood atop a flight of the stairs, intricately dressed in furs and gold threads. His arms were outstretched and there was a smile was on his red face. “Luis!” he shouted joyfully, quickly bouncing down the stairs.

“Egil!” Vin cried with a wide grin, pulling a few steps away from Scarlet. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously watching the two interact.

The Duke reached the bottom of the steps and put a hand on the guard’s shoulder. “You have done your duty well. Now return to your post,” he said with a nod, and the guard glanced at the guests before making his way back outside.

As he left, the Duke stopped and looked Vin over. “It is good to finally meet you in person my friend,” he said, embracing Vin in a hug which he returned willingly. The Duke stepped back and held Vin by the shoulders, the short man having to look up. His short, fine blonde hair was nearly long enough to be in his eyes. “The years have treated you well!”

“Indeed!” Vin laughed, putting a heavy hand on the duke’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. “I could say the same to you.”

“You flatter me, Luis,” the Duke teased. “Nils informed me that it was in your interest to speak English. Might I ask why?”

Vin nodded and took a step back towards Scarlet, gesturing to her. “Ah, it is but the only language my wife can speak, Egil. I would not want her to be left out of any conversation with you.”

“Oh of course, of course,” the Duke said with a nod, approaching Scarlet and taking her hand. “And what might I call you, m’lady?” he asked, kissing the back of it.

“Elizabeth Abbey, your grace,” Scarlet introduced herself with the first name she thought of, forcing a small curtsey. She breathed a silent sigh of relief that she knew the small piece of trivia in which women in Spain did not take their husband’s name. She briefly contemplated the disaster that could possibly follow if she had not, considering none of this had been specified in the plan. She then gently slid her hand from the Duke’s clammy grip.

“It is lovely to have you here,” the Duke said, then turned back to Vin. “She is a beauty Luis,” he said.

“Indeed she is,” Vin agreed, throwing her a convincing smile that made her scowl while the Duke was looking away.

“Oh, my apologies,” the Duke said suddenly. “Where are my manners? How would you and the missus like to stay for supper?” the Duke offered. “It is obvious you have been traveling and I assume you have nothing to go back to but a ship,” he said, gesturing to them. “You are more than welcome to stay the night as well.”

“You are very generous, kind Duke,” Vin said with a slight bow. “We would love to stay for dinner.”

Scarlet shot a sharp glance at him but the Duke’s smile just widened and he let out a loud, chortling laugh. “Wonderful! Oh how good it is to see you, my friend. Why don’t you two get cleaned up, yeah? I’m sure we’ll have something to suit you both,” he said, then called out some names. “Marie! Helga!”

After a moment two maids, one blonde, one brunette, and both fair made their way out of the corridors. The duke turned to them to give them instructions in Norwegian. They both glanced at Scarlet and Vin and nodded. The Duke turned to face his guests once more. “I’m afraid neither of them speak English or Spanish,” he began, “but they know what to do. They will lead you to your rooms and find you something suitable to wear. Dinner will be at six o’clock sharp.” He smiled. “I will see the two of you there.” He gave a small nod then left the room back up the stairs, leaving Scarlet and Vin with the two maids.

The blonde one offered Scarlet a small smile and a curtsey and gestured for her to follow her down a corridor. The one with darker hair gave a smile a bit more suggestive to Vin and lead him down a different corridor.

Vin twisted around and smiled at Scarlet. “I’ll see you later my love,” he said in a teasing tone, adding a wink to boot.

Scarlet forced a smile and choked down a scream. “Don’t forget how easily I can make your life hell!” She called in a sing-songy voice, blowing him a kiss.

She turned back around and scowled to herself as she followed the blonde maid. There were a few turns as they it to a large, empty hall lined with expensive paintings and coats of armor. Scarlet was awe-struck and wondered briefly if it were plausible to steal these things. She quickly shook the thought away, however, and followed the maid to one of the three doors along the right wall. There were two doors six meters high to the left. A butler entered the doors and through the crack she could see that it was the dining hall where the table was being set.

She heard a creak and looked again to her right. The maid was holding the door open for her with the same soft smile she’d been wearing the whole time. Scarlet offered her a small nod as she walked inside.

It was a big enough room. Blue walls, and no bed. However, a wardrobe, basin, small couch, vanity, and fireplace were placed neatly around the room. There were two other maids filling the bath with hot water and Scarlet’s face twisted with realization as the blonde maid pulled off her coat.

She took a few quick steps away and turned to face her. “Woah, woah, woah, wait a second-” she said, holding up her hands.

She paused when the girl holding her coat only looked at her with a confused expression. She heard murmuring behind her and turned to face the other two maids. They were glancing back and forth between her and each other and arguing in Norwegian. Pretty soon, one of the girls nudged the other forward and she stumbled closer to Scarlet, then cleared her throat. “We have been told to prepare you for supper, ma’am,” she said in a thik, hardly understandable accent, but English nonetheless.

Scarlet hesitated, then spoke. “And you expect me to get into that?” she asked in a harsh tone, gesturing to the basin.

“Yes, ma’am,” she girl said with a submissive nod.

The girl that had nudged her forward brought out a dress from the wardrobe and lifted it over a metal wire mannequin. Scarlet just pointed with a lazy finger and gaped, then looked at the maid again. “Oh no- that too?”

“Yes ma’am,” she repeated.

Scarlet paused in disbelief then sighed and straightened up, composing her expression. She knew what was at stake if their cover was blown. Not only would there be a royal guard on their asses, but they were risking retrieving one of the keys to El Dorado. So she gritted her teeth and said, “Fine.”

The girl stepped forward and reached for the buttons on Scarlet’s vest. Scarlet took a hasty step back and glared at her. “Hey- that I can do myself.”

After Scarlet sat awkwardly for what felt like an eternity as the girls scrubbed her clean and after repeatedly slapping their hands away when they tried to remove the beads from her hair, they put her into frilly underclothes she almost thought worse than the dress.

Before she knew it, she was braced against a wall as one of the girls laced her into a corset. She took a sharp breath as it was only drawn tighter. It was safe to say she had never worn a true corset before. If she had, it was not laced properly, if that could be considered proper in any way.

Once it was tied, she straightened up slowly and took a shallow breath as she steadied herself. The girl that laced her up then left her behind the divider and all three of them came back with pieces of the massive dress.

Even with the four of them, it was not an easy task. Contrary to her big ego, Scarlet was a small woman, and was easily lost in the sea of fabrics.

The dress was a warm brown made of heavy fabric with a square neckline and sleeves that became wide and graceful at the elbows. It plumed out on all sides and the skirt split down the middle to reveal a gold underskirt with shimmering green vine and leaf embroidery.

Almost as soon as it was on, they rushed her over to the vanity. Scarlet was reduced to clenching her jaw and occasionally grumbling under her breath or snapping at one of the maids. She stood, painfully silent as they separated all of her beaded strands of hair from the rest before attempting to brush out the curls. That was more of a chore than getting on the dress, but much of biting her tongue and a nest of fallen red hair later, it was done. Then two of the maids began to add small, intricate braids to either side that eventually fell into one long braid that nearly reached the small of Scarlet’s back.

The final touch was adding a bit of makeup to her face, which is something she actually didn’t mind since all of her own was washed off and she felt and looked empty to herself. The makeup they did was much more precise and actually brought out some beauty in her face.

Finally, the three maids backed away and giggled amongst each other, looking over Scarlet. She frowned and looked at the one that spoke English. “What is it? What are they saying about me?” she demanded.

The girl’s smile did not falter. “You look beautiful, ma’am.”

Scarlet’s expression fell from hostile to dumbstruck. “O-Oh,” she said quietly, looking down at her dress. She looked up once more as the maid continued.

“It’s nearly suppertime, ma’am,” she said. “The door is directly across from here.”

Scarlet hesitantly followed her to the door, which she opened for her. On her way out, she stumbled in her shoes and her bitter expression returned. She gathered her slightly-too-big dress and continued more carefully. When she stepped through the door, the carpet gave way to the white marble of the hall. Her shoes made a glass-like clicking that echoed through the corridors. “I don’t understand why these ridiculous guises are necessary,” she grumbled as she walked with small steps.

“I rather like them.” The voice of Vin caught her attention as he walked down the hall towards her, twisting his torso to admire the odd angles of his own costume. Scarlet took a breath to reply, but when she looked up she stopped short, words and steps.

Vin no longer looked like a ratty, worn, scarred, bloodstained stowaway. His skin was clean, brighter without the dirt but still dark from days under the Italian sun. Not dark like her crew, working endlessly year-round in sweltering conditions, but a dark that looked natural on him. His hair was no longer tangled and stringy and thrown into a half-assed ponytail, but was clean and combed and brushed elegantly with a dark red ribbon holding it back. The double cowlick in the center of his hairline added a volume and there was a wave to his hair that she never noticed before.

More than that, however, he wore striking garb. His dark red tunic was elegant and matched the ribbon in his hair. It was complemented by a form-fitting black vest with shimmering gray leaf and vine patterns- much like those on her dress- threaded into it. The new wardrobe brought out a completely different person than the baggy clothes and tattered cloak did.

Vin had stopped admiring the buttons on his vest and Scarlet realized he was smiling at her, looking up with his eyes rather than his head. She wondered now exactly how different she must look to him as well, in such ridiculous clothing.

As he approached her, she noticed even the way he carried himself now was very different. He walked straighter and more dignified, making him look even taller than he already did. She was surprised to realize that it made the way he usually held himself look like a bristling animal.

Vin stopped beside her and offered up his arm with a smile, slightly mocking. “Shall we get going, mi tesoro?”

Scarlet sighed and furled her eyebrows, clutching his arm delicately. “Don’t push it.”

As they approached the dining hall, Vin pushed open the massive door to reveal a decadently set table. Scarlet did not believe she’d ever seen so much food in her life. Laid out on the long table were sausages, potatoes, stew, roasted pig, fruit, soft bread with sweet butter, and who knows what else. All she knew was it was a lot and it smelled infinitely better than pickles and eggs. She had to force herself not to run and grab a handful of mutton right then. She remembered from a life otherwise forgotten her manners and how to dine properly. Though she did not generally put this knowledge to practice, she figured now was the best time to do so.

The Duke was standing at the far corner near a door, speaking hurriedly with an aged butler. The duo’s entrance was impossible to miss as Scarlet’s shoes echoed obnoxiously off the perfectly polished walls. The Duke turned his head towards them and a smile crinkled his rosy cheeks. “Ah, lovely! Sit down, sit down!” He invited warmly, gesturing to empty seats near the head of the long table. He himself sat at a chair that was already askew from it’s position and scooted himself forward. The butler took the hint and immediately rushed to pull out two chairs to where the Duke gestured, directly across from where he sat now.

Scarlet sat hastily, smoothing her skirts. Vin gave a grateful nod to the butler and placed himself beside her. The Duke began to dig in, loading his plate with everything in reach. Scarlet hesitated before doing the same, though her actions reflected a bit more haste and greed, earning her a sharp nudge in the arm by a certain Italian elbow. Vin slowly took a modest amount of food, praising himself internally for his self control.

“So Luis, tell me,” the Duke began, dabbing at his lips with a white napkin, “after all these years, why did you decide to visit now?”

“Like I said before, the missus and I were passing by. I figured it about time,” Vin said with a wide smile.

The Duke returned the smile and a slow nod, holding a fork in one hand with a piece of fat sausage on the end. He hesitated before continuing, his voice laced with curiosity and caution. “If I may be so bold, Luis,” he said slowly, then glanced at Scarlet and leaned forward, lowering his voice, “but what of the matters we spoke of last?”

Vin gave a small laugh. “What of them, my friend?”

He gestured to Scarlet with his eyes. “Might I inquire of the topic at present?” he pressed.

Vin glanced at Scarlet, her plate and mouth full of more food than either of them dared to take, and back at the Duke. “Why, you can speak of anything in front of my wife, dear Duke.”

The Duke leaned back, satisfied. “Very well then. Have you heard from Isabetta as of late?”

Vin almost choked on a piece of bread, hurriedly recovering. He knitted his eyebrows and leaned forward. “What- Of what matter, Egil?”

“Why, your son, of course,” the Duke clarified. “I know you’ve been waiting to hear from her-” he paused and looked up, lips moving slightly as if he stopped to count before looking back to Vin. “Or your son himself, by now, I suppose,” he said with an innocent laugh.

Vin gave a half-hearted smile and sat back heavily, his fork clattering to his plate. He carefully wiped his chin with a napkin, his appetite suddenly gone. “Dear Duke,” he began in a lower tone. “I have come with the need to speak with you of a more important subject.”

“Forgive me my friend,” the Duke said, examining Vin with a concerned gaze. “I did not mean to offend.”

Vin sat up once more. “Do not concern yourself with it,” he said frankly.

“Very well,” the Duke said slowly. “What is the business you wish to discuss?”

“El Dorado,” Vin said, leaning forward intently.

The Duke did the same. “I’m listening.”

“I am after it, Egil. I’m hot on it’s trail. I know you have a key.” He paused and took a breath, sensing Scarlet tense beside him at his daringly blunt words. “I need it.”

“But of course,” the Duke said seriously. Both Scarlet and Vin struggled to keep the surprise from their expressions. The Duke folded his hands in his lap. “As long as you honor our agreement,” he added casually.

“Of couse, of course,” Vin lied, having no clue what agreement he spoke of.

Another wide smile adorned the Duke’s face and he clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! ” He cried with a laugh. “It is just in my cupboard upstairs, I shall retrieve it for you in the morning. Now,” he continued joyously, “what would you like for dessert?”



☸



Scarlet’s grin fell the instant she closed the door to the bedroom. She slammed it with a ferocity puzzling to the maids trapped on the other side. She stood with her hands flat against the door, her skirts keeping her back from pressing against it as well. In fact, they made her bounce away.

A low gnarr escaped her throat and she gripped the top skirt tightly, trying to pull the wire hoop underneath down past her hips. In an attempt to get the infernal thing off, she spun and jumped, but to no avail. Suddenly, with a squeak and widening eyes, she stumbled and collapsed straight down, the skirt coming up over her head with her arms. She wriggled, pulling her arms through and throwing the thing over to the edge of the room, leaving her sitting on the floor in white pantaloons.

An amused laugh sounded in the corner as Vin chuckled quietly to himself at her antics. His eyes were aimed down at his chest as he undid the buttons to his vest.

Scarlet looked up at him with a cold glare, pushing herself up off the floor. “Ye could have helped me instead of standing there like a useless louse.”

“Somehow I didn’t think you would take very kindly to my help taking off your clothes,” he said without missing a beat, casting her a confident smirk.

Scarlet groaned and rolled her eyes, though a blush reached her cheeks. “Ye better hope it’s warm on the ground,” she hissed, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Vin tossed his vest to the floor and looked at her with a scoff. “This bed is wider than the height of me twice. We can both fit easily, no problem.”

She froze in the middle of unbuttoning the top of her dress to reveal a blouse underneath. She then looked over her shoulder in disbelief. “Oh no,” she warned. “No no no.”

Completely ignoring her, he fell onto the bed, making her bounce in the air clear from the other side. He swung his legs up and crossed them, folding his hands under his head and closing his eyes with a smile.

“What do ye think yer doing?” she hissed.

“Sleeping,” he answered curtly.

Scarlet fumed as a shout built up in her throat. “I’ll have ye know-”

“Shh,” Vin interrupted, leaning over and blowing out the candle on his bedside table, shrouding the room in thick darkness.

Chapter Five

an ungodly hour that night

He waited in silence for a few hours, until he knew for sure by her steady breathing that Scarlet was asleep. Carefully, slowly, Vin reached around to the nightstand beside him and groped around for a match. When his fingers found the small sliver of wood but could find no stone, he sighed heavily and struck the match behind his own teeth, wrinkling his nose against the taste of sulfur.

He used the dim light of the flame to find the candle and quickly lit it, the brightness intensifying. With a more suitable amount of light, he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and picked up the candle holder. He twisted his torso around and held the candle out towards Scarlet as a precaution. She had not even stirred, still in a dead sleep and snoring softly.

Vin then stood up and made his way to the door. He still wore his trousers and dark red tunic, pulling his faded green coat off a hook and slipping it on as he passed it on his way to the door. He left his shoes behind, thinking it best to be without them while sneaking around in a building of the loud, echoing structure it happened to be. As he made it to the large blue door, he carefully turned the rounded golden knob and creaked it open. He stopped with a cringe, glancing back at Scarlet. She was undisturbed. After a pause, he quickly slipped through the door and closed it silently behind him.

