|✘| swindle v.2 [OLD THREAD]

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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interlude
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
interlude
chapter six
interlude
chapter seven
interlude
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
interlude
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
interlude
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
NOTICE
notes
notes
notes
notes concluded

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A daring stowaway boards the most feared ship in the seven seas, harboring just enough wit to keep his head. With a knowledge passed down from generations, he takes the crew on a journey halfway across the world in search of an ancient treasure. However, he quickly learns there is much more to the men and ruthless captain than a homicidal reputation.

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This is a story I am working on turning into a novel. If you read it, please leave your opinion or critique! I would love to hear what people have to say about it, as I have worked very hard for a very long time trying to create a memorable tale. Even little trivial things make my day, like who your favorite character is or your reactions to specific parts. Corrections and suggestions are also welcome! I hope you enjoy what I've put together.

spoiler alert
Go to swindle-arting.tumblr.com for artwork and extra scenes.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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✘ . Scarlet Waters - female - twenty-two - english - captain of the obsidian
✘ . Vinazio "Vin" Espacciano - male - twenty-four - italian - obsidian stowaway

✘ . Alistair "Chair" MacDuncan - male - twenty-six - scottish - captain of phantom's harmony
✘ . Timothy Thorton - male - twenty-seven - english - ex-military obsidian first mate
✘ . Samuel "Sam" Devol - male - twenty-one - irish - obsidian crew mate
✘ . Warren Elmwood - male - twenty-five - english - elder brother of scarlet
✘ . Edwin Elmwood - male - twenty-seven - english - elder brother of scarlet
✘ . Fiorenza "Fia" Nicchi - female - seventeen - italian - younger sister of vinazio
✘ . Cahan Finnegan - male - fourty-two -irish - obsidian physician

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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NOTE: Yes, these were all made by me because I have an unholy amount of free time and a slight obsession. And for the record, I listed each one from most recent to oldest so I swear I'm not actually getting progressively worse.

#vinlet

lol u ok? | I almost fell off thIS CLIFF | lol #genderbent | the cAVE | I know I spelled Odyssey wrong it was 2am fight me | #tables | well that escalated quickly | Vin is a better mother than Scarlet | LOL that's what you think | how daRE YOU MAKE ME LAUGH | ow | ehh | she got the booty | K. O.

just scarlet

someone call Disney because I need a job | lol ur gettin' married | more wedding sketches yeeeennggggg

all together now

just imagine this picture, but two seconds later when all hell breaks loose | pixelbaes

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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“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 faced her older brother.

“I am not cheating!” She shouted, tapping her fingers on her knee.

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 little ball. There was an immediate 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 Bennett 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 Bennett in her arms. She was not sure how long she stood there before Bennett began to wriggle and she turned to make her way down the stairs.

There was a single, small window in the cellar. She put Bennett 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. “Bennett?”

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. “Bennett!” 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.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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“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 color of a dark ruby illuminated by the sun. 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 swept 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 towards the call 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 someone dimwitted enough to sneak onto it in the first place was hardly conceivable.

“Bring him to me!” The Captain’s voice roared over the winds howling through the red 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 gun’s hammer softly sounded as the Captain’s hand wrapped around a pistol grip. “Who was on guard last time we made port?”

“That would be Anderson, Cap’n,” said an unknowing voice just obeying orders. The pistol 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.

“Waste of bullets,” came a harsh murmur. The Captain’s attention was now on the man shrouded with a dark gray cloak, slumped to the ground with a lowered head. Swift hands casually reloaded the pistol from a pouch of bullets strung from a belt.

“Show yerself, ye coward,” the voice hissed. The barrel of the gun that killed a man moments before flicked the dark hood away, revealing the intruder. He had the face of a relatively handsome man, save for a crooked nose. His hair was dirty blonde, as well as the scruff along his 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 sand-colored hair.

“Well?” The Captain pressed impatiently, shoving her weapon 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?” He taunted fearlessly. “I am, after all, at the mercy of Captain Scarlet Waters.”

The Captain’s blood red lips curled in a snarl and she forced his head back with the barrel of the pistol, condemning 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. “Because you do not want to, Captain.”