Vin snuck his way through the corridors of the palace and up every staircase he came across. Without the sunlight to light up the white halls, they took on an eerie darkness that made the hair on Vin’s arms and neck stand on end. Slipping repeatedly on the polished floor in his socks did nothing to help his heart rate.

He searched for nearly an hour before he came upon a pair of doors he was sure lead to the Duke’s room. Before entering, he blew out the candle he held and placed it on a nearby bureau. He took a deep breath and wiped his clammy hands on the sides of his trousers. The motion was quick and jittery in an attempt to release his nervous energy before entering. His hands fell to his sides and he looked up at the big, intimidating yellow doors. He looked at the knob again, his expression hardening into determination. He reached for the knob and twisted it slowly clockwise.

The door opened without a sound and Vin slid inside. It was much bigger than the room Scarlet no doubt still slumbered in. In fact, it was bigger than the house Vin had grown up in, he was sure. He glanced at the bed to his far left before scanning the walls for a cupboard. He spotted it directly across the room, squinting in the struggle to see it in the darkness.

With swift, quick steps, he made his way across the large room. The cupboard was a good foot taller than him, made of a lightly colored wood and intricately designed with Norse knots and two cast iron handles. Vin ran his hand along the engravings, admiring the beauty. Suddenly, his hand touched the cold black handle and he flinched slightly. Gripping it, he tried pulling open. The door stuck, however, and he tried pulling a little harder. He jiggled the door until it jerked open, breaking the silence with a sharp creak and banging against the wall behind it.

Blood rushing in his ears from sudden panic, Vin glanced at the bed but saw no movement. He took a deep breath and glanced inside the cupboard, seeing the outline of a key on the shelf for a split second before making a double take and whipping his head back over to the bed. The empty bed. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he could see that no one slept there and anxiety clenched at his chest.

Before he could decide on the action to take, the yellow doors burst open. He jumped and looked behind him to see the silhouette of three large guards in the doorway. Another figure pushed it’s way past them. The figure had a candle that lit up his face as well as the three guards. The Duke stood across the room from Vin with a hard, betrayed expression on his face.

“Well, well, well,” the Duke said coldly. “I thought I would find you here.”

Vin composed himself and a look of confidence came over his face. “Then I compliment you on your wit,” he said sarcastically with a sweeping bow. He felt a strange freedom allowing his Italian accent to wash back over his tongue.

The Duke fumed. “I got a message after you retired to your quarters with your… Wife,” he spat. “Luis de Azcona is dead. He died in Spain just recently, though I do not doubt you already knew.” the Duke looked Vin up and down in disgust. “So tell me, thief. Who are you really?”

“Would you believe I was Luis’s son?” Vin asked earnestly, flashing a charming smile.

“Get him!” the Duke bellowed, pointing a sausage of a finger at the perpetrator.

“Of course you would believe everything but the truth,” Vin said helplessly, rolling his eyes. He took advantage of the time it took for the guards to cross the massive room. He snatched the key off the shelf at his chance. Just as he turned around he saw a large guard bringing down a hefty sword. Vin grabbed the edge of the door and pulled it nearly shut on himself, hearing a large thud and the crackle of splintering wood as the sword hit the outside. He pocketed the key and shoved the door with great force, causing the guard to stumble back, his sword still wedged in the wood.

Vin spun around to the front of the cupboard and tried to free the sword to no avail. He glanced over his shoulder to see an axe coming at his head. He ducked and splinters rained into his hair as more damage was inflicted to the door just above him.

He darted under the arm of the guard who was pulling his axe back out of the door and preparing for another swing. As Vin backed away, he thudded against something towering and metallic. He jumped and spun to face the object, his gaze greeted by the third guard. Vin gave a nervous laugh and ducked when the guard lashed out at his head with a gloved fist.

He swiftly darted behind him and rushed to the large window nearby. Glancing down, he noticed a rooftop a story below. Backing up, Vin rammed his shoulder into the glass in an attempt to break it. He greatly over estimated the strength of it and simply bounced backwards, hitting the ground hard. He laid there dazed, the breath momentarily knocked from his lungs. His ears rang, but slowly, the sound of clanking and distant shouting from the Duke became clear once more.

Suddenly, a large, beefy fist gripped the collar of his tunic. Though Vin clawed at it, the grip did not loosen and he was pulled to his feet and higher until he was eye level with the dark blue eyes and hot snarl of the third guard. Behind him, he could feel the nearness of the other two. Fumbling for a solution, Vin reacted instinctively and poked the guard straight in the eye. He let out a wail of pain and Vin dropped to the ground, the guard stumbling backwards. With the momentum of the fall, Vin brought himself into a crouch on the floor and rolled to the side. Just as he expected, the two guards had gone to tackle him and evidently found their arms empty, stumbling forward into their temporarily blinded comrade. Vin sacrificed a brief moment to make a face and wipe the guard’s eye juice off on his tunic.

Vin watched in pleasant disbelief as the three men fell out of the window, shattering the glass easily. He brought himself to his feet, breathing heavily, and a satisfied smirk came across his face.

His face fell again when the shouting that was distant became steadily closer along with uneven but heavy footsteps. Vin whipped around to see the Duke himself lumbering towards him, the flame of the candle he held flickering in the rush. “Stop! Thief! Thief!”

The haughty smirk simply returned to Vin’s face and he brought two fingers to his forehead, flicking them towards the Duke as a farewell before leaping upon the windowsill and dropping into a hang before he plunged daringly to the rooftop below.



☸



Despite her discomfort earlier in the evening, Scarlet could not help but to fall asleep. She slept soundly in the fluffy bed amongst the sea of pillows. Curls escaped her braids, spiraling in red swirls across the linens. With her hair and skin cleaner than it had been in many years, she looked the epiphany of peace in her slumber. The only disruption was the rumble of her snores, drifting softly through the silence in the air.

The peace was disrupted with the opening of the door. Five large men in clanging armor pranced right in and surrounded the bed. They waited, but Scarlet still slept, snoring like a hog.

The guards glanced at each other until the gazes fell on the guard closest to her. The man beside him nudged him and he looked at the expectant gazes on him until his own fell on the man standing next to him, who shrugged less than encouragingly.

The man closest to Scarlet cautiously drew his sword and nudged her in the ribs. Scarlet groaned and stirred slightly and he nudged her again. She knitted her brows in annoyance and blinked her eyes open. As soon as she registered her surroundings, she bolted upright and scrambled back against the pillows. Her eyes scanned those of the guards, her expression cold and unreadable. “I suppose I’ve been caught, yes?”

A couple of guards, the ones she assumed understood english, nodded. She nodded to herself slowly as well. She threw the covers off herself in one quick motion, and the guards all drew their swords in a flash. She stopped and held up her hands. Keeping them in the air she brought herself to her knees and hobbled to the corner of the bed towards the man who was prodding her with the sword earlier, who now still clutched the hilt with white knuckles.

She tipped her head with an innocent, somber expression and held out her wrists for him to bind. When he glanced down to retrieve the shackles from his belt she brought a fist into contact with the side of his head. He stumbled and she brought her head to his with a crack. He stumbled backwards, dazed and she grabbed his arm, bringing it against the bedpost at the elbow. It caused a loud snapping sound, a devastating cry of pain, and the clattering of his sword on the floor.

She jumped off the bed and picked up the sword, slightly taken aback by it’s weight, as it was much broader and heavier than her cutlass. She gripped it with both hands, unfamiliar with the fighting style, but hid the fact from the other guards. She hoisted it into the air as they approached. The closest guard came to a halt as he noticed the blade pointed at his chest. The line of the other three close behind him collided into each other, pushing him forward and causing the end of the sword to tink against his armor. He looked at Scarlet in surprise. She gave a mocking smile and simultaneously let out a battle cry and a grunt of effort through clenched teeth as she swung the sword at the man before her.

He blocked her blow and she very quickly realized she could not rely on her swordplay with a weapon so uncooperative with her light weight. She used the momentum of the blade to swing at her opponent and dodged his blows rather than relying on her strength to block them.

As all four began to surround her, the fifth lingering in the back and gripping his newly broken arm, she realized she was outmatched. With quick motions, she jumped back onto the bed and severed the cloth of the canopy with her sword. She hoisted herself on top of the wooden frame, balancing carefully and surveying the heads of her enemies below. The sword, being less than a helpful asset in her balancing act, was positioned directly above a guard still registering her actions. She held the sword vertically above him and simply let it drop. Gravity buried the sword into the guard and followed up by bringing the body to the floor.

The other guards cried out in rage and began to swing at her. One of them hit one of the bedposts, which in turn began to wobble. Scarlet quickly surveyed the room. There was a window on the wall to her right. She looked down at her feet and raced carefully towards it. She made it to the corner and jumped, grabbing hold of the curtain rod.

The pole, however, did not support her weight and clattered to the ground. The remaining guards rushed over as she was lost in the sea of heavy white fabric. They swung and jabbed at it blindly, but to no avail.

One swing was suddenly blocked by the curtain rod being lifted into the air. Scarlet jumped up, revealing herself poised with the pole. She tipped it up so that one of the heavy curtains slid off slowly as she waited for one of the guards to strike, her eyes narrow and daring.

One brave soul came at her with an axe. She quickly tipped the pole the other way to block the blow, flicking off the sliding curtain and making the other crumple to the floor. She held it with her hands shoulder width apart. She used the middle to block the blows and swung the ends at him when she had the chance.

After a deadly dance between the two, she managed to land a blow to his head. He paused, slightly dazed, but lashed out at her anyway. She knocked his hand and axe aside with her pole and swept his legs out from underneath him. By now they had made it to the center of the large room. Once he was floored, she dropped the pole and bolted to the door, stepping on his throat as she passed.

She smirked at the sound of his choking gasp behind her. She heard also the sound of the two capable guards scrambling to pursue her as she swung open the heavy door and disappeared on the other side.

She turned immediately to the right and rushed down the hall, focusing hard on keeping her footing in her wool stockings. Another passage soon came up on her left and when she attempted to stop, she rather slid and scrambled around the corner. She hid behind a suit of armor and peeked around it as the two guards passed, sticking to the path straight ahead.

When the clang of their armor faded, Scarlet rushed out from behind the corner and ran in the opposite direction. She figured she could make her way outside from there, as it was the way she had come.

As she ran down a short flight of stairs, Scarlet slipped on the slick floor. She dropped helplessly towards the ground and the side of her face struck the corner of a cold, hard step. She stumbled the rest of the way down the few steps that were left, her head striking the wall once she reached the bottom. She sat slumped against it at an awkward angle, dazed.

Scarlet’s head spun and she blood as it flooded her mouth as well as dripped down her face, hot and sticky. She sat still for a long moment, willing the pain to go away. She was reminded of the urgency of her situation when voices began echoing down the hall where she came from. She dizzily scrambled to her feet and stumbled her way down the hall in pantaloons and a blouse.



☸



When Vin landed on the rooftop, his knees buckled beneath him. He reached back to catch himself with his hands but once they hit the ground behind him, he sat up with a sharp wince. He held his hands out in front of himself and upon examination realized they were riddled with shards of glass from the windowsill. Blood dripped down his arms and fingers and he grunted more in frustration than pain.

He looked up at the window suddenly when a faint call could be heard. The Duke was hanging out the window, shouting down at him. Quickly, Vin leaped to his feet and scrambled over the heaped bodies of the three guards. Only as he began to bolt down the slanted roof did he notice it was slick with rain that began to soak his socks and clothes. Making slow progress in an effort to not fall, he decided to use the rain to his advantage and positioned himself to slide down the rooftop instead. Crouched low with one foot out and arms spread to keep his balance, he made his bumpy way downward.

As he gained speed and neared the edge, he tried to reach down to stop himself but quickly retracted his hands upon the sharp pain of contact. In another attempt to stop, he simply fell backwards and tried to catch something with his feet before him. His heart rate escalated and his eyes widened as he realized it was doing no good.

He gave a short outcry as he flew off the edge. He landed with a thud on another roof below and immediately began to roll. He flipped off the edge of that only to come down upon the woodcutter’s lean-to, bouncing off the small structure and hitting the ground heavily.

Laying there with his face upturned towards the falling rain, Vin groaned. All he wanted to do was lie there and not move. At the same time, as crazy as it may have sounded, he was absolutely ready to be back on the Obsidian.

Slowly and ever so carefully, Vin sat up and struggled to his feet without the aide of his hands. He looked down at them again and tentatively picked some of the bigger pieces out, thankful his woven gloves were in his coat pocket and spared from further damage and blood stains.

As his head cleared, he began to pick up the pace and eventually broke into a run. As he rounded the first corner, he came into contact with something solid. He stumbled backwards and blinked his eyes to see a severely bloodied Scarlet doing the same. His mouth gaped in fear at her injuries, but she simply yanked him forward the way she had been going and shouted, “Come on!”

He followed her in hot pursuit. Soon, the sound of shouting guards behind them became clearer, though still muffled through the sound of pelting rain. The downpour stung Vin’s eyes as the wind shifted and caused blood to run into Scarlet’s.

Eventually, they rounded a corner that led them into the courtyard they arrived in. They paused for a moment, breathing heavily. Scarlet suddenly began to sway, her lips blue and her face pale. Vin whipped around when her heard her body collapse onto the wet stones below, then looked up in an unsettling mixture of fear and dread as the voices of the guards got closer.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Vin brought out his thick woven gloves. He slipped them on as quick as he could manage with shaking hands and a wince. He then kneeled to the ground and shifted Scarlet into his arms, using his limited strength to heave her off the ground. His gloves acted as a barrier between her skin and the glass in his hands, reducing the risk of her being cut.

His head whipped to the side when the edges of men in armor came into view. Still gasping for air, he bolted down the walkway and through the gate. He rushed down the streets of Oslo, the wind and rain making his tunic cling to his skin and chilling him to the bone.

When he knew his body was not capable of continuing much further, he contemplated stopping to rest behind a nearby house. However, though his lungs burned and screamed for rest, his better judgement knew there would be screaming of an even less pleasant sort if he listened to them.

Suddenly, relief washed over him when, through the mist, he saw the dock that harbored the Obsidian. There was a faint, hazy glow of candle light on board, though he figured most of the crew must have been belowdecks.

As he reached the ramp, Vin slowed to a speedy walk and approached the hatch. He flew down the stairs and followed the sound of laughter and bellowing through a doorway. As he walked into the room, the scene before him came to a slow halt. The men had been playing a game, bills and coins scattered on the table. One by one, they halted their gambling and fell into a silent hush, all eyes on Vin standing in the doorway.

“Clear it off,” he said in a low tone, indicating the table. The men did not move, but simply began to murmur quietly amongst themselves.

Silence fell upon them once again when a more demanding voice rang out. “Do as he says,” Thorton, first mate to Scarlet, said, eyes blank with shock.

The men hesitated a moment, but soon began sweeping things off the table and casually pocketing piles of money strewn upon it. As Vin approached them, they backed away and made room for him to place Scarlet on the table. Her clothes were soaked through, making her pale pink corset and other underclothes clearly visible. Suddenly, they all looked up, startled, as a large bell rang out on shore.

Vin’s eyes searched for Thorton’s black ones, the man’s posture and neat brown hair standing out in the crowd. Vin’s gaze met his seriously. “We need to get moving. Now,” he added with a sharp edge of hysteria.

Thorton nodded and glanced around. “Come on men, what are you waiting for? Onto the deck with you,” he commanded in his refined British accent. The men squeezed out the doorway, Tornber at their tail. As he passed Vin, hands folded nervously behind his back, he paused and looked at him, struggling to hide his concern. “Where to?”

“Merseyside,” Vin informed.

With a nod, Thorton looked at his feet then twisted to glance at Scarlet. His eyes fell on Vin last, then he continued up to deck with the last of the crew straggling behind him.

One of the last men was Finnegan. As he passed, Vin caught his arm in a tight grip. The old man stopped and looked at Vin’s bloodstained gloves before looking up at the taller man with concern in his blue eyes. “She needs you,” Vin said in a nearly threatening tone.

Finnegan hesitated before nodding, his rounded white beard oddly stiff. “It appears you do as well,” Finnegan pointed out grimly in his thick Irish accent. He then turned and headed to the other side of the room with Vin’s intent gaze burning impatiently into his back. Finnegan dug through the low shelves on the other side of the room, shoving aside barrels and crates and humming to himself.

Vin glanced down at Scarlet lying on her back, her head tipped to the side. Blood was streaked across her face and flowing slowly out of her mouth. He soon looked away. Not only was his head dizzy at the sight of blood, but his chest tight with lingering fear.

Finnegan began to lumber over, carrying a large box by the handle and slamming it upon the table top with some effort. At the rattling noise, Scarlet’s eyes flew open suddenly and she began to cough and sputter, curling in on herself as much as the corset would allow and spraying blood into the grooves of the wooden table. She took a deep, labored breath and began to shiver.

Vin looked at the old Irishman expectantly, but he hardly seemed to notice. He was busy digging through his box of supplies. He tossed a metal hook and a knife clattering onto the table, followed by a roll of bandages and a small box with jingling sounding inside it when it moved. “Fetch a blanket, would you?” Finnegan asked coolly without looking up.

Hesitantly, Vin nodded and rushed from the room so he could hurry back, retrieving a gray woolen blanket from the cabins after searching many hammocks and bunks for a suitable one. He rushed back to where Finnegan and Scarlet were. He stopped short at the sight and cleared his throat before continuing.

Finnegan had stripped the soaking clothes from Scarlet as far as he dared, leaving her in her briefs and corset, which he was loosening for the sake of her breathing. Her cold, wet blouse was folded neatly and draped across her head. He had tipped it to face the other side of the table so her blouse would cover her head wound.

With quick steps, Vin approached them and covered her with the blanket with a glance at Finnegan, who took no notice. As he reached for the hook on the table, Vin took the chance to pull the blanket up to her neck. He then took a step back and watched Finnegan work in silence.

He took the hook and leaned over the table, carefully pulling Scarlet’s lips back. Not only were both lips split on the side of her face that fell on her left and their right, but the tooth beside her upper front one on the same side was missing.

Her lips, for the most part, had stopped bleeding. The majority of the blood was still flowing from the strangely vacant space where her tooth should be.

Vin cringed, his teeth tingling at the thought of them being knocked out. His hair and tunic still dripped with rainwater as he recalled recent events. A sudden fury began to well up inside of him; an anger towards the guards he assumed inflicted these injuries, not considering that Scarlet did it to herself by simply stumbling down the stairs.

Finnegan glanced at Vin as he reached for gauze and used the knife to cut off a small piece. “You should probably warm yourself up as well, mate,” he suggested casually as he balled up the cotton and carefully fitted it into the gap in Scarlet’s mouth.

Vin looked down at himself and realized for the first time that he was shivering; trembling with the cold. With a sigh, Vin began a sluggish trek back to the cabins. This trip was not nearly as long, as he snatched the first blanket he saw rather than searching for a suitable one. He carried it back to the room and pulled a chair up to the table on the opposite side Finnegan was on. He tossed the blanket over the back and quickly shed his soaking tunic. Carrying out the act, he could feel the slash on his back he received nearly two weeks before stretch uncomfortably. Finnegan had only taken out the stitches a week earlier, leaving a prominent scar. He took a brief moment to examine the fine fabric of the tunic, fortunately unharmed. He decided to keep it as he placed it on the table and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.

Vin glanced back up at Finnegan and Scarlet. “Will she be alright?” he asked flatly, plopping into the chair.

Finnegan nodded. “Aye. She’s got a mild concussion, but she’ll be back on her feet in a day.” He then picked up the small, rattling box off the table and opened it with a soft click. He shook it softly then used a single finger on his free hand to dig through the contents.

Vin leaned forward a little in an attempt to peer inside. “What are those?” he asked curiously.

“Gold teeth,” Finnegan announced with a smile and an odd sense of pride. He held up one that seemed as though it would fit nicely in the gap Scarlet’s real tooth abandoned. It looked dingy and tarnished, but gold nonetheless.

Vin raised an eyebrow and forced back an amused smile. “You have a box of gold teeth?”

“Aye, all kinds lad!” Finnegan boasted. “Glass eyes as well, and peg legs in the back!” He said, jabbing a thumb behind him. Vin let out a soft laugh and Finnegan leaned over Scarlet once more. He removed the gauze from her mouth and wiggled the fake tooth into place. “There!” He declared in a satisfactory manner. “Still pretty as a daisy.” He paused in thought as soon as he said it, reconsidering his statement given the circumstances.

Vin shot him a sideways glance as an awkwardness filled the air. Finnegan cleared his throat. “Alright, your turn,” he said, gathering large tweezers, a bottle of rum, and more gauze.

Vin looked down and slowly peeled off his gloves, the pain much more prominent now that the adrenaline had worn off.

Finnegan walked briskly over to Vin and stood before him. “Here son, tilt your head back,” he said. He held the bottle of rum in the air, knowing very well Vin was incapable of gripping the bottle himself, and pouring some into his mouth. This did nothing to decrease the lingering awkwardness.

He then kneeled down and set the tweezers and gauze on the floor, pulling Vin’s right hand forward by his forearm.

“Christ lad, what’dja do?” He exclaimed.

“Broke a window,” Vin said casually.

With a mutter and a slight shake of his head, Finnegan poured rum over his hand, causing Vin to wince, and set it on the ground. With his now free hand, he retrieved the scissors and went to work on pulling shards of glass from Vin’s hand. “Did you two accomplish anything at all?” He asked with a slight edge of annoyance.

“I got the second key in my pocket,” Vin said proudly.

“Second?” Finnegan inquired suspiciously, pausing to look up at him. In that moment, swinging behind the blanket Finnegan recognized key around Vin’s neck. He had seen it before, stitching up the younger man's earlier wounds. Realizing his mistake, Vin began to sputter words in an attempt to make a sentence. “Ack, quit your blubberin’, lad, I won’t speak of it,” he said, getting back to work on the glass.

Vin breathed a sigh of relief, which was followed by a long silence. Suddenly, Vin began to laugh quietly.

“What is it, then?” Finnegan demanded tautly.

“How is it you always manage to get me tipsy and shirtless?” Vin giggled.

Finnegan stopped and shot a look of mild disbelief at Vin. “Don’t make it weird, boy,” he said simply before binding Vin’s right hand and bringing forth his left.

Vin closed his mouth and ceased his laughter immediately. As the slight buzz of rum kicked in, he began to fidget a little more. After a while he asked, “Is it still weird?”

“Aye,” Finnegan answered simply. Vin nodded to himself and glanced around with a sigh, swinging his feet slightly. For the rest of the time sitting in that room, the two men uttered not one more word.

Continue

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

Interlude

October 3, 1695

A young eleven year old girl ducked through the streets of Merseyside, England, dodging the flames and steel of a pillage. After realizing her brother was dead, the girl had panicked and climbed out her cellar window. Since then she had not stopped running. As she ran, she watched the only town she knew burn through eyes blurred by heavy tears.

Scarlet turned down into a main street, cutting directly across it. In just a moment she was knocked to the ground by a frantic woman rushing past. Scarlet hit the ground with small yelp. Her heart and breath faster than ever, she looked around with wild eyes, the fires and screams overwhelming. She scrambled behind a barrel near the port dock. She peeked behind it and watched the scene before her, unable to ignore it.

The flash of red hair caught the attention of a large man with a long beard and a big, wide-brimmed hat topped with an elegant red feather. He glanced at her and flashed a scraggly grin.

Scarlet’s eyes widened more and she fell back, scrambling backwards away from the man. When she turned to push herself to her feet, her hand met nothing and she tumbled forward into the chilling, black water.

Scarlet’s immediate reaction was to flail frantically. She was not a strong swimmer in the first place, but her limbs became entangled in her long dress, which dragged her down further.

She looked up desperately as her head went under, her hands reaching for nothing. Suddenly, a hand with thick fingers broke the surface and grabbed her arm, hoisting her out of the water. She collapsed on the deck, arching her back in a series of racking coughs before turning and sitting heavily. As she registered her surroundings, she noticed the man that had smiled at her crouching beside her. She gasped and began to move away, but he put a gentle hand to her back.

“Woah woah woah, slow down wee lassie,” he said with a small chuckle. She paused and looked at him with wide eyes, frozen with fear. “Are ye alright?” he asked seriously. She mustered a jerking nod. “Good,” he said with a smile, less toothy and intimidating than before. “When I saw ye splash into the scarlet waters, I thought ye were a goner,” he laughed. “But it seems to have only been yer hair.” He met her terrified expression again and his smile fell. The man cleared his throat and looked down at the deck.

“Th-That’s my name,” Scarlet offered quietly, barely audible over the cannonfire, still clear though now distant.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Goner?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, Scarlet,” she corrected.

He broke into a smile. “Aye, that’s a lovely name. Is yer last name Waters, then?” He laughed.

She shook her head. “Elmwood, sir. Scarlet Rose Elmwood,” she said, giving a small nod with each name. Her eyes traveled to the feather upon his head, fluttering gently when he laughed.

“Lovely, lovely. Me name is Captain Shawn Gail.” He glanced at her and noticed her intent stare trained upon his hat. “Do ye like me hat, miss Scarlet?” He asked, amused. She looked at him with a jerk, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She looked down and twisted her hands together nervously. “What is it, darlin’?” He asked.

“Are you a pyrate?” She asked curiously.

The man nodded slowly and glanced around. “Aye, I suppose ye could say that.”

Suddenly, Scarlet’s face flushed with anger and she leaned forward, hitting his arm with what strength she had left. He looked at her in surprise. “What was that for?” He asked.

“For hurting people,” she said matter-of-factly.

The man’s face fell in thought. “I ain’t tryin’ to, lass,” he said with a defeated sigh. His voice then perked up again with a hint of wonder ringing in it. “I’m lookin’ for a treasure,” he said. Scarlet refused to meet his eye, her arms crossed and pretending to ignore him. He nudged her lightly. “I’m lookin’ for the key to a city made of gold and beautiful jewels, more than ye can count on all yer fingers and toes together. I’m lookin’ for the key to El Dorado.”

Scarlet looked at him in wonder for a moment before she raised an eyebrow. “El Dorado is only a story,” she said in a ridiculing tone.

“No lass, it’s real,” he said in a mesmerizing tone. “And one of the keys is here somewhere.” Her guard faltered and her face became curious, her gaze distant. He looked at her for a long moment before saying, “Why are ye doin’ alone, miss Scarlet?” She continued not to look at him, but a quiver reached her lip and her eyes began to tear up.

The man’s heart sank, assuming the worst. “Aye…” He said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, lass. Truly.”

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered, her shoulders beginning to shake.

“No, of course not. I understand,” he said soothingly. He went to reach an arm around her but hesitated, not wanting to make it worse. Searching his mind for something to do, he looked up and his vision was obscured by the brim of his hat. He smiled and took it off his head, revealing scraggly, thin, curly brown hair. He then placed it on top of her head, making her jump and look up. She looked at him with big, teary blue eyes before the feather fell into her face. She crossed her eyes at it and furrowed her brows, flicking it out of the way then smiling in a satisfactory manner.

The man smiled in amusement and stood, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it hesitantly, her hands cold from the water and her dress heavy. “Would ye like to come with me, Scarlet?”

“Where to?” She asked with a sniff, craning her head back to look at him past the brim of the hat she now wore on her head.

He held her hand tight as not to risk losing her in the throng of chaos. “The Obsidian.”


March 21, 1702


Scarlet stood on the helm with eyes narrowed against the wind and a broad smile across her face. Her hair, free of beads and charms, whipped around her face, reaching just below her shoulder blades. Along with it blew the feather on her hat, bright and red as the day she first saw it.

The Obsidian, however, was not in motion, but rather docked in Clew Bay off the coast of Ireland. A young man with light brown windblown hair and eyes nearly black carried a crate on deck, dropping it heavily upon others and dusting his hands off together. He looked up at the young woman at the helm and a soft smile reached his lips. “Daydreaming again, miss Waters?” He called.

She gave a small laugh. “Aye, the wind is perfect for sailin’ today, Timothy!” she called back. Scarlet looked at him with a smile as he came up the stairs. “And I thought I told ye to call me Scarlet.”

He walked slowly with long strides, his hands folded behind his back and a dumb smile on his face. She eyed him in amused suspicion. “And I told you only to address me as mister Thorton!” Upon saying his name, he lunged forward and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her away from the helm.

She gave a playful cry and shoved him away just as he was about to grip the wheel. He stumbled backwards with a bout of laughter and grabbed her arms, wrestling her forward. However, she fought back and stepped to the side, twisting her arms from his grip and tripping him. Eyes suddenly growing wide, he fell helplessly and hit the deck with a loud thud as Scarlet wrapped her arms around her torso, doubled over with a howling laugh.

The sound of heavy boots then made their way slowly up the stairs. Scarlet quickly bit back her laughter and Thorton scrambled to his feet.

Captain Gail made his way up the stairs, grunting with stiffness. In the last six and a half years, he had begun to show signs of aging, including trouble with the stairs and silver strands peeking into his curly hair. As he reached the top, he took a few steps forward and calmly looked between the two. He disregarded Thorton and furrowed his eyebrows at Scarlet’s attempted composure. Shaking it off, he said what he came there to say. “There’s a group of men wantin’ to join me crew. I’ma need me hat back, darlin’,” he said with a small smile.

“Yes, Captain,” Scarlet said, letting out a giggle. It sparked a small chuckle from Thorton which was quickly silenced with another glance from the Captain. Scarlet pulled the hat from her head and slapped it upon the Captain’s head. He smiled and tipped it to her, heading back down the stairs.

“That is unfair,” Thorton said with a scoff.

Scarlet whipped her head around and looked him up and down with a smirk. “What is?”

“You can do anything you want, being the Captain’s daughter and first mate,” he teased, coming up behind her and shoving her again.

She rolled her eyes. “Please.” She reached up a hand and ruffled his hair. “Ye can do anything you want, too! Ye just can’t get caught!” She pranced over to the rail of the ship and leaned on it, watching the Captain hobble down the dock.

Thorton walked over and stood beside her. “Why do you talk like that?” He asked innocently.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What do ye mean?”

“I hear your English accent slip through sometimes,” he hinted.

Scarlet’s smile slightly faltered. “Not all of us can talk pretty like you,” she said.

“I think it’s lovely,” he said with a nervous laugh, offering a crooked smile and rocking slightly back and forth.

However, Scarlet did not look. She gasped and threw a hand against his chest. “Shh!” She instructed. He stumbled back and twisted his face in pain. She leaned farther over the deck and her eyes followed something approaching the ship from the dock.

“What is it?” He asked, walking back up to her.

“I said shh!” She hissed, swatting at him repeatedly.

Captain Gail was leading a small group of men aboard. One of them was well-built, and though not exceptionally tall, had handsome features, pitch black hair, and striking blue eyes. He looked up and caught her looking at him. He flashed her a smile and winked before turning to follow the Captain to his cabin with the other men. Scarlet sighed dreamily.

Thorton frowned, seeing the small exchange between the two. He then looked down at his tall, lanky self and grew in frustration. Scarlet suddenly turned around and giggled. “Did you see that guy, Timothy?” She asked excitedly.

“Psh, yeah,” Thorton said coolly. “He didn’t look like anything special to me.”

“What are you talking about, he was gorgeous!” She shrieked, bouncing a little. She turned back around as if eagerly awaiting for him to emerge again.

Thorton gave a small smile at her excitement, though his eyes were sunken. “Your English is showing,” he said quietly enough that she did not hear.


December 23, 1702


Scarlet sat on a bench with a black haired, blued eyed man’s hands leaning on the surface of it on either side of her. Her arms rested lazily around his neck as he kissed her with passionate ferocity. “Scarlet,” he murmured breathlessly. “You know I love you, right?” he asked.

“Of course,” she breathed, readily returning the shower of kisses.

He hooked his arms around her waist and swung her off the bench, holding her close to him. She let out a joyous giggle before her lips found his once more.

However, he pulled away again. “Then you won’t mind me doing something.”

“It depends,” she said with a mischievous grin.

He gave a short nod and spun her around. Suddenly, she felt the cold, sharp steel of a blade against her neck and his tight grip around her left arm. She feebly pulled at his arm with her other hand. “Alistair?” She gasped, her heart racing for a completely different reason than moments before, her eyes wild with fear.