A chilling laugh escaped the captain, throwing her head back in amusement before looking back at her prisoner. “I would enjoy proving ye wrong.”

A breathy, humorless laugh escaped him. “I could say the same.” He looked directly into her eyes with the utmost confidence. “There is something you need from me.”

The captain’s face twisted in anger. “I need nothin’ from ye,” she spat.

He laughed again. “But you have not even heard my offer!” He paused and leaned closer still so he could whisper to her. “I have the map to El Dorado.”

A small gasp escaped Captain Waters and her blue eyes widened in disbelief. Her initial reaction, however, was quickly smothered but distrust. “Why should I believe ye?” She asked accusingly.

In a flash, the man reached up and twisted the pistol from her grip. Leaping to his feet, he pointed it directly at her with a daring smirk.

Scarlet snapped straight up in an instant, her eyes ablaze with burning hatred.

The man did not continue to hold the captain of the Obsidian at gunpoint, however. He merely lowered his arms and tossed the gun to the deck. He then held his arms out to the side and tipped his head slightly. “Because I let you live,” he said confidently. “I am not a fool, Captain Waters,” he assured her. “I am here to help, as long as you will help me.”

She stared at him for a moment before taking a few long strides towards the strange man, effectively closing half the distance between them and holding out her hand. “Give me the map.”

“I am afraid I cannot do that,” 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 flew up in mock surrender. “There is no need for strong language, mi tesoro.”

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

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

Scarlet’s expression faltered slightly before she advanced on the man 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 besides blind recklessness. What she found was the look of a truthful man. “Who are ye?” She murmured accusingly.

“My name,” he 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 Abruzzo.” 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 and with a charismatic smirk, he concluded with, “but you may call me your new treasure map.”

The captain grinned humorlessly and raised an eyebrow at him. Without breaking eye contact, she called for one of her men. “Bishop!”

A large man with a blind eye appeared behind the Captain. His build was similar, Vin thought, to that of a gorilla. “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 are too good to me Captain, really,” Vin called sarcastically as the behemoth gripping his arm forcefully dragged him below deck.

The man called Bishop continued on, pulling Vin down the stairs. “Hey hey hey! Careful with 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 as he hit the ground hard.

“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. Bishop’s heavy footsteps faded dauntingly into the distance.

Vin heaved a sigh and hefted himself up onto the bench. He examined his hands carefully. 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 spent outdoors.

He looked up from his meticulous work as scuffling was heard in the corner, followed by a small squeak. The sun had only 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 is 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. “I am sorry, but I have had enough threats on my life.” The last thing he wished to do was add disease to the list.

Vin sighed after murmuring the justifying words. He then laid down on the damp wooden surface with one knee up and his hands folded neatly on his chest. He loosely clutched at a well hidden key in his coat pocket and stared at the ceiling silently. He did not believe he would get any sleep that night.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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“Rise and shine, ye miserable hack!” Vin woke to the sound of a harsh 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. Stiff, 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!” Something about the man’s rodent-like voice was unsettling to Vin, but he brushed it off.

Vin looked up, still on his knees, and offered a smile back. “You are quite the joy of the morning.” 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 sandy veil of hair, stringy and wind-blown. He grumbled in annoyance and attempted to blow it out of his face. “Have you a piece of cloth of some kind? Does not 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. “Thank you, amico. I will treasure it.” He began to walk away then took a step back to face the man again. “Has anyone ever told you to never speak?” 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, long enough to fall 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 as crewmates passed him with cold glares.

“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. “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. It was long and the three yellowed sails were spiked as though they were the fins of a massive, deadly fish.

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 is 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, worn man with a kind demeanor.

“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 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 chance letting go of the rail.

“Yer 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 suddenly felt a bit dizzy with realization. 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!” 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, the tall man 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 two pistols 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. She reloaded them as the opposing pyrates began to flood up the stairs. She sheathed them then proceeded to draw her remaining 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 only name he knew. “Scarlet!”