“Just go with it,” he said in an attempted threatening tone, though his voice was shaking. With that, he shoved her forward, through the rooms belowdecks and up the stairs to above. She stumbled forward, craning her neck as she tried to keep the dagger at her throat from piercing her skin.

Their appearance on deck quickly turned heads. The men began to divide, some standing behind Alistair and the others dumbstruck. One of the more confused faces was that of Thorton. “Scarlet,” he murmured, his eyes shone with concern and panic. He took a step forward only to be stopped by another arm. He looked down and followed it to a short old man with white hair and blue eyes who shook his head in a warning. He then looked back up and narrowed his eyes sharply at Alistair.

“Bring me the Captain!” Alistair shouted.

“What are ya doing?” Scarlet hissed through clenched teeth, struggling futilely against his grip.

“Just trust me,” he whispered.

Glancing around and noticing no one was taking action, Thorton turned and rushed to the Captain’s quarters, his eyes narrowed against the chilling rain that began to fall. He burst through the doors and shouted, “Captain!”

Captain Gail jerked up at the sound of the doors, the shout from Thorton allowing him to pinpoint the source. He blinked and peered at him irritably. “Heavens above lad, what is it?”

“MacDuncan’s got Scarlet at knifepoint and half the crew defending him,” he explained in a breathless rush. “He wants to see you.”

“What?” Captain Gail growled, suddenly wide awake. He swung his legs out of bed and hobbled over to his belt on a nearby table, unsheathing his cutlass before following Thorton onto deck. “MacDuncan!” His voice boomed over the rain as he emerged into it, Thorton trailing behind. He slowed to a stop when he saw Scarlet in his hold. “What be the meanin’ of this?”

Alistair gave a wicked smirk. “Doon’t you know a mutiny when you see ‘un?” He asked snidely in his Scottish accent. “Surrender and we’ll drop ya on an island instead of killin’ you now,” he said, backed up by murmurs of agreement from the half of the crew on his side.

“Let ‘er go,” the Captain called daringly. “This not be her fight.”

“You surrender, she gooes free,” Alistair negotiated.

With a grunt, Scarlet stepped as hard as she could on Alistair’s foot. He yelped and she yanked her arm free, pulling his arm down and twisting the dagger from his hand, kicking him to the ground. She met his gaze, hers full of hurt and betrayal. It only lasted a split moment, however, when a gunshot rang through the air.

Scarlet whipped her head around, her wet hair flying heavily in the wake. Her eyes grew wide and her chest tight as she watched Captain Gail crumple to the ground.

“No!” Scarlet howled, sprinting across the deck. She fell to her knees and slid across the slick deck to the side of the man she had called a father for seven years. She lifted his head onto her lap, blood coming from a bullet wound in his chest.

Captain Gail looked at her with glazed eyes. “It’s- up to you now,” he choked.

“No,” she croaked, tears falling from her eyes like the rain above.

“You will be a great captain,” he rasped. He attempted a small smile. “Songs will be sung about Captain Scarlet Waters.” He choked out a small chuckle. “She who leaves a trail of scarlet water-” he coughed violently, blood beginning to drip from his mouth before he went limp.

“Captain?” Scarlet whispered. “Captain!” She shouted.

Thorton watched the scene with the stinging threat of tears behind his eyes. He looked over at the mutinous crew members helping Alistair to his feet with a dangerous glare. He then looked back to Scarlet and walked to her side, crouching beside her. Hesitantly, he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. When she didn’t fight it, he pulled her closer and wrapped his other arm around her as well. She leaned into his chest and shook with sobs. “You’re captain now,” he murmured.

Scarlet stopped short and leaned back. She searched his eyes and he wondered what she was thinking. “You’re right,” she whispered. Both their heads turned as a shout sounded across the deck.

“The ship is ours!” A man cried out, throwing his hands in the air.

Scarlet’s expression hardened and she immediately lifted herself to her feet. Her eyes trained on the foolish man, she drew her gun in a flash and fired a single shot. The man was floored in a heartbeat, the others looking on in shock. She put her revolver back in her belt and strode towards them, her narrow glare trained on Alistair as she herself was followed by Thorton’s horrified stare.

“The same fate awaits any other who dares defy me!” Her voice rang out loud and clear across the ship. She soon came nose-to-nose with Alistair. “I speak to each and every one of ye filthy traitors,” she spat. “You’re to be dropped off in the islands with nothin’ but each other and the clothes on yer back.

Thorton watched dumbstruck as the young woman he grew to know changed in an instant. He watched as she became Captain of the Obsidian.

Chapter Six

September 29, 1707

Scarlet was on her feet in just under a day, despite Finnegan insisting she stay down twenty-four hours. In reality, it was more around fifteen before she became restless. She also kept playing with her new golden tooth with her tongue. A few times she wiggled it enough that it fell out and she would be scolded by Finnegan, not without mumbled backlash and death threats, as he fitted it back in. Eventually, something seemed to click and she realized she could do it herself.

Having left her own clothes at the palace, she had changed into a new outfit. One she’d had a while, but never bothered to wear. Like the other, it was shaped like a vest that tied in the front like a corset. However, instead of leather it was intricate blue and gold patterns woven from thick fabric. The length of the it reached her calves and was fashioned like a two-tailed coat. Underneath she wore her usual white blouse with a square, laced neckline. The fluffy sleeves were tied only at the wrists with royal blue ribbon woven in and out of the sheer fabric. The sleeves were fashioned from three layers of intricate lace. Despite the obvious quality and worth of the garment, she wore simple trousers and leather boots nearly identical to her last pair with it.

Upon being conscious, she promptly tore the braids out of her hair and tossed the corset and accursed pantaloons overboard. Her hair was then tied loosely, the blue ribbon just below her shoulder blades. She forbid a single soul on the ship to discuss the incident that happened the night before. Already she had heard one of her sailors speaking to the others of the way her corset shone through her wet blouse followed by a wolfish laugh. He was also promptly thrown overboard, shortly after the corset he claimed to love so much.

Vin, on the other hand, had not been of much help in the slightest. His hands were bound with bandages and he was hardly able to move his fingers, let alone touch solid objects without experiencing a great deal of pain. Finnegan had made quite sure that Vin knew how lucky he was not to have severed a tendon. He had no doubt they were damaged, but nothing beyond repair. He was instructed to refrain from using his hands while they healed. That was not a problem for Vin, as doing so was at present the last thing he wanted to do. So, he spent his days watching the games the men played below decks and wandering about above. Unable to do it himself, he had asked for Finnegan’s assistance in untying the string around his neck and sliding the second key onto it before tying it back together. Now, two keys hung side by side around his neck, swinging against his chest as he walked.

It had now been two days since the ship left Oslo. The weather was still chilly, though still considerably warmer. The dizziness had faded completely from Scarlet, though she had not let anyone know it had lingered for as long as it did. She had also stopped fiddling with her gold tooth and it had stayed put all day. Instead, she bit at the stitches Finnegan had put in her top and bottom lip the day before.

She stood rightfully at her helm, unable to keep a smile off her face as she gazed over her crew and the sea. It had felt like far too long since she felt the salty air whipping at her curls. She closed her eyes in a moment of bliss, breathing in the scent of the sea air. When she fluttered her eyes open a moment later, something caught her eye on the horizon. Without taking her eye off the tiny dot, she pulled her telescope from her belt and expanded it, holding it before her eye. “Seven hells!” She cursed loudly, hysterical disbelief ringing in her voice. She collapsed her telescope and placed it back upon her belt with a new expression of determination, turning the wheel sharply east.

Startled, Thorton stumbled over with concern. “What is it, Captain?” he asked. He had been watching over her in his own distant way. Scarlet was acutely aware, but did not acknowledge it since he never took action.

“Phantom’s Harmony,” she said simply.

Thorton was silent with understanding. After a moment, his slender form rushed down the stairs to bark orders at the confused men on deck.

A long time passed slowly. Things had settled from the slight buzz of earlier and Scarlet had nearly forgotten what she’d seen. That is, until a call sounded on deck.

“Scottish pyrates off the starboard quarter!”

Dread trickled down Scarlet’s spine. She whipped her head around to face behind her and noticed the ship dangerously close. Scarlet set her jaw and gripped the wheel until her knuckles shown white. In a final attempt to avoid the inevitable, she took a sharp turn west. It did nothing, however, as moments later, the Scottish ship rammed into the side of the Obsidian. The grinding of her beautiful ship made her cringe and shrivel inside. It caused Vin and the rest of the men below deck to rush up and see what was going on.

The ship was elegantly built with blue trim, much unlike most pyrate ships. It flew under a black flag with an arm holding a sword adorning it in white as well as the blue and white flag of Scotland. The name “Phantom’s Harmony” was scrawled on the stern.

Soon enough, the ships were side by side and as close as they could possibly be. Scarlet abandoned her helm and rushed to the edge of the ship, leaping onto the rail and holding onto a rope with one hand. “Well if it isn’t Captain Chair!” She shouted mockingly.

A man at the helm of the opposing ship approached the edge as well. He wore a dangerously cocky grin, his wavy black hair shoulder length and ruffled and his blue eyes bright. He wore a heavy red Captain’s coat and a kilt adorned with belts and charms. The plaid on it was dark green and blue with wide, square patterns. A crisscross of red lines was strung along it as well.

The nickname she shouted at him made his grin falter and his eye twitch for a split second before recovering himself. He leaned against the rail. “Captain Scarlet Waters!” He greeted in a thick Scottish accent that made Scarlet roll her eyes. During half her interactions with the man, she couldn’t understand a word he said.

“What do ye want this time?” She shouted accusingly.

“Oi, me love,” he said with a laugh. “I know you have the map to El Dorado!”

Her eyes widened in surprise before she whipped at her crew and glared at them. Her eyes found Vin, however, who looked from the ship to her as well, his face paling.

Scarlet looked back at the opposing captain and narrowed her eyes. “I ain’t got a map,” she shouted defiantly.

“You know better than to lie to me, Scarlet,” he called back with a sly laugh, his right eye twitching once more.

“What are ye gonna do about it?” She called daringly.

He shrugged and glanced around at his crew then back at her. “We’ll sink your ship,” he answered.

Dread filled Scarlet. Of all the ships in the sea, the one she was staring at was the only one she knew they’d stand no chance against. However, her crew did not know that. “Then ye’d be sinkin’ the map with it!” She called.

“Ahh, so you do have it!” She cursed herself silently. “I’ll give you a choice. I’ll spare your bonnie face and crew if you come aboard my ship. But if you doon’t, I’ll take it by force.” He smiled as his crew began to cheer.

The crew of the Obsidian murmured words of determination amongst themselves, even letting out a few outcries of confidence. She knew they did not know what they’d be getting themselves into. She looked at him with a sharp gaze and nodded. “I’ll come aboard,” she called, her crew falling silent in shock. “And I’ll bring ya yer filthy map.”

The stocky captain gave a toothy grin and gestured at his crew. They then brought out a long plank of wood and let it clatter to the deck of the Obsidian, connecting the two ships with the makeshift bridge.

Scarlet jumped off the rail and gave Thorton a serious stare. “Be good to her while I’m gone,” she said with a hint of a threat in her tone, referring to her ship.

He nodded vigorously. “Of course Captain, but… Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Are any of me ideas good?” she asked with a snarky grin, holding out her arms as she lumbered towards the stairs.

Thorton cracked a smile. “Is that meant to be a serious question, Captain?” he called. She ignored him and her grin faded.

Vin watched her as she made her way down the stairs and across the deck. It took him a moment to realize she was heading straight for him. She balled up the edge of his jacket in her fist and yanked him down towards her. “Hide your hands,” she hissed before shoving him back again. Vin hardly stumbled. While musing about how different she looked now that her stitches did not allow her to wear her red lipstick, he followed her and slipped his gloves on behind his back.

The two made their way to the makeshift bridge. Vin followed as Scarlet stepped onto the rail. Her face was that of cold confidence. He was more nervous, but did his best to keep his face unreadable. His eyes, however, gave him away. He prayed Scarlet knew what she was doing. The wind made the board wobble and tugged at his cloak. Vin glanced at the water below them and was suddenly hit by a way of unease and vertigo. He snapped his head back up and focused on Scarlet in front of him.

As they reached the other ship, Scarlet jerked her arm away from the attempted help of the crew and jumped onto the deck. When Vin was about to do the same, the men blocked his path and he shot them a confused look before looking to Scarlet.

“Sorry mate, Captain only,” one of the men said in a raspy voice.

“Go on, then,” Scarlet said casually, waving Vin away.

Confused and hesitant to leave her alone, Vin turned around and headed back to the Obsidian slowly, glancing over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at that point as what he saw registered. The crew of Phantom’s Harmony were hauling their end of the board off the ship.

Scarlet looked at them accusingly. “What do ye think yer doing?” She snapped. The crew ignored her, as they were not hers to command.

“Come,” a voice sounded behind her. She turned to face the stocky captain with a glare. “You and I have things to… Discuss,” he said. He hooked her arm in his, leading her towards the captain’s quarters. She stumbled behind him, twisting her torso just in time to see Vin fall from the plank before she was yanked forward.

Vin wobbled as the board began to move. He looked forward and frantically ran the few feet left to the Obsidian as best he could. The board fell from under him and he jumped, flailing his arms for the rail, eyes wide. His hands hit the edge and he cried out in pain, grunting to himself with the effort He swung into the side of the ship with the momentum and hung precariously as chaos sparked on deck. He scrambled to get some kind of foot hold, his hands burning. He peeked through the rail and through the crowd saw Thorton shouting orders to follow the ship and rushing to the helm as well as Finnegan shouting at Baldassare and pointing at Vin himself.

Baldassare, the largest man on the ship, lumbered over to the rail and searched around until he spotted Vin. He leaned over and grabbed the back of his coat with one hand and his upper arm with the other, hauling him on deck.

Vin regained his balance on his own two feet and exchanged a nod with the larger man, who then disappeared back into the crowd. Vin was bumped back and forth in the rush and slid past the crew and up to the helm, where only Thorton stood. The first mate paid no attention to him, knowing that he could not use his hands. Vin rushed to the edge and watched the ship with Scarlet on it escape the range of their cannons.

Suddenly, a small wall of water began to rise between the two ships. “Mio dio,” he said breathlessly, the small wall becoming a rogue wave. Not only was it in the middle of nowhere, but it was heading straight for them.

There were shouts on deck and everyone clung to something, whether it be masts or ropes. Vin ducked below the rail and gripped it as tight as he could manage with his injured hands. The lone wave crashed into the deck under the clear blue sky, chilling the sailors to the bone. Once the water had washed back into the ocean, Vin let go of the rails and bolted up, looking around to make sure no one had been washed overboard. The ship rocked violently from the impact, but no trace of the wave could be seen. In fact, there was not a cloud in the sky and the waters below were calm. He wrinkled his brow in thought. Suddenly, he realized the other ship was no longer nearby. He looked around frantically only to see the Scottish ship off in the distance. The wave had washed them away from it, and Thorton was reeling the wheel to get back on course.

Vin gazed out towards the horizon, his mind buzzing. He wondered what on earth had just happened, not one logical reason coming to mind.



☸



Scarlet was behind the door of the captain’s quarters before she had the chance to see the wave that engulfed her ship. “Let go of me,” she snapped, jerking herself from the captain’s grip.

He took a step away, taken aback, but smiled nonetheless. “Feisty as ever, I see,” he said.

Scarlet glared at him, standing rigid with her hands at her sides. She blew a piece of hair out of her face. “What game are ye trying to play this time, Alistair?”

“And after all these years, oi thought you’d be happy to see me,” he said with a soft expression. He took a few slow steps towards her. “Hoo many has it been? Two?” He caressed her cheek.

Scarlet slapped away his hand and took another step back. “six,” she spat.

Alistair grew rigid. His blue eyes began to twitch and he turned to face away from her. He ran his hands through his thick black hair, walking in a small circle. once he came to face her again his face was cool and composed. He let out a calming breath and gestured to the table in the room, which was adorned with exotic food. “Why doon’t you sit down?”

Scarlet glanced at the table then back at him. She flashed an unamused smile. “I’m afraid I have no appetite.”

Alistair let out a slow, heavy sigh through his nose, closing his eyes tight. “Very well.” He flashed a charming smile that made Scarlet’s guard falter. “What would you rather do instead? After all, you’re moore than a captive on my ship.”

Scarlet brought a hand to her chest and dropped a hip. “Oh, I’m flattered,” she said sarcastically. Her face fell into a scowl once ,more and she crossed her arms.

“Coome now, Scarlet,” Alistair said with a small laugh, knocking down yet another wall of hers. “Am I really that bad?”

Her expression hardened and anger boiled up inside her. “You used me to start a mutiny!” She howled, rushing up to him and jabbing a finger at his chest threateningly.

Maintaining his smile, he took her wrist and gently lowered it. “Yes, but it didn’t turn out too bad fer you,” he said, casually defensive.

Scarlet glanced down at his hand wrapped around her wrist before clearing her throat and yanking it away, fury growing. “You lied to me,” she hissed quietly.

“Aye, but never about lovin’ you,” he said softly, reaching up and slowly pulling the hat off her head so he could step closer without the brim of it hitting his nose.

His words caught her off guard. She looked up at him with a fallen face, searching his eyes with her own. She quickly looked down and grunted, turning around and pacing away. Her fingers flew to her face as she slowed to a stop. She heard soft footsteps slowly approaching from behind and she froze in anticipation. She felt his touch on her shoulder, turning her back around. As he did so, she put her hands on his arms in a feeble and at the same time futile attempt to hold him back. She avoided eye contact with him as he lifted her chin and searched her face. “You’re still as beautiful as you were four years ago,” he murmured.

“Six,” she corrected, her voice drifting as her mind did.

He paused and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He asked. She nodded sharply and he shrugged it off. She felt his hands slide down to her waist, quickly followed his lips pressed against hers. She gave a small gasp, the stitches in her lips awkward and tender, but resisted the urge to pull away as her heart had not raced this way in six years. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck as her back was pressed up against the wall.

Alistair’s hands traveled back up her body. They reached into her vest and- he froze. He pulled slightly back for a moment in confusion. “Where’s the map?” he questioned breathlessly.

“If you wanted the map,” Scarlet murmured, leaning in closer so her lips brushed his ear. “You should have let him come aboard.”



☸



The wind rushed over the deck of the Obsidian as it rushed towards Phantom’s Harmony at full sail. It wasn’t long before Vin realized he needed a distraction from his throbbing hands other than staring at the horizon in anticipation. With that, he casually made his way over to Thorton and leaned against the rail beside him.

“So who exactly is this...” He mused a moment. “This… Captain Chair.”

Thorton glanced at him then back at the water. “Captain Alistair "Chair" MacDuncan,” he corrected. “And I do not believe I’m at liberty to say.” Vin simply raised an eyebrow with a look that questioned his seriousness. Thorton glanced at him twice and sighed heavily. “Fine. Alistair used to be a crew member on this ship.” He paused before continuing, glancing away as though to hide the pain of a memory. “Scarlet was young when she came aboard, but when he joined the crew she was near eighteen and he was just twenty-four. He was the first man she ever loved.” the words only came with an effort. He swallowed hard. “But he only used her to get close to the captain.” He paused once more with a small, sorrowful sigh and a glance at Vin. “After months of playing her, sparked a mutiny that failed faster than it began.”

Vin knit his brows together and glanced back towards the ship they were chasing, which they were steadily gaining on. “Figlio di troia,” he muttered under his breath. He then paused and glanced at Thorton with a confused expression. “Where did he manage to pick up a name like Chair?”

Vin expected Thorton to chuckle, at the very least. Instead, the first mate tensed. “I’m sure your question will be answered soon enough,” he replied tautly.



☸



“What do you mean “him”?!” A twitch reached Alistair’s blue eyes once again as he shoved Scarlet against the wall, taking a step back himself.

Scarlet’s head struck the wall and she glowered dangerously at the Scottish captain, but she did not say a word.

Realization came across Alistair’s face and he turned sharply. He swiped at the table with an angry yell, throwing Scarlet’s hat across the room.

Face flushing in fury, Scarlet glanced around and snatched a candle holder off the a nearby table. She strode towards him while his back was turned and raised her hand to strike him in the head with the object.

However, he turned as she brought it down and grabbed her by the wrist, tightening his grip until she dropped it with a gasp of pain. He leaned closer to her with a threatening snarl. She took the opportunity he presented and headbutted him. He let go of her wrist and stumbled back, tripping and falling to the floor.

Scarlet watched him go down before walking to the edge of the room and gently picking up the hat, brushing it off before placing it back upon her head. She fixated it then glared sharply at Alistair. “Never touch his hat again,” she spat, venom in her voice.

She stepped over his slumped body on her way to the door. She drew her sword as a precaution, but suddenly, something caught her ankle and she fell. Her sword clattered to the ground and she hit it with a loud thump.

All of a sudden, there was a weight on top of her, pressing the air from her lungs. She gasped as she was pinned and felt lips and hot breath brush her ear. She struggled, but to no avail. A sly laugh escaped Alistair. “You should knoow better, Scarlet,” he murmured in a sickly sweet tone. She felt his lips press against her neck and she pulled her face away as best she could with a look of disgust.

She managed to wriggle her arm free and elbowed him hard in the side, making him roll off her and onto the ground. He cursed loudly and she scrambled to her feet, reaching frantically for her sword.

Just before it was within her grasp, she was stopped short by a grip around her upper arm. She let out a soft cry as she was yanked back and held tightly within Alistair’s grasp, his eyes twitching and dilating wildly. “You shouldn’t have doone that,” he growled through clenched teeth. He pulled her arms tighter and she gasped in pain, biting her tongue against further outcries though her face twisted.

Alistair shoved her forward and jerked her sideways so he could kick the door to the deck open. Scarlet twisted and kicked, but his grip on her held fast. “Let go of me!” she commanded, but he continued to practically drag her towards the bow of the ship.

Scarlet hung her head and looked around. She noticed the crew of the ship were all looking at her with grins and leaving their posts to approach them slowly. She stopped struggling and shied back, twisting around to try and see where she was being taken.

She managed to twist around and in the corner of her vision she noticed a large metal chair bolted to the bow of the ship.



☸



Vin had been reduced to pacing, as Thorton was too focused to carry on any interesting conversation. He kept glancing towards the ship they were gaining on. Once they were moderately close, Thorton called out an order that made Vin stop and throw him a questioning look. “Bring her to half sail.”

Vin walked up to him with quick strides. “We are not even close,” he said.

“We’re close enough,” Thorton said dismissively. “Finnegan!” He called.

The older man looked up as his name was called and sauntered across the deck and up to the helm. “Aye, sir?” he answered.

“Take the wheel,” Thorton instructed. “I don’t want anymore damage taken by this ship. I’ll take some men and row over.” He looked up at the other ship with his eyes narrowed against the wind. “There’s a better chance they won’t even see us coming,” he said.

Finnegan paused and looked up at Thorton. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

Thorton lowered his voice. “You know him, Finnegan,” he hissed. “He won’t spare the ship. He won’t spare her life,” he said, his voice shaking a little at the end. He cleared his throat and straightened back up. “I trust with you she will be in good hands.” Finegan nodded as Thorton scanned the rest of the crew. Though Finnegan was only a retired sailor and acted mostly as the crew’s physician, he didn’t trust any of the others to leave them behind once they had control.

Thorton then made his way down the stairs and called to some men who gathered around him, explaining his plan. Vin began to follow but Finnegan grabbed his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” He said sharply.

Vin yanked his arm away defensively. “What do you mean? I am going with them,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Boy, you can’t even hold a sword!” Finnegan said in a scolding tone. “You wouldn’t survive a second!”

Vin frowned in thought then raised his head to watch the men lower the boats. He itched to go, but he knew Finnegan was right. “Besides,” the old man added, “you are the map. If Alistair has the slightest idea, you’d be better off dead,” he concluded grimly.

This only made Vin angrier. “And that is the man you expect me to leave the Captain with without doing anything about it?!” He snapped.

“Yes,” Finnegan answered simply. “Thorton can handle it, he knows them both.” He looked at Vin as he pouted angrily and softened his tone. “Going with them would be a deathwish.”

Vin began to pace then stopped before the stairs and turned to face Finnegan. He held his arms out with an accepting look on his face. “It is a good day to die,” he said with a small smirk and stepped sideways down the stairs before righting himself and breaking into a run.

“Vin!” Finnegan shouted in frustration.

“I cannot just sit by!” Vin called as he jumped the rail into one of the already descending row boats.

Finnegan shook his head and heaved a sigh, steering the ship in wide circles around the other.

Vin plopped heavily on the bench in the small boat. He looked up to see a bearded man beside him and Thorton across from him. “What are you doing?” Thorton hissed.

“I am going with you,” Vin announced with a smile.

Thorton sighed bitterly. “You didn’t even bring a sword,” he pointed out, gesturing to Vin’s empty belt.

Vin glanced down then back up and shrugged. “I cannot use my hands anyway,” he said casually, leaning back. His hand brushed one of the oars and he shot back up with a sharp gasp, examining it in pain.

Thorton let out a small sigh and raised an eyebrow. The three of them jerked forward as the boat fell into the water.

Vin actively struggled to keep himself upright without using his hands while the other two were virtually unaffected. He righted himself and sat in silence the rest of the way as they slowly approached the ship with some other boats in their wake.

They managed to reach the side without being seen, or at least without being attacked. As they reached it, Thorton stood carefully with an armful of rope. He reached for one of the ladders up the side of the boar and pulled them closer to it, looping the rope around one of the steps and tying the other end to the row boat.

He then put his hand on one and the bearded man stood to follow. Vin looked up at him and stood as well. Thorton saw him and furrowed his brows. “You were serious about coming on deck?” He gaped.

Vin paused. “... Yes?” He tried.

“You won’t even be able to make it up the ladder with your hands,” Thorton pointed out in a hushed voice.

Vin’s eyes followed it up to the top with his eyes. “Sure I can,” he whispered back.

“Just stay here,” Thorton demanded before continuing to climb silently.

Vin sat heavily and crossed his arms and legs, watching the two men climb to the deck with an irritated expression.

As Thorton reached the top, he merely peeked over the edge, motioning for the man behind him to wait. He noticed most of the crew crowded around a single point but struggled to see through the throng of men. However, through the shouting, he caught wind of a familiar voice. It was Scarlet shouting, and Thorton searched the crowd with more determination.

Suddenly, his eyes caught those of another pair peering over the side. He exchanged a nod with the man before looking back down at the one behind him, gesturing for him to follow.

Thorton hoisted himself on the deck and drew his sword, curved and bearing the insignia of the British navy. Half of the crew that had come along was on the deck before anyone noticed. There was a warning cry from one of the Scottish pyrates and the lot of them turned to face the advancing Obsidian men. With outcries of fury, the crew of Phantom’s Harmony charged at the intruders.

Thorton braced himself and twirled his blade in a dignified stance. When the approaching man was close enough he lashed out with a skilled, disciplined hand and swiftly knocked the blade from his opponent’s hand, followed by a slash to the leg that brought him to his knees. He then turned slightly to face a second man coming towards him. As their blades crossed, Thorton maintained his composure and took the moment to search for Scarlet. Increased pressure on the blade snatched Thorton’s attention back to the snarling man facing him. Thorton rolled his eyes and twisted the blade away with a flash of ferocity and brought an elbow to the side of the man’s head. He continued his search for Scarlet before he saw her strapped to a chair on the bow. A pang of dread filled him and he jumped as thunder sounded overhead. For the first time he noticed a storm brewing overhead that had appeared out of nowhere. He looked back to Scarlet wide-eyed and lunged towards her. “Captain!”

He was stopped short by a fist to the stomach and doubled over, his sword clattering to the deck. He was shoved back by the shoulder and stumbled, straightening up to glare at his attacker. “Alistair,” he sputtered in hatred.

Alistair smiled and gave a laugh, a sword in one hand. “Guilty,” he pleaded teasingly.

Thorton lunged at him but Alistair brought the hilt of his sword against the man’s head, sending him aside though he stayed on his feet. “Go to hell,” he spat.

“Oi, Timmy,” Alistair said with a shake of his head. “I’d expect better language from a military man. Are you still holding that wee mishap against me?”

“It’s your fault the Captain is dead,” Thorton hissed, taking steps toward Alistair. He stopped short when the man held his sword out, pointing it directly at Thorton’s chest.

Alistair began to walk in a slow circle around Thorton, breaking out in a mocking smirk and chilling laugh. “That’s not the one I meant and you knoow it.”

Thorton paused for a moment and his eyes darted to Scarlet, his breathing heavy. Alistair smiled. “Aye, that’s the one,” he said in a taunting purr.

Thorton looked back at Alistair and narrowed his eyes in a glare. His usually neatly combed hair fell in short, straight tendrils into his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he breathed.

Alistair scoffed in apparent disgust. “Doon’t lie to me. I knoow you,” he said, raising his eyebrows and pointing a free finger at Thorton. “I watched you, watching me,” he said, pointing at himself. “I saw it in your eyes. Every time she laughed, every time we kissed. It was there,” he said, pointing a lazy finger back and forth between Thorton’s eyes. “The envy. You wanted what was mine,” he taunted. “It was never aboout love,” he said, emitting a humorless laugh. Suddenly, his tone turned dangerously serious. “It was aboout possession. Even after all these years, she still choose me over you.” He searched Thorton’s eyes for emotion and gave a toothy, malicious laugh.

Thorton’s expression hardened into hatred. “You bastard!” He roared, bringing a fist into the side of Alistair’s head. His opponent momentarily dazed, Thorton bolted towards Scarlet. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his leg and he let out a cry before hitting the ground. He felt the leg of his pants begin to turn wet with blood and he propped himself up on his elbow to examine the damage. He didn’t have a chance, however, as a boot came into contact with his head and knocked him back down to the ground. He yelped in pain and shut his eyes tight until he felt a pressure on his arm. He instinctively reached around with his other hand to try and push it off, the taste of blood in his mouth. He froze, however, when the end of a sword was pointed at his throat. He gritted his teeth as the pressure on his arm grew, Alistair leaning closer.

“You’re even moore pathetic than I remember,” he spat.

Meanwhile, in a small rowboat in the water, Vin fidgeted impatiently. He heard the commotion above him and grunted in frustration, kicking the boat and freezing when that made it start to rock. He jumped when thunder sounded, which made the boat start to violently rock again. He looked up at the clouds beginning to block out the sun and twisted his face in confusion. However, he was cut short from thinking too much of it, he heard the clatter of a sword overhead.

He looked up and saw the hilt peeking over the edge. Suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore and stood up, carefully making his way over to the ladder. Carefully, he put a foot up on it while he looked up then back at his hands, wondering how he was going to get up there. Eventually, he put his forearm on the step and tested his weight with a bounce. He then reached up and hooked his other arm through it, pushing himself up further.

It was slow going, but eventually he reached the top. Hoisting himself up while doing his best to keep his hands off the deck, he scrambled to his feet and gently scooped up the sword. He examined it for a mere moment before taking confident strides into the throng of madness.

He searched the crowd as he approached it and spotted Thorton pinned to the ground at swordpoint. Determination sparking, he ducked under a swing at him and continued towards the two. Still unsure in his ability to grip a sword enough to swing it, he lifted up a leg and kicked Alistair over.

Thorton promptly leaped to his feet and gave a short nod to Vin before turning his attention back to Alistair. He didn’t stay downed for long. “Here!” Vin shouted, sitting the sword to Thorton, who caught it easily and aimed it at Alistair.

However, the black haired man paid no attention. He saw Vin and narrowed his eyes. “You,” he rumbled.

Vin took a step back. “Yes, me,” he confirmed before glancing at Thorton. “Hey, any chance I can get that sword back?” He asked, nervously swinging his hands behind his back.

Thorton simply brought the blade up himself and down upon Alistair with a determined swing.

Alistair, however, spun and blocked the blow with his own sword, leaning backwards to avoid the unexpected blade. He clenched his jaw and flung it away then sent another blow towards Thorton, who blocked it easily.

Alistair continued to force Thorton back with savage swings as Vin searched his mind for something to do. Eventually, his eyes found a lantern hanging from a rope above the two. He followed the rope until he found where it was where he could reach it and pulled a knife from his belt, rushing forward. He began to saw through the rope with the small weapon, looking back and forth between it and the two men as he murmured encouraging words under his breath. Finally, the last bit of it snapped and he watched it fall straight onto Alistair’s head. Vin cringed and gave a small smile. Alistair let out a howl of pain as glass shattered over his head and hot wax dripped down his head.

Thorton kicked him over and ran into Vin as he was approaching him. He stopped him and pushed him back. Vin was about to protest when Thorton interrupted. “Leave him, we have to get Scarlet out of that chair.”