Meanwhile, the captain twirled her jewel-encrusted cutlass in her hand, showing off a little before running it through the closest man. 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 two more men, now running towards him. He sighed heavily, his mind racing for a solution. He smiled mischievously when one came to mind. He glanced over and took the captain by the wrist, twirling her around and snatching the pistols 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 a gunshot, then the hollow clicking of a trigger as he attempted to use the emptied one.

Vin dropped the guns and blocked the blow coming towards him with the sword he had held on to with a finger, 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, he simply 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 should 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.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

The chill of autumn 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 mid-rib. 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 Abruzzo?” 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.

“Bellissimo posto.” Beautiful place, 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.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

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 did not 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.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

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.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

A young 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.”

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 ye 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.

“Indeed I did,” 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.

The port town tavern was bustling with the din of loud voices and music. The pianist kept a quick tune while equally speedy strings were played on the small stage. The entire environment was very fast-pace, but enjoyable. Drunken conversation and hearty laughs were never far away.

A smile lit Thorton’s face as he glanced at Scarlet beside him, sitting at a table with some of the other men from the crew. She was waving her arms and leaning over the table, laughing as she gestured wildly, her voice nearly drowning out those of the grown men surrounding her. Though deafening words were flying about him, he would not have been able to say what they’d been talking about for the last hour.

Thorton looked up suddenly when the song playing changed. The corner of his lips rising with what he believed to be a grand idea, he nudged Scarlet’s arm the few times it took for her to stop and look at him. “Care to dance?” He asked mischievously.

Scarlet raised an eyebrow and looked at him, wondering if he was serious. She then burst into laughter. “Dance?” She scoffed. “Oh… I don’t think so…” She gripped her mug of ale in both hands and looked forward again as her laughs faded nervously.

“Come on,” Thorton insisted, continuing to nudge her with a grin.

“Stop it, Timothy,” she laughed, playfully shoving his arm away. “I don’t even know how to dance!”

“That’s ok, I’ll teach you,” he offered happily.

“Ye know how to dance?” She asked skeptically, giggling at the thought.

“As any gentleman does,” he confirmed with pride.

Scarlet paused and looked him over, her lips quivering with the attempt at keeping her laughter at bay. “What if I’m no good at it?” She countered. “It would hardly be good for morale, the crew watching their first mate stumble around the floor.”

Thorton shrugged and gave a small shake of his head in amusement. “You don’t have to be first mate all the time, you know.”

Smile slowly fading, Scarlet sighed and looked forward again, leaning her elbows on the table. “Yes I do.”





That night back on the ship, Scarlet stood at the helm enjoying the silence and serenity of the night. It was the one time she could look at the sea and sky without having to be aware of the crew. She’d allow blackness beyond the glowing lanterns swinging from the ship to engulf her and become lost. To her, there was no better feeling than to be at open sea, floating alone in a void of salty air and the soft sound of waves. She was intently staring at the stars with her head craned back dangerously when the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs made her jump.

Thorton approached her with an amused grin. “What are you doing?”

“Uh- I was just… Findin’ me own constellations…” Scarlet began. “And… Makin’ up stories for them…” she concluded hastily, clearing her throat.

“What?” He laughed, walking up to stand beside her.

“Nothin’,” she said quickly, shaking her head. bouncing the red curls that were tied back and reached just below her shoulder blades. She then paused and raised a sharply arched eyebrow at him. “What are you doin’?”

“Looking for you,” he said plainly.

“Why?” She asked cautiously, though a smile crept onto her lips. “It’s a bit late, wouldn’t ye say?”

“Ah, I know you’re always the last one awake,” he pointed out with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ve come to encourage you to take me up on my earlier offer,” he said with a grin, folding his hands behind his back.

“What offer?” She scoffed playfully.

“Teaching you how to dance,” he said, straightening up and holding out a hand. “You said you didn’t want to in front of the crew-” he looked around dramatically before returning his dark gaze to her and smirking mischievously.

“What? No,” she laughed, smaking his hand away. “I can’t leave the wheel.”

Thorton simply put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows. Then, he pulled his sword from his belt and stuck it through the wheel and into the deck. “Problem solved,” he announced, holding out his hand again.