Vin shot him a confused expression and followed him as he ran to the bow. “Why-” He stopped and his eyes grew wide in realization. “Nevermind!” He shouted, continuing to run after him.

As they approached Scarlet, Vin realized for the first time that she was barely conscious. The buckles around her wrists were tight and her skin was raw and bleeding from an apparent struggle. Blood dripped down her head and rage welled up in both men. Thorton began an attempt to frantically unto the buckles. Vin took her face lightly in his hands and gently slapped it with the back of them. “Captain,” he urged. “Wake up!” He groaned when she only barely stirred and glanced over his shoulder. “Come on, come on.”

Suddenly, Vin felt a blunt object strike his head and he stumbled to the side. Alistair approached him, wax crumbling in his hair and a ravenous look in his eyes. “You’re mine, treasure map,” he said, his eye twitching profusely. With an outcry of determination, he swung an arm at Vin, who ducked and dodged around him.

Thorton had stopped working the buckles in case Vin needed assistance. However, as he ran past, he shouted, “Don’t stop!” In a scolding tone. Alistair rushed after him, swinging a hand in the air. As he did so, the clouds darkened overhead. An indigo opal embedded in a ring on his finger glinted in the dim light and Vin narrowed his eyes at it before looking up at the sky and back down again just in time to dodge another blow.

Thorton freed one of Scarlet’s arms and gently held up her limp hand to examine the damage. Vin glanced at him, then back at the twitching ring, and back up at the sky as thunder began to rumble again. Logic fled him completely and he shouted, “Thorton get her out of there!” Alistair shot Vin a dangerous glare and advanced on him once again. “Hey, what is that?” Vin asked convincingly, pointing at the sky.

Alistair looked up and Vin lunged forward and slapped his ear before bolting off again. Alistair howled in rage and pursued Vin, ear ringing.

Thorton looked up at the sky then moved quickly to the other buckle, undoing it much quicker than the other. She barely stirred as he moved to the buckles around her neck, cringing at the raw skin underneath. She stirred slightly and he paused to touch her face gently. “Don’t move,” he murmured before crouching to undo the last set of straps around her ankles.

Thorton looked up at the sky nervously then over his shoulder at Vin, who continued to run across the deck with Alistair in hot pursuit. It seemed to Thorton that Alistair’s twitch was spreading to his hand and the more severe it became, the more rumbling sounded in the sky. Thorton looked ahead again as Scarlet began to slump forward. He reached up and shook her shoulder lightly. “Wake up,” he pleaded. “Scarlet, wake up!” He glanced over his shoulder again then up at the sky, beginning to glow with electricity.

“Scarlet!” He pleaded. Her eyes merely fluttered and she shifted with a groan. Thorton sighed and got to his feet. He reached forward and grabbed her forearm, being careful not to touch her wounds. He pulled her out of the chair and into himself just as a magnificent bolt of lightning struck the chair.

Thorton stumbled back with Scarlet slumped against his chest, his thin arms holding her up securely. He looked down at her then back at Vin. The other man slid over a crate and ran past them. “Good job, now let’s go!”

Alistair shoved the crate over and roared when he saw them. “No!” He raised his sword, approaching them with speed in his stride.

Thorton braced himself until he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Vin tentatively holding a sword. “Trade?” He offered breathlessly.

Thorton hesitated a moment before nodding and carefully transferred Scarlet to Vin before taking the sword from him. Thorton turned and slashed out with it in one motion, catching Alistair in the side. This made the short man pause and stumble, his hand flying to his side. He pulled it away again to reveal his hand covered in blood. Rain began to pour onto the heads of both crews.

Thorton watched emotionlessly as Alistair stumbled against the mast and sank to the ground. “Obsidian retreat!” He called out in a booming voice over the rain. He approached Alistair with slow steps and kneeled before him. He took his limp hand and looked into his eyes as his breath became labored. He slipped the ring off his finger and into his own pocket before straightening up again and heading back towards the edge of the deck to the rowboat they came from.

As he passed Vin, the other man spoke up and Thorton paused. “I will not be able to take her down,” he said in a low voice. Vin was holding Scarlet up between his arms, leaning back so she wouldn’t fall straight down. His hands were touching nothing and he stood rigid waiting for Thorton to take her back.

Her first mate paused and gave a single nod, and held out his arms, wrapping her in them once more. He looked down at her face and rage began to rise again in his chest. He looked up at the sky, the rain bringing back a bittersweet memory that never seemed to leave the back of his mind.

He looked back down at her again as Vin cast them a last glance and headed back down. He shook her very slightly and murmured, “Scarlet,” lightly, in final hopes that she would come to even a little. Her eyes fluttered slightly and she narrowed them in an attempt to focus on his face.

“Timothy?” she murmured before slumping back into his chest. His own hurt as she spoke his first name aloud for the first time in years.

“Yes, it’s me,” he answered, watching her eyes close again. “No no no, Scarlet I need you to stay awake,” he pressed, beginning to make his way towards the edge of the ship. “I can’t get us back without your help.”

Slowly and obediently, without opening her eyes or moving her head, Scarlet slid her hands weakly around his neck and shoulders and gripped him as tightly as she could muster. He held an arm tightly around her waist as he made his way back down the ladder. Near the bottom, she went limp once more and he dropped carefully into the rowboat, the rain subsiding to a soft drizzle.

They sat in silence on the way back to the Obsidian, Scarlet wrapped tightly in Thorton’s arms as he willed her to stay warm and alive.

Continue

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

Interlude

October 3, 1695

Warren hesitated as he ran from the house, freezing at the sight of the pillage. He glanced over his shoulder into the house, but ultimately decided to continue on. With burning determination, he bolted through the streets and around the frantic people towards the marketplace.

His heart pounded and skipped a beat every time he ran into someone else, fearing he would topple to the ground from the impact. He continued on nevertheless, His two younger siblings searing the back of his mind. He just had to find his mother and brother, then they could all go home and be safe until this whole thing was over.

When he reached the marketplace, however, he hardly recognized it. Fruit scattered the ground and carts were knocked over or on fire. He stopped in the middle of the wreckage, breathing heavily. “Mother!” He called. “Edwin!” His eyes searched around but they were nowhere to be seen. He grew dizzy from spinning, looking for them in circles.

He heard heavy footsteps behind him and a flicker of hope ignited in his chest. He turned sharply only to see a large man missing many teeth coming at him with a sword. He jumped back instinctively, his blue eyes growing wide. He let out a loud cry as pain slashed across his chest. Warren fell back to the ground and looked down, blood beginning to seep through his clothes.

He looked up, glassy eyed, as the man brought the sword towards him once again. He was too shocked and in pain to move quick enough to get out of the way. As his vision grew blurry and the hand against his chest soaking, he heard the call of a woman.

“Warren!” It screeched and he saw the form of his mother leap before him, her blonde hair stringy and smeared with ash just as his face was. He wrinkled his brows in an effort to focus and saw her shape crumple to the ground in a limp heap as the man drew his sword from between her ribs.

Warren’s eyes grew wide and he fought to keep consciousness. “Mother!” He whimpered, struggling to scramble towards her. Before he could reach her, however, arms were hooked under his own and dragging him backwards. He thrashed weakly in protest. “No! Mother!” He cried before the pain and loss of blood were too much and his vision went black.

Edwin dragged his brother to the moderate safety of a nearby alleyway, hidden in the shadows. Though his hands were shaking and he fought back tears, he kept his mind composed. Working as fast as he could manage, Edwin tore Warren’s shirt and pressed it against the wound on his chest. The sight of it nearly made Edwin faint, as it was so deep in the stark white of Warren’s ribs were visible in some places.

Edwin stayed there for as long as he dared, pressing the fabrics into his brother to stop the bleeding. All the while, he glanced around nervously, blood roaring in his ears. His blonde hair was dark with soot but his blue eyes were vibrant with fear. being the oldest, however, he felt a great deal of responsibility over his three younger siblings, especially now that he knew his mother would not be coming back. He let out a sob at the thought and bit his lip. He had other siblings that needed him too, and he wasn’t safe to keep Warren there forever.

Carefully, Edwin stood and lifted Warren, trying his best not to shift the makeshift bandages. Though he was seventeen and well-built, his energy was shot from the events that had happened so quickly. As he stood, he glanced one last time behind his shoulder at his mother’s body around the corner, mouthing a silent apology and a promise as tears welled in his eyes.

He looked forward once more and began to run as fast as he could carry himself and his brother. He knew the back roads back to the house, and though it took longer, it was significantly safer than the main roads.

When they reached the house, Edwin kicked the door until it opened, as he was not sure how much longer he could continue to hold Warren. He did the same to the cellar door, the entire room pitch black except for firelight coming through the small window. Luckily, he knew his way around and rushed to the cot in the corner, placing Warren upon it before feeling around on the nearby table for the handle and matches. Once he found them, he struck the match on the tabletop and lit the handle before shaking out the smaller flame. He turned and looked around, but it was silent.

“Scarlet?” he called carefully, moving slowly forward. As his eyes adjusted, he realized the small window was broken and he became more frantic. “Scarlet!” He called. He suddenly froze, hearing a weak splash as he stepped in a small puddle.

Heart in his throat, he moved the candle, his hand shaking badly, above the body of Bennet and looked down. Edwin gasped and looked away, shutting his eyes tight as dread welled up inside him. He clenched his jaw and stifled wails of sorrow before moving around the room placid-faced, searching for the body of his sister he was sure he would find.

She was nowhere, however, and his eyes drifted back to the broken window. He looked below it to see a fallen stool then back at the window. She must have panicked and fled. Or worse.

Edwin shook his head and glanced back at Warren. The bleeding had seemed to stop and his chest was still rising and falling with shallow breaths. Edwin was sure he would be alright, and there was nothing more he could do for him now. He knew what he had to do. He had to find Scarlet and bring her home. He would not lose another member of his family tonight.

With hard determination, he slammed the candle on the table and ran back up the stairs, closing the door firmly behind him. He stumbled forward into the street calling out, “Scarlet!” He searched frantically, calling out to her, but she was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t long before he noticed the pyrates beginning to retreat back to their ship. It was not at the docks, but farther out in the water. He had not noticed it before, as it was difficult to see in the dark. Now that he could make it out, however, there was no mistaking the ragged black sails silhouetted against the night sky.

Edwin froze and stared at it wide-eyed before glancing around helplessly once more. “Scarlet,” he called feebly before falling to his knees and hanging his head in defeat.

Chapter Seven

October 1, 1707

Scarlet sat on the stairs up to the helm against the rails. She gripped one with one hand and the neck of a bottle in the other. Lanterns illuminated her and her surroundings as she remained nearly motionless. She gazed upon the black water, watching the reflections of the candlelight dance upon the surface.

Her wrists and neck were still raw, bearing the markings of the incident mere days before. She was hardly conscious upon arrival on the ship. She came to quickly, however, when Finnegan poured rum onto her wounds and proceeded to shout, “Can nobody leave this ship without returning half dead?!”

The rest of her distorted memory was due to the consumption of the rum. The last few weeks had been near hell for her. Her emotional and physical endurance had been pushed further than before, and all at once. It had caused her to be a bit off her game.

A scowl reached her face. Ever since the stowaway had showed up, things had been going wrong.

“Didn’t expect to find you up here.”

Speak of the devil. Scarlet took another swig of rum as Vin’s footsteps approached her.

Vin narrowed his eyes at her distressed state, wondering what was bothering her. “Are you alright, Captain?” He asked.

Scarlet rolled her eyes and drew her gun, aiming it at him without turning around. “Go away,” she instructed flatly.

Vin was about to argue but thought better of it once he spotted the bottle in her hand. “Alright,” he agreed and backed off slowly. He turned to walk forward when she lowered her gun to the deck beside her and gripped a rail with her now free hand.

Vin walked casually, glancing over his shoulder only once before continuing down the steps. He had not been able to sleep and thought he would go abovedeck for some stargazing. That always helped put him to sleep.

Now as he passed a table belowdecks, a voice sounded. “Chasin’ after the Captain is the most pig-headed thing a man can do,” a voice said in the corner, a laugh escaping between the words.

Vin halted and glanced around the dimly lit space until his sights rested on a man leaning back in his chair with his feet up in a table. He was chuckling in amusement to himself.

Vin’s expression became irritated at the mocking tone and he approached the man with firm steps. “I am not ‘chasing’ the Captain,” he spat.

“Oh please,” the man hacked, looking up at him. He had thick brown, curly hair and scraggly scruff on his face. His eyes were a deep blue that flickered in the light of a nearby candle. Vin recognized him. He had seen him around before, but he never did anything significant. “Ye trail ‘er like a damned pup. Aye, but she doesn’t mind. No, of course not, because yer the key to El Dorado,” the man said, waving his hands with a smirk. He then crossed his arms and looked Vin up and down. “And a right bit handsome, I’d say.” His voice lowered into a grumble. “About time she fancied someone who wasn’t barking mad.”

Vin looked at the man with a mixture of confusion and disgust. “She does not “fancy” me. She would have my head if it did not hold what she wanted.”

“Perhaps,” the man continued. “But why do ye think ye lived long enough to tell ‘er ye had it in the first place?” The man’s eyes widened innocently and he shrugged, gesturing to Vin. Suddenly, his voice grew more direct and harsh. “I’ve seen ‘er kill men wi’out a second thought. Yer either special or bloody lucky.”

Troubled, Vin decided to disregard the man’s words. After a moment of thought, he diverted the subject towards a different path. “The entire crew does her bidding, it is not only me. I am amazed there has not been a mutiny.”

“There has been,” the man snapped dangerously, the front legs of his chair as well as his own slamming into the ground as he removed his boots from the tabletop and leaned forward. “And the bastards were left stranded, with nothin’ but each other and the clothes on their backs.” He leaned back again, shaking his head with the memory and releasing a long sigh through his nose. “Vile, that woman.”

Vin stood in silence a while, connecting the pieces of this story to Thorton’s. “Surely she could not have done it alone,” Vin commented.

“No,” the man said flatly with a slight shake of his head, staring unblinking at the ground. “She ‘ad us.”

“Why, if she is so ‘vile’?” Vin pressed.

The man lifted his head to look at Vin. “The Cap’n had been killed that night. ‘Er father.” Vin grew still. This was news to him. He realized in that moment he knew not a thing about Scarlet’s past and a sudden curiosity grew inside him. Surely human beings were not born with homicidal tendencies. “Aye, he was a great Cap’n ‘e was,” the man continued, as if sensing Vin’s eagerness to hear more. “Scarlet was a sweet, strong girl. We respected them both. But somethin’ sparked in ‘er that night. The lot o’ us remain loyal ‘cause we know who she really be. And to this day, she ain’t hurt no hairs on the heads of her true crew.”

Vin furrowed his brows and shifted his stance. “What about that man a few weeks ago?”

The man gave a wave of his hand. “He was new. Barely on a day.”

“And a few days ago?” Vin mused.

“Ah,” he groaned. “He was the biggest arsehole of us all.”

That brought a small smile to both of their faces. Their eyes met and both men burst into small bouts of laughter. “Why are you telling me all this?” Vin asked suddenly.

The man stopped laughing and paused. After a moment, he stood and sauntered over slowly. “Me name is Devol, by the way. Samuel Devol. But Sam’ll do.” Vin opened his mouth to speak, but Sam continued, slapping a hand onto Vin’s shoulder. “I’m tellin’ ya this because if yer gonna be stickin’ around, ye need to know there’s more to ‘er than a reputation. An’ where we’re headin’-” he paused and let out a sigh. “She’s gonna need all the sympathy we can muster.”

☸

It did not take long for the crew to find familiar comfort in Merseyside. It was late into the night when they arrived and Scarlet had not the slightest idea of where to begin the search. So naturally, her crew followed her lead as they flocked the Knave & Siren, the nearest tavern.

Vin leaned casually against a pillar inside. He was tipsy and beginning to border on unsteady and obnoxious. Seeing as he had quickly given up on trying to shave on an unstable ship, he fit the part of a drunken pub dweller with lengthening facial hair. A conversation had sparked his attention on the other side of the pillar between two scrawny men that had obviously not stepped foot on a true pyrate ship, their British accents more refined than any pyrate Vin had known.

“That’s what Simmons said, I swear it!” One man exclaimed in a harsh yet hushed tone.

“Will you never get over your lying problem, Thomas?” The other man said cooly.

The man called Thomas suddenly had a very serious tone in his voice. “Would I lie about this? She’s here, Randall. The Medusa of the Seas herself.” There was a pause, indicating Randall had stopped to consider his friend’s words. “They say her hair is red from bathing in the blood of the men she’s killed, and her lips even redder from drinking it!” There was another pause and his voice dropped to a whisper. “They say her eyes are pale with the souls trapped there.”

Vin lurched forward in a sudden laugh, spraying half a mouthful of rum on the tavern floor and quickly replacing what was lost with another swig. “Idioti maledette,” he muttered.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t take long to spot her,” Thomas said with grim certainty. There was a third pause, which Vin was sure was them looking for the red tangle of hair. They peeked around the pillar and finally spotted her through the crowd, sitting at the bar on the other side of the tavern.

In a flurry of sudden panic, they scrambled over each other as quietly as they could manage and Vin watched as they rushed out the door.

His attention was taken as cheering erupted at the table with the crew. Vin held his hands in the air and called out as he made his way back over, stumbling over a fallen chair. “Ehi! Let me teach you sciocchi a real man’s game called Tarocco Siciliano.”

Meanwhile, Scarlet sat at the bar leaning on one arm, holding a bottle in her hand. She sat, perfectly still unless taking a drink, her ghostly gaze distant. They had spent an entire day here looking for that god forsaken key. That was a day too long. The thought stressed her further and she took another drink, this one longer than the rest.

The bartender eyed her cautiously as he polished glasses and put them back on the shelf. He was tall and well-built with short-cropped dark blonde hair; a jewel in a place like this, but Scarlet had not noticed. He gazed upon her with the same fear as everyone else had and had not spoken a word.

A brave man approached and took a seat beside her; the only two on the entire bar. He simply gestured to the bartender, who already knew what he wanted. After getting his drink he simply held a hand around it and stared at the tabletop for a few minutes before speaking in a low voice. “Medusa of the Seas,” he said mockingly, finally taking a drink.

He had Scarlet’s attention and she tensed, listening intently without moving a muscle.

A small, gruff laugh escaped the man. “That’s what they say you are.” He shifted so he was facing her, though her head was still facing away. His voice became slightly more light-hearted. “I don’t think that’s the case, however,” he said, taking another drink. He gestured behind him with a thumb. “My buddies back there are scared as a frightened bern to come near you. I told them there was nothing to worry about. Scarlet Waters is a myth.”

Scarlet lifted an arm and slammed her bottle on the table. She turned her head slightly to the side with a sly laugh escaping her. He could see her face enough to catch the pale blue of her eyes. “Do I look like a myth to ye?”

“You look like the woman in the stories,” the man continued fearlessly. “Nothing more.”

A horrible dragging noise sounded as Scarlet’s chair was suddenly pushed back and she stood, turning to face the man. She tossed her bottle aside and it shattered nearby. She held out her arms and lifted her head with a mocking smile. “Then who am I?” She bellowed.

The man remained calm and glanced at the bartender then back at her, lifting his drink. “You’re Scarlet Elmwood,” he said innocently, flashing a quick smile before taking a sip.

Scarlet’s face dropped slowly, realization and dread drifting upon it like a feather. Her arms went limp against her sides. Her expression quickly became fearful. She turned suddenly, beginning to walk away when something caught her arm and she was pulled back.

She turned to face the culprit, which was the bartender. The fear and caution had been replaced by a hardened expression. Panic rose in her and she tried to tug her arm away, but his grip held fast. "Let go of me!" She struggled to keep quiet and composed. A ring of desperation sounded in her voice.

"Not until you sit down," the bartender said cooly.

They exchanged glares for a few seconds before his grip loosened and she jerked away, pulling a fallen chair up and sitting in it heavily. She slammed her arms on the tabletop and looked into her lap, waiting.

The other man got up, leaving his drink, and sat next to where Scarlet now was. He looked at her for a long while, his expression pained. "Why did you leave?"

"What do you want?" She hissed, defeated and ignoring the question.

"Why did you leave?" The man roared more forcefully.

Scarlet paused for a long while, her throat burning with the effort of keeping the tears back. "He was dead," she choked.

The man paused. "I told you I would be right back. Why didn't you wait?" His blonde hair had taken on a slight wave over the years and it fell in his eyes now.

"He was dead!" She shouted, facing him with tears brimming in her eyes. She looked away from both of them to compose herself. When she looked back the tears were gone and a stone cold expression was left in its place. "It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't-" the bartender began, reaching out a hand to comfort her.

She smacked it away and glared at him. "You weren't there!" She roared. She faced the other man. "You left me! You left us there alone!"

"I needed to make sure they were ok-" she cut him off.

"We were not ok!" She shouted accusingly. "We were not ok! We were not ok!" She repeated, shaking her head against another threat of tears. She slammed her hands on the table and stood up, turning to loom over him accusingly. "It wasn't my fault, it was your fault! You left us! What did mum think when-"

"Mum is dead!," He shouted, standing up to return the looming.

"Warren-" The bartender warned with a startled expression, aghast.

"No, Edwin, she needs to know," Warren insisted in a low rumble, maintaining eye contact with his sister and watching her expression falter.

Warren took a step back and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a thick scar a thumb width wide clear from his shoulder to his side, just under his ribs.

Edwin looked away in a quick motion, closing his eyes tight against the memory. Scarlet tried futilely to hide as much of her shocked expression as she could muster.

"You weren't the only one who lost Bennet," Warren hissed. "But on top of it we lost mum. We lost you," he said. "We thought..." He said, his temper cooling. He looked to the side and down at the floor, unable to get the words out.

Edwin sighed and leaned forward onto the bar, looking at Scarlet. His voice caught her attention. "We thought you had been taken," he said in a casual tone though there was pain in his face.

"But when we heard the songs and stories, there was no mistaking your discription," Warren added. "Twelve years," he said, mostly to himself. He sounded broken.

From the other side of the tavern, Vin was teaching the crew a drunken version of Tarocco Siciliano when he heard the commotion. He glanced over his shoulder to where Scarlet had been sitting. He looked back to the game, laughing, then stopped and frowned. He twisted to look at Scarlet again and saw a scene where chairs were knocked over and two guys had Scarlet acting defensive. From there, it looked like a bad situation. Anger made his face, flushed with the warmth of alcohol, even redder. He clumsily turned and picked his way through the crowd of the tavern, heading towards his Captain in a way he imagined to be heroic.

He approached the three with strong strides and puffed out his chest. "Passo di distanza!" He shouted. "Questo è il mio capitano!"

The three of them turned to look at him. Where he saw heroic, the two men saw a drunk Italian spouting jibberish. Scarlet's face turned from soft to red with anger as she clenched her fists, knuckles white.

“Speak English, ye filthy, slovenly weevil!” Scarlet burst angrily. There were frustrated pauses between insults as she sputtered out a few of the many the crossed her mind.

Vin stopped and a confused look grew unto his face. Then his shook his head, realizing his mistake, and continued in english. “Back off, you… Two,” he said threateningly. “That’s my- hic- Captain.”

The two other men looked at Scarlet and then at each other. Warren burst into uncontrollable laughter, followed by Edwin offering a few chuckles. “I thought your crew was supposed to be intimidating!” Warren pointed out.

Scarlet made a growling sound in her throat. “He’s drunk- yer drunk!” She shouted at Vin.

“Sciocchezza,” Vin protested with a wave of his hand.

“English!” Scarlet barked.

Vin furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “You all need to learn to speak the King’s Italiano,” he slurred.

Scarlet buried her face in her hands and Warren let out another bout of laughter. “I bet that’s your first mate, ey sis?”

Loud cheering from the table on the other end of the tavern caught their attention. Thorton was standing on the table and held up the bottle in his hand. He then swung a finger around at the men surrounding him. “I told you bumbling wankers I could beat the lot of you!” He rambled loudly.

Sam hopped up on the table beside him and pulled Thorton into himself by the shoulders. Thorton stumbled by the gesture and Sam swayed slightly with the momentum. “Another bottle fer the Cap’n’s first mate!” His voice boomed over the din to no one in particular. He grabbed the bottle from Thorton and smashed it onto the table, letting out another howl that was echoed by the rest of the group.

“What has he had, one bottle?” Edwin mused aloud, quiet compared to the rest of them.

“More like one bloody swig,” Scarlet mumbled through clenched teeth. If ever there was a lightweight on her ship, it was Thorton.

“You need us more than I thought,” Warren scoffed, crossing his arms.

Scarlet looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. “Need ye?”

“Yeah,” Warren said innocently. “We’re coming with you.”

“Oh no,” Scarlet roared. “Wait just a-”

“We’re coming with you, Scarlet,” Edwin interrupted in a much more matter-of-fact tone.

“No yer not,” she insisted. “I’ve gotten on fine fer twelve years without the lot o’ ya,” she pointed out. “I don’t need ye now.”

“Stop talking like that,” Warren said mockingly, reaching back to grab the drink he had left behind him.

Scarlet fumed. “Yer not coming!”

“With a crew like that, I don’t think you can stop us,” Warren said with a casual smile, with a gaze that travelled from the table to Vin.

Vin responded with a glassy-eyed glare. “I do not need permission to kick your culo-”

“Yes you do,” Scarlet hissed.

“I mean yes I do,” Vin corrected hastily, spinning on a heel and bowing slightly with an “Of course, Captain,” only to look up and realize he was facing no one. He straightened and turned back around so he was facing Scarlet and gave her a wide smile. Then, his smile faded and he held up a finger. Spinning on a heel and rocking slightly upon stopping, he pointed it at Warren. “Who are you?” He burst with exaggerated questioning.

Before anyone could answer, a voice rang over the crowd. “Ey!” The four of them glanced over to see Sam pointing at them from the tabletop. He sauntered forward, his arm dragging off of Thorton, causing him to lean forward, unstable. Sam jumped onto a chair and then onto the floor, pushing a stool aside as he approached them with surprising composure and control. The rest of their men went back to their game without a second thought.

He stopped in front of them and held up a finger, steadily meeting each of their gazed. “I ‘ave a question,” he stated.

“By all means,” Edwin said, gesturing to the man in genuine curiosity.

Sam’s gaze stopped on Warren and he took a sideways step closer to him. “What ‘appened to yer shirt, mate?” He folded his arms and flashed a grin. “Not that I see anyone complainin’.”

Scarlet’s hands flew to her head as she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back and staring at the floor. “We’ve been here too long,” she groaned flatly.

“Who are you?” Vin shouted again, waving his hands and looking between Edwin and Warren.

Sam looked to Vin and spoke in the most serious voice he could muster after clearing his throat. “That be an excellent question, Vi… n… achos,” he finished hastily, turning to Warren again. “Strangers tend to tell me their named b’fore strippin,” he said, keeping his eyes on Warren as he took another drink from the bottle he held.

Warren raised an eyebrow and shuffled half a step away. “It’s Warren,” he answered, grabbing his shirt on a nearby chair and quickly pulling it back over his head.

“Devol!” Scarlet snapped, snatching Sam’s attention. She sent him a sharp warning glance and he held up his hands, backing away casually.

He bumped into a woman with a tray of drinks and quickly turned. His look of compliance quickly became a charming smirk. He tossed aside his empty bottle and grabbed a drink from the tray, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders and wandering off. The woman hardly seemed to mind.

Groaning loudly, Scarlet turned to Vin and snapped her fingers to get his attention. “Ay- Bring them back to the ship.” She grumbled under her breath, adding, “I’ll find the damned key myself.”

“Aye, Captain!” Vin said in a gruff tone, making his way back over to the table.

“What key?” Scarlet looked over at Warren, both he and Edwin looking at her in an intrigued and slightly accusing manner.

“None of yer bloody business,” Scarlet barked.

“It is now, Captain,” Warren said with an exaggerated, mocking bow.

Fuming, Scarlet began to march towards him aggressively before something stood in her way. She looked up to see Edwin standing between them, cutting her off before she could protest. “Would the two of you shut it?” He demanded, surprisingly calm. He then looked over at Scarlet. “You don’t mean the key to El Dorado, do you?” He asked, quiet and concerned.

Scarlet paused, taken aback. “How do ye know about the key?”

Edwin looked over at Warren, hoping his brother would share his look of worry. Instead, he was looking around his taller brother to see his sister, answering her question with a scoff. “It was no secret why those pyrates came blundering through here all those years ago. Those damned pillocks didn’t even know where to look.”

“And I suppose ye do?” Scarlet sneered.

“Maybe I do,” Warren challenged.

Edwin smacked the back of Warren’s head, who brought his own hand to it immediately and glowered at his brother. “What was that for, you daft wanker?”

“Twit! Why would you say that?” Edwin hissed.

“Because,” Waren said, pushing Edwin away. “She might as well know before she burns the town down a second time.”

“I would never,” Scarlet seethed, leaning towards him threateningly.

“That’s enough!” Edwin said, holding his hands up.

“How are we supposed to believe she’s better than any of those-” Warren interrupted.

“If you know what’s good for ye, you’d stop talking,” Scarlet warned, but he raised his voice over her’s.

“No good, filthy, murderous-”

“Shut it!”

“Plundering, scurvy sons of-”

“I said enough!” Edwin roared, shoving the two of them away from each other.

The siblings stood, a bit started by his outburst. Even though Scarlet had not been around for a long while, she remembered Edwin’s quiet nature well.

Scarlet quickly recovered, leaning forward and pointing a finger at Warren. “Ye better tell me where that key is, or so help me-” she said in a low, rumbling tone.

“You’ll what?” Warren scoffed, crossing his arms.

“We’ve only heard rumors,” Edwin said quickly, before they had a chance to go at each other again. His calm demeanor had seemed to return. He then glanced at Warren, who had donned a smirk. “What are we waiting for, then?” He remarked, pushing past his two siblings towards the door. The tavern had nearly emptied of the crew, who had frightened away the rest of the customers long before. Raising his voice, he added, “Let’s go talk to the manky trollop.”

Before Scarlet could ask who, he swung the door open and left. She took a step forward, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Wait.” She turned and looked at her oldest brother, sorrow in his face. “I know he doesn’t show it, but I know he’s glad you’re back,” Ewin said with a small smile. “Both of us are.” Scarlet honestly didn’t know what to say, though it quickly seemed as though nothing had to be said. Edwin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

Taken aback, Scarlet froze, hesitation seizing her. Slowly, she raised her arms and gently brushed his back, rigid. Even as a child, she was not huge on physical affection, but she had gotten so used to going without over the years. As foreign as it may have felt, she still took a strange comfort in it and a small smile reached her lips.

Edwin then pulled back and held her by her shoulders with a smile. “Come on,” he said, heading for the door. “We better make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.

“Where is he going?” Scarlet asked, following him to the door.

“The brothel down the way,” Edwin said with a snarky grin.

They walked out into the night and Scarlet watched as Edwin closed the door to the tavern. “Who owns this place anyway?” She muttered, thinking out loud.

Edwin emitted a low laugh and snatched a ring of keys from his belt. “We do,” he said, sliding the key into the door and effectively locking it.


☸

Warren reached the door before his siblings, having had a decent head start. He walked confidently up to the front door of the brothel and knocked as if he’d done it a hundred times before. A large lady with dark, curly hair and a colorful face opened the door. She looked him up and down with an unamused expression. Her jaw worked with the motion of chewing tobacco.

Warren flashed a charming smile and offered a short bow. “Bonjour, Madam Filou,” he greeted. “And what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I zought I had made it clear zat you were not allowed to return,” the woman spat in a surprisingly dignified French accent.

“Right, I know that,” Warren said quickly. He had been drunk at the place one night and had been babbling about his sister Captain Scarlet Waters. He had been promptly kicked out by fear and had only tried to come back six times since then. “The thing is, my sister is here-”

Madame Filou gasped and crossed herself as she began to close the door. Warren quickly braced against it and forced it open and all charm on his face was replaced by determination. “I’ll make this quick. We both know you have something she wants and I think you’re smart enough to know that dealing with me before she gets here would be much easier for you.”

Madame Filou’s eyes drifted behind him and grew slightly larger. He noticed her break into a nervous sweat. He glanced behind his shoulder at Edwin and Scarlet approaching and turned back around with a smirk. “Well?”

“D’accord,” she nodded hastily. “Follow me. Quickly.” She disappeared inside and Warren turned and gestured for his siblings to stay behind. They stopped in their tracks and watched him curiously as he disappeared inside.