Scarlet stepped back and looked at him, then at his outstretched hand. “Don’t ye think we should take height difference into consideration?” She tried. “I mean yer so tall, I don’t even reach yer chin- hey!” She yelped as he leaned forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s not as hard as you think it is,” he told her. “Shall we begin with something up-beat?” He asked with a soft smile, taking her other hand and raising them both, taking a step back in the same moment.

“As opposed to what?” Scarlet asked cautiously.

A laugh escaped Thorton. “As opposed to something slower,” he said.

Scarlet paused in hesitation then shifted her feet. “No, I can do this,” she said with a nod of determination, staring at the ground.

“It might help to look up,” he suggested, dipping his head slightly.

“Nope!” She snapped. “If I’m doing this, I’m doing it my way. I’m ready,” she insisted, gripping his hands.

“Alright,” Thorton said slowly, though amusement played on his face. “Start by taking a step back, then,” he instructed. Scarlet took a step back so their arms were stretched out in front of them. “Now forward again- quickly this time.” She did as she was told and he did the same. Only with his pull accompanied by her jerking too far forward, Scarlet ended up ramming into his chest and stumbling back half a step with a groan. Thorton reached up with one hand and tilted her face back. “Look up,” he laughed softly. “Now let’s try again.”

He took a step back and she did the same, giving him a wicked smirk of accomplishment as they flawlessly stepped back together again. As they stepped away once more, Thorton let go of one of her hands and lifted the other, twirling Scarlet. However, it didn’t go as well as intended when she stumbled in her heels and nearly fell to the floor, letting out a small squeak.

Thorton couldn’t help but burst into laughter as he hurried to steady her. “I’m sorry,” he laughed. “I thought you’d be expecting that.”

“Wasn’t there a slower option?” Scarlet asked flatly.

“There was,” he confirmed with a nod.

“Right,” she said, clearing her throat and standing before him. “Show me that one.”

“I can do that,” he agreed, straightening up and taking her hand in his. He used the other to place her free hand on his shoulder before resting his on her waist. “Ready?” He asked. Determined, Scarlet nodded. “Alright, one step back-”

He took one back himself, but Scarlet stepped with the wrong foot and ended up tripping over his. However, she quickly fixed herself, growing frustrated. “Again,” she demanded.

Thorton simply met her eye and nodded as a signal. They stepped back again and Thorton managed to lead her in small circles. Scarlet, visibly concentrating, did her best not to look down, though she still stumbled a few times. After a little while, she let out a breath it seemed she’d been holding the entire time and slumped against him, pressing her hands and the side of her face to his chest. “Is there something slower?” She asked, exasperated.

“Well… Yes, I suppose so,” he answered cautiously, looking down at her. Hesitating, he wrapped his arms around her and began to sway slowly back and forth, waiting for repercussions that didn’t come. They remained that way for a long while before Thorton spoke in a low voice. “So why the sudden voluntary interest?”

“Oh,” Scarlet sighed, “I don’t know. It probably won’t work…”

Thorton pinched his brow together. “What won’t?”

“Well…” She paused and bit her lower lip. “I was just thinking… Do you think Alistair likes to dance? I started thinking he might like it if I could.”

“Oh…” Thorton muttered, his face falling and his grip on her loosening slightly. “Right…”

“What do you think, Timothy?” She asked quietly. “I need to catch his attention somehow.”

“Being yourself was always enough for me,” he murmured quietly.

“What was that?” Scarlet asked.

A small sigh escaped Thorton. “Nothing.”

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.

Thorton approached the double doors to the captain’s quarters and knocked on them. He waited a moment before knocking again, harder this time.

“Go away,” Scarlet groaned from inside.

“Scarlet, please let me in,” he called in a low voice.

“That’s Captain, to ye!” She called louder.

Thorton set his jaw in frustration and couldn’t help but raise his voice a little more. “Captain, please let me in,” he repeated begrudgingly.

After a moment, he heard her stom towards the door and swung it open, already turned and walking away when he caught sight of her. He stepped inside stony-faced and shut the door behind him. Scarlet fell heavily into one of the chairs and slouched, hanging her head. Her arm fell limp, her fingertips nearly brushing one of the empty bottles on the floor.