“What is he doing?” Scarlet demanded.

“Edwin glanced at her then back to the door of the brothel, hands in his pockets. “You should probably think before asking questions you might not want to know the answer to.”

“Should we go after him?” Scarlet pressed.

Edwin paused. “Nah,” he decided, uncrossing his arms and walking over to the stairs up to the door, sitting on them heavily. After a moment of hesitation, Scarlet followed and sat beside him in silence.

“So…” Edwin began. “What happened to your tooth?”

Scarlet let out a long, heavy sigh. “It was all because of a ‘brilliant’ idea the bumbling Italian had,” she began bitterly.

Meanwhile, door shut hastily and tightly behind him, Warren followed the mistress through the building. It was loud with bustling commotion, as usual. Pale faced women with red lips and big hair paused occasionally to stare as he walked through.

The sounds of giggling and music faded as he followed her through a curtain that lead up a flight of stairs. She spoke not a word, and he did the same. eventually they reached one of many doors at the end of a long hallway. He was not sure where she had been keeping it before, but suddenly she held a key and swiftly unlocked the door.

It led to a large room, one he could only assume to be her personal quarters. The bed was draped with a canopy of heavy red velvet. There was a desk with papers scattered upon it and the smell of smoke from recently blown out candles.

Warren lingered in the doorway and watched Madame Filou shuffle through her belongings. At one point, she turned and faced him, the sound of her gathered red dress brushing the wooden floors. Dark curls fell in her face and her blue eyes were narrowed. “You must promise me zat no harm will come to my girls,” she stated.

“As long as you hand it over, we will be on our way with no trouble,” Warren confirmed. He left out the part about the crew being too drunk to do any damage anyway.

She sighed and nodded the pulled a crowbar from behind her back. Warren eyed her carefully as she kneeled on the floor and pried up one of the floorboards. She tossed it aside and reached down, retrieving a small box. She opened it delicately, sitting on her knees, and plucked a key from within. After a moment of looking at it, she put the box down and lifted her dress with one hand, getting back on her feet.

She wandered over to Warren and held it out to him. However, as he reached for it, she pulled it away. He looked from it to her with a confused and slightly irritated expression. He was met with her smirk. “I will give zis to you, Warren, but not out of fear,” she said in her sensual, accented tone. “You forget how well I know you,” she teased. “You are a fool, but I know you are a good man. Do wiz it what you will, but do not let it get to your head,” she winked and offered a smile.

She held it out once more and Warren hesitated before taking it, though she did not pull away. He smiled and slipped it into his pocket. “Thank you Madame Filou.”

“Do not forget zis once you find the treasure,” she said with a smile then turned and began slowly walking towards her desk. “Now leave me.”

Warren smiled and dipped his head slightly, though her back was turned to him. He walked out the door and quickly made his way back down the stairs.

Scarlet and Edwin sat on the stairs still as she shared her story from Oslo. “I don’t understand,” Edwin voiced.

“What don’t ye understand?” Scarlet asked in a slightly sharp tone.

“This man you speak of sounds bloody clever and by far braver than the lot of us, and he saved your life. So why do you hate him?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“I never said I hated him,” Scarlet said defensively.

“Well you certainly don’t like him,” Edwin countered.

“That’s right,” Scarlet snapped.

“Why?” He pressed.

Scarlet groaned in frustration. “He is no more than a stowaway that managed to snag some luck!”

Edwin smirked at her defensiveness but did not get a chance to say anything else, as they were cut off by the sound of the door opening behind them. The two of them stood and turned to see Warren emerging from the doorway. “I got the key,” he said as he rushed down the stairs.

His two siblings followed. “That was fast,” Edwin commented. Hesitation came over him. “Did you have to… Um… You know-”

“With her?” Warren exclaimed with a scoff. “Never.” There was a pressing moment of silence before he spoke again. “She does have three daughters in there though.”

Edwin let out a small laugh. “You would know.”

“That I would, yes,” Warren confirmed with a smile.

Scarlet rolled her eyes and pushed her way in front of them, leading the way to her ship.

“So what’s the next stop, sis?” Warren asked innocently.

Scarlet sighed through her nose and continued walking at a brisk pace. Though she was annoyed and still slightly dazed from the alcohol, she could hardly keep the hint of a smile off her face as she spoke her next words. “Back to the Caribbean sea.”

☸

Thorton and Sam sat side by side in a secluded corner belowdecks. Thorton’s head was nodding slowly back and forth and Sam crossed his arms with a smirk on his face. “So how did ye get it?” Sam asked casually.

“What are you talking about?” Thorton groaned, pale-faced and feeling rather nauseous.

“This,” Sam said, holding up a storm blue open set neatly in a thick golden ring.

Thorton’s eyes widened and he snatched it from Sam’s hand, who did not fight the action. “Where did you find that?” He snapped.
“Your pocket,” Sam said with a grin.

It was met by Thorton’s cold, glazed glare. “You aren’t going to tell Scarlet, are you?” He said in a quieter tone, sticking it deep into his coat pocket.

Sam burst into laughter and leaned back. “Hell no,” he stated, bringing the neck of a bottle to his lips.

Interlude

February 24, 1690

A boy at the young age of six sat on a bench outside his parents’ room. Or as he saw it, his mother’s and her new husband’s room. They’d been married a year or so and his new stepfather was kind, but distant. Strict.

They were both in the room now with one of the house maids and the boy was told to wait where he was. He had sat in silence for hours and had dared to wander a time or two, but when he returned, the hall was the same. Empty, and quiet save for the occasional yell of his mother and hushed instructions he couldn’t quite make out.

Growing impatient once more, he stood. Deciding not to go far this time around, he merely wandered to the end of the hall and stood on his tip-toes to gaze out the window. He put his hands on the window sill and quickly used one to brush his blonde hair out of his face. He had refused a haircut since he’d gotten the first one he remembered. It was horrible. He hated it. He told himself he would never cut it short again. It nearly reached his shoulders now and fell in messy waves.

His breath quickly created condensation on the cold winter widow and he wiped it away and gazed at the landscape beyond. They lived on his stepfather’s vineyard, and though most of the year was warm and the sweet smells of grapes and wine were not unfamiliar, the vines were not bare and the fields empty of workers. It was not terribly late in the day, but the sun has already begun to sink and turn the world a deep purple. Much like the grapes, he thought.

He jumped when he heard the great wooden door creak open behind him. He turned to see the housemaid’s head look at the bench he’d been sitting on then turn to him with a puzzled expression and tired eyes. Though once she saw him, a smile lit up her face immediately. “Come, Vinazio,” She chided in a hushed voice. “Come and meet your new sister,” she urged, gesturing for him to come closer.

Once she had opened the door, a tiny but rattlingly loud cry had escaped the room, previously muted by the barrier than now stood agape. He looked at her then at the door, hesitating. When he glanced at her again, he slowly made his way into the large room.

As he walked in and the housemaid closed the door behind him, the first thing he noticed was his mother in bed and her new husband standing beside her, whispering to each other excitedly. He thought she did not look so good, but his attention was quickly taken by the screaming thing she held.

His step father, Bernardo, took a step back to make room for him. He looked up at the largely built figure, but he swore he had never seen the man crack a single smile. He continued to his mother’s side and put his hand on the edge of the bed, as to pull himself up just a bit.

Hardly bothering to talk over the crying child and not murmuring more than the occasional hush, his mother tipped the bundle slightly so her son could see.

Vinazio tiptoed a bit higher and hardly noticed his mother’s smile as he gazed wide-eyed at the new baby. Her teary, dark eyes met his and she blinked them, sniffing a few times before all that was left of her cries was a quivering lip.

“I think she likes you,” His mother whispered.

He looked at her, then back at the baby and her eyes were now wide and staring at him. It actually made him rather uncomfortable, but he could not seem to look away. “How do you know it is a she?” He asked suddenly. “To me… It looks like it could just as well be a boy,” he pointed out. Not that he cared one way or the other, but there was just nothing about it that seemed at all girly to him.

His mother, Isabetta, glanced at Bernardo then back at her first born. “I have given her a girl’s name, and so she is a girl,” she explained.

“Oh,” Vinazio said with a nod. “I see now.” Part of him did not entirely believe her, but he did not press the matter. “So what is her name, anyway?” He asked curiously.

Isabetta smiled and looked at the baby she held. “Fiorenza Ysabel Constansie Julietta Caprice,” she announced.

Vinazio made a face and dreaded that he would have to memorize another name when he still got his own wrong at times. It had a nice ring, he would admit, but he had already forgotten the first one. “I will just call her Fia,” he decided out loud. He smiled and for the first time, his sister smiled back.

May 9, 1696

Isabetta wandered the villa with Fioreza in her arms. Her daughter held flowers and helped her put some new ones into the vases scattered around. She stopped suddenly when the echo of a voice could be heard, coming from the main entrance. “Hello?” It called out, the tone unsure.

Curious and much to Fiorenza’s protest, she made her way in the direction of a voice. As she rounded a corner the spotted the figure of a man peeking inside, though the sun behind him cast only a silhouette and it was difficult to make out his features. “May I help you?” She called politely though slightly cautious, thinking it must have been an associate of her husband’s.

“Isabetta?” The voice suddenly sounded hopeful and relieved.

Isabetta froze as the man approached her and his face became clear. “Luis,” she hissed harshly, closing the distance between them with brisk steps. “What are you doing here?”

The man was tall and his graying hair was a sandy blonde and curled in quite a messy way, nearly reaching his shoulders. His face was carpeted in thick scruff, though despite his current state, a feeling she found rather annoying fluttered in her chest and she quickly buried it.

He held his arms out to her, though thought better of the gesture before making contact. It simply began a sweeping gesture and a smile crossed his lips. “I… I had come for you,” he said and his hope faded from his eyes and his face fell as well as his arms. He spoke in broken Italian, his accent heavily Spanish. His eyes flickered to Fiorenza and back. “I heard you had married, but, I was already passing by…” he fought for words that made sense before ending with a defeated sigh.

Fiorenza tipped her head curiously at the man. “Who are you?” She asked suddenly.

“Fiorenza,” Isabetta snapped in a hushed tone. “Do not be rude. Vinazio!” As she called her son’s name, the strange man’s demeanor perked up though his eyes seemed to fall further.

Isabetta kneeled and placed Fiorenza on the floor as the quick echo of running footsteps approached. “You stay with your brother for a while, alright?” She instructed and Fiorenza nodded obediently.

Vinazio rounded the corner and slowed to a brisk walk. His eyes quickly found the stranger, but his expression revealed nothing. He did, however, silently admire the man’s hair. It was similar to his own and he did not believe he had met anyone before that moment who did not have dark hair.

As he got closer, he looked up at his mother. “Take Fiorenza for a while,” she instructed. “Are Olivierio and Catelina still here?”

Vinazio shook his head. “No, they went home,” he said, daring a quick glance at the stranger before looking down at his sister and reaching for her hand. “Come on, Fia. Do you want to visit the horses?”

She broke into a broad smile and jumped up and down as she clutched his hand. “Yeah! Yeah!” She cheered happily.

Isabetta heaved a heavy sigh. “No riding!” She called after them.

“And don’t let her in the stables, I know,” Vinazio said with a good-natured smile in her direction before turning and leading his sister outside.

April 17, 1703

Vin hit the ground with a thud, the wind knocked out of his lungs, breathless as he stared at the sky beginning to turn pink with the day’s end.

Though dazed, he heard the sound of a soft laugh above him, along with the muffle steps of hooves on grass. The black muzzle of a horse touched his face and he shot up to regain himself, being nudged by his black, white-maned horse. He shoved it away with a smile and got to his feet.

“How many does that make today?” Chimed a light, bell-like voice.

He grabbed the reins of his horse and turned to face the owner of the voice: a beautiful young woman with messily pinned up light brown hair and golden brown eyes. She was thin and petite with soft, kind features and an amused smile played on her pink lips.

“Four,” he answered with a nod, trying his best to be serious. In a moment, however, he looked down and broke into a smile. “Today,” he admitted reluctantly.

She laughed again and hopped off her palomino mare and wandered over to the edge of the hill they were on, letting her horse graze and plopping down onto the ground. She ran her fingers through the grass and smiled over her shoulder at Vin.

He dropped the reins and walked over, sitting beside her. From the hill they were one, they overlooked his family’s vineyard from a near bird’s eye view. She leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. “That cloud looks like a rose,” she said, mostly to herself. Her gaze shifted to the fields and distant villa. “It is really beautiful,” she mused dreamily.

“It will be even moreso with you there, Imilia,” Vin murmured to her, pressing his cheek against her head.

A content sigh escaped her and they sat in silence as she gazed at the clouds, admiring their beauty. “Are you sure they like me?” She mumbled worriedly.

“Of course they do,” he assured her, shifting slightly so his forehead pressed gently against hers. “My mother is only upset about Catelina, but both of us would have been unhappy. In time she will come to love you as much as I do.”

She smiled and folded his hand in her own. “I love you, Vinazio,” she hummed, kissing him gently, “and nothing would make me happier than to be your wife.”

October 2, 1703

Vin kneeled on the floor at the edge of the bed. He slept with his head on his arm and his free hand holding Imilia’s. He had not left the spot for hours and slept only lightly. The moment she stirred, he looked up and squeezed her hand gently, shifting his numb legs. “Imilia?”

As she lay bedridden, a weak cough escaped her. A thin film of sweat shone on her placid skin and her breath was slow and shallow. “Vin?” She breathed.

He shifted again so he could lean closer to her and hold her hand in both of his. “Yes, yes, I’m here,” he whispered.

“You didn’t leave,” she said weakly.

“Never,” he assured her. The longer he looked at her the harder he fought to hold back tears. Her face was hollow and her normally bright eyes were dull and glazed. They seemed to take an eternity to find him.

“I am dying, Vinazio.” Her voice sounded akin to a soft breeze. She caught her breath as her own eyes began to well with tears.

“No no no, you will be ok,” he promised her. “You’ll be alright, Imilia.”

She shook her head slightly and her face twisted in sorrow. She brushed his hand with her fingers. “I’ve accepted it,” she said in a hushed tone. “But I’ am afraid,” she breathed, dragging out the words. “Stay with me.” She searched his eyes but they would not meet her own. “Stay with me,” she repeated desperately.

He met her eyes as hot tears began to fall down his face. It was inevitable. They all knew that. They had known for a long time. “I will,” he promised, nodding repeatedly.

She relaxed and turned her head back up towards the ceiling. He watched her intently as she fell asleep once more, her chest steadily rising and falling. He kept an eye on her well into the night until he fell asleep as well for the third night in the same spot at the edge of the bed.

A milky dawn light trickled through the window early the next morning, waking Vin easily. As soon as he regained consciousness, he knew something wasn’t right. Instinctively, he tightened his grip on Imilia’s hand.

He froze. It was cold. His head shot up and quickly examined her. She was perfectly still; in a state more peaceful than sleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest has ceased.

Refusing to believe the evident, panic grew in Vin’s chest. “Imilia?” He whispered. “Imilia?” He asked again, a little louder. “No no no,” he repeated under his breath, ignoring the numbness and standing, touching her face but quickly retracting when it proved to be colder than her hands. “Imilia!” He cried out desperately, brushing back her hair with shaking hands and blinking his eyes tight as if he would awaken from a horrid nightmare any second.

Moments later, footsteps sounded rushing up behind him and the bedroom door swung open. Nurses rushed to her side. He felt the touch of his mother’s hand on his shoulder. He stood, frozen until she tried to pull him away. It was in that moment where reality set in and he pulled himself away from her rushing back to the bedside. “No!” He shouted in protest, hearing voices around him but unaware of what they said.

One of the nurses rushed over and tried to stand in his way but he slipped past her. He fell onto the bed and looked over Imilia’s body until the tears blurred her form beyond recognition.

He slowly sank to her level and pulled her into him, burying his face into her shoulder and muffling the sobs escaping him. At one point he felt a hand touch his arm but he shook it off violently before returning to his previous position. He was aware of the others in the room, but paid them no heed as they stopped trying to keep him from her.

It was that moment in which he heard her voice whisper in his ear. I am not afraid.

Continue

[.:A r i c a R e e:.]

Aaahh!! This is incredibly interesting! Must have more!!

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

I'm glad you like it!! Was there anything that really surprised you?? I've been trying to get in that WOAH WHAT element x]