Thorton looked upon the scene in dismay, though held strong to his intentions. “Scarlet, you can’t keep-”

“Captain,” she corrected, leaning over to swipe a bottle off the table, only to find that it was empty and tossed it aside. She slouched back, staring straight ahead. Thorton followed her gaze and noticed Gail’s hat sitting on the middle of the table and his heart fell.

“Captain, listen to me,” he continued insistently, though his tone softened as he took a couple steps closer to her. “You have to do something. Something- anything,” he told her desperately. “We’re bringing in nothing. I’ve even heard rumors of mutiny.”

“What?!” Scarlet barked, gripping the arms of her chair and digging her nails into the wood. “Is one not enough?!” On the last word, she reached forward and forcefully backhanded one of the standing bottles off the table, Thorton managing to dodge it as it flew past.

“Think about what he would want you to do,” Thorton pressed, gesturing to the hat on the table. “What would he think if he knew you were running this ship into the ground, destroying his reputation, whoring around-”

Scarlet stood from her chair and cut him off with a slap to his face. Now her body and voice were shaking as she bared her teeth and stared up at him with fire in her eyes. “Don’t ye dare talk about me that way,” she hissed.

Thorton’s hand flew to his shocked face, though the physical pain he felt was the last thing on his mind. As he regained himself, he looked over and prepared to speak, but found Scarlet slumped in her chair again. This time, her anger had given way to heartbreaking sorrow.

Thorton lowered his hand back to his side and wandered over to her chair, which was askew and no longer faced the table, kneeling before it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in a raspy voice.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, leaning forward and taking her hands in his. “I am sorry. I should know better than to talk to my Captain in such a manner.”

“I’m not yer captain,” she muttered, defeated. “I never will be.”

He looked up at her with only his eyes, but her hands and head remained limp. “You always have been,” he told her quietly.

That made her look up with a puzzled expression. “What do ye mean?” She asked hesitantly.

He met her eyes then quickly looked away, clearing his throat. “I mean you always passed on the orders,” he told her with a small nod to himself. “You’re the one I always listened to, not Gail.” After a moment of silence, he began to pull his hands away, but she held fast.

Scarlet slid from her chair and kneeled as well, facing him and still holding his hands, though her eyes had migrated to the ground. “I’ve never thanked ye for being there fer me,” she murmured.

“Just doing my duty, Captain,” he assured her.

Scarlet shook her head and looked up with a small laugh. “I don’t see anyone else in here,” she pointed out. A few seconds of silence followed, before Scarlet lurched forward and threw her arms around his neck. Taken aback by surprise, Thorton’s eyes widened and he returned her embrace tentatively. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome…” He murmured after a moment.

Scarlet leaned back again, but her arms lingered on his shoulders and her face hovered a short distance from his. Thorton’s heart quickened at the close proximity, though when she slowly began to close the remaining distance, he found himself doing the same until their lips touched. His previously hesitant hands instinctively wrapped around her as she kissed him, and he kissed her back, but only for a moment. When Scarlet began to pull him closer and kiss him harder, he forced himself to break away. He pulled his hands to his sides and looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry…” He stammered, giving his head small shakes. “I can’t.”

Scarlet slowly leaned back and wrung her hands together in her lap. Her lips moved, but only one word managed to slip out. “Oh…” she rasped dumbly.

Thorton looked up at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eye. “I won’t enable this when I know you can be better.” The words pained him and he wanted nothing more than to take him back, but just enough of him refused. When she said nothing, he sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “You will amount to great things, Captain Waters,” he said, his professional tone slowly returning. He gave her one last glance, but she looked away still. His face fell before he turned away, heading for the door. The moment his hand touched the knob, he paused, hearing a voice behind him.

“At least be my first mate,” Scarlet said to him, then her voice lowered again and she couldn’t be positive he heard. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Thorton tensed, then swung the door open hastily. He stopped again before taking a step, then turned his head to glance over his shoulder. “Aye, captain,” he said before walking out and closing the door behind him.